In the unfolding drama surrounding the suspended Chief Justice and her unprecedented public outburst, a broader and more sinister script is becoming visible—one that exposes not just the personal bitterness of an individual stripped of judicial power, but a calculated effort by political actors, particularly the Minority in Parliament, to derail a lawful constitutional process with emotional blackmail and public manipulation.
This is no longer merely about a Chief Justice who allegedly breached professional conduct and is being subjected to lawful scrutiny. It has evolved into a shameful theatre of coordinated political theatrics, designed to confuse the public, undermine democratic accountability, and ultimately shield high-ranking individuals from the consequences of their own misconduct. And at the centre of it all is an alarming camaraderie between the suspended Chief Justice, Gertrude Torkornoo, and the Minority caucus—a relationship that raises more red flags than a May Day parade.
Let us unpack it.
In what should have been a private, constitutionally mandated inquiry into her conduct, the Chief Justice chose to address the nation in a press conference that was unprovoked and utterly inappropriate. In doing so, she violated the very principles she was sworn to uphold. Article 146 proceedings, by constitutional design, are confidential. The purpose is to preserve the sanctity of the process and protect both the complainant and the respondent from undue public pressure. But what did we witness instead? A former Chief Justice abandoning the restrained dignity of her office for a press conference filled with veiled political innuendos and carefully planted emotional appeals—raising issues of judicial killings during a military regime and attempting to dangerously associate it with the current democratic leadership.
This alone was disgraceful. But what followed next was even more revealing.
The Minority in Parliament, almost as if waiting in the wings with a prepared script, sprang into action, demanding that President Mahama and the Attorney General respond publicly to the CJ’s “concerns.” The Minority leader, himself a lawyer, knows full well that there are legitimate legal avenues to raise any concerns related to the inquiry. And yet, they bypassed the courtrooms and resorted to microphones and headlines. Why? Because this isn’t about justice. This is about public manipulation.
Let us not be naive. This orchestrated sequence of events—the CJ’s explosive press conference followed immediately by political backup from the Minority—is no coincidence. It is a well-calculated, desperation-fuelled collusion aimed at turning a clear-cut case of alleged misconduct into a national crisis, hoping public sympathy will succeed where legal arguments have failed.
The President and the Attorney General must not fall for this trap. Neither the laws of this country nor the dignity of their offices requires them to dignify this blatant ambush with a public response. Responding would not only undermine the ongoing inquiry but would validate a dangerous precedent where public officials can flout constitutional protocols and then demand political engagement as cover.
Let it be made clear: Gertrude Torkornoo is not a victim of a witch-hunt. She is facing the consequences of decisions she made while in office. From her unauthorised travel arrangements that defied established security protocols, to her blatant disregard for the privacy and confidentiality enshrined in Article 146, her actions invite legitimate scrutiny. That scrutiny, as painful as it may be for her loyal political sympathisers, is not optional.
It is worth reminding ourselves of the magnitude of her breach. A sitting Chief Justice is not an ordinary citizen. Her words, conduct, and choices carry institutional weight. For her to drag the office into a politically charged press engagement—and attempt to liken her suspension to the trauma of murdered judges—is not just misleading. It is reckless. It is an insult to the very legal fraternity she once presided over.
And what does it say about the Minority’s sudden affection for judicial independence? Where were they when legitimate judicial reforms were stalled? When judges were intimidated by public appointees aligned to their party? Why is it only now, when one of their own sympathisers is under scrutiny, that they remember to defend due process?
The Ghanaian people must not be deceived. This is not a defence of judicial integrity. It is a carefully crafted smokescreen by individuals with something to hide—those who benefitted from biased judgements under her watch, and who now fear that the tide of accountability is finally turning.
Ghanaians deserve a judiciary that is impartial, not weaponised. And they deserve politicians who protect democratic institutions, not those who hide behind them when the tables turn.
The President must not respond. The Attorney General must stay focused on the mandate of justice. And the public must remain vigilant. Because when a Chief Justice abandons the gavel for a microphone, and a Minority caucus swaps the rule of law for press releases, it is no longer a legal battle—it is a war for the soul of our republic.
Let those who wield public power—past, present, or aspiring—know this: when entrusted with authority, you are duty-bound to serve without fear, favour, tribal allegiance or political bias. For if you fail, as history has taught us repeatedly, there will always come a time of reckoning.
