Once upon a time in the Republic of Uncommon Sense, Chairman Wontumi reported to court expecting to face one judge. Poor man! By the time he arrived, nearly the whole country had already heard the case.

By the time the learned judge adjusted her robes and took her seat, millions of others across the Republic had already delivered their verdicts. Some presided from barbering shops, others from market stalls, trotro stations and offices where work had quietly taken the day off. The rest sat majestically on their sofas at home, smartphones in hand, dispensing justice with remarkable confidence.

The Republic's biggest courtroom, you see, is not in Accra.

It is called The Comment Section.

It is a magnificent institution. It never adjourns, never closes for lunch and never runs short of judges. Every citizen carries a portable branch court in a pocket or handbag. The qualification for appointment is refreshingly simple: a smartphone, a data bundle and an unshakable belief that one understands the law better than the lawyers.

By the time the real court convened, our national courtroom had already finished its work. One side had convicted Wontumi, another had acquitted him, a third had sentenced him and a fourth had declared him the greatest victim of democracy since the invention of ballot boxes. Appeals had been heard and determined before the registrar had even called the case.

Such efficiency deserves national honours.

One thing I admire about the Republic's judges is their versatility. Yesterday, they were football analysts explaining why the Black Stars needed a new striker. This morning, they became constitutional lawyers. Tomorrow, they will transform into economists to explain why the cedi is misbehaving. The Republic wastes no talent. We are a nation of unlimited professional flexibility.

An old Akan proverb says, until the lion learns to write, every story glorifies the hunter. In today's Republic, the lion has finally learnt to write. Unfortunately, so has every hunter, every goat, every squirrel and even the monkey passing through the forest. By the time they all finish posting, nobody remembers what actually happened.

There is another curious feature of our courtroom. Evidence is treated like an invited guest who always arrives late, while opinion comes early, occupies the front row and even orders mineral water before proceedings begin. Someone forwards a WhatsApp voice note beginning with, My brother works close to the investigators... and it instantly becomes Exhibit A. Another confidently announces that the whole thing was planned long ago, and without the inconvenience of cross-examination it graduates into Exhibit B.

Before long, someone else's cousin knows somebody who attended a secret meeting, and Exhibit C is duly admitted into evidence. At that point the matter is effectively settled. Case closed. Judgment delivered. Please like and share.

Poor Wontumi soon discovered that justice in the Republic has acquired party colours. If today's ruling favours your political family, the judiciary is brave, independent and a shining example of democracy. If tomorrow's ruling goes against your side, the same judiciary suddenly becomes compromised, captured and in desperate need of reform.

Justice has become like a football referee. The same whistle that sounds perfectly fair to the winning team somehow becomes evidence of conspiracy to the losing one.

Our politics now behaves much the same way. A judgment is considered independent only when it agrees with our own conclusions.

Perhaps that explains why we no longer ask, What does the law say? We first ask, Who is involved? Once we know the answer, our legal opinion forms itself automatically.

Imagine a visitor arriving in Ghana this week and asking, Excuse me, where is the court hearing the Wontumi case?

A helpful Ghanaian would probably smile and reply, You're late. Facebook finished the trial this morning. WhatsApp handled the appeal this afternoon, and X is currently hearing a review application.

The poor visitor would naturally ask, Then what is the High Court doing?

Catching up.

Our elders also say that when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers. In today's Republic, even the grass has taken sides. Half insists the first elephant is innocent. The other half is convinced the second elephant has destroyed the forest. Meanwhile, the truth sits quietly under a tree, wondering whether anyone still remembers it was invited to the meeting.

Chairman Wontumi's case will eventually end. Another politician, celebrity or public official will take his place. The hashtags will change. The profile pictures will change. The arguments will change.

Only one thing will remain exactly the same.

The Republic's Biggest Courtroom will still be sitting.

And long before the first witness is sworn in, millions of judges armed with smartphones, data bundles and absolute certainty will once again remind us that, in the Republic of Uncommon Sense, justice no longer waits for the court.

It waits for the Comment Section.

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Jimmy Aglah

#Wontumi #RuleOfLaw