In a dramatic ruling that has sent shockwaves through Nigeria’s political landscape, the Supreme Court affirmed a federal high court judgment that has reshaped the status quo in Rivers State. The language used in this ruling seems laden with subjective undertones, which could stir strong emotional responses. Such language, in a legal setting, arguably oversteps the boundary between legal clarity and the realm of personal opinion. The emotional tone woven through the judgment—while perhaps reflecting the Court’s sentiments on the case—could be seen as subjective for a ruling of this magnitude. I dare not question, but this is undeniably something that is left to the legal eye for further scrutiny.

The apex court’s decision reinforced this intervention but also faulted the Abuja Court of Appeal for attempting to void the federal high court’s judgment. There seems to be an undercurrent of frustration in this strong critique of the actions of the lower court. This ruling, while legally binding, carries an emotional charge that could be interpreted as subjective. I dare not question, but this raises the concern of whether such a judgment, laden with subjective emotional tone, compromises the Supreme Court’s duty to remain impartial in its rulings. The impartiality of the Court’s approach is something that warrants careful legal review.

One of the central aspects of the ruling was the Court’s statement that the 27 lawmakers—allegedly defected from the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) to the All Progressives Congress (APC)—remain legitimate members of the Rivers State House of Assembly. The use of “allegedly” and “still legitimate” seems subjective. It creates an atmosphere of uncertainty where there should be clarity. By framing the matter with such ambiguity, the ruling seems to inject a subjective interpretation into what should be an unambiguous legal question. This leaves room for interpretation and further analysis, and is undoubtedly something left to the legal eye for consideration.

In the words of Justice Emmanuel Akomaye Agim, “It is an act of indiscipline and a joke taken too far which has no place in a democracy.” This judgment carries a subjective tone that could be seen as more of a political critique than a legal one. Phrases like “indiscipline” and “a joke taken too far” might resonate with the public, but they also reflect a personal viewpoint that could be seen as subjective. Such language, while emphatic, goes beyond the legal reasoning into the realm of moral judgment. I dare not question, but for a judgment of such consequence, one might expect more neutral and legal language instead of emotionally charged rhetoric. This is left to the legal eye to determine its appropriateness.

The apex court also stated that “Four members sitting as purported members of the House of Assembly in defiance of a subsisting court order is a nullity.” The use of the word “purported” carries an implicit dismissal of the actions of those involved, casting them in a light of illegitimacy that seems almost definitive. By choosing this language, the Court introduces a subjective judgment, which, while impactful, may not always serve to clarify the legal process as fully as a neutral statement would. This raises the question of whether the Court’s role is to provide objective legal analysis or to weigh in on the perceived legitimacy of political actors in such a charged atmosphere. This again is left to the legal eye for further scrutiny.

The justices emphasized the importance of protecting the legislature, calling it “the core institution of governance” that must be upheld “at all costs.” “At all costs” introduces a subjective, dramatic imperative. While this language might reflect the Court’s commitment to upholding democratic processes, it could be seen as a subjective rallying cry that leaves no room for nuance or the careful weighing of competing interests within the legal framework. I dare not question, but this strong language is certainly something that requires careful legal analysis to determine its appropriateness.

Justice Agim also criticized Governor Siminalayi Fubara for using his immunity under Section 308 of the 1999 Constitution to justify unconstitutional actions, calling it “an act of indiscipline born out of executive power.” Labeling the actions as “indiscipline” introduces a subjective critique into a legal assessment. While the legal principle may be valid, the framing of these actions in terms of “indiscipline” seems to cross the line from legal analysis into a moral critique. This subjective interpretation of the governor’s behavior could be considered a deviation from the expected objectivity of a Supreme Court decision. This is left to the legal eye to scrutinize further.

The Court also noted that “the governor has chosen to collapse the legislature… as it is there is no government in Rivers State.” This bold claim is highly subjective. It attributes intentionality to the governor that goes beyond the legal facts of the case. It seems to offer a psychological interpretation of the governor’s actions, speculating on his motives and character rather than focusing solely on his legal responsibilities and actions. Such attributions of intent seem to shift the discussion from legal facts to political interpretation, which is left to the legal eye for careful consideration.

In addition, Justice Agim remarked, “What he has done is to destroy the government because of his fear that he wants to be impeached.” This statement reads like a psychological analysis rather than a legal judgment. It attributes subjective psychological motives—“fear of impeachment”—to the governor, which raises the question of whether the Court’s role is to interpret legal actions or to engage in speculation about political and personal motivations. This is an element that is clearly left to the legal eye to assess for its appropriateness within a legal judgment.

Furthermore, the Court noted that it was becoming a pattern for those in executive power, when feeling threatened by impeachment, to resort to tactics such as demolishing buildings or other unconstitutional actions. The use of “becoming a pattern” suggests a subjective generalization. While the Court may be trying to highlight potential abuses of power, such sweeping statements imply a recurring problem without clear, substantiated examples of the “pattern” described. Generalizations in a legal ruling could lead one to question the line between legal reasoning and subjective political commentary. This aspect of the ruling is certainly left to the legal eye for deeper review.

This subjective approach by Justice Agim was pointed out by the Rivers State Information Commissioner, who responded further: “We believe that the determination of the main issue of defection of the 27 lawmakers is a matter not before the Supreme Court as it is pending at the Federal High Court in Port Harcourt.” The Commissioner’s statement offers an important critique of the Court’s jurisdiction. His point suggests that the Supreme Court may have prematurely entered a matter that was still under deliberation at a lower court, raising questions about the appropriateness and timing of the Court’s intervention. This adds to the growing concern that the Court’s ruling may have been more subjective than legally warranted. This is an issue clearly left to the legal eye for further consideration.

Justice Agim, who delivered the verdict, ruled that no funds should be released to the Rivers State Government until Speaker Martin Amaewhule’s leadership passes a lawful Appropriation Law. This ruling introduces a subjective element, especially considering that the case is still pending before the federal high court, as the Rivers State Commissioner of Information has pointed out. The Court’s decision to issue such a directive while the matter is under consideration by a lower court may be seen as a subjective intervention. The appropriateness of this ruling, particularly in light of the pending case, is something left to the legal eye for scrutiny.

In its judgment, the Supreme Court also directed the Central Bank of Nigeria (CBN) and the Accountant-General of the Federation to halt the release of federal funds to the Rivers State Government. While the Court described the governor’s actions as problematic and inconsistent with legal requirements, this characterization could be seen as subjective, especially considering the immediate financial impact on the state’s ability to pay bills and meet obligations. I dare not question, but such terms may not fully capture the complexities of the situation, particularly as the matter remains under appeal, especially regarding Speaker Amaewhule’s leadership and the defection issue. A more comprehensive legal review could offer further clarity.

The Court further ruled that the suspension of funds would remain until Governor Fubara addresses these concerns with Speaker Amaewhule’s leadership. While the decision is clear, the characterization of the governor’s actions may oversimplify an issue still under judicial review. I dare not question, but this decision may benefit from further legal examination in the appeals court, particularly in light of the Rivers State Commissioner’s statement that the matter remains unresolved.

Justice Agim also stated that no funds should be released until Speaker Amaewhule’s leadership passes a lawful Appropriation Law. This connects the release of funds to the legislative process, which may seem premature, especially with the case of defection still pending. The Court also ordered the return of the Clerk and Deputy Clerk to their positions. I dare not question, but the involvement of the judiciary in such executive matters raises questions about the Court’s role in this decision. These actions remain open to further legal scrutiny as the case continues.

The Supreme Court has invalidated the local government elections conducted by the Rivers State Independent Electoral Commission (RSIEC) on October 5, 2024, citing breaches of the Electoral Act. I dare not question, but why was there no directive for a new election, especially considering that the previous local government chairpersons had overstayed their terms and refused to step down? Could the Court’s decision, though legally sound, have overlooked the practical consequences of leaving the leadership vacuum unaddressed?

Justice Jamilu Tukur’s ruling emphasized procedural errors, particularly continuing voter registration after the election date was announced. I dare not question, but does this focus on procedural issues, without providing clear guidance for the next steps, seem to leave the state vulnerable to political instability? Is the Court’s emphasis on legality potentially subjective, without sufficient consideration for the political and governance realities on the ground?

The Court also upheld the Federal High Court’s decision barring INEC from providing the voters’ register to RSIEC. I dare not question, but what is the implication for governance in Rivers State without a clear path forward? Does this gap in the ruling suggest a subjective approach, without a comprehensive directive to resolve the leadership crisis?

Given these circumstances, I dare not question, but could the Court have been more proactive in directing a new election to address the leadership vacuum? The absence of such guidance seems to leave the political landscape open to further challenges, raising questions about the balance between legal precision and practical governance.

Lastly, the implications for the future of the Rivers State government remain uncertain, with the role of the legislature being reasserted in a way that could shift the balance of power. This case, marked by its subjective language, presents a complex situation that calls for further legal analysis. I dare not question, but the Supreme Court’s ruling raises questions about the actions of political figures in Rivers State and how the law responds to such developments. Could the Court’s decisions, though grounded in law, be overlooking the broader consequences for the people, especially in a region as sensitive as the Niger Delta?

The immediate effects on livelihoods, institutions, and governance could be profound. I dare not question, but one might wonder whether the Court’s moves, while legally sound, could inadvertently complicate the already delicate political and economic landscape. Is the lack of clear guidance on how to resolve the leadership vacuum a decision that leaves too much open to uncertainty?

This complexity, coupled with the potential for both legal and political fallout, is certainly something left to the legal eye for careful review. However, the manner in which these decisions unfold will undoubtedly impact the people, and it is crucial to approach such matters with the necessary sensitivity, given the unique challenges of the Niger Delta region.

Comprising five of the country’s 36 states, south-east Nigeria is the site of resilient atrocity. In the eight years from the middle of 2015 to the end of 2023, the monitoring coalition, Nigeria Mourns, confirmed about 3,000 killings in this theatre from open source records, but unofficial estimates suggest that there may be up to five killings missed for each counted. The worst of the killings have occurred since 2019, and the worst hit state in the zone over that period is Anambra.

Many erroneously date the origins of this to the radicalisation of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB) in the aftermath of its proscription in 2017. In reality, the escalation has lasted for over a quarter of a century, dating back approximately to the assassination in Enugu in 1998 of Igwe Amobi IV of Ogidi.

The annual Conflict Barometer by the Heidelberg Institute for International Conflict Research identifies the south-east as one of eight different conflicts of concern in Nigeria, describing it as a “violent crisis of secession” and ranks it on a par with the crisis of armed pastoralism in the Middle Belt of the country; ahead of the crisis of resource militancy in the Niger Delta; and only below the Boko Haram insurgency in the north-east and the armed bandits in the north-west of Nigeria.

Three framings define the crisis in south-east Nigeria in popular narrative. One is that it is about secession. A second is that most of the fatal incidents connected with it are perpetrated by “unknown gunmen”. The third is that the response to the situation is predominantly kinetic. Each of these is flawed. Together, they miss the underlying issues, with the result that they have turned an otherwise manageable crisis into an interminable atrocity.

Let’s begin with the first. The simplicity of the secession narrative is appealing at both the emotive and pecuniary levels. The former unites other Nigerians with subliminal appeal against a historical “Igbo question”. The latter enables the managers of expeditionary military deployments in the region to finagle more money for themselves using the excuse of preserving Nigeria’s territorial integrity. This would not be so if the situation were to be understood as a policing preoccupation with crime and criminality.

What’s the reality? IPOB’s business model does not stand a snowball’s chance in hell in any of the truly deadly sites of atrocity in south-east Nigeria. Awkuzu, host to the most horrendous atrocities in the region, is the site of “Nigeria’s most brutal police station” where hundreds, if not more, detainees have been killed extra-judicially. In Obosi, the ancient city on the banks of the Idemili River; and in Awka, the state capital, hundreds of young men routinely exterminate one another in murderous inter-cult and inter-gang warfare. In Ogbaru, located between the banks of Oguta Lake and the floodplains of River Niger, organized gangs mobilize deadly violence in sophisticated operations to rustle hydrocarbons. Lokpanta, the point along the Enugu-Port-Harcourt motorway where all the states of south-east Nigeria come close to sharing common borders, is an ungoverned territory where commercial kidnapping meets atrocity liquidation. None of these square with the convenience or simplicity of the secession narrative or with its profitability.

Turning to the second popular narrative about the situation in south-east Nigeria, the mythical “unknown” perpetrator is a figure of considerable antiquity in Nigeria. It has been around since the inconclusive judicial inquiry into the attack on Fela Anikulapo-Kuti’s Kalakuta Republic in February 1977, which blamed the incident on the “unknown soldier”. In 2011, the traditional ruler of Ihembosi, a community in Anambra State, was disappeared by “unknown gunmen.” They were also to blame in the violent abduction and subsequent disappearance in May 2014 of Chike Okoli, former Commissioner in the same state.

The legend of the unknown perpetrator in Nigeria has over the years emerged as both metaphor and measure of what is widely seen as state incapacity and leadership indifference to the scourge of impunity in the country. Far from an affirmation of unknown actors, Nigeria’s legend of the unknown perpetrator signposts a sense of popular despondency or loss of belief in the capacity of the state to end impunity for atrocities.

In the face of these tendencies, therefore, the third idea that the country or region can shoot its way out of this crisis is worse than wishful thinking. The complex landscape of drivers and factors in the situation in south-east Nigeria does not lend itself to such over-simplifications. To reprise a useful metaphor, it is more deserving of a scalpel than a hammer.

Over 24 months from 2022 to 2024, Bianca Ojukwu, the current minister of state for foreign affairs, and I together led a Truth, Justice and Peace Commission (TJPC) into the causes of the crisis in south-east Nigeria, the perpetrators, the consequences and possible solutions. The commission met and consulted with hundreds of victims and witnesses, including the security services, community leaders, clergy, politicians, vigilante elements, as various armed militias in the region.

Two things were evident. One is that the situation in the south-east is fundamentally a crisis of governance and of popular lack of belief in the legitimacy of many in political office in the region. The second is a clear desire on the part of most people to recover their communities and address the tasks of reconstruction and healing from the traumas of the violence.

There are no easy answers to these, but there are common threads. Rather perversely, the perpetrators who insist on rendering the region uninhabitable and the security providers who feed the secessionist trope are both engaged in a mutually profitable joint enterprise. Neither wishes insecurity in the south-east to end. This is why the audacity of Governor Chukwuma Charles Soludo in enacting the new Anambra State Homeland Security Law, 2025, is welcome because it evinces a durable solution to the crisis. The law establishes a complementary security provider for the state called “Agun’echemba” (sentinel at the gate) and launches Udo g’Achi (peace shall reign) targeting atrocity insecurity.

Several aspects of the new law have come under scrutiny. In particular, section 18 which targets transactional ritualism has drawn attention, with claims that it lacks the clarity required to pass constitutional muster and discriminates against traditional worship. For context, the TJPC which I led met twice with Juju priests. Separately, I met privately with some senior exponents of the trade. They were united in acknowledging that some amongst them had chosen to parlay their skills in support of atrocity insecurity and made detailed proposals, including asking the government to help root out such practitioners, prohibit infiltration, and regulate and support legitimate practitioners.

The TJPC report diagnosed this phenomenon as “transactional accultism”, which it identified as enabling “violent cultism” and “the crisis of insecurity”. The report argues that this is “a major component of the psychological armor plate of impunity” providing the perpetrators of the violence with deadly rituals which lead them to believe that they have “an aura of both impenetrability to projectiles and invincibility in the field of atrocity, an immense psychological boost in an environment of impunity.”

The law also targets the compounded deficit of legitimate political leadership as an underlying driver of the crisis of insecurity in the region. In 2005, the New Humanitarian reported on the situation in south-east Nigeria that “rigged elections increase disenchantment”, explaining that sympathy for separatism “has been growing since the general elections of April and May 2003, which were marred by widespread allegations of vote rigging.” Officeholders who are widely seen as lacking legitimacy are liable to be compromised when confronted with atrocity insecurity. Instead, they get reduced to belligerents instrumentalizing the violence rather than seeking to end it. In this law, Governor Soludo shows he is different.

Above all, this law also addresses the need to rebuild the capacity to administer criminal justice fairly and effectively, beginning with responsible policing; capable magistrates, coroners and the office of the Directorate of Public Prosecutions (DPP). In many states in the region, the police have been rendered destitute of confidence, denuded of the trust of communities. Similarly, most magistrates are desolate and DPP’s offices in the region are unfunded, leaving prosecutorial personnel at the mercy of self-interested parties or of adversaries who threaten them into being ineffectual. The result is that in much of the region, all sides glamourise summary, arbitrary or extra-judicial killing as the solution to crime or deviance, disagreement or dissonance.

None of these is easy to implement. As a programme, it confronts organized opposition from those who have profited so far from the over-simplification in a single narrative of secession that has bedeviled the search for solutions to the situation. The present government of Anambra state has demonstrated single-mindedness ending this. For that, it deserves support and other states in the region can adapt this model.

A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.

 Are you still wondering what has been going on in the Lagos State House of Assembly? Never mind; it is the usual power dynamics on full display by our politicians. They have taken positions and fighting for leverage. No one is amused except that, this time, Lagos State – a highly prized jewel and the centre of excellence – is the latest victim of the show of shame that Nigerians put up with on a regular basis.

From the National Assembly to the State Houses of Assembly, what can we really point to as a higher sense of purpose that drives the conversations and engagements among our lawmakers? After the shenanigans that we witnessed in Rivers State in what turned out to be a long-running soap opera before the Supreme Court judgments, it never occurred to me that Lagos State would be the next perfidious playground.

Without a doubt, Lagos State is the richest state in Nigeria with a GDP of about $34 billion, followed by Rivers State with $21 billion, according to available data. These two states can stand on their own without federal allocations from Abuja. It is understandable that there’s so much at stake in Lagos State, but do we need the political chicanery?

But the bizarre behaviour of a majority of our political elite leaves a sour taste in the mouth. Politicians can align to protect their interests which is okay, but it should not be at the expense of Nigerians when our wellbeing should be their number one priority. What Nigerians want at all levels – from the local councils to the subnational governments and federal government – is exemplary leadership, and I do not think we are asking for too much.

According to John Maxwell, a world renowned leadership expert, “Being a great leader is all about having a genuine willingness and true commitment to lead others to achieve a common vision and goals through positive influence.”

Maxwell also says, “A leader knows the way, goes the way and shows the way.” Great leaders craft a vision for progress and foster a buy-in culture from their followers.

Lagos State not only has the highest urban population in Nigeria, it is arguably the 6th largest economy in Africa arising mainly from its commercial and industrial activities. It explains why the internally generated revenue (IGR) reached a historic N1 trillion milestone last year.

The 40 members in the Lagos State House of Assembly have always worked together in peace and harmony over the years based on a leadership structure for Lagos that is superintended by the Governance Advisory Council (GAC).

However, on January 13, 2025, an unexpected turn of events led to the impeachment of Mudashiru Obasa, speaker of the house of assembly, who staged a dramatic comeback last Thursday and presided over a plenary of only four members. Although Obasa declared that he had returned as speaker, the purported plenary was a joke taken too far.

Meanwhile, Obasa has instituted a legal challenge to what transpired on January 13 while he was away in the United States on vacation. At that time, the house of assembly was on recess. Politicians say when they have a problem, they will find a political solution. But when they don’t, you will see them washing their dirty linen in the public and end up in court, keeping their Lordships busy and working overtime. Never have a dog in their fight.

When Obasa who had been speaker of the house for 10 years was impeached, 36 members voted in favour of the resolution, but Obasa is faulting the process because the House Rules, according to him, requires the majority leader to inform the clerk to notify the members to resume.

But the clerk must obtain the prior approval of the speaker before the notice of resumption from recess can be circulated. Obasa says this process was breached, because, as it turned out, the plan to remove him was an “urgent matter” that had been hatched and consecrated by his political adversaries.

Obasa has also not helped his own case because of his alleged highhandedness, arrogance and overbearing nature. “As speaker,” some insiders alleged, “Obasa had become too powerful and disrespected some of his political associates.” A case in point was when the Lagos State 2025 budget was scheduled for presentation. Obasa kept Babajide Sanwo-Olu, the governor of Lagos State and members of GAC waiting for longer than necessary.

The impeachment process produced Mojisola Labat Meranda as the new speaker of the Lagos State House of Assembly with 35 members of the house rooting for her. Their aim was to effect a change in the power calculus in the house.

But this is just the beginning of the crisis which has been receiving multiple interventions by some elders like Chief Segun Osoba, a media titan and former governor of Ogun State, and Chief Bisi Akande, former governor of Osun State – two influential stalwarts of the All Progressives Congress (APC).

These elders have called for truce from the warring parties which requires a multifaceted approach, but politicians are good chess players and the end will always justify the means. Although the presidency was fingered as backing Obasa to instigate the crisis, it is not entirely true. The facts of the matter do not support this allegation. What is playing out is the usual political intrigues and the fight for relevance by Obasa and his supporters. Insiders say President Bola Ahmed Tinubu was unaware of the plot to remove Obasa, one of his foot soldiers and die-hard loyalist which many see as an affront to the presidency.

In order to take care of the interest of all the critical stakeholders, what is likely to happen is that Meranda will resign and Obasa will perish the idea of returning as speaker. Since Obasa is from Agege 1 Constituency in the Lagos West Senatorial District, the next speaker, according to a very dependable source, is expected to emerge from that District and the likely beneficiary is David Setonji, a civil engineer and current chief whip of the house of assembly representing Badagry constituency. Both Babajide Sanwo-Olu, the governor and Meranda are from the Lagos Central Senatorial District.

This scenario is likely to pave the way for Obasa, all things being equal, to head to the Senate in 2027 in a game of political engineering and brinkmanship. The rally by Obasa and his supporters after he returned from his vacation was stage managed to display his political sagacity and make the point that he will not go down without a fight.

My reading of the situation is that he poured gasoline into the raging fire by taking the additional step of convening the plenary, not to pre-empt the court hearing which was to hold the next day, but to escalate the matter based on the script he held close to his chest which was being used to manipulate the crisis by his sponsors. Clearly, Obasa could not have been acting alone.

Besides Osoba and Akande, Babajide Sanwo-Olu, the APC leaders in Lagos State and Abuja, and GAC members must work together to prevent any further escalation of the crisis. The situation in Rivers State and Lagos State are similar, but they are not taken from the same playbook. It is why I am hopeful that the efforts of peacemakers Osoba and Akande – the bridge between Abuja and Lagos – will yield the desired results within the shortest possible time.

Since Obasa went to court to challenge his impeachment, he should be patient and take it easy. When you are speaker for 10 years, it should count for something. At the end of the day, it is Lagosians that are bearing the brunt of the needless crisis.

How can Babajide Sanwo-Olu function effectively when the house of assembly is divided? In fact, the governor has also been accused in certain quarters of being responsible for the crisis because he wanted checkmate Obasa and teach him a political lesson. Can this be true? I do not have any empirical evidence to support this claim, but who is to be blamed for the ongoing crisis? That is the story of our democratic culture and political evolution which manifests in power play in high places.

Well-meaning political leaders and stakeholders must rise above the fray and douse the tension immediately. I challenge the sponsors of the political gladiators – whoever they maybe – to act in the interest of Lagosians and do the right thing in order to save our Lagos.  

Braimah is a public relations consultant and marketing strategist. He is also the publisher/editor-in-chief of Naija Times (https://ntm.ng) and Lagos Post (https://lagospost.ng), and can be reached via This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..    

Nobody had expected that Gen. Ibrahim Babagandida would be truthful in all the claims in his autobiography; or that there would not be twist of history in his narrations and recollections. After all, autobiographies in their very nature are typically replete with embellishments and overstatement of personal acts of heroism. In my preview of the book, titled a Journey in Service, published three weeks before its launch on February 20, I had forewarned that the book may not offer much more than we had known on the major issues of his eight-year rule. I noted that because most of those who were part of his government had passed away, ‘’IBB therefore has enough motivation to engage in revisionism and embellishment of his story’’. I wrote: ‘’Babangida has a lot to tell Nigerians and I hope that he would be honest and candid. Coming this late, will IBB’s book be worth the wait? Will he give honest answers to the many puzzles that dogged his administration or is this a mere attempt to burnish his image and rewrite history as he prepares for the final phase of his life? It’s been a generation since Gen. Babangida hurriedly put together a contraption called interim national government and left office after an eight-year deceptive dictatorship. His transition programme was a farce, illusory and wasteful’’.

I have just finished reading the book, and I must confess that I was not prepared for the scale of obfuscations and revisionisms embedded in it, and in no other section is this more obvious than the one on the Dele Giwa assassination. Babngida claims that Giwa was killed as ‘’part of a series of booby traps and acts of destabilization being hatched against (his) administration’’ and it was meant as a ‘’political blow to the young military administration’’. He says the insinuations that the parcel bomb had emanated from ‘’the headquarters of the administration as cheap and foolish’’, asking: ‘’why would an officially planned high-level assassination carry an apparent forwarding address of the killer?’’.

 In other words, IBB is arguing that, if indeed, the military or his government had dispatched the bomb, the parcel would not have borne the coat of arms and the words ‘’From the C-in-C’’. He blames Newswatch management for frustrating police investigation by ‘’recourse to play to the gallery of public sentiment’’, and noted that “the involvement of high-profile lawyer Gani Fawehinmi and the populist slant given to the case by the media poisoned the investigation with political overtones. The investigation into the Giwa murder became part of the tools in the armour of a growing political opposition targeted at discrediting the military over the planned political transition programme and human rights issues’’. 

This is as specious as you can possibly get; and to blame the management of Newswatch, and Gani Fawehinmi (who died many years ago) is to say the least very cruel. Many Nigerians are still convinced that the régime and/or the military authorities were complicit in the murder of Giwa. No civilian individual or organization had the technology, capability and sophistication to deliver a parcel bomb in Nigeria of 1986; and even as I write, the technique of packing explosives into a package; wrapping, sealing and delivering it to the intended receiver, in such a way that it could only explode when opened is a complicated technique available only to military and security authorities. That is why parcel bombs have not been used to settle scores with all the political assassinations we have had since 1999. The idea that Giwa’s murder was all ‘’bobby traps’’ and a ‘’political blow’’ meant to destabilize the régime suggests that Babangida knows more than he’s telling us. As experts often tell us, understanding the motive could be crucial to solving a crime.

In the days leading up to the assassination, Giwa was thoroughly hounded, harassed and hunted by the officials of the military intelligence. He was falsely accused of gun running and other heinous crimes. Afraid for his safety and security, Giwa reported the matter to his lawyer and senior government officials, but the snare had already been set up for him. The parcel was delivered to him a day after a military intelligence officer called Giwa’s home and asked for the address; and Giwa’s wife, Fumi, who took the call, innocently obliged the caller. Curiously, IBB omitted this damning sequence of events in his book.

That the parcel bore the seal of the government was just a clever ploy to deceive the recipient into opening the package. The planners of the plot had known that since Giwa was in regular contact with the President, and had previously received letters from the government; such an insignia on the package would be a convincing reason for him to open it. The aim was to kill him at all cost.

 I have spoken to Ray Ekpu, the editor-in-chief of Newswatch, and he’s promised to issue a statement on IBB’s claims after consulting Dan Agbese; Yakubu Mohammed and their lawyers. I look forward to reading their rejoinder, and Ekpu’s autobiography set for publication next year. I am sure he will tell the Giwa story more truthfully.

Another disturbing aspect of the book is Babangida blaming Sani Abacha for the annulment of the June 12 election. He claims that the election was annulled by forces loyal to Sani Abacha while he, IBB, was in Katsina to visit with the Yara’Adua family that had just lost its patriarch. The government and the military were polarized and split in the middle with some officials opting for the annulment while others were against it. He stated he was afraid for his life and safety and believed that Abacha was ready to lead a coup and assassinate him and/ Abiola. Babangiga concludes that it was Abacha that deceived Abiola into rejecting his offer to be head of the interim government he was setting up.

By blaming his failure to handover and conclude the eight-year transition on Sani Abacha, IBB appears as a coward who could not rein in on a fearsome fiend. In one breath, he commends Abacha for his loyalty and sparing his life in two instances, and in another, he presents Abacha as an evil, power drunk officer who was desperate to torpedo the transition programme and plunge the country into turmoil in order to take power. If IBB knew this much about him, why was Abacha not retired? It is a reasonable assumption that the two might have entered into a pact to let Abacha take over after IBB had ‘’stepped aside’’.

Babangida’s accounts of the Giwa murder and the annulment of the June 12 election nearly rendered the whole volume distasteful. But it’s a good reading, rich in history, and well researched and written. I suspect that that it was ghost-written by Yemi Ogunbiyi and Chidi Amuta, two of Nigeria’s outstanding journalists, who are well acknowledged by the author for their support. In fact, IBB’s book has a striking similarity in style and language to Ogunbiyi’s memoire, The Road Never Forgets, published in 2022.