By Kelly Odaro
Recently, the Nigeria Police Force (NPF) announced a ban on the parade of criminal suspects before the media, citing the practice as inconsistent with global standards and the principles of human rights. The move aligns with legal provisions that uphold the presumption of innocence until proven guilty in a court of law.However, while this decision may appear progressive on the surface, it raises critical concerns regarding Nigeria’s peculiar socio-political landscape, where corruption and abuse of power remain rampant within law enforcement agencies.
In developed countries like the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada, the public display of arrested suspects is largely discouraged. Instead, law enforcement agencies issue press statements, release mugshots, or hold press briefings without parading the individuals before cameras. This approach protects the integrity of the judicial process and prevents undue media trials that could influence public perception and even court rulings.
The Nigerian Police, in adopting this stance, seemingly seeks to project itself as a modern and rights-conscious institution. However, Nigeria is far from a society where legal institutions function with efficiency and accountability. Unlike in more developed democracies, where law enforcement is closely monitored by independent agencies and the judicial system is relatively robust, Nigeria’s criminal justice system remains tainted by corruption, political interference, and systemic inefficiencies.
Against this backdrop, the decision to halt the parade of suspects raises legitimate concerns about transparency, justice, and public accountability.
One of the most pressing concerns surrounding this decision is the potential for corruption within the police force. Over the years, there have been documented cases where suspects, particularly those with financial or political influence, manipulated the system to escape justice.
There have been instances where suspects mysteriously ‘disappeared’ from custody; where suspects were granted questionable bail; or had their cases quietly dismissed due to backdoor negotiations with corrupt officers.
For instance, Abdulrasheed Maina, the former chairman of the Pension Reform Task Team (PRTT), was accused of embezzling over N2 billion in pension funds meant for retirees. He fled Nigeria and was declared wanted by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC). Shockingly, years later, he was secretly reinstated into the civil service under President Buhari’s administration.
It took public outrage for the government to act, and he was rearrested in Niger Republic in 2020. However, the case remains controversial, with allegations that powerful figures shield him from facing full justice.
In another case, Gloria Okon was a suspected drug courier arrested in 1985 at the Aminu Kano International Airport for allegedly trafficking heroin. However, shortly after her arrest, reports claimed she died in custody under mysterious circumstances. The case became controversial when rumours surfaced that she was secretly released and flown abroad by those in government. Some speculated that she was a front for high-ranking officials in the military junta involved in drug trafficking, but the truth about her fate remains unresolved, fueling conspiracy theories.
There was another case involving Ibrahim Ahmadu, who was arrested for drug trafficking in 1984 under Buhari’s military administration. Ahmadu was reportedly shielded by influential figures within the military regime, unlike other offenders who faced harsh penalties. He was secretly released and quietly flown abroad, allegedly with the assistance of powerful connections in government. This fueled suspicions of selective justice and deep-seated corruption within the administration, as lesser-known traffickers were publicly prosecuted while Ahmadu vanished from public scrutiny.
His case became one of the many examples of how the military’s war on drugs was compromised by favouritism and high-level interference.
In a country where money and influence often dictate justice, the parade of criminal suspects has historically served as a form of public accountability, ensuring that the alleged perpetrators are at least seen by the citizens they have wronged.
When high-profile suspects are paraded, it reduces the likelihood of police officers substituting them with scapegoats or securing their quiet release. Public exposure creates a level of scrutiny that makes it difficult for corrupt officers to shield influential criminals.
If a notorious fraudster, kidnapper, or politician accused of embezzlement is arrested but not publicly identified, how can Nigerians be sure that the real perpetrator will face justice?
This fear is not unfounded. Nigeria has witnessed cases where notorious criminals either ‘escaped’ from police custody under suspicious circumstances or were quietly replaced with innocent individuals. The police parade, though imperfect, has at times served as a form of deterrence against such corrupt practices.
The argument against suspect parades is primarily anchored on human rights considerations. Every individual, regardless of the crime they are accused of, is presumed innocent until proven guilty. Publicly parading suspects before their trial can unfairly stigmatise them, damage their reputations, and, in some cases, even put their lives at risk. There have been instances where paraded suspects were later found innocent, yet the social and psychological damage caused by their public shaming remained irreversible.
In many cases, law enforcement officers in Nigeria have abused the suspect parade tradition, using it as a tool for public spectacle rather than a responsible law enforcement practice. Innocent individuals have been paraded for crimes they did not commit, sometimes due to personal vendettas, forced confessions, or mistaken identity. In some cases, the police have displayed individuals who were later found to have been tortured into admitting guilt. These realities highlight the urgent need for police reforms and strict adherence to human rights laws.
However, while the idea of discontinuing suspect parades is commendable in a perfect system, Nigeria’s peculiar socio-political and judicial context complicates its outright adoption. In a nation where justice is often bought and sold, where the police have been repeatedly implicated in extrajudicial killings, and where powerful criminals frequently walk free, this policy could inadvertently enable further injustice.
One of the strongest arguments in favour of media parades is their deterrent effect. Seeing suspects publicly disgraced can discourage others from engaging in criminal activities. The fear of public humiliation, combined with the consequences of being exposed, can serve as a psychological barrier to crime.
Additionally, showcasing suspects to the public may help in solving more crimes, as individuals who recognise the accused might come forward with additional evidence or testimonies linking them to past offences.
Another justification for the practice is the sense of security it provides to the public. When citizens see that criminals are being apprehended and exposed, it reinforces confidence in law enforcement. Communities that witness such parades may also become more vigilant and cautious in their interactions, particularly when dealing with individuals involved in criminal activities.
To strike a balance between protecting human rights and ensuring public accountability, the Nigerian Police must adopt a more transparent system of handling criminal cases. If the parade of suspects is to be abolished, there must be alternative measures to guarantee that the public is informed about major criminal arrests. The following steps should be considered:
The police should hold structured press briefings where they provide updates on high-profile cases. These briefings should include verifiable details about the arrested suspects, their offenses, and the progress of investigations.
In cases of serious crimes like terrorism, kidnapping, or grand corruption, authorities should ensure that official mugshots and charge sheets are made available to the public; given Nigeria’s history of suspect-swapping and backdoor deals, an independent civilian oversight committee should be empowered to monitor the handling of major criminal cases.
This body should have access to police records and detention facilities to ensure that the real suspects are facing justice; the Nigerian judicial system must be strengthened to ensure that trials are conducted swiftly and fairly. Many criminal cases drag on for years, allowing suspects to exploit legal loopholes to escape justice.
A system where trials are transparent and efficiently conducted would reduce the need for public parades, as the legal process itself would instil public confidence; again, there should be trict internal discipline within the police force.
A major factor that fuels public distrust in the police is the rampant corruption within the force. Officers found guilty of aiding suspects in evading justice should face severe consequences. The police hierarchy must demonstrate zero tolerance for corrupt practices if they want Nigerians to trust their commitment to fair and impartial law enforcement.
Besides, there should be a clear legal framework for suspect identification. The Nigerian Police should establish a formal process where the identities of accused persons are disclosed in a legally structured manner. This could involve periodic updates from the judiciary and law enforcement agencies, ensuring that the public is informed without compromising due process.
The decision to ban the public parade of criminal suspects in Nigeria is not entirely misplaced, as it aligns with human rights principles and global best practices.
However, the Nigerian context presents unique challenges that make this decision a double-edged sword. Without adequate transparency and accountability mechanisms, this policy could be exploited to shield criminals rather than protect human rights.
While the police have a duty to uphold justice without violating fundamental rights, they must also recognise the deep-seated public distrust in law enforcement due to historical patterns of corruption and impunity. The challenge, therefore, is to implement this policy in a way that it does not compromise justice or allow criminal elements to exploit the system.
If Nigeria is to fully transition into a society where suspect parades are unnecessary, then systemic reforms in the police force, judiciary, and overall governance must be prioritised. Until then, the outright abolition of suspect parades without an accompanying framework for accountability risks becomes yet another policy that benefits the privileged few while leaving ordinary Nigerians vulnerable to injustice.
Odaro, a columnist, lectures in the Department of Mass Communication, Auchi Polytechnic, Auchi.