We are at it again. The SAPS and popular local musician Khuli Chana have settled on their second of what does not look like the last of the disputes between them.
In September 2014, the musician and the police agreed the musician would be paid an undisclosed amount of money – unconfirmed reports suggested he had claimed R2.7 million – after the cops claimed they shot the musician after he failed to stop at a roadblock.
Two police officers, Mduduzi Nzuza and Sam Baloyi, who shot and injured the musician (real name Khulani Morule) had their charges of attempted murder, reckless endangerment, failure to take reasonable precautions to avoid danger and negligent use of a firearm withdrawn.
I do not have a problem with the principle of out-of-court settlements. They are a time honoured part of our administration of justice processes and often expedite matters.
What I have a problem with is lack of accountability by those who wield state power, like the police officers who shot Khuli and then later lied about the circumstances.
The officers did not only lie, they also set out to frame an innocent man as a way of shutting him up.
They even used the police communications machinery to spread the falsehood.
Police spokesperson Neville Malila was quoted at the time as saying “the investigators who’ve been starting with the investigation into the incident that took place on Tuesday morning, they viewed CCTV footage”.
“Also there are independent witnesses that support the claim of police officers that Khuli Chana tried to run them down when they flagged him down in uniform.”
Gauteng police commissioner Lesetja Mothiba added that they had a strong case against the musician.
“The investigation has been finalised and the case docket has been referred to the office of the National Director of Public Prosecutions and we’re convinced we have a strong case against Khuli Chana.”
The latest episode tells us that the state lied to us. The taxpayer will now foot the bill and that will be the end of the matter.
Seems to me we are breeding a state where those who are supposed to enforce the law think they are the law themselves.
For example, in Durban the head of the metro police, Eugene Nzama, apprehended a security guard at a shop who had asked him for a receipt for goods purchased. Nzama was so incensed by the apparent slur that he arranged for officers under his control to come pick up the man, ostensibly on the basis that he was an undocumented alien.
Unfortunately the security guard is not Khuli Chana. He is not a celebrity. He does not have the financial resources nor the fame. If he vanishes from the face of the earth, he will not make the 7 o’clock news.
I shudder to think of how many others like the poor security guard are in prisons or have their lives irrevocably damaged because someone in power decided to use the authority vested in them to teach them a lesson.
Nzama, like the two cops in the Khuli Chana case, is probably going on about his life as if nothing happened.
The two incidents speak for the many others that never get media attention. They are a slice of life for the many who have to come to believe that the police are to be feared rather than respected.
They offer a glimpse into the world of the poor and those who cannot speak for themselves.
These officers remind us of those unfortunate detainees who “slipped on soap” while in the shower and fatally banged their heads against the hard floor. I had hoped that in a democracy we would not have such stories any more. I had hoped that institutions like the Independent Police Investigative Directorate would ensure that no longer would a prisoner fall from the ninth floor of today’s equivalent of John Vorster Square as happened in the past.
Alas. I was too optimistic to expect that someone in the SAPS would demand that the police officers account for why they tried to frame the pop star or what Nzama did with the nameless, faceless security guard.
They must account not because of the fame or obscurity of the two men but because of what they as police officers are, or at least supposed to be in the democracy value chain.
Our much-vaunted democracy means nothing if it cannot protect the most vulnerable and marginalised when confronted with those who wield state power. It is glorified toilet paper if its promises apply only to the rich and famous.