An accusation is not a conviction

Oct 06, 2026 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

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(Kaieteur News) – There is something ominous about a rape allegation. The word itself can become a verdict long before it reaches a courtroom. The letter “R” is sometimes enough to transform suspicion into certainty.

It can turn an accusation into guilt; it can overnight cast a human being into a social pariah. That is precisely why sexual offences must be treated with the utmost seriousness, but also why justice must remain justice.

The law recognises the gravity of sexual violence. Guyana’s Sexual Offences Act carries severe penalties, including life imprisonment for the gravest offences. The Act is deliberately protective of complainants. Proceedings can be held in camera, excluding the public and media; the identity of complainants and witnesses in sexual-offence cases is protected from publication; specialised

Sexual Offences Courts provide an environment designed to reduce trauma; vulnerable witnesses may be protected by screens; and the law restricts the use of a complainant’s sexual history and reputation as weapons against her.

There is good reason for these protections. Women are overwhelmingly the victims of rape, and many victims already carry the burden of fear, shame, humiliation and the knowledge that reporting what happened may expose them to another kind of ordeal. The law therefore seeks to prevent the courtroom from becoming a second crime scene. But there is another danger, and a democratic society must not be afraid to speak of it.

A man accused of rape can lose almost everything before a judge or jury ever hears the evidence. He can lose his job. His career can collapse. His business can disappear. His marriage can disintegrate. His children can be subjected to ridicule. His reputation can be destroyed. His friends can disappear. And if he is convicted, he can lose his liberty for years, potentially for life.

And history gives us reasons to be cautious. In Guyana, a man was once convicted in and sentenced to 30 years for the rape of an eight-year-old girl. He maintained that he was elsewhere when the offence allegedly occurred. The Court of Appeal found that his alibi had not been properly put to the jury, quashed the conviction and ordered a retrial. At that retrial, a jury unanimously acquitted him.

That case does not prove that the complainant deliberately lied. An acquittal is not proof of a false accusation. But it demonstrates that a conviction can be wrong.

Elsewhere, the consequences have been even more terrible. In Britain, Andrew Malkinson was wrongly convicted of rape in 2004 and spent 17 years in prison while maintaining his innocence. His conviction was eventually quashed after DNA evidence established that another man was responsible.  In April 2026, Paul Quinn was convicted of the rape for which Malkinson had spent those years behind bars.

And in Guyana there have also been cases in which false allegations were demonstrably established. A young woman was convicted after falsely accusing her former boyfriend of attempted rape and threatening to report him unless he paid a huge sum of money.

These cases should not be used to suggest that false allegations are commonplace. They are not. Nor should they be used to frighten genuine victims into silence. The British Crown Prosecution Service expressly warns that false allegations are damaging but also cautions that an acquittal does not automatically mean an allegation was false.

Every allegation must be investigated. Every victim must be protected. And every accused person must be judged on evidence rather than sentiment.

That principle is increasingly recognised elsewhere. Britain provides lifelong anonymity to rape complainants and restricts intrusive questioning about sexual history. At the same time, prosecutors have specific guidance for allegations believed to be deliberately false, including possible prosecution for perverting the course of justice or wasting police time. New Zealand automatically suppresses the identity of complainants in sexual cases, while maintaining judicial oversight and procedural safeguards.

Guyana must do no less than uphold the fundamental principle upon which our entire criminal justice system rests. That principle is that an accused person is presumed innocent until proven guilty.

Yet listen to some of our public conversations. The moment the word “rape” appears, innocence is sometimes abandoned. Some people do not ask what happened. They ask only what should be done to the accused.

And then there is the hypocrisy. Some demand immediate punishment whenever an allegation involves someone they dislike. But when an allegation involves someone they support, suddenly the accused is being framed. Evidence becomes important again. Due process becomes sacred again. The presumption of innocence magically returns. That is not justice.

In some sections of the media, there are persons with axes to grind. They seize upon allegations and weaponize them against people they dislike. A headline becomes a sentence. A broadcast becomes an execution. Social media becomes the gallows.

We must resist that temptation.

Protect the woman who has been raped. Protect the child who has been violated. Protect the vulnerable. Protect their identities, their dignity and their right to justice.

But protect the innocent man too. For the law to be worthy of its name, it must be strong enough to punish the guilty without becoming so careless that it destroys the innocent.

The presumption of innocence is not a technicality. Due process is not an inconvenience. They are the walls that stand between justice and vengeance.

And when those walls begin to crumble, we should all be afraid.

(The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this newspaper.)

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• accusation, allegation, Peeping Tom, rape

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