By Muyiwa Adetiba
‘I, who used to be addressed as ’Your Honour’ now wish to be addressed as ‘Your Dishonour’. All documents including acquired properties and wealth remain valid’.

That seems to be the message sent out to the public a couple of weeks ago by the suspension of the two judges who were found to have betrayed the people’s trust.

If the public applause concerning the action of the judicial council has not been louder than this; if the courage of the first female Chief Justice in confronting the excesses of the two Judges has not received wider acclamation, it is because the rot goes far too deep for this kind of tokenism. Tokenism in the number of those indicted; tokenism in the punishment meted out.

Does the suspension mean, for example, that they will be allowed to draw pension — something another ‘honourable judge’ had denied some other pensioners. Does it mean that they will be able to keep the proceeds of their professional and ethical failure? Yes, they have been dishonoured. But have they been deprived? Especially in a country that celebrates wealth more than honour? The judiciary is simply too important to be allowed to wallow in professional and moral inadequacies.

We remember only too well, that it was a judge who delivered a midnight judgement that almost plunged the country into a civil war. It was a judge who granted a permanent injunction so that a high profile governor would not be held to his (mis)deeds in government. It was a judge who freed James Ibori of all charges; an action which embarrassed the nation when he later admitted to the same charges in a UK court. It was a judge who sentenced Fela Anikulapo Kuti and went behind to beg him. It was a judge who allowed Cecilia Ibru and Lucky Igbinedion to keep their loot and continue to live in a lifestyle to which they had become accustomed. It was a judge who allowed a John Yusuf who admitted to stealing 23billion naira to drive home in a chauffer driven Mercedes Benz in the full glare of an incredulous nation. It was a judge who……we could go on and on.

Last year, I sat next to a well known SAN at a function; the same one who became the youngest SAN at 39 some 25years ago. When our conversation which had been lively, got to the judiciary, he hesitated, like some one trying to weigh his words, before saying ‘advocacy, which used to be the hallmark of a good litigation lawyer, is becoming less and less relevant in our courts. You also used to know you had a bad case if the evidence was stacked against your client. These days, you know you have a bad case when your client’s file is taken to some judges.’

It is said by his colleagues, of a famous SAN who handles a lot of high profile political cases, that he seems so successful because he ‘knows’ a lot of judges well and they trust him.

I once confessed my admiration of the oratorical prowess of a recently retired popular judge to a small group of friends adding that I also found him warm and charming. A senior lawyer smiled and said, ‘he might be all of the above. But he is also ‘bent.’

An incident happened about three years ago. A friend of mine won an election to the ‘House of Rep.’ His opponent felt aggrieved and went to court (familiar?). Both employed the services of expensive SANs. But both knew that points of law alone would not take them to Abuja. So they reached out to the presiding judges. Dollars were mentioned as if they were Naira. Dollars were paid. But as the judgement day approached, the ante was upped. The judge who acted as the ‘contact’ to my friend’s lawyer wanted more dollars. My friend hesitated thinking he had spent too much—both to win the election and to consolidate the victory. It was then the contact judge ‘delivered’ his verdict. He warned that they could decide the case either way and have enough points of law to support their decision. It was, in other words, a cash and carry justice.

Stories like these abound and are very disturbing given the importance of the rule of law to democracy and the well being of a nation. Also disturbing are the activities of the court clerks, bailiffs and registrars. Many of them are lazy, insolent and corrupt. Many are untouchable because of what they know and the role they play in facilitating sleaze.

What is perhaps most disturbing is that many practising lawyers know the bad eggs among the judges. The judges themselves—retired and practising— know. The Judicial Council knows. The Presidency knows. Yet we are all unwilling — or unable — to control this perversion of justice in the country. Must we wait, as in Sodom and Gomorrah, until there are only five righteous judges left? Or are we afraid to point an accusing finger because the other four fingers will be pointing at us? Is it that we can not go beyond tokenism to deal decisively with corruption in the judiciary because, as the good book says, only he who is without sin can cast the first stone?