Opinion
The Injustice Of Delayed Justice
Pre-trial detention commonly referred to as awaiting trial in Nigeria is an evil that has continued to destroy thousands of lives globally. The data made available by the Nigerian Correction Service (NCS), indicates that as at October 2021, the number of awaiting trial inmates in Nigeria is 74per cent, as compared to 38.2per cent in the US, 13.2per cent in Ghana, and 29.3per cent in South Africa. The implication of this revelation is that three out of every four inmates are awaiting trial; and until last week, Mr. Maxwell Dele was one of them. His release after 11 years of incarceration without trial and the associated back story have brought back the issues of awaiting trial and prison congestion to the table of public discussion.
The release of Mr. Maxwell Dele was facilitated by Advocates Sans Frontiere France (lawyers without borders). According to the story, he was tortured and compelled to sign a pre-written statement by the now disbanded, infamous SARS police unit, before being taken to court, and subsequently remanded for 11 years for a crime that his neighbour allegedly committed. He is just one person out of more than 36,000 inmates awaiting trial in Nigeria.
Mr Dele’s case is a vivid example of the fate of thousands of the less privileged in our society who find themselves on the wrong side of the law, either by commission, association, or being roped in by the pecuniary proclivities of the Nigerian police. These men and women, some of them innocent, but unfortunately unable to provide their own legal defence, have been denied the right to live like human beings; rights to personal freedom, liberty, and fair trial. These rights are provided for in articles (6) and (7) of the African Charter for Human and People’s Rights; and also, in sections 35 and 41 of the Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria 1999, as amended.
It is quite unfortunate that, in spite of the awareness that the population of awaiting trial inmates is putting a strain on existing facilities, the government has refused to tackle the problem at the root. During President Jonathan’s administration, a committee led by John Odah gave a damning report that Nigerian prisons are unfit for human habitation, but nothing tangible was done to change the narrative. The current government’s idea is to expand correctional facilities in the country, by building seven 3000-capacity correctional facilities, one in the FCT, and one in each of the six geopolitical zones, starting from Kano in the North West and Rivers in the South South.
Building new correctional facilities is good; however, it does not solve the problem, since it does not make mathematical sense; because the number of awaiting trial inmates in Nigerian prisons is in excess of 36,000. If the FG erects seven new facilities of 3000 capacity each, giving a total additional capacity of 21,000, there is still a deficit of 15000, meaning that the problem of congestion remains.While policymakers continue to sleep-walk on the decisions that could speed up the wheel of justice, the plight of inmates, of which 74per cent are awaiting trial is deteriorating, and a good number of them are already damaged psychologically. Research sponsored by Carmelite Prisons’ Organisation, using the Raven’s Progressive Matrices, a general intelligence test, showed a significant cognitive decline rate that is faster among awaiting trial inmates relative to their convicted counterparts. This implies that the longer suspects remain in the limbo of pre-trial, the harder it might be for them to lead a normal life when they are eventually released.
The government at both the federal and state levels are completely responsible for the thousands of inmates languishing in Nigerian prisons without trial, and the first agency of government complicity in this evil is the police. They fill up the correctional facilities with mass and arbitrary arrests, tardy investigations, and wrong profiling of suspects.
Secondly, the delay or outright refusal of policymakers within the judiciary to expand the scope of the cases a magistrate could handle is a very huge contributor to the plague of awaiting trial cases; due to the fact that suspects would have to wait, sometimes indefinitely, for their cases to be reassigned for lack of jurisdiction. As a result, some of the inmates virtually do not exist in the judiciary system because of missing case files. As was the case of Sikiru Alade who was arrested in March 2003 when he was 30 years; and detained in Kirikiri Maximum Prison without trial for nine years. During the hearing for his release in 2012, the FG claimed he was never in their system, even when there was evidence to the contrary.
Thirdly, the illegal activities of wardens contribute in no small measure to the suffering of awaiting trial inmates. In one of my recent pieces, I made mention of the amount of humanitarian good done for Nigerians, in Nigeria by organisations from other nations, and today’s piece was occasioned by the fruits of the Labour of one of such groups, ASF France. It begs the question, what are Nigerians doing for Nigerians in this regard? What role has a major behemoth like the Nigerian Bar Association been playing to reduce or eradicate this plague? How often has the NBA in various states visited prison inmates, especially those awaiting trial for the purpose of assisting those in need? How many of their members actually schedule quarterly pro-bono services for those without the means to afford legal defence? With the thousands languishing in the almost infinite conveyor belt of awaiting trial, it is apparent that our legal men and women are missing in action in the service of the downtrodden.
Besides the NBA, the Church is mandated to visit those in prison; and I know there are various Churches and Christian organisations doing this. However, it is my belief, that this mandate goes beyond teaching the Bible and bringing relief to those in prisons. Christians also have the mandate of speaking for those who are unable to speak for themselves. In this regard, Christians, and especially so-called mega Churches with all the requisite resources to do this are failing even those in their local assemblies. Most Churches with legal teams are only activated to defend the Church and so-called ‘Men of God’; whereas, the Church’s legal capacity ought to be deployed in the defence of those without a means and voice. In as much as various interest groups, can, and should take steps geared towards alleviating the plights of thousands of inmates awaiting trial, the ultimate responsibility for repairing the damaged justice system lies squarely on the shoulders of the government. Government must begin to take concrete steps to set in motion those policies that would deal with the root cause of the ugly situation. Arbitrary and mass arrests and detention should be outlawed; magistrates and judges should be willing to toss tardy investigated cases.
The federal government should encourage other state governments to borrow a leaf from Lagos State, to implement a similar plea-bargain programme for awaiting trial inmates as a major avenue to curbing the menace. The Chief Justice of the Federation should also encourage State Chief Judges to routinely hold a monthly or quarterly session at major correctional facilities for the purpose of setting free inmates who have been incarcerated for more than four years, depending on the severity of the alleged crime. There are thousands of Maxwells and Sikirus languishing in correctional facilities across the country. Most of them have been emotionally and mentally damaged; most have been completely forgotten, yet they are compelled to live under conditions no human being should be subjected to. Sadly, some of them might be innocent. But no one deserves to go through such life wasting ordeal.
By: Raphael Pepple
The events that unfolded in Abuja on Tuesday November 11, 2025 between the Minister of the Federal Capital Territory, Chief Nyesom Wike and a detachment of soldiers guarding a disputed property, led by Adams Yerima, a commissioned Naval Officer, may go down as one of the defining images of Nigeria’s democratic contradictions. It was not merely a quarrel over land. It was a confrontation between civil authority and the military legacy that still hovers over our national life.
Nyesom Wike, fiery and fearless as always, was seen on video exchanging words with a uniformed officer who refused to grant him passage to inspect a parcel of land alleged to have been illegally acquired. The minister’s voice rose, his temper flared, and the soldier, too, stood his ground, insisting on his own authority. Around them, aides, security men, and bystanders watched, stunned, as two embodiments of the Nigerian state clashed in the open.
The images spread fast, igniting debates across drawing rooms, beer parlours, and social media platforms. Some hailed Wike for standing up to military arrogance; others scolded him for perceived disrespect to the armed forces. Yet beneath the noise lies a deeper question about what sort of society we are building and whether power in Nigeria truly understands the limits of its own reach.
It is tragic that, more than two decades into civil rule, the relationship between the civilian arm of government and the military remains fragile and poorly understood. The presence of soldiers in a land dispute between private individuals and the city administration is, by all civic standards, an aberration. It recalls a dark era when might was right, and uniforms conferred immunity against accountability.
Wike’s anger, even if fiery, was rooted in a legitimate concern: that no individual, however connected or retired, should deploy the military to protect personal interests. That sentiment echoes the fundamental democratic creed that the law is supreme, not personalities. If his passion overshot decorum, it was perhaps a reflection of a nation weary of impunity.
On the other hand, the soldier in question is a symbol of another truth: that discipline, respect for order, and duty to hierarchy are ingrained in our armed forces. He may have been caught between conflicting instructions one from his superiors, another from a civilian minister exercising his lawful authority. The confusion points not to personal failure but to institutional dysfunction.
It is, therefore, simplistic to turn the incident into a morality play of good versus evil.
*********”**** What happened was an institutional embarrassment. Both men represented facets of the same failing system a polity still learning how to reconcile authority with civility, law with loyalty, and service with restraint.
In fairness, Wike has shown himself as a man of uncommon courage. Whether in Rivers State or at the FCTA, he does not shy away from confrontation. Yet courage without composure often feeds misunderstanding. A public officer must always be the cooler head, even when provoked, because the power of example outweighs the satisfaction of winning an argument.
Conversely, soldiers, too, must be reminded that their uniforms do not place them above civilian oversight. The military exists to defend the nation, not to enforce property claims or intimidate lawful authorities. Their participation in purely civil matters corrodes the image of the institution and erodes public trust.
One cannot overlook the irony: in a country where kidnappers roam highways and bandits sack villages, armed men are posted to guard contested land in the capital. It reflects misplaced priorities and distorted values. The Nigerian soldier, trained to defend sovereignty, should not be drawn into private or bureaucratic tussles.
Sycophancy remains the greatest ailment of our political culture. Many of those who now cheer one side or the other do so not out of conviction but out of convenience. Tomorrow they will switch allegiance. True patriotism lies not in defending personalities but in defending principles. A people enslaved by flattery cannot nurture a culture of justice.
The Nigerian elite must learn to submit to the same laws that govern the poor. When big men fence off public land and use connections to shield their interests, they mock the very constitution they swore to uphold. The FCT, as the mirror of national order, must not become a jungle where only the powerful can build.
The lesson for Wike himself is also clear: power is best exercised with calmness. The weight of his office demands more than bravery; it demands statesmanship. To lead is not merely to command, but to persuade — even those who resist your authority.
Equally, the lesson for the armed forces is that professionalism shines brightest in restraint. Obedience to illegal orders is not loyalty; it is complicity. The soldier who stands on the side of justice protects both his honour and the dignity of his uniform.
The Presidency, too, must see this episode as a wake-up call to clarify institutional boundaries. If soldiers can be drawn into civil enforcement without authorization, then our democracy remains at risk of subtle militarization. The constitution must speak louder than confusion.
The Nigerian public deserves better than spectacles of ego. We crave leaders who rise above emotion and officers who respect civilian supremacy. Our children must not inherit a nation where authority means shouting matches and intimidation in public glare.
Every democracy matures through such tests. What matters is whether we learn the right lessons. The British once had generals who defied parliament; the Americans once fought over states’ rights; Nigeria, too, must pass through her own growing pains but with humility, not hubris.
If the confrontation has stirred discomfort, then perhaps it has done the nation some good. It forces a conversation long overdue: Who truly owns the state — the citizen or the powerful? Can we build a Nigeria where institutions, not individuals, define our destiny?
As the dust settles, both the FCTA and the military hierarchy must conduct impartial investigations. The truth must be established — not to shame anyone, but to restore order. Where laws were broken, consequences must follow. Where misunderstandings occurred, apologies must be offered.
Let the rule of law triumph over the rule of impulse. Let civility triumph over confrontation. Let governance return to the path of dialogue and procedure.
Nigeria cannot continue to oscillate between civilian bravado and military arrogance. Both impulses spring from the same insecurity — the fear of losing control. True leadership lies in the ability to trust institutions to do their work without coercion.
Those who witnessed the clash saw a drama of two gladiators. One in starched khaki, one in well-cut suit. Both proud, both unyielding. But a nation cannot be built on stubbornness; it must be built on understanding. Power, when it meets power, should produce order, not chaos.
We must resist the temptation to glorify temper. Governance is not warfare; it is stewardship. The citizen watches, the world observes, and history records. How we handle moments like this will define our collective maturity.
The confrontation may have ended without violence, but it left deep questions in the national conscience. When men of authority quarrel in the open, institutions tremble. The people, once again, become spectators in a theatre of misplaced pride.
It is time for all who hold office — civilian or military — to remember that they serve under the same flag. That flag is neither khaki nor political colour; it is green-white-green, and it demands humility.
No victor, no vanquish only a lesson for a nation still learning to govern itself with dignity.
By; King Onunwor
