Become a friend of the Series on Facebook and like the Facebook page







"A brilliant whodunnit plot that explores the legal angles of a murder mystery.
Ken Klopper has created a fascinating plot for his book. The central theme running through the book grips the reader till the end. And what an ending! Unexpected, unpredictable and astounding! Full marks for Mr.Klopper for coming up with this one! His writing style is simple and fluid, skillfully leading the reader from one chapter to another, all the time keeping the reader riveted to the book."

Reviewed by Shweta Shankar for Readers' Favorite  (See complete review)


Join the trial and experience the drama. 


Follow Judge Ment as he unravels the mystery.


Enter the courtroom as he tries to solve the problem.


Walk with the killer as he plans and executes the murder.



 CCCCConnect to the Author Page in your area 






Judges are there to judge or so they say. They listen to the evidence, evaluate it, apply the law and logical reasoning, and deliver a judgment or verdict. But Judges are also human beings with personalities, personal lives, and weaknesses.

Enter the world of Judge William L Ment. Ment has all the skills and knowledge of a brilliant judge, but he has one problem. He has an overdose of intuition. When a brutal murder takes place and Ment is the trial judge, this cognitive faculty takes over, and Ment finds himself in a difficult situation. Join Judge Ment as he struggles to balance his duty as a presiding judge with his quest to find the truth.

Just how far will Ment go to establish the truth and does he really succeed?

Is he opening a proverbial "can of worms" that is better left alone?

 How will Ment protect his best friend?

Who is really responsible for the murder?

Does Ment prevent further bloodshed in his quest for the truth?

What are Ment's true feelings for his secretary, Alice, and will he succumb to her wishes?

Who is the luscious Nadine and what dark secret does she hold?


"Fast-paced and an intriguing twister" by a South African Criminal law expert."

"A legal mystery with a touch of psychology."

"An adult crime mystery novel."


The first book in the JUDGE MENT SERIES.


Sometimes you need to wipe away the blood before you can see clearly,” Ment said.

“Now, I don’t really understand,” Alice said.

“It’s just my way of saying that in cases such as the Andrew’s matter, one must think away the emotion before one can see where the truth lies,” Ment explained.

“But how many people do that?” Alice asked.

“Very few, Alice. Very few.”





© 2012, Ken Klopper 




"This is one of those very rare occasions that a seemingly new writer delivers a great book straight off the bat. This book was a delightful read and had me turning pages quickly. A Question of Privilege has a captivating story line and is filled with humorous wit and interesting characters and I was delighted to be surprised by the unpredictable bombshell (but still realistic) ending, something that a lot of established writers mostly fail to achieve.

I'll be looking out for the next in the series - Well done Ken Klopper!"




Catherine Reece turned the key in the front door of her house and reached for the light switch in the small hallway that led to the lounge area.

She pressed the switch several times, but it remained dark.

“Damn, the globe’s fused again.”

She continued to curse as she fumbled her way through familiar surroundings, and reached a lamp on a side-table in the lounge. She flicked the switch.

The light illuminated the corner of the room casting eerie shadows on the walls and down towards the narrow passage that led to the bathroom,  kitchen, and two bedrooms. It was the first time she had used the lamp, made from a large seashell. It was an interesting ornament but not a very effective lamp.

She switched on the main light.

The room lit up revealing modest furnishings: a worn out suede lounge suite with bright floral cushions, a pair of oak side-tables, and a stand with a medium sized television set on top of it.

“That’s better,” she said, speaking to herself, a trait she had acquired from living alone for so long.

The thirty-one year old, legal secretary felt tired and her feet hurt.

She tossed her imitation leather handbag onto a side-table and kicked off the uncomfortable shoes with the heels that made her look even taller than she already was.

Sitting down on the couch with her legs folded under her, she took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts.

It had been a long week at the office. Her boss had been demanding, and there had been an unusually high incidence of office politics to contend with.

Catherine pushed her fingers through her long, natural, blonde locks that the wind had left in disarray, blonde strands usually in place cascading down both sides of her pretty face and falling down over her soft green eyes.

The weather was changing rapidly outside and there was a forecast of rain.

Her shapely, white thighs were exposed as her skirt was pushed up. She noticed that she needed both a wax and a tan. The former was a possibility, but the latter had to wait until the winter had decided to take a break.

A soothing, hot bath with scented candles, soft music, and some wine is what was needed, she thought.

This girl needs some pampering.

Jonathan, her boyfriend would not be visiting tonight. She was alone, and needed some private time after the long week.

It was an opportunity for “girls’ night” but with only a single girl.

She fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette and then remembered that she had quit three weeks ago. She always forgot when she was under strain often reaching for what she believed was some relief from the pressure, although it never really was.

Not the time to start smoking again. Rather some music, that bath, and perhaps a quick supper and a good movie.

She enjoyed being alone at times. Jonathan could be so demanding and sometimes very critical of everything she did.

Catherine walked towards the kitchen with renewed energy, her feet sliding on the smooth, tiled floor.

She carefully stepped over a wet, slippery patch near the sink.

The kitchen was small and narrow but it suited her needs. She wasn’t particularly fond of cooking and spent more time preparing copious amounts of coffee than preparing food. A caffeine addict is what they called her at work; at least ten cups a day, of the good stuff mind you, not that instant crap.

This place still has a musty smell, she thought, as she turned the dial on a compact silver-coloured mini hi-fi standing on the kitchen counter.

She opened the small window that overlooked a tiny backyard to let some fresh night air into the musty surroundings.

The kitchen was filled with the lively sounds of a popular song streaming from the radio.

Ah, it’s that guy with the strange name, Meatball. Great singer, she thought, as she danced towards the bathroom. With little culinary experience, Catherine could never distinguish the difference between meatballs and meatloaf.

Her knowledge of popular music, despite the satisfaction she got from listening to it was also very limited and often suspect.

She opened the hot water tap and watched as the water gushed into the simple, porcelain bath, with an irritating screeching sound coming from the tap as it released its pressure. The hot water splashed onto the cold surface as the steam rose, and started to fill the small bathroom.

Catherine carefully lit ten small scented candles and placed them carefully around the rim of the bath. The fragrance from the candles fused with the hot steam soon making the room smell like an exotic flower market.

She closed her eyes as she savoured the moment of tranquillity, the fragrances filling her nasal passages, helping to create a vision of a distant tropical island with a natural hot spring. Like something in The Blue Lagoon without a young stud nearby. Tough luck.

In the background, she could hear the sound of a romantic ballad coming from the kitchen.

With simple techniques, she had created her own little fantasy world.

The light from the candles created shadowy, little dancing figures on the bathroom walls, swaying gently to the music playing in the background as it travelled through the steamy interior of the bathroom.

“Bath oil-check, clean towel-check, and candles-check. Wine...silly girl-wine required.”

She moved quickly to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator, and removed a half-full bottle of local white wine.

She grabbed a glass from a nearby cupboard and filled it, took a sip, spilling some of the wine from the full glass.

Returning hastily to the bathroom, she placed the bottle and glass on the rim of the bath between two candles.


She stood for a moment making sure she had not forgotten anything, and was satisfied that everything was in place.

It was off to the bedroom for the final task.

Catherine undressed slowly, observing her shapely physique in the full-length mirror on the door of the built-in cupboard. All the curves appeared in the right place, her long, blonde hair cascading down onto shapely shoulders. Black, lace underwear accentuating her fine lines.

Unstrapping her bra and kicking off her lace panties, she took a final look as she stood exposed in front of the mirror.

She tied her blonde locks into a bun as she moved towards the passage leading to the bathroom. 

See more on this book at




Alfred Barnes and Marvin Coetzee sat down at a table at the Seabreeze club. It was late afternoon and the sun was slowly setting over the flashing, mirror-like surface of the sea. Now and then a few ripples would break the surface and form tiny waves on the bright, white sand as the gulls squabbled with each other over any delicate morsel that was left when the tide receded.

A waitress approached with a small notebook in her hand and a smile on her face. She was young and pretty. Barnes noticed perfectly formed calves protruding from a pink striped, medium length skirt. There was a tattoo of a rose on her right calf.

“Make that a double on the rocks,” Barnes said as Coetzee placed the order. “We are going to need it.”

“Our client is not giving us much to work with,” Barnes said, rubbing his hand over his eyes and forehead. “We’re definitely not making any impression on the judge. At this rate the State is assured of a conviction. You noticed how smug that bitch, Julia Combes, was. First, she tells us what we already know and then she tries to suck up. We need some more ammunition, so that I can shove her arrogance up her arse.”

Coetzee stared out at the horizon as the sun started to disappear in a blazing display of orange and grey, the surrounding clouds tinged with a salmon-pink colour.

“I share your sentiments. Maybe things will improve, and some gap will open up. The judge has also remained uncommonly quiet; he’s known to be more vocal.”

“Maybe it’s too early to consider retreating or throwing down our swords, but I keep on getting an image of a fox caught in the henhouse with feathers between his teeth, trying to explain to the farmer that he’s a vegan,” Barnes said.

They both laughed out loud savouring the lighter moment in the otherwise hopelessly serious environment.

“Maybe it would be easier if the fox tried to convince the farmer that the hen jumped into his open mouth,” Coetzee said as they continued on a lighter theme.

They did not speak for a few moments as they enjoyed the tranquillity of the sunset and sipped on their glasses of liquid relief.

Barnes turned and looked at his colleague. His eyes lit up, and there was a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Or what if someone had stuffed the hen in the poor fox’s mouth while he was asleep?”        

 © 2012, Ken Klopper 






free counters





Copyright © 2017 Advocate Klopper. All Rights Reserved.
Joomla! is Free Software released under the GNU General Public License.
Website by
Joomla dark templates by template joomla