Last week’s Mail & Guardian reported on the phenomenon of contract killings commissioned — if that’s the word — by relatives of the victims.
Similar articles appeared in other newspapers, sparked by the arrest of Mulalo Sivhidzo in connection with the murder of her husband, Avhatakali Netshisaulu, the son of City Press editor Mathatha Tsedu.
So far, so good. There’s an obvious fascination with the notion of murder plotted by family members. Police have been investigating several such cases in prominent families recently, heightening the public’s interest.
But it’s dangerous territory, since most of the cases that make up the apparent ”surge” are only beginning their long journey through the courts. There is a line that should not be crossed, and it is where the suggestion is made that a particular person is guilty of murder, or contract killing, before the courts have reached such a decision.
That line was crossed on the front page of the M&G. In drawing attention to the report, the teaser ”the rise of the black widow” was juxtaposed with a close-up photograph of Sivhidzo’s tear-stained face, wearing large dark glasses — clearly suggesting that she is one of these ”black widows”. Taken together, the picture and headline suggested that her guilt has been established.
For all I know, it may be true that she had her husband burnt alive in the boot of his car. But she could also be completely innocent. It is premature and injurious to treat her as guilty before she has had a chance to defend herself. It’s worth remembering that she claims to have been tortured to make the confession that the state intends using against her.
The Netshisaulu case also raises the more complicated question of naming an accused. Technically, Sivhidzo should only have been named once she appeared in court — yet her name became public almost the moment she was arrested.
It seems as if the practice of protecting the identity of arrested people has largely gone out of the window.
The rape charge laid against former deputy president Jacob Zuma, for instance, was public knowledge long before he appeared in court. And rightly so — who could imagine reporting the case as a charge against ”a senior public official”? Allegations against people of such prominence can’t be suppressed.
It is true that there are oddities in the law. It is unclear when exactly the principle that trials should be open makes the accused’s identity reportable — at first appearance, or only when a plea has been entered.
Also, the law’s protection is granted to people once they have been arrested, and until they appear in court. That’s the grand time of 48 hours, which is as long as the police can hold them without charge. Beforehand, and afterwards, they can be freely named. Those two days are a fairly pointless island of anonymity.
But there is merit in protecting reputations that may be unjustly damaged. Investigations often come to nothing, charges are dropped or fizzle out. But the stigma of having been under suspicion can linger long afterwards.
The sub judice rule, which covers this and other issues, badly needs to be updated and modernised. There is little point in holding on to a rule that no one observes. We need a new way of protecting the individual’s right to reputation in the context of the legal process, which is inevitably bruising, while still safeguarding the public’s right to information.
The Mail & Guardian’s ombud provides an independent view of the paper’s journalism. If you have any complaints you would like addressed, you can contact Franz Krüger at [email protected]. You can also phone the paper on 011 250 7300 and leave a message