The competency edge

The Defence won the trial for Mr Zuma by making it impossible for the State to make its case. They superbly exploited, with considerable competence the glitches in the State's case, and it seems there were three.

· Their client, the claimant, presumably failed to reveal that she had a herstory as a serial rape accuser. Their client it seems prevaricated around key issues.
· The senior level policemen who interviewed Mr Zuma apparently violated his rights through not cautioning him, and apparently attempting some form of entrapment. Their possibly crucial evidence was ruled inadmissible. Oh gosh we see it in the movies every, day what to shock to discover that it's real.
· The psychologist who defended the claimant apparently neglected to apply a battery of possibly spurious tests [or perhaps did and chose not to use the results] and therefore left the claimant out to dry as it were. The defence's psychologist was more efficient and allegedly thorough about revealing how lacking in thoroughness the prosecution's psychologist really was-One got the distinct sense that the Judge was angry with the prosecution psychologist. Had she done her job properly the case may have been tried differently.
· The prosecution thus lacked the competency edge so necessary for success in a competitive environment

For the defence the power lay in the successful use of the damaging history of the claimant to demonstrate a material issue in the case rather than the 'rejectable' notion that attacked the clients credibility; although it obviously did that most effectively-a litany of trained liars is difficult to conceive. There was sufficient solid evidence there to cause a grown prosecutor to go pale with shock when the revelations began.

And in fairness to the prosecutor it would be hard for the State to infer that they had entirely failed in their task, when they had to deal with a claimant who may well be 'BAD and MAD' to quote an unknown gender advocate from the post verdict commentary on the radio. She sounded sad [the gender advocate]. And it was bad.

This rape claimant's accusation has been declared to be of no value and she has set back the tide for a time in the struggle of the 'other' gender for equal access to justice. If she's a false accuser then maybe others are too-so the thinking goes-maybe the whole country is loaded with claimants who engage in consensual sex and then when some anticipated payoff is unsatisfactory they cry rape or perhaps they are all crazy, as most men believe. So women in short skirts beware.

Something like this- a revulsion at what has been revealed through this trial may spark the trigger for a Gender Party's assumption to power, assuming there is someone out there who is able to grab that mantle and has the courage. The cool thing about fiction is that you can invent that person and have them work their will. In the real world on which our everyday lives are based though, the cause of justice for those genuinely raped and left butchered and eviscerated has been poorly served.

So she was right to sound sad. And Mr Zuma is right to be glad. There was an interesting observation made in passing by the Judge, in his endless though fascinating reading of the case. In reference to the evidence that the 'accused', operating in his own bedroom, found himself, apparently, in the company of a comely wench, feeling that rejuvenating exultation that accompanies coming on to a young claimant, with the glorious hint of pussy dashing its pheromonal aphrodisiacs about the atmosphere. When asked whether she had been willing, he apparently made a remark to the effect that had she objected 'he would have stopped and left.' I was curious. Why would a man leave his own bedroom, or was that a so-called Freudian slip? Was that what the discredited police evidence would have confirmed? The record shall now forever be silent.

And then of course the police helped. By neglecting to perform a procedural step they guaranteed that the case could be thrown out. This failure to perform an elementary task as part of their duties is an indicator of how difficult it is to break centuries old habits of rights abuse. [One assumes they didn't do it on purpose although that is a thought that I have set-aside for now].

This is the second high profile police engineered failure recently; for undoubtedly the police evidence was crucial to a guilty verdict. The high profile nature of this failure as a result of cutting corners, when added to that other procedural failure last month that saw the accused in a murder trial in Southern Zone One -the notorious Laundry murders- does not look good for the police. We are aware of this 'chain of evidence' issue from movies like CIS and others it was intriguing to have it all spelt out in such excruciating detail from such a first class mind as that revealed by Justice Van der M..

Maybe that is why the police are disbanding their specialist units and seeding experienced officers back to local stations in the hope that some gold will rub off..

So we have had an excellent day's insight into the workings of the system.

The Judge had his moment though: remonstrating almost paternally with an old goat for shagging a young bokkie. I particularly loved his naughty little closing bite about how Kipling would have added some extra lines to 'IF' had he attended the trial. ' If he [Mr Z] had learned about keeping his pecker where it belonged when all his lusts would overcome him then 'you would be a man my son'. [sic]' That was fun and sneaky and pointedly no one from the media referred to it: so my referring to it is probably in bad taste.
-----..

I had a conversation-in-a-crowd once back then during the transition time, with a man who had a collection of ritual scars on his face and whom I discovered later was Mr Zuma.

I'd gatecrashed a hotshot event with a friend and had somehow managed to get to a pole position place amongst a crowd waiting to hear Mr [later President] Mandela speak. Sensing that my neighbour was a man of the future I engaged him in conversation. Eventually I asked him what his chaps intended to do about the crime thing that was serious then and hasn't changed much since-His answer has always intrigued me and I have since followed the man's career with curiosity to find out what he meant.

'We'll let it run for bit.' He said 'and then we'll -.' He left the sentence then in a place Sontag would call the unspoken- and he brought his hands together and wrung them in a motion reminiscent of wringing a turkey's neck. A quick slick gesture.
'Okaay-' I thought and then before I could ask him what that meant the great man himself came onto the podium and we all stopped to hear Him speak.

I wondered if today's verdict would see Mr Z fulfil his gesture in a bizarre piece of irony-and now that he is free-again-I will settle back to await the eventual revelation. And welcome back to the free world Mr Z-it always feels so good to be released doesn't it.

In the meantime since I've suddenly found myself sneaking into a reminiscence, here's the piece I wrote that day-which was a day of moment like today, which regrettably has inspired less than I felt then: Cheers


February 1990:

A report on breaking through the ceiling:
A praise prose poem for Nelson Mandela.

The world came
to watch a
spectacle;
a man who had
been locked away
for twenty-seven years
was to be released.
And the spokespeople
for the media
and the great,
came from afar to hear
the wisdom
which it was
believed
this old man
had gained
during his incarceration.

After waiting
uncertainly
for hours
in the hot February
glare;
He finally emerged
blinking
into the sunlight.
Was led to a podium
around which
a Hundred Thousand people
had gathered and
onwhichtheeyesofFiveHundredMillion
faces
werefocussedviatelevisionsetsina
hundred and eighty
countriesbeamedbyinstantsatellite.

With a great sense of Majesty
All awaited
his unique insights, which,
his publicists claimed,
andwhichallwhocamewould
have
themselves
believe he had gained
through years of
incarcerated
introspection

The great buzz
was that this man
had
through his
suffering
acquired unsullied
wisdom and would
unitethecountryandleadhisto
rmentorsandhispeople
toapromisedland:
freed
of all the pain borne
by the suffering
for millennia.

Slowly
he ascended the steps
and trod
with unaccustomed grace
toward
the podium.

A hush
fell
uponhalfaBillionhouseholds.
Fathers
shushed their children
andbeatthosewhospokewhilethegreat
Man
began to speak.

And the sound of wonder
amongst
the gathered dignitaries
and the watching multitudes
turned
to
consternation.

For he spoke yet
anancientanditwasbelievedarecently
discreditedlanguage
and none had thought
to expect
it.


And so they sat
in bewildered
and bemused
consideration
ofwhattheywerehearing
while
a
howlingmobofjubilantsupporters
soon turned their joy
to rapturous
violence
smashingallthewindowsonthesquare.

.NiK(1990)
Publ. 1995. Bedford Yearbook