By Honourable Justice Glenna Thompson JSC
It is still so hard to accept that I can no longer pick up my phone and find a message from you – a latest case to dissect, a clever joke, a book recommendation, a satirical piece – or your familiar preface, “Can I call?”, heralding another of our thoughtful conversations. Even harder is realizing you’re no longer just a phone call away, ever ready to listen, advise, share your wisdom, or offer that wry observation that never failed to make me laugh. The thought that there will be no more lunches with you and your cousin Dawn – the food, the wine, the laughter at Selfridges – leaves an ache that words can scarcely capture.
I can still hear my own scream on the morning of the 24th of February – the moment I put down the phone having confirmed what I could not bring myself to believe: that you were gone. We prayed and we hoped with everything we had. But the ending we pleaded for was not the ending God had ordained.
I first met BMJ many years ago, long before I entered the legal profession, when he came to visit my father. He was a close friend of my Dad’s, and over time he became what I fondly called my “inherited friend.” But of course, our friendship grew into something entirely our own – one filled with laughter, serious discussions, book exchanges and the kind of easy gossip that only true friends share. I always looked forward to being regaled with his stories of judges and lawyers, many of them now long gone – tales told with the particular relish of a man who had known the law not merely as a profession, but as a world.
As a lawyer, BMJ was a model of excellence and integrity. At the Bar, he was generous with his time and knowledge – whether sharing authorities, clarifying procedure, or offering referrals, he was always there. When we both appeared in the 2012 Presidential Election Petition, his calm, principled approach and sharp legal mind made him a formidable advocate and a steadying colleague.
His support never wavered. Just as he was there when I returned to Sierra Leone in 2002, he was there when I joined the Bench in 2017 – remaining an unfailing source of encouragement. Over time, BMJ often voiced his deep disillusionment with the profession’s direction. Yet even in frustration, he would affirm with quiet conviction, “The law is all we have” – a reminder of his steadfast belief in justice and duty, even as institutions faltered.
And then there were the lighter moments – far too many to recount here. One that still makes me laugh is the day he spotted me in the Law Court building wearing a navy-blue suit with a pink shirt. He stared, half-amused and half-incredulous, and quipped, “Ms.
Thompson, you, pink shirt?” From that day on, I’ve never chosen my work clothes without hearing that teasing remark. It still brings a smile.
Many people speak about integrity and principle as ideals, admirable in theory but not always lived. BMJ embodied them. They were not abstract notions for him; they were his way of life, visible in his choices, his words and his service. I will never forget his insistence, when I was working for JSDP and we were supporting the Rules of Court Committee (of which he was a member) to draft the new High Court Rules, that he would not accept any fee for the work. To him, contributing to the development of the law was a duty, not a transaction.
BMJ was brilliant, disciplined and principled, but above all, he was kind. His laughter, his intellect, his friendship and his unwavering decency have left a mark that time will not erase. I am deeply grateful to have known him, both as a colleague and as a cherished friend. I am especially thankful that I had the opportunity to see him in hospital, on a day when we could still chat and for our last phone conversation just two weeks before his passing. I find comfort in knowing that he is now free from pain and from all earthly labours and now reunited with his beloved wife, Tacey.
My deepest sympathy goes to his sisters, cousins, in-laws and the rest of his family. May his gentle soul rest in perfect peace.
Hon. Justice Glenna Thompson,
Justice of the Supreme Court of Sierra Leone.