By Chidi Anselm Odinkalu
In 1991, Nigeria was in the full throes of the interminable transition to civil rule programme of General Ibrahim Babangida.
The effort by the regime in 1991 to relocate their terminal date from 1992 to 1993 coincided with a planned meeting in Ibadan, south-west Nigeria, of the leadership of the National Association of Nigerian Students (NANS).
At the time, the security agencies had secreted on
major campuses around the country assets masquerading as students. University
of Ibadan was no exception. The unsuspecting NANS leadership were taken by
surprise when the SSS swooped on their meeting, abducted their entire lot and
dumped them at the Kirikiri Maximum Security Prison in Lagos with notice to no
one. The abductees included then President of the NANS, Mahmud Aminu; their
Svengali, Bamidele Aturu, as well as other notables in the movement such as
Naseer Kura and Funso Omogbehin.
To make the grab look lawful,
the regime issued a back-dated order for their detention under the State
Security (Detention of Persons) Decree No. 2 of 1984 effectively making them
hostages in law. On a routine professional visit to the Kirikiri Prisons in
1991 to see some other detainees, the then Officer in Charge (O/C) of Records
at the facility pulled me aside and whispered about the presence in the prison
of the leadership of the NANS. Until then, nearly 10 days after they went
missing, no one knew where they were. If Mungo Park had made the journey, the
history books would probably have recorded that he “discovered” the then
leadership of the NANS in Kirikiri Prisons.
The lead lawyer for such matters then was Kanmi Isola-Osobu, a brilliant Life Bencher who was also lawyer to Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Kanmi’s office was opposite Adekunle Police Station in Yaba, Lagos; beside Dr. Tunji Otegbeye’s hospital. There were no cellular phones. I visited Kanmi’s office on a Monday afternoon to brief him about the students in the hope that he could lead the legal proceedings on their behalf. He was busy. With a familiar glint lighting up his face, Kanmi later informed me that he had been busy lubricating the struggle.
The case went before Nureini
Abiodun Kessington, whose court at the time had a deserved reputation as the
graveyard of bloated professional egos. With subversive invention, Kessington
promptly ended the abduction of the student leaders and ensured that they were
released with no substantial interruption to their academic careers or lives
thereafter.
Those of us who became active
against military rule then were inspired largely by two things. One was the
hope that the end of military rule would see the end of such practice; the
other was the dutiful resistance of some courageous judges like Kessington. In
hindsight we may have been naïve about the nature of power and about the
resilience of its methods. A quarter of a century after the end of military
rule, the practice continues to prosper. To make matters worse, courageous
judges appear to have become extinct.
First, the politicians discovered they could emulate the soldiers. In January 2017, Audu Maikori had been a lawyer for nearly sixteen years. He was a leader in entertainment law in Nigeria and president and Chief Executive Officer of a thriving start-up in the sector known as Chocolate City Group, with interests in radio, television, events, movies, and music. A son of Southern Kaduna, Audu was also a powerful voice and amplifier for the sufferings of the people under the predatory rulership of then Governor of Kaduna State, Nasir el-Rufai.
On or around 17 February
2017, police officers from the Kaduna State Command of the Nigeria Police Force
abducted Audu from Lagos and embarked on a cross-country dash with him; first
to Abuja where he was detained in the police cell in Asokoro. The following day
they ferried him to Kaduna for further detention. After two days of detention,
the police in Kaduna granted him bail.
It was in Kaduna that Audu
discovered that his abduction was in connection with a post on his twitter feed
about crisis in Southern Kaduna. A fortnight after Audu’s release on bail, then
governor of Kaduna State, Nasir el-Rufai while headlining the Social Media Week
in Lagos on 4 March, promised that he was “trying to link the dates of [Audu’s
tweets] to attacks that may have happened the next day on Fulanis and if we are
able to establish that causation,…. we know what it means.” Under his orders,
the police snatched Audu again and this time detained him in nasty conditions
in the State Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS). He had become a hostage in law.
Audu subsequently sued el-Rufai and the Police. On 27 October 2017, John Tsoho, then a judge of the Federal High Court, issued a judgment invalidating Audu’s abduction from Lagos. The judge held that “a warrant of arrest issued by a Magistrate in Kaduna was not valid for execution in Laos, except and until endorsed by a court in Lagos.
Not even a warrant
issued by a State High Court can be validly executed in another State without
endorsement by a competent court within the State where it is to be executed.”
He awarded N40 million in damages against Governor el-Rufai. After the Court of
Appeal reaffirmed the essence of the judgment by the Federal High Court,
el-Rufai appealed to the Supreme Court to assert his right to abduct Nigerian
citizens at will and hold them as his own hostages in law.
Two years later, judges and
magistrates invented jurisprudence to ground the practice of hostage taking
through law. Unlike in Audu’s case, the police officers who abducted Steven
Kefason from Port Harcourt on the orders of Nasir el-Rufai in May 2019
could not even be bothered with a warrant. After snatching Steven, they secreted
him in a cell in Mini Koro, Rivers State overnight before ferrying him by road
in a brutal ride to Kaduna. Over three days, they denied him food, access to
communication or personal sanitation.
In Kaduna, Steven was interrogated in equally brutal conditions under the personal supervision of the Governor’s legal adviser. The reason for the abduction – it turned out – was a tweet by Steven around 20 April 2019 in which he said that “while over 12k Kajuru IDPs are living in a terrible condition, their LG Chairman, Cafra Caino, was hosting his old school mates to a birthday party at Kajuru Castle….”
The
facts were not in dispute but el-Rufai nevertheless instructed the abduction of
Steven on charges of incitement and injurious falsehood. One month after
Steven’s initial abduction, the Magistrate in Kaduna denied him bail on 20 June
2019 because, according to the Magistrate, “while on bail, [he] further made
social media posts further insulting the person of the Governor and that of the
Chairman of Kaduna and Kajuru LGAs respectively.”
On 27 February 2020, Peter
Mallong, a judge of the Federal High Court in Kaduna, denied Steven’s request
for judicial review of his abduction and the decision of the Magistrate
claiming, in an extraordinary travesty of jurisprudence that he was bound by
the decision of the Magistrate to deny bail because the issues were the same
and the parties were largely the same. Following his abduction, Steven suffered
as hostage in law for over six months with no redress and came close to losing
his life. The injustice of the judgment cried out to the Heavens for redress.
In July 2023, Peter Mallong died
at 60.
Those who wonder how the country
ended up with the utterly shameful charade being orchestrated in a squalid
courtroom in Ekiti in the case of Dele Farotimi have Peter Mallong to thank for
having written the manual on judicial enablement of the practice of rendering
citizens into hostages in law. This narrative has wider ramifications.
*A lawyer and a teacher, Odinkalu can be reached at chidi.odinkalu@tufts.edu
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