Hello Kofi,

Congratulations! I hear you have completed Law School and now you are a full-fledged lawyer. I couldn’t believe the news. It came to me as a shock but I’ve thought long and hard about it and guess, what, all the shock has worn off.
Kofi, I remember two years ago, you were in hot waters. Your name (and that of another young man called Tagor) was on every Ghanaian’s lips. You were popular in a rather unpopular way. There was a CD circulating all around the country ostensibly containing a recording of a secret meeting you held with some suspected drug dealers. If what was on the CD had been a collection of songs, it would have been a platinum album. Radio stations played that recording over and over again yet many people wanted to have it in their personal collection. Even DJs who are well known for demanding ‘payola’ before playing the songs of musicians took to playing your CD with no promptings at all. It was like music to their ears.
Till date, I do not know what that meeting was about. Can you please come clean on that? Some people think that you were being a smart police officer by inviting the drug barons to your house (of all places!) to try and coax some information out of them about the disappearance of the 77 parcels of cocaine from the MV Benjamin. Ghanaians were shocked by the ‘miraculous’ disappearance of the sacks of cocaine from the fishing vessel which had supposedly been placed under tight security at the Tema Harbour. Thus many people think that your meeting with the barons was a smart piece of detective work.
Unfortunately, Kofi, if my memory serves me right, the little research I personally conducted with my girlfriend at the time indicated that majority of Ghanaians felt that your meeting with the drug lords was rather too convivial. Some of those who listened carefully to the secret recording (and even read the ‘minutes’ of the meeting) believe that some of the things you said – and how you said them – clearly demonstrated that you just might have been in cahoots with the drug dealers.
“The whole thing is that we are brothers and that’s why we sitting here,” you were heard saying on that tape. The drug barons were your “brothers”? And who was Atta Ayi, the armed robber, to you? Your nephew?
Still on that tape you and your “brothers” talked a bit about some Columbians who had come to town to collect their “goods” or the “thing” – as you referred to the missing parcels of cocaine. One of your “brothers” was very worried that the Columbians had come to town to kill him. Brimming with brotherly love and a desire to protect your kin, you assured him that “when the Columbians get naughty I can sort them out.” Many people wondered how you were going to “sort them out” but let’s not get into that now.
The MV Benjamin scandal was deepened by the ‘release’ of that recording of your meeting with your “brothers”. It took the already sunken image of the Police Service to unprecedented lows. Truth be told, that MV Benjamin story and the ‘wonderful’ disappearance of the sacks of crack cocaine will never be complete without your name, Kofi.
Your interdiction was seen as a major step towards purging the police of rogue elements – a group, I’m sure you’d say excludes you. Unfortunately, eminent people like Chief Justice Georgina Woode (perhaps, the most powerful woman in the country) think your hands are white with coke.
A committee she headed had the audacity to recommend that you should be prosecuted. And for what? Sitting down with your “brothers” over a few bottles of Black Label for a revealing chat about one of our nation’s best known ‘miracles’? Don’t mind Georgina. She’s a ‘hater’.
So how did you feel when the woman who wanted you crucified ended up adorning your head with some fine legal crown jewels last Friday as you graduated top of your class from the Law School? If I were you, I would have whispered “shame on you” in her ears as I received my prize. Maybe, you actually said it but the microphones didn’t pick it up. I am sure she couldn’t believe her eyes when she presented the prestigious Mensah Sarbah Award to you. But that’s her trouble. For now, Kofi, I encourage you to enjoy your moment of glory – whiles it lasts.
Many of us are very impressed with what you’ve done with your life ever since this cocaine issue came up. You’ve faced adversity and you’ve conquered it with the same bravery and determination you used to nail armed robbers like Atta Ayi. Over the past two years, you’ve been on interdiction – receiving fat pay cheques from the Police Service for doing absolutely no work. You used the period of interdiction very well to get a law degree and you did it in style. I am impressed. You’ve ordered your steps quite well and now, I hear, a lot of your colleague officers are yearning to be interdicted.
But admit it, Kofi. You couldn’t have done it all by yourself. I suppose it all boils down to luck. You are lucky that there is such a thing as selective justice. Georgina Woode recommended that you should be prosecuted along with the “brothers” you met in your house. But the state decided that it made much more sense for your “brothers” to be put in the dock whiles you go to law school. That’s why your “brother” Tagor is languishing in jail and you are strutting the courtrooms. Indeed, some guys have got all the luck! Remember that song? I will have one of my DJ friends play and dedicate it to you.
You are damn, lucky man. But, Kofi, remember that luck is not the most loyal of friends. You will wake up one day to see it all gone. I’m sure that’s when your new white wig will come in handy. Until then, I have this feeling that your “brothers” must be very delighted to have a lawyer (who also doubles as a police man) in the ‘family’.
Once again, congratulations! And keep up with whatever you have been doing to stay away from the defendant’s bench.
Dope-free Kwamena

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