Case Closed—But Not for Me

It started like every other courtroom case.

I was defending a 32-year-old tech entrepreneur named Chisom Onu. He was accused of orchestrating the biggest cryptocurrency Ponzi scheme in Nigerian history—₦3.2 billion gone, over 700 victims, and no trace of the money.

I was his defense lawyer, freshly promoted, eager to prove myself. My boss dumped the case on me, saying, “You’re sharp. Just make sure he doesn’t bury us with him.”

Day one in court:

The prosecution had witnesses, bank statements, even voice recordings of Chisom promising outrageous 300% returns. My client just sat there smirking like he knew something the world didn’t.

Day five:

A surprise witness appeared. An ex-employee named Ifeoma who claimed she helped launder the money. She pointed at Chisom and said, “He told me the plan was bulletproof because the lawyer would never let him lose.”

I froze. The lawyer?

The judge asked, “What lawyer?”

She glanced at me.

“That one. Barrister Kene. He was in on it too.”

My jaw dropped.

The entire courtroom turned to stare at me. I started sweating buckets. I had never met this woman in my life. But then she added, “He told me to delete the files. Even paid me ₦3 million in USDT.”

The prosecution jumped on it.

They demanded I be recused and investigated. My boss bailed on me instantly. “You’re on your own,” he texted.

My license was on the line. My entire career. I called Chisom in private and screamed, “What the hell is going on?!”

He looked at me calmly and said,

“Relax. You’re not under investigation. I am. This is part of my defense.”

“What?!”

“I made her lie on purpose. She was coached. I needed to shift suspicion and create legal confusion. It’s textbook diversion.”

“But why bring me into it?!”

He leaned forward, smiling.

“Because I knew you’d never fold under pressure. And once the judge sees how sloppy the witness is under cross, he’ll throw out her testimony. It’ll make the whole case look weak.”

I was furious. “You risked my entire life.”

He just whispered,

“Trust me. It’s not over yet.”

Day nine of the trial:

I destroyed Ifeoma on the stand. She contradicted herself five times, forgot basic details, and admitted she wasn’t paid anything. The judge discredited her testimony.

Day twelve:

Chisom took the stand and said he was set up by his former business partners—three powerful men who were all mysteriously absent in the court proceedings. He claimed they forged the voice notes and framed him.

Just when I thought we were finally gaining traction…

Day fifteen:

The prosecution revealed a new piece of evidence: an encrypted drive recovered from Chisom’s home. They hadn’t cracked it yet, but they were confident it held the missing transaction history.

That night, Chisom escaped from prison.

Three months later:

I received a letter delivered by hand. It was from Chisom.

“Dear Kene,

I told you I was good at what I do. I just needed the best lawyer to distract them while I vanished. You were brilliant. Thank you. I left you something. The key is under the chessboard in your office. PS: The ₦3.2 billion? Let’s just say I diversified. Enjoy the yacht. — C.O.”

I rushed to my office, flipped the chessboard, and found a USB stick. It contained login credentials to a crypto wallet.

Balance: ₦12,000.

I blinked. Then another pop-up appeared:

“Just kidding. You really thought I’d cut you in?”

The file auto-deleted itself.

I never saw Chisom again.

But the prosecution cleared me.

And my name became legend in the legal world…

as the guy who defended a ghost.