Wheels of Justice, Part VI: "On Appeal"

It was appropriate, the gathering of vultures on the Bank of Baroda building across the street from the Court of Appeals. It was a Thursday in mid-June, and evidently, the birds knew the fate of three defendants hung in the balance, and they awaited the verdict. Through the open windows you could hear their ocassional squawks that mixed with the faint sound of car horns and the high-pitched squeal of brakes, the scrape and smack of construction workers, and the click and hum of the overhead fans that circulated the muggy morning air.

When the three, peroxide-wigged and ornately-robed federal appellate justices entered, those present in the courtroom rise and quickly come to order. Any humor found in their traditional garb evaporates as they peer down from the bench.

"Are you ready to proceed?" the principal judge asked the defense attorney.

"I am not," she says. "I have been unwell and have had other matters in lower courts."

The principal judge removed her glasses with a professorial look of disapproval. "This takes precedent."

Through the attorney's profuse apology, it becomes clear that she is not prepared for the appeal hearing. Whether she has been unwell or her other professional obligations have prevented her from fully preparing, she will not argue the appeal today. The appellate justices, seemingly to their chagrin, declare that the hearing of the appeal will wait until August.

As this declaration is made, the three defendants in the dock look on. Because the proceedings are in English and it is likely the defendants--one woman who looks 40 and two men that are at least ten years her junior--have only a spartan understanding of the official language of the court, they don't react to the words and gavel of the judge. They simply look on, wide-eyed, the meaning of what has just happened an unknown.

A uniformed officer from Luzira Prison collects them and leads them down the stairs to the holding cell before their return to prison at the end of the day. It will be a return to a place they know well.

***

After the courtroom cleared out, I approached the defense attorney who had not been ready to proceed. Because of the noise in the courtroom, it was difficult to understand the nature of the decision being appealed, so I asked her what the case was about. It was a murder case.

More than nine years earlier, according to the attorney, the female defendant had killed her husband in a fit of rage when she discovered that he was having an affair. After stabbing him to death, she chopped up his body in the hopes of feeding it down the hole of a outdoor latrine. When she realized that parts of the body were too big to fit into the hole, she sounded an alarm.

When the police showed up, the woman admitted to taking part in the murder, but also implicated two men--the same men that stood with her as co-defendants.

During the first trial nine years earlier, she contradicted her statement to the police, testifying under oath that she was the only person to have a role in the killing. That testimony, however, was not enough to overcome the earlier accusation. She and the men were convicted of murder and sentenced to life.

It is a curiosity that a murderer who confesses to a crime in court and claims she acted alone would not be sentenced alone. But in Uganda, the fact that she told police upon her arrest that two men were accomplices (a seemingly obvious fabrication from a criminal facing a potentially lengthy sentence) was enough to convince the lower court judge that these two men were involved. The only other evidence implicating the men was the testimony of a witness who said he saw the men "in the area" the night the crime was committed.

But for the last nine years, the men have sat in prison, awaiting their chance to appeal. This is another indicator in the painfully slow justice process of Uganda. As time ages the court record and whittles away at witnesses' memories, two men who have spent nearly a third of their lives in prison must rely on the mercy of three appellate court justices and the abilities of an attorney, who while seemingly well-intentioned, was unprepared to argue their case on the day of their appeal.

From that day back in June until now, they have waited, passing their lives in Luzira Prison, hoping that they will soon be free. Some time next week, barring another delay, the two men will learn their fate.