I didn’t think I would be writing to you today. I had hoped I would be home, smiling as I watch you read all that I have written before. I had hoped for a feel of a mattress on my back, and the temporal relief of a bail. But here I am, in a corner scribbling away.
I saw the unshed tears you tried to hide behind your calm smile when that Judge denied me bail yesterday. Perhaps, your face mirrored mine, for I was broken when I heard the Judge say the court will not interfere in the investigation by admitting bail in a capital offence.
I know you are all going through such a hard time because of me, I saw the worry on your face; in the wrinkles and the sunken eyes. I’m sorry Father. I hope never to see that look on Mother’s face again, the look of absolute pain when I was brought in, in handcuffs.
I know she’s probably blaming herself, wondering where she went wrong, wondering if she didn’t pray enough, and wondering who her enemies are and where they are hiding. Tell her that I am fine. Tell her to think of the handcuffs as hand bracelets. Tell her that she prayed enough and that the only enemy is the faulty system of our country.
Father, was it Mother who sobbed softly when the police said they have enough evidence to prove that I was guilty and that it would be dangerous to allow me back into society? Tell her to pay no attention to the Police and their evidence. I did not do it, I am innocent and the Lawyer will find the answer.
He promised he would send his people to my house to find anyone who would testify on my behalf. He said he would request the autopsy report from the police and find out all he can about the evidence they have against me.
I told him that Blessing was a cruel person and that she fought with everyone around. I would tell him of the men whose hearts she broke, and whose pockets she emptied. Perhaps if he knows that many people wished her dead at different times, including the wives who she denied the warmth and attention of their husbands, he could convince the Judge that I didn’t hate her enough to harm her and that any of the enemies she made could have killed her.
He said it might help, but an alibi would help me more. He said having an alibi is like holding an ace in a game of cards. So, I have started to write done where I was at different times in the two weeks before my arrest. Perhaps when they tell me the day Blessing was killed, it will fall at a time I was with someone who can help me.
Stay strong, Father!
Tell my sisters to take care of Mother and make sure she eats more than she fasts.
I’m done twiddling my fingers and hoping for a miracle, I am ready to fight for my life back.
And I will win, no matter what.