The quiet hum of life inside Nigeria’s correctional centres masks a grim reality: hundreds of inmates live under the shadow of death, waiting for a punishment that may never come. Official figures indicate that a significant number of inmates are currently on death row across the country, a staggering population that reflects decades of stalled executions, unresolved appeals, and the weight of a justice system struggling with its own contradictions. For these men and women, each sunrise brings not hope, but an unrelenting reminder of mortality. For Nigeria, the human, financial, and institutional cost of maintaining this purgatory is one the nation can no longer ignore, NICHOLAS KALU reports.
A system suspended between law and mercy
Nigeria’s penal code and various state criminal laws still prescribe the death penalty for capital offences such as armed robbery, murder, and, in some states, kidnapping or terrorism-related crimes. The courts, following the law, continue to hand down death sentences. Yet actual executions have been rare since the 2000s, with governors reluctant to sign death warrants due to moral, religious, and political considerations. This has created a contradiction: a system where death sentences are routinely pronounced but seldom carried out, leaving thousands trapped in indefinite limbo.
Justice reform advocates often refer to this as a “broken middle ground.” Inmates are condemned, but not executed; alive, but not free. Many linger on death row for decades, their cases forgotten in bureaucratic files, their names absent from public discourse except for occasional mentions in rights reports. The state, unwilling to move forward yet hesitant to roll back, continues to fund their upkeep in a situation that drains resources, clogs facilities, and undermines the credibility of the justice system.
The toll on inmates and their families
An inmate on death row in a Correctional Centre in the northern part of the country, told this reporter during a rare visit:“Every night, I sleep with the fear that someone will come and call my name. I don’t even know if I want the day to come quickly or never at all. You cannot understand what it means to live like this, neither alive nor dead. I wake up every day not knowing if it will be my last. Sometimes, I dream of freedom. Other times, I pray for death, just to end this waiting.”His words capture the cruel psychology of death row, a perpetual waiting game where the mind is stretched to breaking point. Depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies are common, worsened by overcrowding, poor health facilities, and minimal access to psychosocial support. Families of death row inmates are equally trapped, enduring stigma, financial strain, and the pain of endless uncertainty. Many sell property, take loans, or withdraw children from school to fund appeals and petitions, often with little success. For some families, the shame of having a relative on death row drives them into isolation. Mothers who once campaigned desperately for clemency withdraw after years of disappointment, while spouses and children are left to navigate life with the heavy label of being associated with a “condemned” person.
The impact radiates outward, devastating families. Many relatives are left with stigma, unable to publicly acknowledge their kin’s situation. Others spend what little money they have on legal fees, bribes, or travel for prison visits.
One guard whispered during the visit: “You see these men? Most of their families are broken. Wives remarry, children grow up without fathers, and mothers die waiting to hear the government’s final word. It is not only the inmate who serves the sentence; the family serves it too.”
The inmate himself echoed this grief: “My mother used to come every month. She would bring food, tears in her eyes. Then she stopped. That pain is worse than death.”
Psychological trauma: Death in waiting
Psychologists describe death row as a form of “living torture.” Mr Udo Ukpong, expert in mental health said the uncertainty of not knowing when or whether an execution will happen erodes mental health. “Depression, insomnia, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts are common. For an inmate every sound of boots in the corridor makes their heart stop. They think, ‘This is it, they are coming for me.’ Then the sound passes, and they are left shaking in their cell. I have seen strong men break down and cry like children. Some talk to themselves until they lose their minds,” he said. He said such reveal that capital punishment, even when not carried out, functions as prolonged psychological punishment that extends far beyond the courtroom.
Families left in the shadows
The burden of capital punishment does not end with the condemned. Families of death row inmates suffer quiet punishment of their own. Many are stigmatised in their communities, unable to bear the shame of having a relative “awaiting the rope.”
One mother, interviewed outside a custodial facility, recounted her struggle: “My son has been inside for four years. I still travel from the village when I can to see him. People laugh at me, saying I’m wasting money visiting someone who will be killed. But he is my son. As long as he is breathing, I will keep coming.”
For families like hers, hope and despair coexist. They mourn a loved one who is still alive yet cut off from life. The financial strain of visits and legal appeals adds to their suffering. Children of death row inmates often grow up with the stigma of having a condemned parent, carrying the generational weight of a punishment they did not commit.
The economic drain
Beyond personal loss, the financial cost of sustaining death row is immense. Housing one prisoner for decades without execution represents a paradox of punishment: the state spends millions to preserve a life it has officially condemned to end.
Officials privately admit that resources strained by overcrowding, poor facilities, and inadequate staff salaries are worsened by the burden of capital cases. Nigeria’s custodial centres are bursting far beyond their capacity, and death row inmates occupy cells that could otherwise hold prisoners eligible for rehabilitation. A senior legal analyst explained: “Nigeria is caught in a contradiction. By not executing, it upholds a de facto moratorium. But by not abolishing the death penalty, it keeps spending vast resources on a punishment that serves neither deterrence nor justice.
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“While much attention is given to the morality of the death penalty, the financial cost of sustaining thousands of inmates indefinitely on death row is rarely discussed. Feeding, housing, and providing minimal healthcare for condemned prisoners over years, and in some cases decades, drains the already overstretched Nigerian Correctional Service. Each inmate on death row represents not just a human tragedy, but a recurring cost to taxpayers.
“Though the government has never published the exact figures, estimates by rights groups suggest a lot of money is consumed annually in keeping condemned inmates alive without closure. The funds used to sustain death row could otherwise be channeled toward rehabilitative programmes, vocational training, or infrastructure to decongest correctional centres. Instead, the system spends resources maintaining people who are legally barred from reintegration into society, yet not executed,” Musa Shuaibu, a public affairs analyst posited.
The implications stretch far beyond human suffering. The Nigerian Correctional Service spends enormous sums maintaining death row inmates. Feeding, clothing, guarding, and providing minimal healthcare to thousands individuals under heightened security measures drain already strained correctional budgets. A senior correctional officer who requested anonymity explained: “Every death row inmate costs the government more than a regular inmate. Their cells require more personnel, more surveillance, and the state must ensure they are kept alive despite the sentence hanging over them. Multiply that by the thousands we have, and you see how the money adds up.”
Legal gridlock and delayed justice
A major factor behind the swelling population on death row is Nigeria’s slow judicial process. Appeals can drag on for years, with inadequate legal aid for indigent prisoners. Some inmates exhaust all legal avenues yet remain on death row because governors decline to sign execution warrants. Others have their cases forgotten altogether in the labyrinth of judicial files, with missing transcripts or delayed reviews preventing closure. In effect, the punishment becomes indefinite incarceration under the harshest psychological conditions, a situation some argue is even more cruel than execution. For lawyers and rights advocates, this limbo undermines the constitutional guarantee of fair trial and timely justice.
A punishment that no longer deters
Supporters of the death penalty often argue that it serves as a deterrent against violent crimes. Yet available evidence in Nigeria does not support this claim. Armed robbery, kidnapping, and terrorism continue to surge despite death sentences being routinely handed down. Criminologists argue that crime is better addressed through effective policing, speedy trials, and socio-economic reforms, rather than the remote threat of execution that is rarely carried out.
The way forward: reform, not revenge
Nigeria now faces a choice. It can continue with the current limbo, sentencing people to death without carrying out executions, or it can take bold steps toward reform. Many legal experts and rights groups advocate for replacing capital punishment with life imprisonment without parole. This alternative provides certainty, reduces the psychological torture of waiting, and allows the justice system to focus on rehabilitation and correction rather than indefinite punishment.
Reform would also ease the financial burden. By reducing death row populations, resources could be redirected toward prison decongestion, vocational training, and re-entry programmes for non-capital offenders. It would also align Nigeria with the global movement toward abolition, improving its human rights record and strengthening its moral authority in international forums.
Conclusion: a costly contradiction
The death penalty in Nigeria has become less a tool of justice and more a symbol of contradiction. It condemns people without closure, drains the treasury without purpose, and erodes the humanity of both inmates and the system that holds them. Families are broken, custodial officers are burdened, and the justice system loses credibility under the weight of stalled executions and endless appeals.
As one rights activist observed, “We are running a system where we neither kill nor forgive. In the end, everyone suffers — the inmates, their families, and the nation.”
Nigeria must confront this reality. The true cost of capital punishment is not just measured in lives condemned, but in the dignity lost, the resources wasted, and the justice delayed. To remain on this path is to perpetuate a cycle of cruelty without resolution. To choose reform is to acknowledge that justice can be firm without being fatal.
- This report was produced with the support of Hope Behind Bars Africa (HBBA).
