Chapter 2 THE MAN IN BLACK

"...A stranger explains your truth..."

Car tyres skidded on concrete road, beyond the safety speed. Dagogo dragged and revolved his steering wheel, against bumping into other cars. Some of the road users hurled insults at him, and louded their horns. No thinking, just drive! His heart was thumping.

He took his eyes off the road at brief intervals, glancing at the man in black who was seated in front, holding and bending his head, bleeding without noise. He also took his sight backwards to Amadi, whose blood was soaking his backseat. Amadi's eyes were closed, and it made his chest tighten.

He slowed the car down once and twice, to ask passersby for the nearest hospital. Driving into a few random streets, looking at signboards and buildings, until he ran into a police man. Naija police men had the habit of stopping cars and scheming out a reason to obtain cash. The police man started asking questions. But before Dagogo could answer, the man in black raised his head and stretched his hand, showing the police man a badge.

"Officer, hospital." The man in black said.

"Oh, Officer!" The police man's gaze widened. He pointed Dagogo in a direction, and urged him to drive in haste.

Dagogo put extra speed into his driving and not long after, he arrived at a one story building. Naija teaching hospital was written at the top end of the front wall, above a symbol of a white cross in a red square. A gate man came towards the hospital gate, and Dagogo stuck his head out the window.

"Emergency, open the gate!" He shouted. The gateman nodded, unbolted the gates and pushed them open.

As Dagogo drove into the compound, the gateman shouted emergency to a nurse, while raising his hand in a signal. The hospital compound was well swept with a few cars parked within, and some rows of flowers. Two male nurses rushed out, rolling a wheeled stretcher. Dagogo had parked his car, speedily removed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and alighted, hurrying to open the backseat door.

"He's been shot." He told the nurses, and they lifted Amadi into the stretcher, while Dagogo opened the door for the man in black.

"Let me assist you Sir." Dagogo said, putting a hand out. The nurses were wheeling Amadi into the building.

"I can walk." The man in black said, and Dagogo kept his hands away and watched him.

The man in black held his head. Blood dripped through his fingers, touching the ground, as he stepped out of the car. Half his body was covered with blood, changing his dressing to a reddish black. He acted strong, but Dagogo noticed his legs were staggering. When he almost fell after two steps, Dagogo put a hand behind him. Then a female nurse came towards the man in black, and pointed Dagogo to a different female nurse needing his attention behind a counter. At this point, the man in black's eyes were falling close. Dagogo left him with the nurse, and energy draining steps led to the female nurse seated at the counter.

***

The counter was a long flat-topped fitment, like a four cornered wall, on the left hand of the double door entrance into the hospital building. The nurse attempted to explain the hospital's policy - deposit before treatment. Her words became plenty. Naija citizens who enjoyed bargaining cost of treatment with doctors and nurses. Not Dagogo. But she had judged his rumpled shirt, the crack in his glasses, tired look of his face and disarrangement in his hair. His brain struggled to keep up. He asked the sum of the deposit and gave her his credit card. She inserted it into a phone like payment machine with buttons. It printed a receipt and she gave the paper to Dagogo.

She proceeded with questions about Amadi and the man in black: name, age, next of kin and state of origin etc. Dagogo's only answer was Amadi's name. She advised him to wait for the doctor, and off he went. Though his body needed some sitting down, he returned outside to open his car doors and discussed payment with the gate man to clean out his car. The gateman assured him of a professional job, then he returned inside the hospital.

Getting to the waiting section, a short walk past the counter, Dagogo found his breathing easing. His thoughts were still throwing over themselves. The waiting section was a short walk from the counter. It had several long metal benches, placed behind each other, in two lines. People were seated at random, reading newspapers, pressing phones and talking, but in Dagogo's head they didn't exist. His mind was choked. There was no eye contact, neither did he attempt a greeting, as he sat on one end of a front bench, keeping a good space from the other person. Then he took off his glasses and analyzed the crack. Not a tangible crack, but he had new glasses, this one had served long enough. He dropped the glasses on his laps, rested his back and exhaled. Nothing made sense. Nothing at all. His gaze went to the white ceilings above, and a conversation behind him, filtered into his hearing.

"Did you hear about that lawyer who said he wants to sue government in International court? You know, because of the ENDSARS matter." One of the men was saying, keeping his tone low.

"Leave all those people, that's how they talk plenty online to get attention. A government is it something you can just wake up and sue?" The second man replied in a similar tone.

"But he has a point, what happened on that 20th of October..." The first man sighed.

"Deep down, everybody knows it was bad, but can you sue government and anything will change?"

"That is the thing."

The news was wild fire. A month ago, Dagogo had sowed the seed. He had sent anonymous emails to every Naija blogger he could find.

A case has been instituted against the Naija government, at the International Court of Justice. An American born Naija lawyer, is suing the government for its active involvement in the deaths of Mr Dumo Hart and the ENDSARS protesters on the 20th of October 2020, at Lekki toll gate.

Bloggers had digested the story, eager for more details. Dagogo had provided them with documents, keeping his identity hidden. Once the bloggers had enough proof the case was real, bloggers did what bloggers do. The headline blew and became the number one topic on Twitter.

LEKKI TOLL GATE MASSACRE - AMERICAN BORN LAWYER SUES NAIJA GOVERNMENT

The tactic had pulled the attention to his case, and created the step for conversations with witnesses. However, Dagogo couldn't keep his attention on the conversation behind him, neither could he string together a meaning from the attack on Amadi. He dwelled in his thoughts, until the nurse behind the counter came to the waiting section. She answered a few roaming questions from others on their loved ones, and informed Dagogo to see the doctor. Then he followed her.

***

The nurse led Dagogo through a corridor, and showed him the doctor's office. His face squeezed a bit, as the doctor delivered the bad news of Amadi's death, due to a mixture of air and blood in the chest cavity, and the indifferent news of the man in black's survival. Dagogo stood outside the office, wearing the cracked glasses, with his hands in his pocket. His unproductive efforts towards a witness replayed in his mind, from the first potential witness to Amadi. He concluded an attempt at conversation with the the man in black, might have some worth, and he spoke with the nurse. She led him to the hospital ward, and pointed out the man in black's section. The smell of drugs and antiseptic, doctors and nurses attending to patients on different beds, stethoscopes and injections, patients were bandaged and others had sachet bags of medicine tied to their arms, separated into sections by curtains hanged on metal rods. Dagogo went past.

He found the man in black, seated on his bed. A bandage was wrapped around his head, like a scarf. A stick of cigarette stuck between his lips. Smoking would be against hospital rules. Pack of cigarettes positioned themselves on a desk, beside packet of drugs and a bottle of water. The man in black was puffing fumes through the window.

With the blood cleaned up, Dagogo could make out his face. His complexion was charcoal black. A great distance from Dagogo's light fair skin. His kind of blackness in a dark room, only the white part of his striking red veined eyes, would be visible. It was hard to explain the crooked veins in his eyes, and perhaps making it extra difficult, to determine if he was angry or not. His hair was wild afro, bushy and high, a diamond rigid face that showed no sign of weakness, and a fierce triangular goatee. His entire body had a rough muscular frame. Cautious approach was the watchword in Dagogo's head.

Dagogo had a silent breath and kept both hands in his pocket. "How're you feeling Sir?"

The man in black glanced at him. Dagogo could swear temper shifted through those eyes. The man in black took the cigarette from his mouth, and blew out once. Then he threw out the cigarette and shut the window. Dagogo watched him.

His eyes returned to Dagogo. "You are the lawyer." His voice sounded like he had obstacles in his throat. It sounded grouchy.

Dagogo's eyebrows bent. Something stirred inside him. Not fear. No, not that. Surprise. He couldn't say. "Yeah, I'm...I'm a lawyer, do we perhaps know each other Sir?" He asked.

"The lawyer that wants to sue government." The man in black said.

Dagogo glanced sideways. Everyone was up and about their business. No one was snooping at possible secrets leaking from two strangers. Total strangers. Except one knew more than necessary. Dagogo blinked his eyelids and used a finger to nudge his glasses, still processing the conversation.

"I noticed your police badge Sir. You're an officer."

The man in black smirked. His gaze drifted elsewhere.

"Oga lawyer, is not about me, is about knowing what is facing you."

Oga was a Naija slang for addressing someone as boss. It was also a greeting. Sometimes a mockery. Sometimes it was said in acknowledgement of someone, who did something no one else was willing to do.

"I believe I failed to understand your point." Dagogo said.

"Two people die, recently, in Port Harcourt. One Mrs Abake and one Mr Humphrey. Both of them..."

The man in black picked up his pack of cigarette and took one out. His gaze went to Dagogo.

"Your witnesses. Not so?"

Dagogo held his reply. The man in black kept eyes on him. It was no use.

"Yeah, they were my witnesses. May I ask how you came about that information?"

The man in black smirked and looked to his trousers for a lighter. He lit the cigarette, breathed smoke in the air, almost instant.

"Judas the psychopath knows who you are. He's the one killing your witnesses."

Dagogo's eyes narrowed and his mind spinned. "Judas?"

The man in black inhaled from his cigarette, and blew out towards Dagogo.

"The man that shot your witness today. Serial killer. They call him Judas the psychopath, on..."

The man In black waved his cigar in the air, trying to find the word, then he swallowed more smoke. "Twitter. Social media."

Dagogo stared at him, fitting a puzzle that wasn't fitting. "Who is this Judas exactly?"

"Every witness of the government killing. Every ENDSARS protester, he will kill them "

The man in black needed more smoke to go further. "He wants to frustrate your case. I've been investigating him, and you, the name is Rogers."

Dagogo pictured the mad laughing man. "I'm Dagogo. This Judas, what's his interest in my case?"

A smirk followed Dagogo's question. "Oga lawyer, right now, no answer."