Sarah's Story

In a previous post, I told you a little bit about the “what” -- the work I am involved in here in Uganda through Pepperdine. I promised some information about the “why.”

The work is undoubtedly important, but why did Sally and I feel led to come? We love our house and neighborhood in the Seattle area. Our daughters are in the US, as are both of our families. My business is there (although COVID has actually enabled me to handle cases from anywhere in the world … A pandemic benefit!).

Perhaps the best answer to this is a story. The story of Sarah.*

Sarah was pregnant and at her family home in rural Uganda, while her husband was working in the fields. In the middle of the day, one of Sarah’s neighbors approached. This female neighbor didn’t like Sarah for some reason. We may never know why. But the neighbor had chosen this day to settle the score.

The neighbor came onto Sarah’s property with a sharpened garden tool, a cross between a hoe and a scythe. She swung it at Sarah, striking her in the arm and opening an 18 inch gash. Sarah grabbed the weapon, wrestled it from her assailant and swung the weapon one time, killing the neighbor.

Sarah was arrested and charged with Murder. She was remanded to a prison in the center of Uganda, hours from her home, to wait for her trial.

Sarah had her baby in prison. And she waited for her day in Court.

Sarah nursed her son in the cells and in the prison yard. And waited.

The boy first sat up, crawled, walked and began to talk while living in prison. The other female inmates were his aunties, the guards his uncles.

And Sarah waited.

In 2018, over a year after her arrest, I had the opportunity to meet Sarah during a “Prison Project” week. She had been to Court only a single time to enter her initial plea. Nobody had looked at her file. Nobody had been to visit her. Sarah had been forgotten.

Sarah had not signed up for help from our team. She had no idea who we were or that we were there to help negotiate and resolve cases. But as she sat in the prison yard with her son dozing in her lap, she asked one of the guards what was happening. That guard approached our team and, because I wasn’t busy at the moment, I walked over to talk to Sarah.

There was no dispute about the facts. It was a clear-cut case of self-defense. But the prosecutor was rigid, saying, “Scott, but someone died” and demanding decades in prison. There were concerns about safety for Sarah if she returned to the village too soon, fears that the neighbor’s family would attempt to avenge the death. But eventually, the prosecutor softened, offering a 4-year prison term.

Although Sarah might have prevailed at trial, she agreed that she had killed her neighbor. Sarah accepted the 4-year offer, knowing that with credit for the year she had already served, she would be out with her son by the time he turned 3, in about 20 months. Although harsh, that resolution was better than the alternative of sitting in prison with no timeline for resolving her case or even attending court.

When the prosecutor and a Ugandan lawyer from our team went to enter the guilty plea, the judge accepted it. But then, when it came time for sentencing, the judge looked at the prosecutor with frustration and asked, “why are you demanding more time in prison, wasn’t this self-defense?” After a moment of hesitation, the prosecutor agreed.

The judge unexpectedly sentenced Sarah to “time served.” Within days she was freed to return to her husband, her home and her village. For the very first time her son experienced life outside prison.

This is not a story about me. I just happened to be there that day. I didn’t enter the guilty plea. I didn’t advocate for Sarah before the judge. I didn’t even speak Sarah’s language. But I was a bit player in the story. I watched over a dozen Ugandans – advocates and social workers, law students and judges, volunteers and politicians – live out the Parable of the Lost Coin from Luke 15.

Sarah was lost and forgotten. I had the privilege of watching her being found.

Found by Ugandans of good will who desire fairness for all in every corner of their country.

Found by young local professionals who invest daily in improving the judicial system in their beautiful nation.

Found by justice.

* "Sarah” is not her real name.