Speedily, January has come to a close. It came with such huge excitement; holding lots of promises and opportunities. Good news; bad news, everywhere.
These days, I hardly watch Nigerian television channels because anytime I tune in, the disgusting picture of Olisa Metuh, the spokesman of the Peoples Democratic Party (PDP), in handcuffs, would be staring in my face.
I am neither a law enforcement agent nor a lawyer. That leaves me in ignorance of what the rules are when it comes to treatment of suspects in criminal cases. What I have often heard is that every suspect is innocent until the jurists say otherwise.
That’s actually not what has troubled my mind. For a start, I have only met Metuh in the course of my job as a reporter. I can’t even remember speaking with him on phone; not even once. That means we’ve never been pals; professionally or personally.
However, I’m still pondering over and I’m yet to understand the reasons Metuh should be paraded in public in handcuffs. Is it for the mere reason that he is a suspect in a criminal case?
The charges against him are big and pretty heavy. Even then, he is still innocent; as presumed by law; stupid law. In addition, he is the only accused, in what has become a Dasukigate, to be taken to court or paraded in the public in chains. That gets me thinking.
My apolitical reasoning is that if anyone should be chained based on the charges against him, that person should be Dasuki. Again, why should he be chained when he has not yet been found guilty of any offence (although it seems most likely)?
Some lame excuses were given some days ago by some people with a very poor sense of public relations; to the effect Metuh had tried to destroy some evidence while in the custody of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC).
The touted evidence were said to have been his “confessional” statement.
What this implies is that Metuh had confessed to the crime he is being charged with; that is, he has owned up. If that be the case, why are we still in court? Why hasn’t that confession been tabled before the judge for a ruling?
Shortly after making the so called confessional statement, he was accused of trying to destroy the same statement. Why would that happen if the confession was voluntarily made; not under duress? I’m just thinking aloud.
The logic therefore is that since he tried to destroy the statement, it has become necessary to put those itchy hands in chains just to teach him a lesson.
It is not yet clear whether those hands are ever free. If he could be chained in the public, it is only left to our fertile imagination what they do to him in the prison where he is and would be for a long time to come.
The disgraceful chaining of Metuh has already received an endorsement from Adams Oshiomhole, the unofficial spokesman of the Muhammadu Buhari Presidency. Some people just talk simply because they have the mouth.
I’m almost persuaded to believe (and I’m still thinking aloud), that there is more politics in the treatment of Metuh than somebody is labouring to make us believe.
The war against corruption is a sweet experience because it would take us back to the path of righteousness; but the way it is being executed is creating more suspicion than applause.
Please can somebody remove those chains from Metuh’s hands? At the end of the day, it is the image of Nigeria that matters. A criminal case should never be handled like a political campaign.
When Michael Jackson died suspiciously and his personal physician was put on trial, I recall that chains were only placed on his hands from the minute he was pronounced guilty by the court; even though it was a murder case with some global dimension.
Again, in South Africa, remember the incapacitated athlete who was charged with the death of his girlfriend? Did he ever appear in court chained? Here was a case where the identity of the killer was not in doubt!
Let’s do things the right way, please. Let’s stop playing dirty politics by reducing the much cherished war against corruption to a mere political gimmickry.
By the way, I’m not happy with Dasuki. Throughout the period he shared that money, I was in Abuja. Why was my name missing from his list? No wonder he is in trouble today.
Early this week, I received a widely circulated message listing names of Nigerian landlords in Dubai. Since the arrival of facebook and WhatsApp, circulation of such messages has become commonplace.
As I looked through the list, I wished the authors – irrespective of whether it is factual or fictitious – had included the addresses where those properties are located.
When I sent the list to a few of my colleagues, one of them was so furious that his name was not there. He quickly put the blame on Dasuki for being discriminatory in the sharing of the $2.1 billion loot.
While I’m still trying to understand his annoyance, but assuming Dasuki also extended the loot to me (God forbid), why would I build houses in Dubai instead of Nigeria?
However, if I were Buhari (and I truthfully don’t want to be), there would be need to take a second look at that list and get across to my counterparts in Dubai and Doha for validation.
