In this Republic of Uncommon Sense, Lady Justice has opened a pop‑up restaurant, and the menu is simple: return 60% of the goat and go home smiling. If you are poor and steal two cobs of corn, you’ll find yourself sweating in remand for six months, surviving on watery soup with floating mysteries. But if you misappropriate GH¢800 million, no worries. The State now offers the “60% Refund & Walk Free Combo”, garnished with a Latin phrase—nolle prosequi—sprinkled like Maggi cube over a pot of court files.

Last week, our Attorney‑General, custodian of Article 88, Section 54 and every Latin incantation known to man, stood before cameras and explained why he had entered nolle prosequi in the Republic v. Kwabena Duffuor & 7 Others. Instead of gambling with the courtroom roulette wheel, he had secured GH¢824 million in assets and GH¢500 million in recovered funds, promising the balance in 18 months. “Would you rather get nothing?” he asked the nation, deploying his now‑viral goat analogy: “If a thief steals six goats and you recover four, will you still insist on a trial that could drag for years?”

A good question, except the peasants of Akyem‑Amanfrom might respond: “My Lord, in our village we recovered the goat and still held the thief’s ears to the fire.”

“When the poor man steals corn, he is a thief; when the rich man steals the barn, he becomes a negotiator,” grumbled a bystander at Kejetia Market.

The Minority in Parliament, who themselves know the scent of goat stew, threatened to march to the Supreme Court. They called it class justice: one menu for peasants stealing chickens, another for elite embezzlers who can afford a “structured recovery plan.”

Civic groups joined in: “Will this not teach future looters that corruption is simply a discounted loan? Return 60%, keep 40%, and watch the State sprinkle Latin powder over the case?”

If Parliament were serious, it would pass laws to end this buffet of impunity, not just hold press conferences with angry faces.

But the Attorney‑General is unmoved. Plea bargaining (Act 1079) and Section 35 of the Courts Act, he notes, are all part of Ghana’s new legal gym: recover the money fast before the assets depreciate like a second‑hand taxi. Protracted trials, he argues, yield nothing but dust and court adjournments.

Still, in a Republic where peasants are remanded for stealing two cobs of corn, the optics are damning. The poor, after all, have no “refund menu,” no structured recovery plans, and no Latin immunity to keep their cassava leaves intact.

“The lizard that jumps from a high tree and survives will think he is a hawk,” murmured an elder on a Kumasi trotro.

Perhaps, just perhaps, Lady Justice has lost her scales and is now operating a weighing machine at Makola Market—where the price of freedom is negotiable, and nolle prosequi is the new national currency.

Jimmy Aglah

Satirist-in-Chief, Republic of Uncommon Sense.