TIMOTHY SOWAH WAS BOOKED into the Ho Central Prison. Dawson tried several times to reach Inspector Fiti on the phone. The line was busy until his seventh attempt, when he got through and told Fiti about Timothy’s arrest.
“You’re making a mistake, Inspector Dawson,” Fiti said coldly. “Why would Mr. Sowah do such a thing?”
“Because he was having an affair with Gladys. She wanted it to be more serious than he did, and she began to threaten him.”
“Inspector Dawson, that happens every day. It doesn’t make him a murderer. I’m warning you, okay? Sowah knows people in Accra. You could get in big, big trouble.”
“So be it.”
“You sound so confident. Maybe you won’t be when I tell you your aunt Osewa has just come and told us she saw Samuel and Gladys going into the forest together that evening. That may have been the last time anyone ever saw Gladys.”
Dawson was momentarily stunned. “Auntie Osewa told you this?”
“Yes, sir. I tell you, this boy Samuel is guilty-no one else. He has done the thing. Mark my words, he will confess.”
“Inspector Fiti, I hope you remember that you can’t hold Samuel longer than forty-eight hours without charging him.”
“He will confess today, and he will be charged today And my advice to you is to release Mr. Sowah before-”
At that point, the connection was lost.
At the other end of the line, Fiti shook his head as he hung up.
“They say we need someone from Accra to help us investigate,” he muttered, gesturing at the phone as if Dawson was still there, “and this is the fool they send. Forty-eight hours. Okay, you will get your forty-eight hours.”
Constable Bubo, who was manning the desk while Gyamfi went on an errand, said, “What’s wrong, sir?”
“Never mind,” Fiti said. “Bring Samuel up to the interrogation room and lock him inside until I’m ready to question him.”
“Yes, sir.”
Inspector Fiti went back to his office and studied Osewa’s signed statement. Gyamfi had written it out for her, and she had signed her name to it. Fiti had never had any problems with the Gedzes. They were honest, hardworking people.
The statement was very detailed. The most important item was that Osewa had seen Samuel return to Gladys as she walked along the pathway toward Ketanu. Samuel had tried to embrace her or something like that, and then they’d disappeared together into the bush. This was crucial. Osewa didn’t use a watch, but the description of the sun’s position in the sky put it at around a quarter to six. Osewa had even described what the two had been wearing. Fiti believed her. She had stuck to the facts and had not changed any of the details, even when questioned repeatedly.
There was no doubt in Fiti’s mind that Samuel had killed Gladys. He just had to get that confession out of the boy.
Bubo knocked and put his head in.
“He’s ready.”
Fiti nodded. “Let him be there for a while.”
The more uncertain and anxious Samuel became, the better. It was only a matter of time before he broke down.
On the way into the interrogation room, Inspector Fiti called Constable Bubo to assist. The man was not as good a constable as Gyamfi, but he was big and intimidating and useful for generating fear when needed.
Fiti sat down opposite Samuel at the interrogation table, but Bubo stood behind Samuel, deliberately just within peripheral vision. It was more nerve-racking that way.
Samuel had become gaunt. His eyes were oversize full moons in his face, and his cheekbones were knife-sharp ridges.
“Samuel,” Fiti said softly, “I want to talk to you about what you did to Gladys Mensah.”
“Please, sir, I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Listen to me. Someone saw you go into the forest with her, and that was the last time she was seen.”
Samuel sat up straight. “Who said that? It’s a lie.”
“Stop calling people liars and tell the truth yourself. If you continue to lie, the gods will curse you and something bad will happen.”
“Who is the person who said he saw me with Gladys? Let him come here and say that to my face.”
“We know what happened. After Mr. Kutu chased you away from following Gladys, you came back and accosted her as she was on her way to Ketanu. Not so?”
“No, Inspector. You have to believe me, please.”
“And then you made her go inside the bush with you.”
“No, no, no.”
“You wanted her to be your girlfriend, we know that already, and you tried to force yourself on her, and when she refused, you killed her.”
Samuel put his face in his hands and groaned over and over, as if in physical pain.
“Look at me, Samuel,” Fiti said. “Stop covering your eyes and look at me.”
Bubo stepped behind Samuel and pulled his hands away from his face. His cheeks were moist with tears.
“He’s crying,” Fiti said to Bubo. “Crying like a girl.”
Bubo laughed.
Fiti pushed a pen and a sheet of paper in front of Samuel.
“If you sign this, we will stop questioning you and you will feel better.”
Samuel frowned at it. He could read and write English, but this thing they were showing him was beyond his comprehension.
“What does it say?” he asked.
“It just says everything that happened. You only have to sign on the bottom.”
Samuel shook his head.
“If you don’t sign it,” Fiti said, “I’ll throw you in jail and keep you there until you rot. But if you sign it, I can tell the judge who takes your case to pardon you and then they will set you free.”
Fiti could see Samuel was thinking hard about what to do. He looked confused and afraid, which was perfect.
“If you don’t confess and sign this paper,” the inspector went on, “I will have to go to your father and tell him how you killed Gladys.”
Samuel stiffened, and his brow twitched at the thought. “I beg you,” he whispered. “Don’t tell my father.”
“Then sign the paper.”
“I can’t sign it, Inspector.”
“You can’t write your name? We can help you.”
“Yes, I can write my name, but…”
“But what?” Fiti handed him the pen. “Just write your name there on the bottom. You’re not really signing-just writing your name.”
Samuel held the pen for a moment, but then he put it down. “No.”
Fiti glanced at Constable Bubo, who delivered such a hard blow to the back of Samuel’s head that the boy was thrown forward and his face bounced against the table. Bubo planted a foot in Samuel’s side and sent him hurtling to the floor.
Fiti stood. He would not be staying for this. As Bubo picked Samuel up by the neck, the inspector said, “When you are ready to sign your name, just tell the constable.”
As he returned to his office, Fiti heard the heavy thuds of Bubo’s blows and the crash of Samuel’s body against the walls of the small room as he screamed and begged for mercy After each round, Bubo could be heard asking the boy if he would sign the confession. He would not, and so the next round of beatings began. The boy would confess. He had to.