Miss Thick

CHAPTER 1

She enters my office weeping followed by my personal assistant. I don’t even know her. I stand up immediately waiting for an explanation for this. I can see that my PA is scared because she knows I hate it when someone barges in my office, well except for my two best friends.

“I am sorry boss. I tried stopping her but she just insisted on getting in here.” Onalenna speaks so fast, if you are not used to her, you would miss some of the things she is saying.

“It’s fine Ona.” I dismiss her with my hand. “You can go back to your station now.” She nods and heads out. “Please sit down.” The woman takes a seat and I go back to my seat. “Who are you and how may I help you?”

“My name is Bulelwa Zindela. I am a widow. I live with my kids, Lubabalo and Asemahle. My daughter is doing grade 11. My son is an intern at Baloyi Incorporated. Yesterday the police barged into our house and turned everything upside down. They were looking for him. When he came to the lounge they didn’t ask questions. They started beating him up repeatedly. They took him in and I didn’t even hear what he was arrested for but I know that he is innocent.” She continues crying. When will police brutality end? And Lubabalo Zindela? I hope it’s not the same Lubabalo I know. I mean there are many people out there with same names and surnames. Coincidences happen all the time.

“Please calm down Mrs. Zindela.” She finally stops crying. I go to my bar fridge and take out bottled water. I hand it to her and she drinks it. “Now tell me more about him.” she smiles a little and puts the bottled water in the table.

“He is such a gentle soul. My daughter always teases him and says that he won’t find a wife because he is too soft. I have no doubt that he was framed for whatever they are accusing him of. I went to this station this morning and they didn’t allow me to see him. They didn’t even tell me information about what he is charged with.”

“Which station is he at?” she starts crying again. Oh help me God. I am not an evil person but I just hate it when someone breaks into tears instead of talking. Eventually she tells me the name of the station. It’s about 30 minutes away from my office.

“Thank you so much for taking my case. I will make sure I have all your money as soon as possible.” I smile. I am touched by this case before I can even know everything about it.

“You don’t have to worry. I will do your case pro bono.” This is my first pro bono case this year.
“What does that mean sisi?”
“I will do it for free. Now let’s go.” I stand up and pack my stuff. “You drove here?”
“I don’t have a car sisi.”

“Fine let’s go.” We head out and drive to the station. When we arrive there, there is a long line starting from outside. I just greet those in my way and head inside. I go straight to the help desk and just stand there watching the female constable sign the certified document like a doctor. I clear my throat and she looks at me.

“I don’t remember seeing you in the line. So go join the line outside. You’re not special.” She says and you can’t miss the annoyance in her voice. I chuckle and shake my head.

“I am Advocate Nomalanga Biyela. I am Mr. Lubabalo Zindela’s lawyer. I have reason to believe that he is being detained in this police station, so I would like to speak to him and also talk to the detective in charge of his case so that he can give me a copy of the charge sheet.” I say with my professional voice. She just rolls her eyes.

“You are here to advocate on behalf of that rapist? Yaz women like you should be burned because you are the same reason these perverts continue assaulting women. Why are you defending that son of a bitch?” rape? Wow. That’s huge.

“I am not interested in your ‘wathinta abafazi, wathinta imbokodo’ movement. Now are you going to point me to the detective’s office or should I look for it myself?” she rolls her eyes once again. I swear if she wasn’t a police office, I would pluck them out instantly.

“Mabanga, take miss lawyer to Detective Maphanga’s office.” She says. She really deserve a slap in the face this one. Just one slap.
“Follow me.” the police officer who just looks like he reached puberty last night, says. Do they hire minors to be police officers now? I turn to Mrs. Zindela.

“I will be back.” She nods and heads out. I follow the teenage looking officer who leads me to an office at the back. He knocks and is granted permission to enter after three knocks. He opens the door and indicates that I should go in first. I mentally roll my eyes as I make my way inside.

“Detective, this is Advocate Biyela, Mr. Lubabalo’s lawyer.” He was listening to the conversation I had with the rude constable? I didn’t even see him there until the constable called him. The detective dismisses him and indicates that I can sit.

“The Goddess of law. I feel honored to be in your presence. Now tell me, a woman of such caliber like yours, why are you here to defend a man like Zindela? He wronged one of your own. Where is the girl code?”

“What’s with you being the judges of right and wrong in this station? I am not here to make friends. I am here to speak to my client and possibly get him out of this place because I can see that he will be abused even when there might not be enough evidence to prove that he is indeed guilty. Now can I please have the charge sheet? And while I familiarize myself with it, get my client to a private room so that I can talk to him.”

“You dare come to my station woman and make demands?”
“That would be all for now Detective.” He clicks his tongue. He then hands me a file from his desk.
“If you steal something from that file, I will know and I will be so happy to throw you on one of the cells at the back.” I roll my eyes.

“Are you done with the theatrics now detective?” he huffs and heads out. I sigh and open the file. Wow. He is being accused of raping his own boss. What in the actual fuck? I just hope he is innocent as his mother says he is.

The teenage looking officer comes once again. This time he ushers me to the interrogation room. I am starting to think he is the station’s errand boy. I am sure they even make him prepare their coffees while they are busy being rude.

“How old are you again?” I ask before I enter the interrogation room. He just smiles and heads back. Once I am inside, I close the door and turn to the accused. My worst fears come to life. “Lubah.” I whisper. His eyes pop out when he sees me. Somehow I see relief in there.

“You have to help me. Please.” He says with a broken voice and a tear rolls down his cheek. God give me strength.
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