Based on a true story.
PROLOGUE: The Truth.
The charge was first degree murder.
It could
have been manslaughter or second degree murder but trust the Nigerian Police –
they were often too eager to exaggerate crimes. They would call stealing armed
robbery and call assault attempted murder. First degree murder meant more media
attention, accolades and possibly greater chances when promotions were due.
They often did not care about the accused. Give them the license and they’d
sentence all suspects, both guilty and innocent, to instant death.
The accused
in this case was not a murderer or had not set out to be. But sometimes fate
deals us a hand that we can never win. What happened to him was a series of
unfortunate but avoidable events that would ruin his life forever. He would
forever be known as the boy who killed his best friend.
Kennedy sat in the holding cell, handcuffed like a
criminal and seated across the table from the girl who caused it all. His eyes
were filled with sadness, regret and fear. He had still not adjusted to the
reality of the charge against him. Kenney was extremely handsome, the kind that
the girls all wanted to be with. He had a sort of feminine softness in his face
that contrasted fully with his masculine build. Almost six feet tall, broad
shoulders, athletic build, he was a perfect hunk. But it was his calm, jovial nature
that attracted women to him and perhaps led him to his doom.
He
wondered how he had allowed himself to be caught in that trap. The trap was
Adaora, his best friend’s sister. And no, he had not been in love with her.
Adaora was beautiful, Kennedy knew that. But she had been like a sister and
Kennedy was not a lover. To him, beauty was dangerous. He had witnessed it
personally from the girls that fell for him, fought over him, done unspeakable
things for his sake. He shunned love, had the occasional fling, and thought he
could ward off the affection of the 17 year old Adaora. There he had gone
wrong. Instead she had foolishly done something that led to the death of her
brother. And he had been sucked unknowingly into it. Worst of all, he had
become the devil’s tool in the act.
“You
need to tell your parents what really happened that night”, Kennedy pleaded. His
eyes were now wet with tears, his face as pale as death.
Adaora
looked away, her innocently beautiful face looking sad and conflicted. The past
few weeks had been tough on everyone involved. She knew she was the cause of it
all. In her mind she held herself responsible for her brother’s death.
“Look,
my life is at stake here and you’re the only one who could save me. Just tell
them what really happened that night. Maybe they’d withdraw the case.”
“You
caused it all”, she accused. “If not for you, Ifeanyi would be alive.” A tear
rolled down the left side of her face. She gently wiped it, refusing to look at
him.
“Me?
How? I was only trying to…”
“If
you had accepted my love, none of this would have happened.”
Kennedy
frowned. She was right. But how could he love her? How could he betray the
trust of his best friend by sleeping with his teenage sister? How could he have
lived with himself? Ifeanyi had been like a brother so Adaora had been like a
sister. The entire family knew him. He could go to their house and feel right
at home just like Ifeanyi would in his place. How could he then debauch Adaora
and still face her family?
“You’re
like my little sister”, he pointed out. “I watched you grow up. I was there
when you ran around in pants. Besides you’re just seventeen. You should face
your education and forget about boys.”
“I’m
not that little girl you knew anymore!”
“Clearly”,
he retorted in anger, “Now your brother is dead because of that.”
She frowned
and stood up abruptly. “I’m going.”
“No
wait.”
She ignored
him and stepped out. He watched her leave. She was indeed beautiful, slim and
elegant. And she had loved him. Sadly he couldn’t love her back and that was
his downfall. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
At that
moment, Kennedy wished he could take it all back, given another chance. He would
love her back even at the risk of losing his best friend. A lost best friend
was better than a dead one. But sadly, there would be no second chances. There was
instead a corpse, a lost soul and a murder charge…
This is interesting.
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