Across Nigeria, a disturbing pattern continues to unfold – one that undermines the rule of law, erodes public trust, and places citizens, especially young people, at constant risk. Extrajudicial killings by police are no longer isolated incidents. They are symptoms of a deeper institutional crisis rooted in impunity, weak oversight, and a culture that too often rewards abuse rather than accountability.
Recent cases from Imo and Delta States illustrate this crisis with chilling clarity.
In Imo State, the now-notorious Anti-Kidnapping Unit – popularly known as “Tiger Base” – has become emblematic of a policing system gone rogue.
The case of Onuoha Johnbosco reflects a familiar script: arrest without due process, denial of custody, conflicting official narratives, and ultimately, a death shrouded in secrecy. His family’s desperate search was met with institutional silence and deception, only for authorities to later claim he was involved in a gun battle – an assertion contradicted by eyewitness accounts of a peaceful arrest in a public market.
Even more troubling is the refusal or inability of the police to produce his body. This is not merely a procedural lapse; it raises the specter of enforced disappearance – one of the gravest violations under both Nigerian and international law.
Johnbosco’s case is not an anomaly. It fits into a broader pattern at Tiger Base, where detainees reportedly “attempt to escape,” “fall ill,” or “die in hospital” – recurring explanations that defy credibility and demand independent scrutiny.
Similarly, the case of Japheth Njoku reveals how the machinery of concealment operates. While in police custody, his family was denied access even as officers allegedly continued to extort money under the guise of providing care. When a coroner ordered an autopsy, the police reportedly failed to produce the body, effectively sabotaging the judicial process.
In Delta State, the killing of Mene Ogidi presents yet another test of Nigeria’s commitment to justice. The circumstances surrounding his death – particularly the unresolved questions about the alleged firearms-linked waybill and the delayed emergence of video evidence – suggest either investigative incompetence or deliberate obfuscation. The continued lack of transparency, including the identities of officers involved, reinforces public suspicion that the system is once again circling the wagons.
These cases are linked not just by their outcomes, but by the patterns they reveal:
– Arbitrary arrests and incommunicado detention
– Torture and forced confessions
– Fabrication or manipulation of evidence
– Extrajudicial execution disguised as lawful force
– Systematic cover-ups and shifting narratives
At the heart of this crisis is a fundamental breakdown of accountability. Although Nigeria has a robust legal framework – including the Constitution, the Police Act 2020, the Anti-Torture Act 2017, and the Administration of Criminal Justice Act – these laws are routinely ignored or circumvented by those entrusted to enforce them.
The principle is simple: the police have no legal authority to determine guilt or administer punishment. That responsibility lies solely with the courts. When officers assume the role of judge, jury, and executioner, they do not just violate individual rights – they undermine the very foundation of democratic governance.
Nigeria has seen this before. The 2005 Apo Six killings exposed how easily innocent citizens can be branded criminals and executed, only for the truth to emerge years later through painstaking advocacy and judicial inquiry. The case remains a stark reminder that without accountability, the line between law enforcement and lawlessness can quickly disappear.
Today, that line is once again dangerously blurred.
What makes the current situation even more alarming is the normalization of these abuses. Communities have come to expect unlawful arrests, extortion, and violence as part of routine policing. In places like Nekede in Imo State, students are routinely targeted in nightly raids – searched, detained, and forced to pay for their freedom under the pretext of “bail.” Such practices not only violate the law; they entrench a predatory model of policing that treats citizens as sources of revenue rather than rights-holders.
This is unsustainable.
A police force that is feared rather than trusted cannot effectively prevent crime. Intelligence dries up. Community cooperation disappears. And in the vacuum, insecurity thrives.
If Nigeria is to break this cycle, incremental responses will not suffice. What is required is a decisive shift toward transparency, accountability, and respect for human rights.
First, all allegations of extrajudicial killings must be investigated by independent bodies – not by the police alone. The Police Service Commission and the National Human Rights Commission must assert their mandates without fear or favour.
Second, there must be full public disclosure in cases involving loss of life. The identities of officers under investigation, the status of proceedings, and the outcomes must not be shrouded in secrecy.
Third, command responsibility must be enforced. Senior officers cannot continue to evade accountability for abuses committed under their watch.
Fourth, victims and their families must be guaranteed access to justice – including the right to know the fate of their loved ones, to obtain autopsies, and to pursue redress without intimidation.
Finally, there must be consequences. Without prosecution and sanctions, reforms remain rhetorical, and impunity persists.
The stakes could not be higher. Every extrajudicial killing sends a message – not just to victims, but to society at large – that the law can be suspended at will. Over time, this erodes the legitimacy of the state itself.
Nigeria stands at a crossroads. It can continue down a path where abuses are denied, evidence is concealed, and justice is deferred. Or it can choose a different course – one where the rule of law is upheld, institutions are strengthened, and those who abuse power are held to account.
The choice should be clear.
Justice must not be optional. Accountability must not be selective. And the lives of Nigerians must never be expendable.
