By Kay Codjoe
Let us anchor this gently with one question:
How do you call your own criminal case “useless”… only to file a lawsuit even more useless than the one you mocked?
Dr. Mustapha Abdul Hamid, once the soft spoken moral preacher who positioned himself as a guardian of ethics, now stands as the first accused in a corruption case involving conspiracy to commit extortion, extortion, abuse of office, and money laundering running over GH₵291 million and US$332,000.
Fifty four counts.
Nine co accused.
A shaken sector.
A country watching.
And yet, as if the circus needed more lights, he sues the Office of the Special Prosecutor for defamation.
On cue, his rented voices arrived, magnifying their ignorance in chorus, shouting “Mustapha Hamid has sued the OSP” as if they had discovered oxygen. An amusement park of noise without knowledge, drama without depth, bravado without brainwork.
But before the shouting grows louder, here is the part they conveniently pretend not to know:
The OSP has already seized and frozen over GH₵100 million and more than US$100,000 worth of assets in connection with this very case. These include tankers, fuel stations, parcels of land across five regions, and luxury apartments from East Legon to Airport City. Asset seizures do not appear in hallucinations; they come from probable cause, bank trails, and transactional evidence. The court has already confirmed some of these seizures. Facts, not folklore.
Which brings us back to the obvious question:
How do you sue the very agency mandated by law to investigate and prosecute you?
How do you drag the OSP to court over a case the High Court has already confirmed is properly filed, properly grounded, and actively being prosecuted?
You cannot turn prosecution into defamation.
You cannot replace legal defence with theatre.
You cannot intimidate a statutory office simply because the evidence is uncomfortable.
Under section 75 of Act 959, officers of the OSP are immune from civil suits when acting in good faith and based on reasonable grounds. Under section 31, the OSP is empowered and obligated to brief the public about corruption cases. That is not misconduct; that is transparency. That is the protection of the Republic’s purse.
If Hamid truly believed he had been wronged, the only legitimate civil remedy would be malicious prosecution, but that remedy is available only when the criminal case has ended in his favor. His has not. His plea has not even been taken. The charges have not disappeared; they have multiplied.
Meanwhile, the Criminal Division of the High Court has adjourned the matter to 9 December 2025 after prosecutors expanded the counts from roughly 20 to 54. His much advertised application for the release of his passport, to travel to Canada for a political assignment, could not even be moved. He remains on the stop list. The passport rests peacefully in the registry.
So how exactly do you sue the OSP in the middle of active prosecution?
It is not courage.
It is not principle.
It is not law.
It is panic wearing the mask of defiance.
This lawsuit is not a fight for reputation. It is a distraction from accountability. A sideshow. A smokescreen. A desperate attempt to change the subject while the evidence grows teeth.
If Dr. Hamid thought calling his case “useless” was bold, this lawsuit proves there is something even more useless than the case, the strategy behind it.
And Ghana watches. The age of untouchables is ending, and the theatre of impunity is losing its audience.
In the end, the noise will fade and only the evidence will remain standing, and when it does, may the truth, unbothered by theatrics, rise as it always does.
Kay Codjoe
