By Comrade IG Wala

To All Nigerians, Party Stakeholders, and Lovers of Democracy,

In the life of every great political movement, there comes a moment where the noise of confusion meets the silence of the Law. For the African Democratic Congress (ADC), that moment arrived on April 30, 2026.

For months, the ADC was held in a state of judicial paralysis caused by a lower court order that froze the party’s activities. This order did not just affect a few leaders, it threatened to delete the ADC from the Nigerian political map and disenfranchise millions of supporters ahead of the 2027 General Elections.

Today, we present the facts of the Supreme Court’s intervention to ensure that every Nigerian, from the city centers to the grassroots, understands that Justice has spoken, and the ADC is alive.

The Three Pillars of the Supreme Court’s Ruling:

1. The End of Paralysis (The Status Quo Order)!

The Supreme Court, led by Justice Mohammed Garba, was clear and firm: the Court of Appeal’s order to maintain a “status quo” was improper and unwarranted. The apex court recognized that you cannot freeze a political party indefinitely without a trial. By setting this aside, the Supreme Court rescued the ADC from a leadership vacuum that was being used to justify de-recognition by INEC.

2. The Restoration of Administrative Legitimacy.

By nullifying the appellate court’s freeze, the Supreme Court effectively restored the David Mark-led National Working Committee to its rightful place. This means that for all official, administrative, and electoral purposes, the ADC now has a recognized head. The party is no longer a ship without a captain; the doors of the headquarters are open, and the party’s name remains firmly on the ballot.

3. The Order for a Fresh Trial on Merits.

True to the principles of fair hearing, the Supreme Court did not simply gift the party to one side. Instead, it ordered the case back to the Federal High Court for an accelerated hearing. This is a victory for the Truth. It means the court is not interested in technicalities or stopping the clock, it wants to see the evidence, read the Party Constitution, and deliver a final judgment based on the Right vs. Wrong.

Note: I will drop the 7 prayers made to Supreme Court by ADC in the comment section.

A Message to Our Members and Supporters.
To our members who have felt a sense of fear, apprehension, or a lack of confidence in the Nigerian courts, let your hearts be at peace.

It is a delusion to believe that gross injustice can simply walk through the doors of our highest courts unnoticed. This matter is currently one of the most publicized and people-centric cases in Nigeria. In such a bright spotlight, the Judiciary acts not just as a judge, but as a shield for the common man.

The Law is not a tool for the crafty, it is a searchlight for the Truth.
Inasmuch as they say the Law is blind, it sees with perfect clarity the difference between a lie and the truth, between right and wrong. The Supreme Court’s refusal to let the ADC be strangled by procedural delays is proof that the system works for those who stand on the side of justice.

Our confidence is not in personalities, but in the Process. We are returning to the Federal High Court not with fear, but with the armor of Truth.

The Handshake remains strong, the vision is clear, and our participation in the 2027 elections is now legally anchored.

Stand tall. The ADC has been tested by the fire of the courts, and we have emerged not just intact, but vindicated.

Signed,
Comrade, IG Wala.
02/04/26. — with Shareef Kamba and 14 others.

By Boma Lilian Braide (Esq.)

There was a time in Nigeria when the phrase The Police is Your Friend was not a national joke. It was a civic assurance, a symbolic handshake between the state and its citizens. It represented the ideal of a civil security architecture built on trust, service, and protection. Today, that once reassuring slogan has decayed into a bitter irony. It no longer evokes safety; it provokes fear. It no longer signals partnership; it signals danger. What should have been the soul of Nigerian civil state relations has become a cruel parody of our lived experience at checkpoints, stations, and on the streets.

The Nigerian security apparatus has undergone a transformation so profound that it now resembles a predatory machine rather than a protective institution. The sight of a police patrol vehicle, which should ordinarily bring comfort, now triggers anxiety. Citizens instinctively brace themselves, not for assistance, but for extortion, harassment, or violence. We are not merely witnessing isolated incidents of misconduct. We are watching a pattern of state enabled brutality unfold in real time, a pattern so consistent that it feels like a televised execution of the social contract. In this grim theatre, the Nigerian state often appears not as the protector but as the principal aggressor.

On Sunday, April 26th 2026, the quiet air of Effurun in Delta State was shattered by the crack of a service pistol. What should have been an ordinary Sunday afternoon became the final chapter in the life of twenty-eight year old Mene Ogidi. A viral video, barely two minutes long, captured the horrifying scene. Ogidi sat on the dusty ground, his hands tied behind him with a rope. He was unarmed, exhausted, and pleading in his mother tongue for a chance to explain himself. Standing over him was a man in plain clothes, a man sworn to protect the very life he was about to extinguish. Assistant Superintendent of Police Nuhu Usman raised his pistol and fired two shots at close range into the body of a restrained, helpless citizen.

This was not a confrontation. It was not a crossfire. It was not a struggle for a weapon. It was an execution. A daylight assassination carried out by a state paid officer who felt so insulated by impunity that he performed his violence in front of a digital audience. The collective outrage that followed was not simply about one death. It was the eruption of a nation that has watched this script repeat itself far too many times.

Barely days later, in Dei-Dei Abuja, another life was cut short. A National Youth Service Corps member was shot inside his father’s compound. Authorities described it as a mistake during a crossfire, but the silence that followed spoke louder than any official explanation. These tragedies are not anomalies. They are symptoms of a deep institutional rot, a rot that has turned the badge into a license for violence rather than a symbol of service.

Extrajudicial killings in Nigeria represent a direct assault on the fundamental right to life and the presumption of innocence. When a law enforcement officer assumes the roles of accuser, judge, and executioner, the very foundation of the state begins to crumble. In the case of Mene Ogidi, the Delta State Police Command admitted that the officer acted in gross violation of Force Order 237, the regulation governing the use of firearms. This admission is significant because it reveals that the problem is not the absence of rules. The problem is the collapse of discipline, the erosion of accountability, and the entrenchment of a culture of impunity.

Between 2020 and 2025, Nigerian security agencies were implicated in nearly six hundred violent incidents against civilians, resulting in more than eight hundred deaths. The Nigeria Police Force accounted for over half of these fatalities. These numbers paint a disturbing picture. The institutions funded by taxpayers to provide security have become one of the greatest threats to their safety.

The psychology behind this brutality is rooted in the absence of consequences. When officers believe that nothing will happen after they pull the trigger, the threshold for using lethal force drops to zero. In the Effurun case, reports suggest that the suspect was even transported to a station after the initial shooting, only to be shot again. This level of cruelty reflects a complete dehumanization of the citizenry. The victim is no longer seen as a person with rights. He becomes a disposable suspect. This mindset is a legacy of the defunct SARS unit, whose methods and mentality continue to shape policing culture. Rebranding SARS into SWAT or the Rapid Response Squad means nothing if the same men, trained in the same violent ethos, continue to operate with the same predatory instincts.

The Nigerian police system has evolved from a flawed institution into what many citizens now describe as a state sponsored cartel. The Zero Tolerance mantra often repeated by the Inspector General of Police, Olatunji Disu, has become a public relations slogan that evaporates at every checkpoint. The immediate dismissal and recommended prosecution of ASP Usman and his team may satisfy the public’s immediate hunger for justice, but it does not address the deeper institutional vacuum that allowed an officer to believe he could execute a restrained suspect without consequence. If accountability only occurs when a video goes viral, then we are not being policed. We are being hunted by a uniformed gang that is occasionally caught on camera.

This raises critical questions. Where were the superior officers? Where was the Area Commander while this culture of execution was taking root? Command responsibility in Nigeria remains a myth. Until a Commissioner of Police is removed for the actions of their subordinates, there will be no internal incentive to reform. The decay is structural. We are recruiting frustrated individuals, training them in aggression rather than professionalism, and unleashing them on a population they are conditioned to view with suspicion and contempt.

The mistake narrative used in the Abuja NYSC shooting reflects this tactical incompetence. A professional force does not mistake a youth corper in his bedroom for a combatant. Nigerians are effectively subsidising their own endangerment, paying for the bullets that cut down their brightest young citizens. A nation cannot survive this level of uniformed recklessness. The state has lost its monopoly on violence to its own agents. When police officers fear the citizen’s camera more than they respect the citizen’s life, the system has failed.

Five years after the historic 2020 End SARS protests, the systemic reforms promised by government remain largely unfulfilled. Only a handful of states have implemented the recommendations of the judicial panels or compensated victims. The National Human Rights Commission reported in July 2025 that it had received over three hundred thousand complaints of abuses. This staggering figure reflects the scale of the crisis. While the current Inspector General has introduced new regulations to align the Police Act of 2020 with operational realities, the gap between a gazetted document in Abuja and a patrol team in Delta remains vast.

The solution to this bloodletting must be radical and structural. First, police oversight must be decentralised. Relying on Force Headquarters in Abuja to discipline an officer in a remote community is inefficient and ineffective. Each state should have an independent, citizen led oversight board with the authority to recommend immediate suspension and prosecution without interference from the police hierarchy.

Second, Force Order 237 must be overhauled to strictly limit the use of firearms to situations where there is an immediate and verifiable threat to life. Under no circumstances should a restrained or surrendering suspect be shot.

Third, Nigeria must address the mental health and welfare of police officers. Men who live in dilapidated barracks, earn inadequate wages, and operate under constant stress are more likely to lash out at the public. However, poverty cannot be an excuse for murder. Welfare reform must go hand in hand with strict accountability.

Finally, justice must not only be done but must be seen to be done. The trial of ASP Usman and others like him should be public, transparent, and swift. It must serve as a deterrent that resonates in every police station across the country. The era of secret disciplinary rooms must end. Nigeria must invest in technology driven policing, not only in weapons but in body cameras and digital accountability systems. When officers know they are being recorded, hesitation replaces recklessness.

A NATIONAL CALL TO ACTION

The era of Orderly Room secrecy must end. Nigeria must decentralise police disciplinary trials, moving them from closed sessions in Abuja to open, civilian led inquiries in the states where the abuses occur. A National Firearms Audit is urgently needed. Every officer must account for every round issued, and any missing ammunition should trigger automatic suspension for the entire chain of command.

The National Assembly must fast track the Victims of Police Brutality Trust Fund, ensuring that compensation becomes a legal right funded directly from the budgets of offending commands. Nigeria must stop being a nation of post script outrage. Command responsibility must become law. If an officer under a Commissioner’s watch executes a handcuffed suspect, that Commissioner must lose their job alongside the shooter.

The blood of Mene Ogidi and the NYSC member in Dei Dei is a stain on our national conscience. It is a reminder that as long as one Nigerian can be tied up and shot without trial, no Nigerian is truly safe. Silence is no longer an option. Waiting for the next viral video is no longer acceptable. The time to demand change is now.

By Dr. Sani Sa’idu Baba

Let’s not sugarcoat it, what is unfolding is not just political maneuvering for 2027, but a carefully calculated roadmap to 2031. Anyone who believes Rabiu Musa Kwankwaso is acting out of patriotism or prioritizing Nigeria above his personal ambition is simply ignoring the pattern before us. His willingness to deputise Peter Obi is not born out of ideological alignment or national interest, it appears to be a strategic move aimed at one target weakening Atiku Abubakar and ensuring he does not emerge as president in 2027.

Kwankwaso’s real calculation seems anchored in 2031. He understands that as long as Atiku remains active and contesting, his own presidential ambition struggles to gain traction, especially in the North where Atiku’s influence remains deeply rooted. By positioning himself in a way that could undermine Atiku now, he potentially clears the path for himself later, when he can conveniently lean on the “it is the turn of the North” narrative with stronger moral leverage. This is not about helping Obi win, it is about ensuring Atiku is completely removed from the equation.

It is also important to state plainly that Kwankwaso is fully aware of his electoral limitations in this arrangement. He knows he cannot significantly attract Northern votes for Obi beyond a few pockets, even within Kano State. And even there, the good people of Kano are far more politically aware and discerning than to be swayed purely by sentiment. This makes the entire proposition even more questionable, if the electoral value is limited, then the intention behind the alliance becomes even clearer. It suggests that even if he joins an Obi ticket, it is not driven by a genuine commitment to Obi, the Igbo, the South-East or Nigeria but by a broader personal calculation.

Northerners must understand that this is a long game, and every move appears deliberately designed. Kwankwaso seems cautious not to overtly confirm growing suspicions that he is working, directly or indirectly, to the advantage of Bola Ahmed Tinubu. Yet, many are beginning to connect the dots. The belief that there is an underlying alignment is gaining ground, especially when actions repeatedly result in one outcome, a divided North that weakens its collective electoral strength, a repeatation of 2023 in a different style. The alignment of Kwankwaso’s political godson and the governor of Kano Abba Kabir Yusuf with Tinubu only fuels this perception, suggesting a dual-front approach: one operating directly and visibly, the other indirectly and subtly.

This is not the first time such a pattern is being observed. Many Northerners still recall similar dynamics from 2023, and recent developments have only intensified the conversation. In fact, within just the last 24 hours, the level of criticism and open dissatisfaction directed at Kwankwaso across Northern Nigeria has been unprecedented. What was once dismissed as mere suspicion of a quiet alliance is now, in the eyes of many, being confirmed by actions seen as disruptive to any meaningful coalition.

For Kwankwaso, this moment carries significant weight. The long-circulating “sellout” label, which many had hesitated to firmly attach, now appears to be finding a resting place in public discourse. Should he once again position himself outside a collective Northern arrangement, that perception may become permanently entrenched.

The implications for the North are serious. Voting Obi because of Kwankwaso, which is unlikely, could fracture an already consolidated political base, reduce its bargaining power, and ultimately produce outcomes that do not reflect its true strength. The North has never historically rejected a dominant figure like Atiku in favor of a subordinate position, nor has it embraced a configuration where its most established candidate is sidelined. The idea that the region would choose Kwankwaso as a deputy while overlooking Atiku as a president is not just improbable, it runs contrary to established Northern political behavior.

What is at stake goes beyond individual ambition. The North is fully conscious of the stakes and increasingly resolute in its direction. There is a growing determination to stand firmly behind its own Atiku Abubakar, to protect its collective political strength, and to resist any arrangement that appears designed to divide it. The signals are clear, the North has decided, and it will not fall into what many perceive as calculated traps, whether from Kwankwaso or from forces seen as working against its cohesion and democratic leverage….

Dr. Sani Sa’idu Baba writes from Kano, and can be reached via drssbaba@yahoo.com