To Reveal the Truth - by Abdulsamad Jimoh

1The continuous blare of vehicles’ sirens reverberated in the atmosphere of that cold evening as Bamidele made his way fast towards the mansion. At the main entrance, some plainclothes and uniformed police officers quickly stepped aside and saluted him, and he reciprocated before proceeding through the threshold. Inside, the large living room—illuminated by fluorescent lights and chandelier overhead—was heaving with investigators. Bamidele stood at a corner and looked round the living room at a forensic photographer taking pictures of important spots and evidence; some detectives noting the state of the scene on white papers; forensic investigators scrupulously handling relevant materials with their glove-covered hands and keeping them in evidence bags; and paramedics quickly pushing out a woman on a stretcher with an oxygen mask affixed over her face. A detective approached him and saluted, and then explained to him that a bottle containing a poisonous substance was found around the woman. While they were still discussing, another detective walked up to them and saluted before showing a transparent evidence bag containing a diary. ‘We found it beside the woman’s body,’ the detective said. Looking through it, Bamidele quickly caught a glimpse of the words inscribed on the cover of the diary: To Reveal the Truth. ‘To reveal the truth.’ Bamidele’s eyes danced while still maintaining a close attention to the diary in the transparent bag. ‘I believe this will give us more clues, sir,’ the other detective said. ‘Yes.’ Bamidele nodded. ‘Let them scan it immediately so that we can get a digital copy.’ ‘All right, sir.’ The officer saluted and walked away with the bag. Hours later, Bamidele and his team arrived at the Intelligence Department, and they were invited to a conference hall where the digital copy of the diary had been displayed on a wide projection screen. They settled in high-backed chairs, and Bamidele instructed a detective to remain beside the screen and read for everyone to listen. Then, the officer read the content aloud page after page. - I adored Soji from the depths of my heart. I supported him with my wealth. We got married at Federal Marriage Registry Ikoyi, Lagos, after my graduation from the University of London. Our love story began at Immaculate College, a prominent boarding school in Lagos. Soji was my senior; we started talking the day I fainted during the school assembly. That day, I was told he carried me with alacrity to the school clinic; others—including the principal and the teachers—were only running helter-skelter behind him. My mother’s eyes were the first things I met when I opened mine. She praised God. She must’ve rushed down to the school in a surge of anxiety. Some teachers were also in the room; their faces breathing relief. My mother caressed my right shoulder with her hand, and then the doctor came in to check me; he mentioned that I had been overstressing myself. It was undeniable, for I used to pull an all-nighter to study. Later, my friends told me about the incident — about Soji. My mother and I expressed our gratitude to him. Then, I stared at a young man who was handsome and tall with his skin like that of a dark coffee. His action surprised me, as we had never talked before. In short, that was the genesis of our friendship. There were many guys who wanted to date me then, but I didn’t give them attention. One of them even told me that I had a mysterious beauty, and it was killing him. His words surprised me. Why would my beauty be killing someone? Although people said I was gorgeous, I didn’t consider it. Soon, Soji became my bosom friend, and after he graduated from Immaculate, we became lovers. I fell in love with him hook, line, and sinker. Most times, I would sneak out of the school with the help of my friends, especially Sarah, to keep our arranged tryst. We continued hitting the sack until the unwanted result came. I learnt I was pregnant some days before my graduation from Immaculate. I didn’t even know. It was Sarah who discovered it. That day, I’d disgorged twice in the hostel. ‘Febi, are you okay?’ Sarah asked, looking very concerned. ‘I’m fine, just that everything keeps nauseating me,’ I replied while still feeling like I would spew anytime soon. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Hope it’s not that you are—’ she paused as some students passed by. I didn’t know what she wanted to say, yet my heartbeat increased. ‘What is it?’ She moved closer to me that her breath fanned my neck and said, ‘It’s like you are pregnant.’ ‘What! Is that the way it happens?’ ‘What did you expect? You do it with Soji every...’ ‘Please, Sarah, what should I do now?’ ‘You need to take pregnancy test first…’ Sarah asked more questions and realised I was green. The novice in me showed itself. I’d missed my period a few weeks ago, but I didn’t bother for I thought I missed the count. I carried out the self-administered pregnancy test on Sarah’s instructions: it was positive. I was shocked and scared — not ready for it. ‘Febi, you know I love you,’ Soji said after I informed him the following day. ‘But, we have to get rid of—’ ‘Get rid of what!?’ I vociferated. ‘Abortion? What if I die in the process?’ ‘No, you won’t die. Try to understand me…’ I didn’t listen to him. I was scared. I knew I couldn’t keep the pregnancy, for I wouldn’t want to disappoint my mother, who always saw to it that I got nearly everything I wanted without question since my father’s demise. My stepfather and Idera, my stepsister, would mock me if they became aware of my condition, as we weren’t always on friendly footing. I didn’t think well before I did it with Soji. When I got to my hostel room, I hid myself in bed completely with my bedcovers and wept. Later, when I told Sarah about it, she advised me to terminate the pregnancy. She was a master in the game. She even told me that she and some of our friends had done it several times — I wasn’t the first. Yet, I didn’t conclude just like that. After I graduated from Immaculate, my mother and stepfather relocated to Abuja to expand their business. I returned to my late father’s mansion in Lagos Mainland. I was fifteen when my father died; and after my mother remarried, I continued to reside at his mansion with Aunty Bisi, his younger sister, except for the period I spent at Immaculate College. Nevertheless, I visited my mother in her husband’s house during the weekends. And that was before her relocation. Aunty Bisi didn’t notice I was pregnant because she was too busy with her wedding plans. She even went to stay with her fiancé in Badagry two days after my arrival, and that gave me the opportunity to invite my friends to the house. I eventually concluded that I would remove the pregnancy. I told Soji and Sarah when they came around; they were delighted. ‘I’m doing it because I don’t have a choice,’ I said. ‘If anything bad happens—’ ‘Nothing will happen,’ Sarah cut in. ‘I know a doctor who can do it perfectly. If you’re ready, I’ll take you there first thing tomorrow morning.’ ‘I’m ready,’ I said, but I was worried deep inside. ‘Thank you, Sarah,’ Soji said. ‘You know,’ Sarah began. ‘Febi is not just a friend but a sister to me. That’s why I need to do everything to bring her out of this.’ I looked at her and responded with a smile. Soji moved closer to me on the couch and hugged me tightly and said, ‘Nothing bad will happen to you.’ The following day, Sarah took me to a doctor on the outskirts of Lagos to remove the foetus. Everything was fine, and I thought that was all until I got home and started bleeding. Shocked. Sarah was with me, and she quickly informed Soji on the phone.She tried to lift me up as I was groaning on the floor. Then, Soji arrived. He rushed over and saw the blood that was gushing down on my lap. ‘Hey! This is serious,’ he said as he joined hands with Sarah to lift me up. If they were still talking, I didn’t know — I was too weak. Then I fainted.

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