When Prosecutors Become Targets, Our Rule of Law Bleeds

The death of Ondangwa regional prosecutor Justine Shiweda is a raw, personal tragedy. A life dedicated to justice cut short. But for our nation, it is more. It is a direct strike against the heart of our legal order. When a prosecutor is attacked and the police believe this was a targeted hit over a case file, we are not just losing a public servant. We are watching the rule of law itself bleed.

I remember during my legal internships seeing prosecutors walk the corridors of the Windhoek Magistrate’s Court. Heavy files under their arms, calm discussions with investigators. It was a portrait of mundane, diligent duty. The recent image from Ondangwa of gunfire and corrosive substances aimed at one of these public servants shatters that portrait completely. This was no random crime. It was a calculated message that the scales of justice can be tipped with violence.

Prosecutors hold a fragile, vital trust. They stand between chaos and accountability. Our entire system hinges on their ability to act without fear. But what happens when fear becomes the primary tool of the accused? When the bridge between crime and consequence is attacked? The message to other prosecutors, to witnesses, to the public, is corrosive. It whispers that intimidation works.

Namibia’s Constitution, in Article 12, guarantees a fair trial. Article 88 establishes an independent prosecutor general. These are not just words on paper. They are the bedrock of our society. However, a foundation cracks if the individuals tasked with upholding it are left exposed. The safety of our judicial officers, from prosecutors and magistrates to investigators, is not a side issue. It is the issue. Without it, the grand ideals of justice become a hollow script.

Yes, upgrading the charges to murder is a necessary legal step. But our response must be broader and deeper. It must be institutional. We have to ask uncomfortable questions. What protective frameworks exist for prosecutors handling high risk, sensitive cases? Are threat assessments conducted, or do we only act after the attack? The focus has long been on caseloads and court backlogs. Now, we must place safety and security at the forefront of our concern.

And this is the true cost: public confidence. When people see that criminals can retaliate against the state’s lawyers, trust evaporates. People stop coming forward. Cases grow cold. A silent, fearful space grows where the law is meant to speak loudest.

So, what does this moment demand? More than sorrow. It demands a resolute, systemic answer. We need tangible, reviewed security protocols for high risk cases. We need a swift, serious channel to report and respond to threats against any judicial officer. We need to treat the protection of our legal system’s personnel with the same gravity we treat the principles they uphold.

Justice must be done, and seen to be done. But first, it must be seen to be defended.

Shiweda’s legacy should not be one of fear. It must be the catalyst that fortifies the system she served. If we are to remain a nation governed by law and not by threat, then making our courts of justice safe for those who work within them is our most urgent national duty.

• Pawaopeni Andrian is a master of law candidate in corporate and commercial law at the University of Namibia.

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