Chapter 11

MANDLA MTHETHWA

Day two of the trial and it is draining. Everything that I think can lead me to something, I hit a dead end. The trail dies. It's like someone is blocking all my efforts. Every trail is covered up properly and professionally. Whoever is helping Milani is doing a brilliant job of making sure that the truth is not discovered. I call in my first witness, Milani's friend Emihle. I don't think Milani expected her friend to testify against her. I know Emihle has nothing but good things to say about Nqaba. In as much as she is Milani's friend, she doesn't believe Nqaba did all those things to Milani.

"How do you know the defendant?"
"He is my friend's husband." She say confidently. "What can you tell us about him?" I smile an encouraging and comforting smile because I can see how nervous she is. "He has always been kind to me. Not once have I ever felt unsafe when he is around. He loves his wife loudly, every one can see the love he has for her and their son. Oh how he adores that boy. His son is his entire world." She speaks with so much grace and continues to answer all the questions I have honestly. The prosecution tried to shake her but she didn't waver. I continued to call on three more witnesses that I had on my list including Mabutho. They spoke highly of Nqaba and I could see the smile on his face, a glimpse of peace on his face, knowing that he still has people in his corner. Even when the prosecution tried to get them to falter on their testimonies, he failed. I stole a look at the judge and his two assistants when Mabutho was testifying and I saw that his testimony did something. It created a softness in them, no matter how small, but it was there. Now I have Milani sitting on the stand looking miserable and sour. A tactic of wanting the court to feel sorry for her, to take her side but I am about to destroy that.

"Mrs. Cele, you said your husband laid his hands on you and forced himself on you. You said it was not first the time he laid hands on you, why didn't you ever report him?" she slightly shift and straightens in her seat. "He always threatened that he would kill me." Her voice cracks as if she wants to cry. "Do you have any other proof of this, other than the pictures we have of the recent incident you claim to have happened?" again she shifts and I can see she is getting uncomfortable. "No I don't. I never took pictures of myself because I never thought I would need them." How can she think that she would never need them. Ok wait, lets move on. "What happened when you stabbed your husband in his chest and his abdomen?" there it is, she is uncomfortable. "It was self defense. He was beating me for coming home late and not having dinner ready on time." I hear a few whispers and gasps in the court. I notice her looking at the prosecutor, maybe wanting him to jump in her defense, but he doesn't. He doesn't see a need to object right now. "What if I told you I have copies of two cases that were opened against you by your husband?" She stays still, no movement and does not answer. So I decided to continue. "You stabbed him because he disobeyed your rules didn't you?" the crack I have been looking for becomes visible. "Objection Your Honor, Mrs. Cele is not the one on trial here. Her husband is." Ndlela jumps trying to protect her. "Your Honor this is to prove that Mrs. Cele is not the one abused in the marriage, she is not the victim, her husband is. This is to prove that she lied." I stand on my truth confidently. "Sustained, Continue Mr. Mthethwa." the judge says. "Mrs. Cele, you lied to the court. You didn't stab your husband in self defense during the two separate incidents. You stabbed him because he made you angry. Isn't that true?" She shift very uncomfortably in her seat. "No, it's not tr……." I cut her off before she could finish. "Your Honor, I have security footage from the Cele residence to prove that Mr. Cele was attacked by his own wife in his own home and in one of the incidents their son Lwandle is a witness." Now that leaves Advocate Ndlela shocked and speechless. Milani didn't think I would bring this to light hence Ndlela looks like he doesn't know anything about it. The crack is now bigger but not enough to collapse the walls lies she has built but enough to get what we want. I move forward and insert the USB on the TV screen that I had requested to be brought in. Both videos play, proving that indeed Milani attacked Nqaba and he couldn't even defend himself. She looks down, not knowing what to say. I know she is not going to risk losing her composure. She is going to stay under control because this is not over and she knows that she is still going to win even after this.

Her demeanor is changing with each passing moment, the confidence and bravado that once characterized her testimony now diminishing. I lean in slightly, my voice steady yet firm. "Mrs. Cele, might I remind you that your son was a witness to one of these events? How do you think this will affect him if he sees his mother in this light?" The hint of panic flares in her eyes, but she quickly masks it with a defiant snort.
"You think I care what he thinks? I did what I had to do to protect myself from a monster!" Her words shoot out like arrows, but they land nowhere near convincing. They show how much she doesn't care for her own child. The courtroom hushes, tension threading through the air, and I take upon the moment. "That's interesting, Mrs. Cele. You admit to your actions without remorse. So, if your son learned of how you treated his father, how would he feel about his own mother?"

The flicker of doubt in her posture tightens my grip. "You can't use him against me," she snaps, but I can see the chinks in her armor. The video loops back, and I ask for it to be played once more, this time focusing on the moments leading up to the confrontation. "Let's observe how the situation escalated, how your anger took precedence over reason."

The judge leans forward, showing his intrigue, while I make deliberate eye contact with him and his assistants, gauging their responses. They are captivated, eyes glued to the screen. "This," I proclaim, gesturing at the footage, "this isn't a story of victim hood. It's a tale about control. Control over emotions, over circumstances."
"Objection!" Ndlela returns, but I can sense the wavering in his voice, the lack of conviction behind his defense. "Your Honor, this is a manipulation of evidence—"

"Which is what Mrs. Cele did to her husband!" My voice rises, challenging yet composed. "In this very courtroom, we unveil the truth beneath layers of deception. She is not the victim, but the perpetrator of this domestic strife."
Milani opens her mouth to retort, but a flicker of uncertainty ripples across her face. I know the end is near; the judge watches with icy clarity, every word I say cementing Nqaba's innocence. "So, Mrs. Cele, would you like to continue painting yourself as the victim, or admit to the reality you've tried so hard to bury?"
Her silence speaks volumes, a reflection of the cracks that now run through her tough exterior. I can sense victory looming closer, and with each question, the court inches forward into the truth. "I have no further questions Your Honor." Milani is told to step down. "I want this case done today. You are going to give your closing statement now after which we are to take a break for one hour and when we come back I'll deliver the verdict and sentencing." The judge says and this is quite rare. Sentencing has a day of it's own in court. This is very odd.

***

The prosecution goes on giving it's closing statement, painting Nqaba as a monster and Milani as victim. He tries really hard to bury us, to do damage control. But the damage is done. The security footage did the damage. He knows if new evidence comes up, it will be easy to appeal. The prosecution finishes its statement, the air thick with the weight of conviction pressed against Nqaba. I feel the tension building around us, the spectators leaning forward as if trying to hear the unspoken words that hang like a fog in the courtroom. Milani glances at me, her brows furrowed, and an inkling of regret flickers in her eyes—an emotion she is not used to displaying. This is the moment where resilience meets vulnerability, and I intend to capitalize on it.

"The very essence of this case is not whether Milani is a victim," I state, my voice resonating through the hushed crowd, "but rather the true nature of her actions when cornered; actions that speak volumes of a loss of control—an overwhelming desire to shield herself at the expense of another to maintain control no matter." Murmurs ripple through the audience, and I can see the judge's expression harden. "What our society needs to grapple with is not just the actions in isolation, but the implications of those actions on those left in the aftermath."
I cast a purposeful glance toward the judge, noting the furrows deepening on their brows. "In our desire to seek truth, we sometimes forget to look beyond the surface. What is true victimization if not that of the children caught in the crossfire? Lwandle's innocence is at stake; do we elevate one person's narrative while neglecting the other?" The questions hang in the air, demanding thought, inviting introspection.

As the courtroom grapples with my words, the judge's gavel lightly strikes, demanding order. I can feel the momentum shifting. "Your Honor, I urge you to consider the wider impact of the decision that lies ahead. If we allow Milani's account to dictate Nqaba's fate, we risk sending a message that disregards the sanctity of family ties and the responsibility each parent has towards their child. We risk sending a message that innocence does not matter."
With the room silent except for the ticking clock, I take a breath, preparing for the final stretch. "We all deserve the opportunity for redemption, for healing. Nqaba deserves the chance to be the father Lwandle needs, not merely a cautionary tale of failure. In this courtroom, we hold the power to rewrite the narrative—to not only seek justice but to foster a future where families can heal rather than be torn apart due to selfish reason of one person. I believe that Mrs. Cele framed her husband for these crimes. I may have to prove that now but I will definitely prove it."
I finish my statement, feeling the gravity of my words echoing through the space. The gavel strikes once more, signaling the break. As everyone silently files out, I catch Milani's gaze; I see a flicker of uncertainty, and I know the battle within her rages fiercely. The judge's hurried directive resonates in my mind as I gather my things. "One hour," I chant to myself, mentally preparing for the fight still ahead. This case is far from over, and I won't let the facade of control overshadow the truth we are seeking.

I take a moment and speak to Nqaba before they take him away for the break. He smiles thanking me for trying. God knows this man doesn't deserve what is happening to him. I walk out of the courtroom to grab something to eat when I feel a tap on my shoulder just as I open the car door. Milani. "You think you are smart. You don't see that you have lost already. It doesn't matter what you do today, Nqaba is going to prison for what he did. All this, all what you did, was for nothing." she walks away and leaves me standing there. I guess I did my job well. She is starting to falter. I smile getting into my car driving to the nearest eatery.

***

We are back in the courtroom. I look around and everyone is on edge, curious. It seams like they can't wait to hear what the judge has to say.
As the judge reenters the courtroom, a palpable tension envelops the space. The gavel strikes sharply, commanding silence as he prepares to deliver his verdict. My heart beats faster; the weight of the moment seems to press against my chest. I glance at Nqaba, whose expressions oscillate between hope and despair; I can only imagine the storm brewing within him as he braces for the impending judgment.
"After careful consideration of the evidence presented," the judge begins, his voice steady yet resonant, "this court finds it imperative to recognize the complexity of the human experience at the heart of this case." Is he saying what I think he is? My mind races. "We must address the factors that have led to this tragic situation, not to excuse them, but to understand the implications they have on our future."

I feel a spark of hope ignite in me—perhaps the judge is ready to challenge the prevailing narrative. The evidence against the defendant is damning and I cannot look past it "Therefore, I find the defendant guilty. However, should new evidence come to light, I will grant an appeal to reassess the circumstances surrounding the defendant's actions with fresh eyes." Gasps ripple through the gallery. A look of shock radiates off of Milani, her face paling. Maybe it's the fact that judge is granting an appeal before we've applied for it. For me, it feels like the tide of justice might finally be shifting.

The judge continues, "This court will also be engaging social services to ensure that young Lwandle receives the support he needs, irrespective of the outcome. Also young Lwandle will remain with his grandparents as to not disrupt his life and his routines." Relief washes over me; finally, there is acknowledgment of the innocent child caught in this web of adult failings. Milani just sour at the mention of Lwandle remaining with his grandparents. Don't tell me she wanted to fight for custody of him. "Our objective must be to heal, not to punish for punishment's sake."
As he wraps up, the gravity of the situation cements my resolve. "For the sentencing, I sentence you to fifteen year, however in light of the evidence that was brought in today, the security videos, ten years of your sentence are suspended. You are to serve five years in prison and you will eligible for parole after two ears of good behavior. Remember if you get into any trouble, you will serve the entire fifteen years. Should any new evidence come forth between now and the end of the two years, an appeal will be granted and parole will be considered.
The gavel strikes once more to announce the adjournment, and as the courtroom begins to buzz, I can feel the undercurrents of uncertainty flowing through the spectators.
MILANI stands rigid, her face a mask of fury and disbelief; she steps closer, her voice a low hiss. "You think this is a victory? You think this changes anything?" I meet her gaze, unflinching. "This isn't just about winning or losing, Milani. It's about what's right for Nqaba."

With a swift turn, she storms out, leaving me standing in the heart of this chaos, emboldened by the unpredictability of truth. I catch Nqaba's eye, and a myriad of emotions pass between us—gratitude, resilience, fear.
In the quieter moments that follow, I think of what comes next: the ongoing struggle for justice, the way systems often fail to protect the innocent, the way stories twist and turn when told from different perspectives. This battle is far from over, but today feels like a small, pivotal win for everyone who has walked through this trial.
Before I pack my things, I glance back at the judge, who remains seated at the bench, contemplating the consequences of his ruling. "We're not finished here," I whisper to myself, a quiet promise of persistence in the face of an uphill battle. The road ahead may be long and fraught with tension, but I know I am determined to see it through.