The Accident of Our Justice System
My experience with the Nigerian justice system.
Sitting there on the floor of what seemed like the only holding cell in the Police station I was at, gave me a lot of time to think and try to process the events of the day. The air here was thick with smells unrecognizable. I found out that after a few minutes of inhaling the foul smell, one could actually get used to it. That at least explains why the 9 other boys I was locked up with seemed to be at home there.
Just outside the barred door holding us, was a pail which interestingly made for some kind of sport. Through the bars, I watched fellow detainees take an aim at the pail and let go of their urine. It was a holding pail for urine, ironically free from the holding cell we were in. I appreciated the small humor. On the walls of this cell, were lots of writings and scraped initials of people with stories of theirs, that had at some point in the past been housed in this same cell. How, you might ask, did I get myself behind bars in a Police detention cell?
The 22nd of February started like every other normal day for me. I had just rounded off a brief meeting and was headed towards a client’s place to provide my services when a motorcycle carrying three men left its lane and ran straight into my car on my own lane. There was a deafening crash and till date, I cannot fully account for the few seconds of my life right after the accident. I only remember raising my head -which suggests that at some point, my head for a reason or two was bowed- to see that my air bag had been deployed. The windshield of my car was broken in and from the cracked glass, I could see two people laying down helplessly on the ground with a third person somewhere behind the car. I was lucky to have sustained no injuries and for that reason, I was in a great position to immediately swing into action. I quickly ran to the nearest military check point to report the incident, called my colleague to attend to our client on my behalf and called for help. By this time, there were people gathered around to sympathize, wail and find who to blame. I had a nagging feeling though that this was neither the time nor place to engage any banter no matter how genuine they might be.
Eventually, I got help carrying the injured bike passengers into a waiting car and we headed for the hospital. At the hospital, I was reminded of the need to get the police over to assess the situation. I didn’t feel it necessary considering the obvious fact that as the victim of this accident (driving on my own lane, at a good speed and having fulfilled all steps required in such a fluid situation to avoid a collision, had been in fact run into by people with no business leaving their rightful lane for mine), was not interested in pursuing any case. To be honest, I already knew I would fix damages to my car so, all my focus was geared towards the survival of those patients and their well-being. But the Hospital made it clear it was only a procedure. I deferred to them.
The Police were invited, I narrated my experience and mentioned the fact that there were eye-witnesses that were willing to provide more information where needed. Next, I took the gentlemen of the Police force to the scene of the accident and let them inspect. What we all saw, were skid marks made by the tires of my car indicating that I had applied emergency brakes before impact, the car stationed rightly on the lane I was supposed to be on and all other minor details they could pick. Not to mention the residents of the area who came to offer their stories of the incident. Then I went to the police station for documentation. When I arrived there, I thought I was being a helpful citizen; putting others above myself to provide all the information needed to finalize that it was an accident, I was on the right side of this and I had no intentions on suing for any damages whatsoever. How naïve I was.
It didn’t take long before the Police found a way to twist the narrative. First, they began calling me a “suspect”. I asked how come and their best explanation was that I was the only victim available seeing as the others were being attended to at the hospital. It was at that moment I knew to call for help. Friends and family came around. There is a long history of antipathy between the people and the Nigerian Police force. In fact, things rose to a crescendo last year when there was a nationwide protest against a section of the Police at first, then the conduct of Police officers in general. It is for this reason that when my people came to the station, they were intent on knowing exactly what was going on and why. In other words, they didn’t let up on their efforts to see that this matter was cleared up in no time.
However, a leopard cannot change its spots. The officers at that station were bent on exploiting the opportunity presented to them by such an unfortunate situation, for gains and interests I’d rather not say. This was demonstrated when a certain officer asked that I be documented and detained. I immediately walked up to him and enquired why. “You are asking me that question?” he said, “you will know why in the morning after you have spent the night behind bars”. I was then asked to remove my shoes, my belt, any other belonging of mine and led to the cell.
Now that you are up to speed as to why I was sitting on the floor in a Police holding cell, I’d like to tell you about our justice system. I have often been intrigued by the Law. I have come to agree and accept the concept of the Rule of Law. One thing that has remained obvious to me and I’m sure a whole lot of us Nigerians, is how quickly law enforcers and in some cases, the judiciary itself, are complicit in efforts to manipulate the law, pummel it and beat it till it no longer serves the collective good but, tends to the needs of a few. My experience in that cell gave me more insight into just how broken our justice system really is.
I took the liberty to begin interacting with my fellow detainees. In here, it didn’t matter that I might be a CEO. Didn’t even matter if I was wrong or right. The only facts were I was barefoot like everyone else, sitting on the floor in a really cold cell. I thought, I might as well get to know my neighbors. So, I began asking why each of them where in the cell. They shared freely much to my gratitude. One of them was accused of stealing a phone which truthfully, turned out to be stolen. He confessed that he had bought the phone and he had receipts to prove it. Another was involved in vandalizing the car of a driver who allegedly, drunkenly ran into his friend, killing him at the spot. The stories went around. What I did find fascinating though, was that some of those boys had been locked up for a week without being charged to court. I ask you, where is the justice in that? The way I understand it, the rule of law dictates that everyone is innocent until proven guilty by a competent court of law. The only way one can be found guilty, is by first of all, charging such a person to court. I thought it pretty fantastic that the number one enforcing agency of Government; the Police force, sometimes failed in its duty to do just that.
Luckily for me, I was cleared and freed to go home with my brothers that night. I later learnt that the officers had accused me of driving my car into a motorcycle, running them over and gravely injuring them in the process. Not just that, apparently, they decided I was mentally unstable and so, was wrongfully in possession of a valid driving license to drive. Also, last but not the least, the gentlemen of the Police force in whose station I was detained, conjured up a story about how I fled the scene of the accident without showing any remorse for the people which I had just run over. To say I was shocked to hear all of this, would be a great lie indeed. I anticipated worse stories spun to give them the legitimacy they so greatly needed to keep me detained and extract all they could from me and my family. Still, I must admit it stung a little. Really? Mentally unstable?
Let me conclude by casting your thoughts on the morale of this encounter. In Nigeria, we are only afforded the luxuries of seeing real change, strong institutions and a government that works for everyone, only in the movies. We know this. The rot in our system predates even our independence from colonialism. But the average Nigerian wakes up every day with hope in his heart because we say, “one day e go better”. Deep down, we know that we might never live long enough to see this “one day” we speak so much of, but what matters is we want it so bad for those to come after us. We will not get there if we have to fight every bit of the system as it is. For this to work, our justice system for one, must redefine its loyalties and become the champion of the truth. Leaving those 9 boys behind in the cell made me feel bad. I am left with the lingering thought that perhaps, if I wasn’t so lucky to have friends and family willing to stand up in my defense, I too might become part of the system, I too might become a number in a cell, forgotten and left to rot. We do not need more people becoming statistics in a show of bravery, we need a few people willing to be the change in their departments, agencies and parastatals. Only then can we truly see a better Nigeria, “one day”.
