Wisdom is dead. His uncle killed him in error. His uncle mistook him for a thief. And with his local gun, he killed the boy he even helped to train to become a medical doctor.
This is the story of an agonising poor widow whose only child, Wisdom, was shot on the chest by his uncle.
“I can't take this, I can't, why did you shoot? Nnadi why? Who asked you to shoot? Did I ask you to shoot?” She continued shaking the corpse of her innocent son who had just graduated, after seven years of studying medicine.
She became a widow in 1989. It took her farming for people, empting her box of wrappers, hawking three leaf yam, vegetable, periwinkle, not forgetting, the endless assistance from this same uncle, Nnadi, to see her only child Wisdom through school.
It was a mistaken identity. Nnadi pulled the trigger when he heard “thief o! thief o!” It was the voice of his late brother's wife. He arose from sleep, clutched his hunting gun, straight to the door, saw a figure and pulled the trigger, “I get am, I get am”, excitedly he ran out, unfortunately the thief escaped but Wisdom was unlucky.
His corpse on her laps and her eyes fixed on his killer uncle. What should I do? Bury and forgive or bury and prosecute?