A few days ago, I had a conversation with an elderly man who said something profound: “We are back to the 60s and 80s, when people demanded instant justice and watched blood flow.”
He was right. There is a growing sense that people accused of corruption should simply be jailed or executed, bypassing all legal processes. This sentiment is rooted in our painful history, decades in which the political and elite classes appeared to act with impunity, shielded from consequences. Naturally, any institution established to fight corruption will face immense public pressure, especially when justice seems delayed. I understand that frustration.
But we must remember: due process is not a weakness, it is the foundation of justice.
When the Office of the Special Prosecutor (OSP) was created, it faced teething problems. Delays in staffing, infrastructure, and institutional coordination slowed its start. Those challenges are now behind us. Under Kissi Agyebeng, particularly in 2022 and 2023, the OSP has consolidated its systems and can now pursue complex cases, though it still requires stronger infrastructure and logistical support.
Many have also claimed that the OSP enjoys a large budgetary allocation. That is not true. Unlike long-established state institutions, the OSP began without an establishment budget. Every desk, computer, and investigative tool has had to be purchased from its annual allocation. And even then, an allocation is not the same as a release. What is allocated on paper is often not fully disbursed in practice.
To put it simply, if the state gives every agency fifty cedis, others may use theirs to replace old computers; the OSP must first buy a computer, and sometimes wait months for the funds to arrive. Building a specialised anti-corruption agency from scratch under such constraints is no small achievement. It is therefore commendable that foreign partners are now assisting the OSP with essential infrastructure, including modern interview rooms and a forensic laboratory, critical tools for professional, evidence-based investigations.
The OSP is not a commercial state venture. Its purpose is to prevent corruption, and where sufficient evidence is found, to prosecute offenders and recover the proceeds of corruption for the state. There are three main ways to recover such proceeds:
1. Forfeiture after conviction, which depends on how long a trial takes;
2. Plea bargaining, where the accused makes restitution to the state, failing which imprisonment follows; and
3. Recovery of unpaid monies identified through corruption risk assessments, for instance, discovering that a company did no work but got paid, and must refund the money based on the principle of quantum meruit, minus any verified investment.
The country also lacks a law on unexplained wealth orders, so at all material times, unless there is a conviction, civil forfeiture of assets without proof of guilt in a criminal trial is impossible.
The pace of investigations is another source of public impatience. Many assume that once a journalist uncovers wrongdoing or a video surfaces online, prosecution should be immediate. But investigations are intricate, especially in financial and transnational corruption. The OSP’s work is methodical, ensuring that suspects and assets are traced, preserved, and eventually recovered upon conviction.
Take, for instance, the SML investigation. Contrary to claims that the OSP “did nothing,” the facts show the opposite. Despite the complexity of the case and the intervening KPMG audit that required a procedural pause, the OSP moved swiftly. The investigation faced extraordinary challenges, attempts to impeach the Special Prosecutor, multiple Supreme Court challenges to its authority, and inadequate institutional support. Yet, the OSP pressed on.
In investigative terms, completing such a case within two years, petition in 2023 and results in 2025, cannot be described as slow. From a professional standpoint, this is fast compared to similar cases, such as the Airbus investigation, which took nearly six years.
It was only last week that crucial evidence from foreign partners confirming Ken Ofori-Atta’s links to SML became available. To call the OSP idle is to ignore these facts. The investigation has been one of the most technically demanding since the office’s inception. The 50-page summary report alone reflects the depth of work required to establish that Mr. Ofori-Atta was, in effect, the alter ego of SML, a fact no journalist could have proven without forensic and financial investigation.
The OSP cannot be blamed for Mr. Ofori-Atta’s departure from the country. What matters now is that the assets linked to the SML deal are being traced and frozen pending forfeiture once guilt is established in court. The OSP’s mandate is not only to prosecute but also to recover tainted assets, ensuring that corruption does not pay.
And yet, no matter what it does, criticism follows. When the OSP is silent, it is accused of shielding criminals. When it speaks, it is said to be talking too much. When it acts, it is deemed slow. When it secures convictions, they are dismissed as “small fries.” When it saves the nation billions, credit goes elsewhere.
But the record speaks clearly. Under Kissi Agyebeng, the OSP has saved Ghana billions of cedis, from reforms in Customs’ benchmark values and auction processes, to the suspension of questionable refinery and procurement deals, to the cancellation of the SML contract. Over 20 high-profile individuals are currently standing trial in Accra and Tamale, with significant assets frozen pending the outcome of those cases.
The OSP does not convict, the courts do. Its duty is to ensure that justice is done, fairly and thoroughly.
So yes, be frustrated. Demand accountability. But also recognise that real justice cannot be delivered at the speed of outrage. It requires patience, evidence, and above all, respect for the rule of law, the very thing that separates justice from vengeance.
