As soon as it was day break, Jessica resumed her fight for justice once again with an undiminished hunger as she wandered from chamber to chamber, yet it was all the same old story. Nobody was interested in her plight or cared to listen to her story. The few who did wouldn’t do anything until a mobilization fee was paid. But she did not give up.
Meanwhile, the heat of the noonday was getting hotter and unbearable. She felt thirsty and ran her tongue across her dry lips. As she wandered around looking for where to buy sachet water, she noticed a crowd milling around a newspaper stand and she decided to take a look at the dailies. And there in the front covers of some of the major dailies was the picture of her daddy, acknowledging cheers from the crowd. An appellate court had just upheld his victory as the winner of his party’s presidential runoff polls. One of the dailies simply read; ‘Sweet Victory,’ another headline read; ‘All hail the next President.’ The Sun, one of the leading dailies captioned it this way; ‘A consensus Candidate at last.’ Jessica bit her lip in resentment as she tried to hold back the tears that threatened to flood her eyes. She turned away and left the newspaper stand in annoyance.
Just then, an idea occurred to her. Why not go to the press? She thought. Yes, that’s it, go to the press. The idea seemed okay and without knowing when, she was on the lookout for newspaper houses. Finally, she found herself in front of one of the leading newspapers in the country. She went in and asked to see the News and Current Affairs Editor.
“Do you have any previous appointment, Miss?” The pretty faced receptionist asked.
“No.”
“No? Why? You can only see him on appointment.”
“But…but…I’ve got a story that will interest him,” Jessica said desperately.
The receptionist looked at her appraisingly, shrugging she picked up the intercom and dialed a set of numbers, listened, then said. “Sir, there’s a young girl here who wants to see you,” she listened again. “No, no previous appointment, sir. She said she has a story that will interest you.” She listened again, and holding the phone away from her mouth, she asked Jessica. “What’s your name?”
“Jessica Nnamani.”
“Jessica Nnamani,” she said into the mouth piece. Listened again, nodded and hung up. Turning to Jessica, she said. “You can see him now, third door by your right.”
“Thank you, Ma,” she thanked the receptionist and following her direction, she made her way to the editor’s office. At the door, she paused briefly, doing the sign of the cross instinctively. Gently, she rapped on the door and then waited.
A moment later, she heard a voice say from inside the office. “Please, come in.”
She opened the door quietly and walked in. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Afternoon, you said you have a story for me, where is it?” he asked the moment she came into the room. He seemed to be in a hurry, she thought.
“Em …em…I want to …”
“Sorry, young lady. I haven’t gotten time to waste. Write it out, double line spacing and typewritten. I’m done with you,” he said and turned back to his computer.
“Does the name, Senator Nnamani, mean anything to you?” Jessica asked as she turned to go.
“Oh sure, what about him?”
Jessica could see the interest in his eyes. “Good, He is my father. I have a good story about him” At the mention of the words ‘my father,’ Jessica could see that something in the journalist came alive.
He stopped working on the computer and spun round immediately to face her. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed. “How would I have known that? Please, sit down.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What will you take? Coke or Fanta?”
“Nothing, thanks all the same.” Jessica began to wonder the reason for the change in attitude and the new hospitality.
“Why nothing, please take something.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay, sir.”
“So what do you say the name is? I am. Ben Andrew, and you?”
“My name is Jessica Nnamani; I am the daughter of Senator Nnamani.”
“Is that right? You said you have a story for me about your father, what is it all about?” he asked hungrily, sitting down again and picking up his recorder.
Jessica made herself comfortable before telling the journalist the story of her life. She told him all without leaving a thing out. How her father never wanted her, his grudge and secret war against women. How he relegated her to the back and encouraged her to be promiscuous by giving her condoms and how he was now pressurizing her to have an abortion against her will. She also told him how she was sent out of school because she refused to abort the baby, yet the boy who made her pregnant continues with his education. When she finished, he heaved a sigh of relief. He was certainly a good listener, Jessica thought, because he did not interrupt her throughout the entire narrative.
“You’ve certainly gotten a good story,” he said after a long pause. “And I think you’ve made a good choice too by coming here. I promise you that you will have it published soon so the public knows what is going on?”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I am very grateful, sir.”
“There is nothing to worry about. Your story will be in the news stands in a little less than two days,” he assured her.
“That will be very nice, sir.”
“You will do me a favor,” he said.
“What is it, sir?” Jessica asked alarmed.
“You’ll promise me that you will not take the story to other media houses until you hear from me. Do we have a deal?”
“But if I may ask, why, sir?”
“Professional reasons. I want to have monopoly of the story for now, do you understand?”
“I see,” was all she could say.
“Does that mean we have a deal?” he persisted.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” she stood up. “I have to go now but make sure you publish my story.”
“I will. But wait a minute,” he said and fumbling in his pocket, he brought out some money and gave her. “Keep this for your transportation.”
“Oh! Thank you very much, sir. I appreciate,” she thanked him and hit the streets again.