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By Ousainou Allen – Interim Party Leader For NAFAA
When two Police Intervention Unit officers, Sang J. Gomez and Pateh Jallow, were killed at the Sukuta–Jabang Traffic Lights on 12 September 2023, Gambians rightly expected a thorough, evidence‑based pursuit of justice. Instead, what unfolded has become a defining moment in our national psyche — and not in the way the state hoped.
The government swiftly arrested Ousainou Bojang and later charged his sister Amie Bojang, framing their apprehension as a decisive breakthrough. High‑ranking officials publicly insinuated that the killings were the product of a broader conspiracy, even targeting political opponents. At the same time, Mama Jabbie, a well‑known sympathiser of the ruling National People’s Party (NPP), was reportedly awarded D1 million for information leading to the arrest of the alleged perpetrator, raising questions about whether loyalty and political currency had become entangled with law enforcement.
As the case moved through the High Court, critical weaknesses in the prosecution’s evidence became clear. The sole surviving officer could not definitively identify the shooter. Forensic links were murky. Testimonies were inconsistent. On 30 March 2026, the High Court under Justice Ebrima Jaiteh acquitted and discharged the Bojang siblings, ruling that the state had failed to prove its case beyond reasonable doubt.
Instead of respecting that judgment, state authorities took the unusual step of rearresting the Bojangs immediately upon their release. A rushed ex parte motion was filed to hold them pending appeal, only to be dropped later, leading to their effective release again. This sequence, conviction by narrative before evidence, acquittal by law, and then political pressure to reverse the outcome, has reinforced a growing perception that what the state is most committed to is the appearance of justice rather than its practice.
This pattern is not isolated to the Bojang case. Across the political landscape under the current NPP administration, similar dynamics have surfaced where promises of accountability serve as tranquillisers to a frustrated public, rather than vehicles for real accountability.
For example, the disposal and management of former President Yahya Jammeh’s forfeited assets — a matter of enormous public interest, has been mired in controversy. After the Janneh Commission identified extensive ill‑gotten wealth from the Jammeh era, questions arose over how those assets were handled and sold. This led the National Assembly to establish a Special Select Committee to investigate the sales and disposal process, probing transparency, valuation, and accountability. Some lawmakers even described the process as exposing fraud and legal violations rather than mere administrative mistakes, calling for criminal investigations into alleged mishandling.
The government’s response has been predictable: defend the legal grounding of the asset disposal and promise detailed reports “in due course.” Yet these promises have done little to assuage public skepticism. Despite public hearings and parliamentary investigations, key questions remain unanswered, not least where large sums of money have gone and whether all proper procedures were followed. Critics argue that these prolonged ‘investigations’ function more as public relations exercises than mechanisms for genuine accountability, placating voices while yielding little concrete outcome. 
This dual pattern of dramatic investigation followed by equivocal resolution, feeds a larger public sentiment that the NPP administration has mastered the art of managing perceptions while deferring substantive accountability. Arrests dominate headlines. Commissions are appointed. Public hearings are held. But when the curtain falls, few people feel that justice was truly served or that the state delivered on its promise to the people.
It is this backdrop that explains the unusual unity now visible among Gambians. Supporters of different political parties, civil society observers, and ordinary citizens alike see a system that prioritises spectacle over scrutiny and control over credibility. People across the political divide may disagree about ideology or leadership, but they are increasingly in agreement about one thing: the justice system is too often a stage managed for optics rather than outcome.
Amid this political theatre, the families of Sang J. Gomez and Pateh Jallow remain the most overlooked victims. They are left with lingering grief and unanswered questions about who killed their loved ones and why the state’s investigation collapsed under scrutiny. Public celebrations of acquittal, political accusations, and theatrics around bounties offer cold comfort when closure is absent and accountability is elusive.
Until state institutions demonstrate a genuine commitment to evidence, transparency, and accountability — in criminal investigations and public asset management alike — the illusion of justice will persist. And so too will the unity it unintentionally fosters, not around trust in the state, but around a collective demand that justice be real, not performative.