Rule of Law

Glynnis Breytenbach

Description

Over a legal career spanning 26 years, advocate Glynnis Breytenbach earned a reputation as one of the country’s most formidable state prosecutors, her infamous stare piercing the defences of many. Now a member of parliament and the Democratic Alliance’s shadow minister for justice, Glynnis finally shares how her life in and out of court shaped her into the outspoken, sometimes hard-headed, always principled woman she is, and the public figure she never wanted to be.

In Rule of Law, Glynnis provides personal commentary on the evolution and importance of an independent judiciary in South Africa, and explains why the rule of law is critical to the foundation and the future of the country. Her account offers fascinating insights, a critical analysis of some of South Africa’s recent legal and political cliffhangers, and a suggestion as to how the law can help us find a way forward as a country.

Sujets

• Personal Memoirs
• Droit et juridique
• Republic of South Africa
• 21st century
• South Africa
• Memoir
• LAW
• Jurisprudence
• Afrique du Sud

Informations

• Publié par: Pan Macmillan South Africa
• Date de parution: 16 août 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781770104884
• Langue: English

Extrait

Rule of Law


A MEMOIR
Rule of Law
Glynnis Breytenbach
with Nechama Brodie
MACMILLAN


First published in 2017
by Pan Macmillan South Africa
Private Bag X19, Northlands
Johannesburg, 2116
www.panmacmillan.co.za
ISBN 978-1-77010-487-7
EBOOK ISBN 978-1-77010-488-4
© Glynnis Breytenbach 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
Editing by Sean Fraser
Proofreading by Lisa Compton
Cover design by K4
Front cover photograph © Gallo Images/ Rapport /Jaco Marais


– Ms Breytenbach, do you understand the charges?
– I do, Your Worship. All of the charges.
Pretoria North regional court, July 2016


The meetings, interactions and events described in this book are in the public domain in one form or another – via sources ranging from affidavits and official inquiries to media coverage and opinion pieces – and/or are deemed to be in the public interest. Webber Wentzel and other senior counsel are gratefully acknowledged by the publisher and author for their advisory role in this regard. Every effort has been made to ensure the factual accuracy of the contents of this book, but should any errors have occurred, the publisher and author apologise and would welcome any information that would enable them to amend any mistakes in future editions of the book.


Contents
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CHAPTER ONE: Kimberley
CHAPTER TWO: Animals are nicer than people
CHAPTER THREE: The accidental law student
CHAPTER FOUR: The state prosecutor
CHAPTER FIVE: Nothing personal
CHAPTER SIX: Equality before the law
CHAPTER SEVEN: Burden of proof
CHAPTER EIGHT: Pretoria
CHAPTER NINE: Order in the court
CHAPTER TEN: Evidence
CHAPTER ELEVEN: The case that took 22 years
CHAPTER TWELVE: Senior state advocate
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The National Prosecuting Authority
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The Arms Deal
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Fear and favour
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Richard Mdluli
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Kumba case
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Sixteen–love
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Unfinished business
CHAPTER TWENTY: Me and Natie Kirsh
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Politicians are worse than lawyers
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Justice portfolio
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Minority report
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Can the NPA be fixed?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: The Constitution and the rule of law
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Accused Number One – S vs Glynnis Breytenbach
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: The power of the vote
NOTES
INTERVIEWS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS


Author’s note
Nearly two years after I first met Glynnis Breytenbach, I got to spend a day with her at parliament. The precinct was relatively quiet because parliament was not in session and Glynnis promised to give me a guided tour of the various buildings once we had finished our morning’s interview session.
Walking over to the Marks Building, where the Democratic Alliance members have their offices, we came across one of the police sniffer dogs and its handler. This was an immediate cue for Glynnis to stop and attempt to call the dog over so that she could pet it. Glynnis called the dog by name, but it was on the job and resolutely ignored her summons. Glynnis greeted the dog’s handler, also by name, and said she would try to come past later, when the dog wasn’t on duty.
‘You know, they used to lock up the dogs in the back of the police vans when they weren’t working,’ Glynnis told me. This had offended Glynnis, so, with the support of her colleagues and the precinct staff, they arranged for a section of parliament’s gardens – the area where the statue of Queen Victoria stands – to be used by the police dogs when they were off duty.
I can tell you many other things about Glynnis Breytenbach. Like how she makes you laugh – her excellent sense of humour is drier than the Sahara, which is an asset when you have to spend 10-hour days asking endless questions about her life and work. She has also perfected the art of the insult. In the editing of this book we had to take out nearly as many insults as we left in. When she described a legal colleague as having the intellect of a deceased garden snail, for example, she claimed that the truth was a defence.
But, really, her affection for the police dog and its handler perhaps best describes and explains the kind of woman Glynnis is. She has a brusque and efficient professional persona, yet remains one of the most caring and thoughtful people I have ever encountered.
The interview in her office proceeded like most of our interviews had over 20-something months of carving out days to sit together, when her incredibly demanding schedule allowed her to free up a weekend for what was, in a way, more work. Those interviews formed the basis for this book, and came from hours of discussion rather than just monologues. Not included in the transcriptions were the constant conversations with Glynnis’s dogs, who would occasionally get frustrated when our attention was focused elsewhere, but who could generally be mollified with a cuddle or a squeaky toy.
When it was time to take a break from talking, Glynnis and I embarked on the promised walking tour of parliament. She showed me the old House of Assembly and pointed to the spot where Verwoerd was stabbed. We traipsed up and down the corridors between the old and new parliament, trying to find someone who could unlock the doors of the National Assembly for us.
Glynnis commented on the limited number of bathrooms for women in the old building. For many years, Helen Suzman was the only woman in the assembly.
Eventually we found the right room, and the correct person who could unlock the door to the top gallery. It was my first time in that building, inside or out. And while I preferred the patina of the older tiles to the brash marble of the new section, the interior of the National Assembly was quite breathtaking.
Glynnis and I stood there, me more awed then she – she had been there many times, of course – but both of us with a quiet reverence that spoke more about the office than the people who filled it. We made hushed comments about hoping things would improve, and wondered what would happen with the proposed vote of no confidence in President Jacob Zuma scheduled for later that month (the vote was subsequently postponed).
When we got back outside, Glynnis told me what a privilege it was for her to be there, to drive into parliament, to park her car, to walk across the courtyard every day. It was the quiet gratitude of someone who prefers service to grandstanding and who, after 26 years as a prosecutor, is still committed to being the kind of person South Africa needs.
Glynnis Breytenbach is a complicated, highly intelligent, deeply ethical and brilliantly sharp-tongued woman. Even her adversaries can’t help but grudgingly admire her.
Partisanship aside – and I regularly tormented Glynnis with my support for other parties and my criticism of the Democratic Alliance – I am exceptionally grateful Glynnis is where she is, that she continues to be as brave as she is, and that she agreed to share her story in this book.
Nechama Brodie
May 2017


CHAPTER ONE
Kimberley
I wouldn’t read my own memoir. – GB
I was born in Kimberley on 9 August 1960, or so I am told. It’s all hearsay, of course. While I was there, I have no independent recollection of the event.
For all the time I lived in Kimberley my father worked at the Railways, as a clerk, and my mother as a bookkeeper-slash-PA for Lawrie Shuttleworth, the former mayor of Kimberley.
Lawrie is 101 years old and was a pilot in the Second World War. His great-nephew is Mark Shuttleworth, the South African who travelled into space in 2002. Would I want to travel into space one day? Yes, I would love to. I want to look back and see the Earth. It must be so pretty. But with my luck it will be cloudy that day. Or something is sure to fall on my head and by the time I wake up it will be too far to see the Earth any more. No good deed goes unpunished.
I had a very ordinary childhood. I spent a lot of time on my own, so I was used to good company. I went to school, of course, and I wasn’t antisocial. I am still friends with people who were at school with me, and who are close friends. But not many. I have never had very many good friends, only a few.
I have always liked doing things my own way, perhaps because I never saw the need to follow a crowd. I still hate crowds. I find them intrusive. I like my own space. When people get too close to me in a queue, I have been known to turn around and ask whether they’d like to dance. If they really irritate me I step hard on their instep ‘by accident’, and then apologise profusely.
I didn’t go to nursery school; nobody did back then. I could read by the time I was about three-and-a-half, and I read a lot. But just kiddy books, Noddy and stuff like that. I had boy cousins close to my age and we used to play together often. My next-door neighbour was also a boy, and close to me in age, and we also used to play. We would shoot each other, hang each other from the clothesline. How neither of us died, I don’t know. We used to jump off the roof using a sheet as a parachute. Go figure, it didn’t work. I broke my ankle trying that. And I wasn’t even the one who went first; I saw the other two boys jump before me, mess themselves up – and I still jumped.
Of necessity, I