Shepherds and Butchers
Page 22
As I was about to ask another question the Judge intervened. ‘Are all these details apparent from the register, what is it, Exhibit G?’
Wierda handed me our next set of exhibits and I held them up. ‘We have taken the liberty of transcribing the relevant entries in the register, M’Lord. It would facilitate not only the examination-in-chief but also the Court’s ability to follow the evidence without having to take detailed notes at the same time. May we hand that up to assist M’Lord and the Learned Assessors?’
‘Yes, thank you.’
The usher handed the sheets around. When Judge van Zyl had taken a perfunctory look at his copy, he asked, ‘We don’t have to give this a new exhibit number, do we? It is merely a transcript of what is in the register?’
The registrar shook her head. It was her function to keep track of the exhibits.
‘There are two qualifications, however, M’Lord,’ I said. ‘We have excluded from the transcript any entries that were made after the tenth of December because we want to maintain the situation as it was up to that date. And we have not listed the new arrivals the defendant has mentioned. This is an exit list. The admissions after the tenth December are not relevant to this case because the defendant never got to know them.’
I waited for Judge van Zyl to make eye contact or to give me the nod to continue, and then decided to hammer the point home a little less subtly.
‘The prisoners on this list are the ones who, one way or the other, left the prison during those last six weeks. They are the ones whom the defendant had got to know so well during their stay, or should I say, his stay in Maximum.’
The Judge nodded as I spoke, but he was concentrating on the list.
‘I don’t like the idea of the names being used here,’ Judge van Zyl said, ‘but it is a public record, isn’t it?’ He did not wait for an answer. ‘Give us a moment to read the details.’ He adjusted his spectacles and read the extract slowly. I watched his eyes dart from column to column. As he read, a grim look spread across his features.
Wierda’s pencil went tap tap tap against his teeth and I put my hand on his arm to stop him.
EXTRACT FROM EXHIBIT G
NAME V-NO PLACE-SENTENCED DATE JUDGE OUTCOME DATE
Edward Phatack Tshuma V3207 Johannesburg 28/8/84 Vermooten Commuted to life imprisonment 20/11/87
Simon R Moatche V3208 Johannesburg 28/8/84 Vermooten Executed 26/11/87
Michael Mfeka V3410 Durban 6/9/85 Broome Commuted to 20 years imprisonment 30/11/87
Schalk Johannes Burger V3420 Klerksdorp 19-20/9/85 Schabort Commuted to life imprisonment 20/11/97
Joseph George Scheepers V3421 Klerksdorp 19-20/9/85 Schabort Executed 26/11/87
Kanton Klassop V3473 Grahamstown 10/2/86 Mullins Executed 3/12/87
Ishmael Mokone Marotholi V3506 Bloemfontein 9/5/86 Edeling Executed 8/12/87
Zacharia Molefi Kodisang V3507 Bloemfontein 9/5/86 Edeling Executed 8/12/87
Richard Busakwe V3508 Bloemfontein 9/5/86 Edeling Executed 8/12/87
Keta Richard Mkhatyiwa V3520 Johannesburg 23/5/86 Vermooten Appeal succeeds; not guilty, disch. on both counts 1/12/87
Khuselo Selby Mbambani V3541 Cape Town 3/6/86 Nel Executed 10/12/87
Willy Jacob Mpipi V3564 Johannesburg 29/7/86 Vermooten Executed 3/12/87
Johannes Mohapi V3565 Johannesburg 29/7/86 Vermooten Executed 3/12/87
Johannes Stefanus Delport V3574 Bloemfontein 28/8/86 Hattingh Executed 3/12/87
Jacobus Wynand Bosman V3575 Johannesburg 28/8/86 Vermooten Commuted to 15 years imprisonment 30/11/87
Annele Booi V3602 Bloemfontein 11/9/86 Edeling Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 30/11/87
Abel Moeketsi V3603 Bloemfontein 11/9/86 Edeling Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 30/11/87
David Tswele V3604 Bloemfontein 11/9/86 Edeling Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 30/11/87
Government Sogelle V3605 Bloemfontein 11/9/86 Edeling Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 30/11/87
Monde Nose V3606 Bloemfontein 11/9/86 Edeling Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 30/11/87
Mncedisi Stamalatyi Khongwana V3614 Grahamstown 26/9/86 Jansen Appeal succeeds; death sentences set aside and replaced with 12 years impr. 1/12/87
Johan Christiaan Wessels V3615 Bloemfontein 2/10/86 Smuts Executed 26/11/87
Jerome Debishire V3621 Johannesburg 17/10/86 Stegmann Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 23/11/87
James Dladla V3623 Johannesburg 17/10/86 Stegmann Appeal succeeds; conviction and sentence set aside 23/11/87
William Harris V3625 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Brian Meiring V3626 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Christoffel Michaels V3627 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Herold Japhta V3628 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Jan Swartbooi V3629 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Pieter Botha V3630 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Anthony Morgan V3631 Cape Town 8/10/86 Van den Heever Executed 9/12/87
Gerald Zibanile Njilo V3636 Scottburg 31/10/86 Law Executed 6/11/87
Joseph Gcabashe V3663 Scottburg 12/12/86 Broome Executed 10/12/87
Mnuxa Jerome Gcaba V3664 Scottburg 12/12/86 Broome Executed 10/12/87
Jomyt Mbele V3680 Tzaneen 29/1/87 Curlewis Executed 3/12/87
Case Rabutla V3681 Tzaneen 29/1/87 Curlewis Executed 3/12/87
Clifton Phaswa V3682 Tzaneen 29/1/87 Curlewis Executed 3/12/87
Jim Kgethang Mokwena V3695 Johannesburg 27/2/87 Vermooten Executed 26/11/87
Mlungisi Luphondo V3705 Grahamstown 5/3/87 Cloete Executed 6/11/87
Siphiwo Mjuza V3721 Cape Town 6/3/87 Lategan Executed 10/12/87
Stanley Allen Hansen V3747 Swellendam 8/5/87 Friedman Executed 8/12/87
John Louw V3748 Cape Town 8/5/87 Tebbutt Executed 20/11/87
Andries Njele V3752 Johannesburg 20/5/87 De Klerk Executed 10/12/87
David Mkumbeni V3753 Johannesburg 20/5/87 De Klerk Executed 10/12/87
Nicholas Phopho Khupula V3767 Johannesburg 12/6/87 Van Dyk Executed 5/11/87
Nicolas Prins V3768 Cape Town 9/6/87 Williamson Executed 8/12/87
Sizwe Goodchild Leve V3769 Cape Town 27/5/87 Nel Executed 8/12/87
Stanley Smit V3770 Cape Town 5/6/87 Munnik Executed 8/12/87
Willem Maarman V3771 Cape Town 4/6/87 Van Heerden Executed 10/12/87
Whanto Silinga V3793 Port Alfred 24/6/87 Kroon Died of natural causes 10/12/87
Zinakile Matshisi V3817 Potchefstroom 20/8/87 Hartzenberg Commuted to 15 years imprisonment 30/11/87
When he had finished reading, the Judge slowly put the schedule down on the bench. He put his hands under his chin and leaned on his fists, elbows on the table, and rocked slowly. I waited for him to make eye contact, the signal that I could resume the examination-in-chief, but still he gave no sign that he was ready.
At last he leaned forward and spoke under his breath. ‘They gave them four for the first three weeks of the month, and then they gave them thirty-two for the next two. What were they thinking?’
Labuschagne answered, even though the question must have been rhetorical and not meant for his ears. ‘I don’t know, sir. We asked the Major what was going on. He said that the Minister of Justice had been too busy with other things to sign the documents.’
James Murray was quickly on his feet to object, but Judge van Zyl stopped him. ‘I did not intend to ask a question.’ I was still standing. ‘Carry on,’ he said.
I muttered the usual, ‘As M’Lord pleases.’
‘Mr Labuschagne, could you please tell the Court what happened on the twentieth of November?’
‘Just a moment,’ said the Judge. He still had the sheet we had given him in his hand. ‘Did you say that there were thirty-three new admissions in the six weeks before the tenth December and anot
her nine after that, to the seventeenth?’
The question was directed at me. ‘Indeed, M’Lord. This is an exit list.’
The magnitude of the operations at Maximum was beginning to filter through at last.
Labuschagne stood upright, in the fashion of a soldier, with his hands resting on the wooden sides of the witness box and his face raised to meet the scrutiny of the Judge, apparently at ease with the subject matter of the questioning.
Look up at the Judge. Watch his pen. Stop when you see him taking a note. When he stops writing, carry on. Don’t be in a hurry.
I repeated my question. ‘What happened on the twentieth of November last year?’
‘We first had a hanging and then we had to take six prisoners to the office. We told them to pack their stuff and took them to the office.’
I turned to the bench before I spoke again. ‘M’Lord, we are going to have to start using names from here on.’
The Judge pondered the issue for a while and then, after conferring briefly with his Assessors, said, ‘Be careful how you do it.’
‘As M’Lord pleases.’
‘What are the names of the prisoners you took to the office?’
Labuschagne did not have to look at the register. ‘We took Tshuma, Moatche, Burger, Scheepers, Wessels and Mokwena.’
I saw some movement at the prosecution table and hesitated before I asked the next question. Sanet Niemand was talking to the man sitting behind her. I had forgotten about him.
‘So what happened at the office?’ I asked, keeping an eye on the prosecution table. The discussion became more animated. James Murray rose to object. I sat down quickly.
‘We object to this evidence,’ he said as soon as he was on his feet. ‘It is not relevant to any issue at this trial. It also deals with matters that are protected by public interest privilege.’
I was ready as soon as he sat down. Wierda and I had prepared for every possible objection, including this one. I had the law and our argument ready and knew that an experienced judge would give us free rein in a case like this.
‘We submit firstly,’ I argued, ‘that the evidence is relevant to the defendant’s state of mind. Any event that took place in the days preceding the events of the tenth of December last year and that had or might have had an effect on the defendant’s state of mind as it was at the time is relevant. Secondly, we submit that the privilege claimed by the prosecution does not cover this situation but cases where the identity of an informer needs to be protected. We would suggest that Your Lordship should allow the evidence to be presented on a provisional basis. The Court may determine its relevance and admissibility at the end of the case when all the other evidence has been led and the importance of this evidence has been explained by the expert witnesses we intend to call.’
Judge van Zyl pondered the matter. I was afraid that he would rule against us and added, ‘We have to use the names, M’Lord. To the defendant these were real people, not just numbers as they might be to us.’
He made his ruling immediately. ‘I’ll allow the evidence provisionally.’
I repeated the question. ‘Mr Labuschagne, I asked you to tell the Court what happened at that meeting when you took the six prisoners to the office on the twentieth of November.’
Labuschagne shifted uncomfortably in the witness box. Something had unsettled him. Perhaps it was the man behind the prosecutors.
‘What happened?’ I asked again.
‘The Sheriff read them their letters and told them what was going to happen.’
While Labuschagne was answering I whispered to Wierda, ‘Who’s the man behind the prosecutors?’
Wierda leaned back to see behind me, and then he scribbled on a piece of paper: The Warrant Officer.
‘What did the State President decide to do in these cases?’ I asked Labuschagne. I took a closer look at the Warrant Officer: brown suit, late forties, military bearing, closely cropped hair, thinning on top. Ruddy complexion of an alcoholic. Broad, strong hands. Otherwise anyone’s uncle.
I turned to listen to the answer.
‘Tshuma and Burger were reprieved and the other four were going to be hanged.’
‘What did the Sheriff do after reading these letters?’
Labuschagne again glanced at the Warrant Officer before he spoke. ‘He dealt with each prisoner separately. We took them into the office one by one. He told the four they were to be hanged on the twenty-sixth.’
‘What became of the prisoners after that?’
‘The admin people took over and asked the ones to be hanged for the details of their relatives so that they could be informed. They then sent them tickets to come for a final visit and for the funeral service.’
That did not account for Tshuma and Burger. Labuschagne must have read my thoughts and added, ‘The other two were transferred out to Central.’
‘What did you do with the other four?’ I pressed on.
‘We took their measurements.’ Labuschagne used we, hiding in the collective. I suppose I would have been slow to admit my involvement if I had been in his shoes.
‘The Warrant Officer and I took them,’ he added when I was slow with my next question.
‘What measurements did you take?’ I hurried the questions so that he wouldn’t have time for intrigue or scheming before answering.
‘We first weighed them without their shoes. The Warrant Officer wrote down their weight. I measured their height, from the floor up to behind the ear. Then I measured their necks.’
I decided to test him. ‘How did it feel, measuring their necks, when you had known them for so long?’
Labuschagne gave a gruff, angry answer. ‘I felt nothing.’
I let him off the hook. ‘What happened after these tasks had been completed?’
‘We took Moatche and Mokwena to the Pot in A1. Wessels and Scheepers were taken back to C Section.’
‘Did anything unusual happen on the way to the Pot?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at me and, when I did not follow up on his answer, continued on his own. ‘Moatche asked me why he was going to be hanged if Tshuma had been reprieved. He said the whole thing had been Tshuma’s idea, to rob passengers on the train. I told him I did not know, but it was the same for Burger and Scheepers. One was reprieved and the other one was to be hanged.’
‘What did you do as a result of that conversation?’
‘I went to our archives section and I read Moatche’s case record. And after that I started reading some of the others. I tried to work out why some were reprieved and some were not. But I just got confused. It did not make much sense to me.’
‘What duties did you perform after lodging those men in the Pot?’
‘We went back to our normal duties, guarding the prisoners, taking them for family visits and so on. In the Pot they could talk and sing and we read the Bible with them and tried to keep them calm.’ There was a pause. ‘And we serviced the gallows equipment.’
It was time for the tea break. ‘Would this be a convenient time, M’Lord?’ I asked, and inclined my head towards the clock.
The Judge glanced up from his papers and said, ‘Yes. The Court will adjourn for half an hour.’
It had started raining, so we walked around in the atrium. Round and round we went, with Wierda alternatively telling me about the next case and the features of the building.
The central atrium was about sixty metres long and thirty wide. A very large copper chandelier hung directly under the cupola. I calculated that there were a hundred and twelve marble columns in the atrium; they formed a natural pathway along the outer perimeter and in two places their placement created passages across. Wierda and I traipsed along these paths on marble tiles of black, grey, ivory, red and brown. Heavy wooden benches were arranged between the columns as public seating and Wierda and I eventually sat down under an alcove with a bust of E J P Jorissen, the Transvaal Republic’s Secretary of Justice and a contemporary of Wierda’s great-grandfather.
I leaned back against the wall and stretched my legs. There was some intricate relief work on the ceiling at least fifteen metres above the floor: a boy and a girl sitting back to back with a globe on a pedestal between them. The girl held an open book, ready with her pen to record the verdict; the boy held the scales of justice and was checking whether they were in balance.
Knowledge and Justice.
Law and Equity.
I wondered if we could make them coincide in our case, but in the relief above our heads they were facing away from each other.
V3506 Ishmael Mokone Marotholi
V3507 Zacharia Molefi Kodisang
V3508 Richard Busakwe
29
Marotholi, Kodisang and Busakwe had broken into the home of Mr Johannes Marx and killed him. They faced one charge of housebreaking with intent to rob with aggravating circumstances and a charge of murder. Both were capital offences.
Mr Marx was sixty-nine years old, a retired man who lived alone at his home in Odendaalsrus, a generally quiet gold-mining town in the northwest of the Orange Free State. On Friday 25 October 1985 he visited his brother at the latter’s barbershop in the town and spent half an hour talking to his son, also named Johannes Marx, from about five o’clock in the afternoon. Then he went home. The next morning at about seven-thirty his domestic employee, Mrs Maria Mateboha, arrived for work but found the house locked and her employer’s Toyota Corolla sedan missing from the garage. She assumed Mr Marx had gone to town and, after waiting for a while, she went to the barbershop. When she saw only the deceased’s brother there, she assumed Mr Marx had gone somewhere without remembering to tell her. She went home. Later the same morning Johannes Marx junior went to visit his father and found his body on the bathroom floor and that of his dog on top of him. His father’s body had been splashed or painted with a silvery paint. His hands were tied behind his back and two belts bound his legs together, one at the knees and the other around the ankles. A pair of socks had been stuffed into his mouth and tied around his lower jaw.
The house had been ransacked and numerous items were missing. A strange message had been painted on the passage wall: