Cyril Malema’s head drops into his hands and there’s a deathly hush in the room. He lifts his face again and says, “Because Dumisa and I told them.”

Zodwa goes cold.

No. I must have heard that wrong.

But the whole room breaks out into shouts and exclamations of shock and anger.

“Please, could I please ask for quiet? Could everyone please settle down? Thank you,” Dr. Boraine says after a few minutes and before addressing Cyril Malema again: “You told the security police you’d be there? You and Dumisa Khumalo informed on your own people?”

“Yes, sir.” Cyril begins to cry. “We were working as double agents, you see. The security police paid us a lot of money to give them information.”

Zodwa feels faint as chaos erupts around her. Voices rise in protest and condemnation, and the woman from before is wailing so loudly that Zodwa can’t hear her own thoughts. She’s grateful now to be seated so far away from that mother. She’s dimly aware that Mama Beauty’s grip on her hand has tightened like a vise.

“Please, I need to ask for silence so that Mr. Malema can continue with his testimony,” Dr. Boraine says, raising his voice.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s expression is pained. His eyebrows are knit together as he rests his chin on steepled fingers.

When the ruckus finally dies down, Dr. Boraine continues. “But why go with them that night if you had already sold your comrades out and knew what was going to happen?”

“It was Dumisa’s idea, sir. He said that being out there with them would deflect suspicion so no one would guess that we were a part of it. Dumisa wasn’t meant to be shot. That was a complete accident.”

Zodwa listens, numb with shock, as Cyril Malema goes on to tell how he assisted the security police with burying all three of his comrades’ bodies in shallow graves near the site of execution at the border. He trembles violently during his testimony—probably as much from alcohol withdrawal as from nerves—stopping repeatedly to cry and beg for forgiveness from Jakes’s and Kabetso’s families. He addresses the mothers by name but doesn’t look at them, speaking to his lap the whole time. Of course, there’s no begging for mercy from Zodwa. After all, her brother was the mastermind behind the atrocious scheme.

After the testimony is over, Zodwa wants so much to go to the two men’s mothers and beg for forgiveness for what Dumisa did but shame holds her back. For there’s no doubt in her mind that Cyril is telling the truth. Everything makes sense now, things Zodwa had never thought about as a child but that would have set off warning bells if she had.