Law without Wig or Gown

NWANNEKA FLAVA’S stomach clenched tight and his heart dropped when he saw a B on his law project proposal. The shock of it made heat pour into his face and then fall back in the wake of cold anger. He’d worked hard on this outline for his project! He’d checked the information and sources; he’d reviewed the methods by which he planned to present his ideas and proposed a working program. He should have received an A! What gives? Opening the file folder in which his papers were neatly placed, he glanced through the perfectly typed pages looking for corrections, comments, anything that might give a reasonable indication of why he had gotten less than an A, something he knew and very much believed he deserved. Odi egwu! In this university? He half-smiled at the thought.
Not one red check anywhere, no comment, no observation, nothing. The papers were still as neat as he had submitted them. Just the red biro mark of an inserted B. Stewing and boiling hard, Flava flipped open his notebook, scribbled down some words he had just heard and tried to concentrate on the lecture. Several times, it seemed as if Professor Okorafo was looking straight at him as he spoke, singling him out from the other two hundred and something students sitting round the lecture hall. Each time, Flava stared back for a few seconds before scribbling down some more notes. He had a great deal of respect for the Prof. which made the grades even harder to accept. “I’ll challenge him. I don’t have to accept this without a fight.” It wasn’t just a good proposal, it was an excellent piece of work and he darn well knew it. He wasn’t a mediocre student. He poured out his heart and soul into his work, and he intended to make sure he was fairly treated. Hadn’t his father instilled that into him?
“You have to fight for yourself boy, don’t let anybody kick you around. When they push you, push back harder. Life is as you make of it. Focus on where you are going.” His father had always said “Make good grades and get into a good university, the best if possible and stick it out till the end. Don’t let anything or anyone get in your way. Get yourself a sheep-skin grade from a big-name university and you will be half the ladder even before you get your first job.”
Flava sighed as he looked up and saw Professor Okorafo walking towards him...”Do you have anything to add to the contributions?” Flava heard some students laugh softly. There was the creak of seats as others turned to look back at him where sat in the middle centre row. “Sir!”
“Your hand is raised, I assume you’d have something to say probably,” the professor said with an arched brow. Flava’s face flooded with heat as he realized he’d been waving his fountain pen in the air while his mind raced with agitation. “Sorry sir, my mistake.” He flipped his pen into the proper position for writing and aimed a quelling glance at few of the students in front of him; he hadn’t even heard the question that had been asked. “What is your name again?” Professor Okorafo asked “Flava, sir...”
“Yes, I remember now. You were in my former class, Criminology, right? You’re hard to forget”
“Yes sir, I was.”
“Okay Flava, try and listen. I don’t like distractions. Are we ready to proceed then?”
Embarrassment melted into anger. The Professor seemed to be enjoying himself. Now Flava had two reasons to feel indignant: the unfair grade and this public humiliation. “Yes, sir, any time you are.” He forced a dry smile and a pretense of calm disdain as he tried to focus on the remaining part of the jurisprudence lecture.  By the end of the lecture, the muscle in Flava’s jaw ached from tension. He felt as though he had a two-ton elephant sitting on his chest. He sighed as he took his time stuffing his notebook into the backpack already crammed with some books and one small binder. Thankfully, the other students cleared out of the auditorium in quick fashion. Only few paused to make remarks to their friends, laugh and talk about whatever they talked about. He said a few words to his two friends and headed out straight to the faculty office.
Professor Okorafo stacked his notes, tucked them in a file folder and placed it on the shelf somewhere in his office when he heard the knock. “Come on in...”
“Good morning Sir,” Flava greeted as he walked into the office filled with law books, law journals, articles and some Newspapers and a laptop sitting proudly on the well-polished glossy wooden table.
“Did you have a question to ask earlier this morning, Flava?” he said as he pulled out his phones from his suit jacket and sat down on the sofa opposite his working desk.
“No sir...I mean not really, but yes I do have a question to ask now.”
“What exactly then is the matter?” Professor Okorafo asked as he looked at Flava with those dark, shrewd eyes
“Well, sir, I submitted my project proposal to you last week and I received it yesterday and there was no single correction or approval or criticism from you, just a B.” He finished as he held out his file to the Professor
“Yes, I saw this,” he said as he collected the file from Flava “but there’s no need for any corrections or whatsoever remarks. What you wrote was well presented and it showed your excellent effort and hard-work. What exactly indeed is your problem?”
“Err...I just thought I would have felt better if I had gotten an A. Do I need to do some extra work to move from B to an A?”
“Flava, you do know that you don’t question the grades you get unless you’d like to have an extra year which I strongly doubt but then, I sincerely admire your courage and for that reason I’ll tell you this, you have the makings of an excellent project work from this proposal,” he said as he perused through the file “but you lacked just one major ingredient.”
How could that be? A major ingredient? What does that even mean in this context? He and Kene had both gone over the proposal paper before he turned it in. He made sure he had covered everything and indeed he had. “Sir?”
“The human element. You missed out the human element.”
Flava stifled his anger at Okorafo’s sardonic tone. He forced himself to speak more calmly. “How would you suggest I do that, sir? I really don’t understand.” How he badly wanted an A in this project; he wasn’t going to accept less. He had maintained a 4.0GPA for four years now, he wasn’t about to break that perfect record.
“A case study would help.”
Flava flushed with anger. Obviously the professor hadn’t read his paper carefully enough. “I incorporated case studies sir. Here, on chapter two.” He had backed up everything he had proposed with case studies. What was the professor talking about?
“Yes I know. Collected from various volumes. I read your documentations and your endnotes. What you lack in your proposal is personal contact and experience. You were in my Criminology class and you remember I taught you how to conduct empirical research and collect data and statistics report for proper documentation? What is empirical research?”
“Sir, well it basically means an experience of the subject of research conducted by the researcher.”
“Correct! So basically, you have to conduct a research on your project, have a personal experience of what exactly happens in Nigerian Criminal justice system as regards your topic and then recommend based on what you have experienced.
“So, it basically means that I’m required to meet with criminal investigators, Patrol police officers available at a crime scene and some other people relevant to my project topic?” he couldn’t keep the edge of disdain from creeping into his voice. How long would it take to develop a proper questionnaire? How many people would he have to find to guarantee an answer suitable enough? Wasn’t that a thesis work? He wasn’t yet in graduate school now, haba!
“Not necessarily, you don’t have to meet up with so many people. Just have a place for a case study. Let’s say Enugu or probably anywhere you feel comfortable with. Where do you have in mind?”
“Lagos sir. I believe their laws are up to date but would one be enough to give a proper recommendation, sir?”
“Just one, you won’t have time for more. Add your personal experience and what really goes on in Nigeria as regards the practice of forensic evidence and you’ll earn your mark. That’s if you do a good job at it by the way!” Professor Okorafo finished with a smile. “By the way, let’s change your topic from the Vital role of Forensic evidence in Nigerian criminal justice system; A Recommendation to The role of Forensic Evidence in Nigeria CJS; A Critical analysis of ..., you add your area of case study.”
“Thank you sir.” Flava said as he ended the discussion with a forced smile and walked out of the office into the now almost crowded hallway filled with tons of neatly dressed students in white and black clamouring to register their courses manually with their course supervisors. To the new students all well dressed, this was just the beginning of le hustle. Welcome to the University of Nigeria, Enugu Campus, Faculty of law who is no respecter of persons; they still had four more years to go.
 Swinging his backpack across his shoulders and holding his file on his right hand, he placed his other free hand into his pant pocket and walked away with an air of pride and disgust. Oga dinma!