Justice Nnebuihe watched the display of subtle rivalry before her. Two SAN representing a defendant and a plaintiff were stuck in the blurry lines of legal proceedings that each abandoned the thrust of the matter — a wrongful termination of a legally acquired property.

The plaintiff, an old woman in her late sixties, sat opposite her, helpless and hopeless. The court— Nnebuihe's civil court was her last hope.

On the other side was a a man, accompanied by his wife. Poised with a haughty and complacent smile etched on their lips like a signpost. Justice Nnebuihe scoffed. After their visit a week ago, and subsequent calls masked as " courtesy call", she entertained no doubt that the couple are assured of victory.

This scenario reminds her so much of her childhood. Her father's defense of a widow's right to her husband's property. The woman's in-laws, like in most African society, had raised their claws and fangs to drain every penny the widow's husband made while alive. He won the case, and soon paid with his life, leaving his wife widowed, and his children fatherless. A murder that was buried as an accident.

Nnebuihe was ten at the ten. The oldest of three girls. Her mother nearly lost everything as well. It was a full cycle that returned to face the family.

Watching the widow, she could only see her mother back then. The black mourning clothes and shaven hair. The dark rings around her eyes, and that heavy bag under them.

She called the court to order and announced recess.

She saw the couples face twisted in surprise. Nnebuihe got the hint she needed to conclude that the SAN representing the widow had been bought over.

She turned to the couples, and in a gentle voice, she persuaded them to withdraw the suit and give the deed to the widow. They stuck to their acts. Seeking for justice to be served.

" I will give you another chance. Before we return from recess, I want your decision. Whatever you choose will determine the judgement on this case." She explained.

The minute she entered her office, a message notification popped in on her phone. 

" This is not what we agreed. Why are you doing this to us?" It read. Nnebuihe smiled and showed it to a colleague. The bags of rice the couples brought to her house in her absence were laid out in a corner of her office.

" I may not retrieve the land now, since there's no evidence of purchase by her husband, but they will not go free." She said with finality in her voice.

Judgement was passed in favour of the plaintiff. Before their celebratory handshakes met their lawyer's, another suit was filed. This time, against them. His crime — contempt of court, and perversion of the course of justice. The bribe came to the light of day.

" I want you to remember this day for the rest of your life. Your attempt to buy justice is a singular prove you do not own that land.

I wanted you to see the victory you sought, but never taste it. 

The court is the last hope of the common man, and it will remain so. Within these walls, I am the lady of justice.

Have that in mind the next time you approach equity."

To Justice Nnebuihe, the lady of justice has a scale for a reason, and a sword for punishment.  Irrespective of who was involved, her blindfolds ensures fairness and equality and it will remain so, no matter the cost.