THE Directorate on Corruption and Economic Offences (DCEO) has every reason to celebrate its recent courtroom successes.
Four victories at the Court of Appeal in quick succession are no small feat. The reinstatement of former Trade Minister Temeki Tšolo’s Frazer Solar corruption case, the return of Lefu Manyokole’s M39 million fraud trial to the High Court, the dismissal of Tsotang Ernest Likotsi’s appeal against the DCEO, and the forfeiture victory in the Denimagic matter collectively represent important legal milestones for the anti-corruption body.
For an institution that has spent years battling accusations of incompetence, inconsistency, and sensationalism, these judgments provide welcome relief. They demonstrate that, at least in these matters, the DCEO’s legal arguments were strong enough to persuade the country’s apex court. That deserves acknowledgement.
But celebration alone will not restore public confidence. Despite these victories, the DCEO continues to struggle under the weight of its own credibility crisis. Winning appeals is one thing. Convincing Basotho that the institution is professional, disciplined, and fair is something entirely different. And that is where the DCEO still has serious work to do.
The institution’s biggest enemy today is no longer corruption suspects. It is public ridicule. Over the past few years, the DCEO has increasingly become associated not with clean, methodical investigations, but with confusion, embarrassing reversals, media drama, and cases that collapse under scrutiny. The institution has too often appeared eager to secure headlines before securing evidence.
That perception did not emerge from nowhere. The Monokoane fertiliser saga remains one of the most damaging examples. The public watched in disbelief as dramatic allegations were made against businessman and politician Mohopoli Monokoane over allegedly stolen fertiliser worth M40 000, only for the amount to mysteriously rise to M78 000 amid growing criticism. The matter became even more humiliating when the DCEO itself later withdrew its High Court application after discovering that one of its own prosecutors had allegedly lied and presented misleading information to court.
That was not opposition propaganda. That was the DCEO admitting that its own case had been fundamentally compromised from within.
Such incidents damage more than reputations. They damage trust in the institution itself. This is why the recent Court of Appeal victories, while important, should not be mistaken for total vindication.
In fact, some of the judgments themselves exposed the very weaknesses that have fuelled public frustration.
Take the Tšolo judgment. While the Court of Appeal ultimately reinstated the corruption case, the original High Court ruling had harshly criticised the DCEO for repeated prosecutorial delays, failure to subpoena witnesses, and poor case management. High Court’s Justice Tšeliso Mokoko did not invent those failures. He documented them. Even the appellate court cautioned prosecutors against inefficiency that undermines confidence in the justice system.
Similarly, in the Manyokole matter, the issue was never whether the DCEO had power to prosecute in the High Court. The issue was whether the prosecution had exercised its discretion properly and transparently. The fact that such procedural battles continue to dominate corruption cases reveals a deeper institutional problem: the DCEO still too often appears disorganised and reactive rather than meticulous and strategic.
Winning appeals cannot erase those realities. Nor should the institution hide behind courtroom victories while ignoring the broader perception crisis surrounding it.
For many Basotho, the DCEO has increasingly become associated with spectacle. Press conferences come first. Investigations sometimes seem to follow later. Arrests are dramatic. Statements are aggressive. But convictions remain relatively rare, especially in high-profile political cases.
This has created a dangerous public impression that the institution is more interested in public theatre than prosecutorial excellence. That perception may be unfair in some instances. But perceptions matter.
Anti-corruption institutions survive on credibility. Once the public begins to see them as politically selective, reckless, or incompetent, their authority weakens rapidly. Corruption suspects become emboldened. Genuine investigations lose public support. Even legitimate prosecutions begin to look like political vendettas.
That is precisely why the DCEO cannot afford to behave like an institution addicted to headlines. The Directorate must now shift from drama to discipline.
It must build stronger cases before rushing to court. Its investigators and prosecutors must operate with precision and professionalism. Internal accountability must become non-negotiable. Prosecutors who mislead courts or mishandle sensitive cases should face consequences severe enough to deter future misconduct.
Most importantly, the institution must rediscover humility. The DCEO’s mandate is too important for arrogance. Corruption continues to cripple Lesotho’s development, drain public resources, and destroy confidence in governance. Basotho desperately need a credible anti-corruption body capable of pursuing powerful individuals without fear or favour.
But credibility is not built through slogans. It is built through consistency. It is built through competent investigations. It is built through successful prosecutions that withstand scrutiny from beginning to end — not merely victories on technical appeals after embarrassing procedural blunders.
The recent Court of Appeal judgments should therefore serve not as a licence for triumphalism, but as a second chance.
A second chance for the DCEO leadership under Director General Mantšo Sello to stabilise an institution that has too often appeared to be lurching from one controversy to another. A second chance to restore professionalism. A second chance to silence critics not through press statements, but through results. Because the greatest threat to the DCEO today is not losing cases in court. It is becoming a national laughing stock.
And once institutions become objects of public mockery, recovering legitimacy becomes far more difficult than winning any appeal.
