Trigger pulled, justice delayed: The cost of reckless policing in Nigeria

By Manifest Eja

On April 26, 2026, in Effurun, Delta State, a disturbing scene unfolded—one that has since ignited outrage across Nigeria.

A 28-year-old man, identified as Mene Ogidi, lay helpless on the ground—hands and legs bound, pleading for his life. Witnesses say he begged. Some say he offered to cooperate. Moments later, an Assistant Superintendent of Police, ASP Nuhu Usman, pulled the trigger.

Then again.

This was not a shootout.
It was not a life-or-death struggle.
It was, by every standard, an execution.

According to official accounts, operatives attached to the Effurun Area Command had acted on intelligence linking the victim to a parcel allegedly containing a Beretta pistol. But even within the police hierarchy, what followed could not be defended. The officer was found to have violated Force Order 237, the very rule guiding the use of firearms.

The video—now widely circulated—tells an even more haunting story: a suspect pleading, offering information, begging for mercy… followed by gunshots. First to the leg. Then to the head.

In response to the public fury, the Inspector-General of Police, Olatunji Rilwan Disu, ordered the officer’s dismissal from the Nigeria Police Force with immediate effect, alongside disciplinary proceedings and prosecution.

It was swift.

But Nigerians have seen this script before.

A Pattern Written in Blood

This is not an isolated tragedy. It is part of a long, painful continuum of excessive force and misuse of firearms by security operatives.

On December 7, 2023, along the Ajah axis of Lagos State, a police officer opened fire on a vehicle that had allegedly attempted to evade a traffic stop.

His explanation came almost immediately:
He was aiming at the tyre.

But the bullet did not stay on course. It tore through the car and struck a young boy seated inside. The child died.

The intended target survived.
The innocent did not.

That phrase—aiming at the tyre—has since become a chilling symbol of a deeper problem: a policing culture where firearms are used in situations that demand restraint, not force. Because by law, traffic violations do not justify gunfire.

And yet, it happened.

From Roads to Checkpoints: A Dangerous Continuum

Beyond Lagos and Delta, the pattern stretches across the country:

Checkpoint encounters escalating into fatal shootings over minor disagreements

“Warning shots” striking unintended victims

Routine enforcement operations turning violent without justification

Time and again, the story follows a familiar sequence:

A suspect is unarmed or already subdued.
An officer abandons protocol.
A trigger is pulled.
Public outrage erupts.
Authorities promise investigation.

Then… silence.

Until the next incident.

When Custody Becomes a Death Sentence

What makes the Effurun killing particularly chilling is not just the act—but the context.

Custody.

By law, once a suspect is apprehended, the responsibility of the police is clear: protect, investigate, and prosecute through due process. At that point, the suspect is no longer a threat but a responsibility.

In Effurun, that responsibility was abandoned.

The suspect was restrained.
The threat was neutralized.
The law was clear.

And yet, the trigger was pulled.

Even the Delta State Police Command acknowledged the gravity of the act, describing it as an extrajudicial killing and confirming the officer’s arrest and transfer for disciplinary action.

That admission matters.

Because it confirms what Nigerians already know:
this was not policing—it was a failure of it.

The System Behind the Trigger

It is easy to focus on the officer who fired the shots.

Harder—but more necessary—is to confront the system that made it possible.

The Nigeria Police Force operates under established rules designed to prevent exactly this kind of abuse. Force Order 237 is explicit: firearms are to be used only as a last resort, and only when there is an imminent threat to life.

So why does this keep happening?

The answers are uncomfortable:

Weak enforcement of discipline

Inadequate training in de-escalation

A culture of impunity

Poor psychological screening of armed officers

When accountability is uncertain, restraint becomes optional.

And when restraint becomes optional, tragedy becomes inevitable.

Beyond Condemnation: The Question of Consequence

The dismissal and prosecution of ASP Nuhu Usman sends a message.

But Nigeria has heard messages before.

The real question is not whether action is announced—it is whether justice is carried through.

Will there be conviction?
Will there be reform?
Will this deter the next officer?

Or will this case follow the familiar path—loud at the beginning, quiet at the end?

Because justice is not measured in statements.
It is measured in outcomes.

A Nation Growing Numb

Perhaps the most dangerous consequence of all this is not the violence—but the normalization of it.

Each time it happens, the shock fades a little faster.
The outrage burns a little shorter.
The memory disappears a little quicker.

And slowly, a society begins to adjust to what should never be acceptable.

The Final Question

The killing of Mene Ogidi is not just about one officer, one victim, or one location in Delta State.

It is about a system.
A pattern.
A warning.

And it leaves Nigeria with a question that refuses to go away:

Who polices the police?

Until that question is answered—not in words, but in consistent, visible action—the uniform meant to symbolize protection will continue, for many Nigerians, to represent fear.

And the next trigger… may not wait long.