sometimes He shouts it. Whatever the volume, I bet He’s always using
the same three words with us:
Be. Not. Afraid.
When Charlie finished giving his testimony and had answered all the
questions and cross-examinations, he got off the stand. He looked
exhausted but unshaken. This was the first time since the attack he had
been this close to Kabi.
I took him outside and told him how proud of him I was. I touched
him on the nose and said to him, “Charlie, you were brave, you were
courageous, and you weren’t afraid.” A small smile spread across his
face.
The trial took the rest of the week to finish. A short time later, we
received the judge’s guilty verdict. In Uganda, once the judge signs the
verdict, the custom is to take the pen, break it, and throw it off the table.
Then the judge says with an unmatched finality, “What’s been done today
will never be undone.” When the judge signed Kabi’s order and said the
words, it meant Kabi would never be seen again.
The word of Kabi’s conviction went out to forty-one million people.
The courage of a four-foot-tall boy had changed the history of an
entire nation.
We had done it—the very first witch doctor conviction in Ugandan
history. I’ll be honest, while sad about Charlie’s loss, I was pleased with
the outcome of the trial. Justice had been served, and it paved the way for
a more courageous stance for these types of crimes against children.
But then something happened I didn’t expect. I started wondering
about Kabi.
Every fiber of my being wanted him to rot in the jail that would be his
home for the rest of his life. I was okay with that. But my heart felt dark
when I thought about Kabi. It felt far from God, and I didn’t like it.