"But was it fair? Was his decision just?" Madam Ireti Tells her Story of Regret

I sit alone in my small room, the Bible resting on my lap. The verses, once so familiar, seem distant now, as if they belong to another life. I close my eyes and try to find comfort in prayer, but the words catch in my throat. My heart is heavy with the burden of what I’ve done, and I’m unsure if I can ever truly forgive myself.

The memory of that day is as sharp as the cane I used. I see Chibuzor’s innocent face, hear his cries, and feel the weight of the cane in my hand. It was meant to teach him a lesson, to correct him, but instead, I took his life. I can’t escape that truth, no matter how hard I try.

The trial is over, but my soul is not at peace. Judge Olayinka was kind, I suppose, considering what could have been. He did not send me to prison; instead, he asked that I serve the community and care for the children, the ones I can still help. He also ordered me to support Nneka, to help ease the burden of her loss. 

But was it fair? Was his decision just?

I wonder if he truly understood the depth of my regret, the sorrow that consumes me. I know I didn’t mean to kill Chibuzor, but does that lessen the weight of what I’ve done? Shouldn’t I be punished more severely for taking an innocent life, even if it was an accident?

These thoughts torment me, so I decide to seek advice. I go to see Pastor Gabriel, the man who has guided me through many trials over the years. His small office in the church is a place of refuge for many, and I hope he can help me find clarity.

When I arrive, Pastor Gabriel greets me with his usual warmth, but I can see the concern in his eyes. He’s heard about what happened everyone has. I sit down, and before I can even begin to explain why I’ve come, the tears start to fall.

"I don’t know what to do, Pastor," I manage to say between sobs. "The judge was merciful, but I feel like I should be punished more. I took a life, a child’s life. How can I ever be forgiven? Was the judge’s decision fair? What would you have done?"

Pastor Gabriel listens quietly, his expression serious. When I finish, he leans back in his chair, taking a deep breath before speaking.

"Sister Ireti," he begins, "what you did was tragic, and the pain you feel is a natural consequence of your actions. But it’s important to remember that justice is not just about punishment. It’s also about redemption, about giving people a chance to make amends. The judge saw that your actions, while devastating, were not done out of malice. He saw that you were trying to correct a wrong, not knowing it would lead to such a tragic outcome."

I nod, understanding his words, but still struggling to accept them.

"If I had been the judge," Pastor Gabriel continues, "I might have made the same decision. You’re not a criminal, Ireti. You’re a woman who made a terrible mistake. The judge has given you a chance to serve your community, to help others, and to make a difference. That’s a heavy burden in itself, but it’s also an opportunity to find some measure of peace."

He pauses, letting his words sink in.

"As for forgiveness," he says gently, "that’s something you’ll need to work on, both from others and from yourself. Nneka may find it hard to forgive you, and that’s understandable. But God’s forgiveness is always available to those who truly repent. And from what I see, your remorse is genuine. You must learn to forgive yourself, Ireti. That will be the hardest part, but it’s necessary if you’re to move forward."

I sit there, letting his words wash over me. They bring some comfort, but also a new understanding of what lies ahead. The path to forgiveness, to redemption, is not an easy one. It will require more than just serving the community and helping Nneka. It will require me to confront my guilt every day, to face the consequences of my actions head-on, and to seek forgiveness from those I’ve hurt, including myself.

As I leave Pastor Gabriel’s office, I feel a small sense of relief, as if a tiny piece of the burden has been lifted. But I know the road ahead will be long and difficult. I will continue to serve, to help, and to pray. And perhaps, one day, I will find the forgiveness I so desperately seek.

And so, I continue on this journey, not just to serve the community, but to seek answers and find peace within myself. The judge’s decision was fair, but the true test lies within me, in my ability to live with what I’ve done and to find a way to forgive myself for the loss of an innocent life.