The second volume in the Judge Ment Series.


William Ment is back

Still plagued by the murder in his courtroom he experiences recurring nightmares that lead him on the trail of another serial killer.

When the trial of the murder of a young British tourist goes sour, Ment is given information about another murder by a witness.

Faced with very little evidence, he uses his intuition and special brand of logic to enter the domain of the killer and solve the crimes.

To what extent is Judge William Ment the fly in the web of violence, deceit and revenge?

Available on Amazon for Kindle and  in paperback

Read the first few chapters free by clicking on "look inside the book"

Crime Mystery Series by Ken Klopper A Question of Revenge (The Judge Ment Series) Leave your reviews at  


Read "A Question of Privilege"- The first book in the Series





A Fast - paced legal mystery with a touch of humour and psychology.


An extract


Jake Sepai stepped out of the doorway of his house in Funkytown. He shielded his eyes from the bright afternoon sunlight.

He had been foolish by accepting money and getting involved in such a thing. Business wasn’t so good and there were fewer tourists coming to Cape Town, so he needed the money. He had six hungry mouths to feed and another one on the way.

His vehicle had been confiscated by the police, and he would face prosecution if the deal that his clever lawyer had struck with the prosecutors fell through. They didn’t think they had much against Bowman without his testimony, and they didn’t want to take a chance with Radebe, but he was a branded man, even as a witness. He was the killer who got lucky.

He looked at his youngest son riding on a red and yellow tricycle in the sandy pathway that led to his front door.

“You stay here like a good boy. Pappa must go work.”

He was forced to go and work driving taxis for a friend. At least, he could put some food on the table, come nightfall.

He felt uneasy about his upcoming testimony and had received the dreaded call from the investigating officer indicating that he would have to appear in court the following morning. He wasn’t looking forward to the grilling he would get from the hotshot lawyer, Bowman had hired. What was even worse was the hounding by the press.

“I want to go with you, Pappa,” the little boy said.

“No, you stay here with Mamma and ride your trike. Pappa is just waiting for the taxi to come so he can go to work.”

It was such a joke because he didn’t even get the money that he was promised. The police moved quickly because of the international connection and pressure from the deceased’s family.

He noticed a white minibus turn the corner of the dusty, narrow street that ran past his house. It moved slowly and he walked down the path towards the pavement to meet it.

The minibus stopped within a metre from where he was standing.

“Hello, my friends. You’re a bit late,” Sepai said, waving to greet them.

The sliding door of the vehicle opened quickly, and Sepai stared wide-eyed as the barrel of an AK 47 appeared. The sunlight reflected off its shiny machined surface.

There was a short burst as three bullets struck him in the chest sending him reeling backwards. As he lay on the hard concrete surface of the pavement, he felt the hot sticky source of his life flowing from him. He heard the cries of his child and screams of his wife for the last time as a dark veil descended over him.

The front wheel of a red and yellow tricycle spun silently in the wind.



The courtroom was packed when Alice called the case after Ment, and his two assessors, had taken their places on the bench.




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