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  • Who killed Dele Giwa?

    Who killed Dele Giwa?

     Yakubu Mohammed presented his autobiography, Beyond Expectations, last week at the Nigerian Institute of International Affairs in Lagos.

    It was attended by top men of the media, including Aremo Segun Osoba, Tola Adeniyi, Soji Akinrinade. But two things stood out of the event. One was a revelation, and the other was virtual silence. The revelation to many was that Yakubu Mohammed was the man behind the formation of the magazine of his generation, Newswatch.

     He it was who provided the initial investor and funding, and set in motion a magazine that must go down in history as one of the consequential acts in Nigerian history. Not Dele Giwa, not Ray Ekpu, not Dan Agbese did that.

    It is a testament to Mohammed’s good grace and humility that he allowed himself to play a lower role as a managing editor while Giwa became chief executive and editor in chief and Ekpu to be the second in control.

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    The other revelation was silence. In his book, he made three claims that have raised some questions. One, that the military should not be accused of killing the media icon. The common belief is that it was the IBB regime that did. He had been quoted as saying of the letter bomb that shattered him, “This must be from the president.”

     Major Debo Bashorun in his book, Honour For Sale, rooted his troubles with the IBB regime to his knowledge of his killers in the regime.

    Two, that magazine was sleuthing for who killed Gloria Okon. It was curious subject in those days. Nduka Obaigbena’s colourful Thisweek magazine even did a cover: Gloria Okon: Dead or alive.  Three, was Gani Fawehinmi the magazine’s lawyer?

    Although The Nigerian Tribune’s Lasisi Olagunju gave us an erudite review, he glanced at these concerns. For a news man, the presentation left me with an appetite.

     A year after Giwa’s death, Ekpu assigned me to interview media chiefs for a cover piece, Remembering Dele Giwa.

    That seems all we can do right now.

  • Dele Giwa: Thirty-nine, thirty-nine

    Dele Giwa: Thirty-nine, thirty-nine

    In October, it will be thirty-nine years since the murder of Sunmonu Oladele Giwa, better known as Dele Giwa, the subject of ‘Born to Run’, the thrilling book by Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Dele Olojede and Dr. Onukaba Adinoyi-Ojo, now of blessed memory.

    Though published about a year after Giwa’s shocking death, I only some weeks back had the honour to read this book, which lay bare Giwa’s dramatic life. What makes this year’s anniversary of Giwa’s parcel-bombing special is the rhythm of it all: He was thirty-nine at death and it is now thirty-nine years since evildoers took out his beautiful soul, who was editor-in-chief of Newswatch.

    The parcel that ended it all was delivered at Talabi Street, off Adeniyi Jones Avenue, Ikeja, Lagos, on a Sunday morning while Christians worshipped in churches. House 25, the site of the unprecedented tragedy, later became a hospital where doctors saved lives. Today, it houses a newspaper, The New Telegraph.

    On that terrifying morning, death arrived in an envelope. Nigerians were shocked: Giwa was the first person in the country to be killed by a parcel bomb. Until then, many did not even know such a device existed.

    Read Also: Dele Giwa’s assassination: More questions than answers

    He was in his study, having a late breakfast with colleague Kayode Soyinka, publisher of the London-based Africa Today and former Ogun State governorship aspirant, when the bomb went off. Giwa did not die immediately. He was rushed to the hospital, where he later succumbed to his injuries.

    Amid the rubble of the television set, louvres, chairs, table, and other household items, Giwa was quoted as saying: “They’ve got me!”

    Giwa, who studied English and Communication Arts at Brooklyn College in New York, earning both Bachelor of Arts and Master of Arts degrees, left a legacy time cannot erase. The refined journalist had a stint with The New York Times before returning home in 1976 at the urging of friends. His end was violent and unresolved. No one has definitively answered the question of who killed him.

    On that fateful Sunday, the parcel was handed to Giwa’s then 19-year-old son, Billy, who accepted it on his behalf. By the time Giwa tried to open it, the assailants had vanished. The blast tore open his lower body.

    Soyinka, then Newswatch’s London Bureau Chief, suffered perforated eardrums. He, too, was taken to the First Foundation Hospital in Ikeja, Lagos, for treatment before returning to the UK, where he has lived since, visiting Nigeria regularly in connection with Africa Today.

    Giwa reportedly said before opening the package: “This must be from the president.” The military president at the time was Gen. Ibrahim Babangida, who has consistently denied any involvement in the murder.

    The late Chief Gani Fawehinmi, Giwa’s lawyer, led the campaign to hold Babangida accountable for the journalist’s death. Fawehinmi once secured court permission to sue two security chiefs, Col. Halilu Akilu and Lt. Col. A.K. Togun, who were then Director of Military Intelligence and Deputy Director of the State Security Service (SSS), respectively. But both men were exonerated for lack of evidence. Fawehinmi took the case to the Supreme Court and still lost. He also tried to get answers through the Oputa Panel. All to no avail.

    Years later, journalist and lawyer Richard Akinnola published a book titled Dele Giwa’s Murder: The Answered Question. Some days ago, Akinnola took on Yakubu Mohammed, one of Giwa’s colleagues, over his memoir, which painted Fawehinmi in a not-so-good light.

    Maj. Debo Basorun (rtd.), who was military press secretary to Babangida, also wrote a book on the subject. In a newspaper interview, Basorun said he was persecuted because of what he revealed about Giwa’s killing.

    “I was privy to some of the terrible things when we were in the army… My problem is 2011. I am one of those who know that he is connected to the death of Dele Giwa. That is why they have been trying to kill me. I was sent to do a dirty job in America in respect of Dele Giwa’s death. I refused to comply. When I came back, they threw me in jail. Newspapers reported it then. I protested. The press was on my side. I shouted from the rooftop that ‘these people want to kill me.’ They decided to send me to a unit in Makurdi, which was like Siberia then. I refused to go. Incidentally, the General Staff Headquarters, which was my unit (and Babangida’s too), issued an order that anyone wanting to leave the army should volunteer. It coincided with my ordeal. So I volunteered and resigned. I quoted their order in my resignation letter. But out of all who resigned then, mine was the only letter they rejected. I had to get lawyers. Alao Aka-Basorun was my lawyer.”

    Last year, Babangida published his autobiography, bluntly denying any role in Giwa’s killing. Many have since resigned themselves to fate. With security agencies failing to solve the case, some Nigerians now look to supernatural powers for answers.

    Until then, the question remains: Who killed Dele Giwa?

    My final take: Those who killed Dele Giwa failed. Woefully. They only succeeded in taking his soul. His spirit continues to live and, in this, we find the best of journalism and with that, we continue to speak truth to power not minding who feels offended.

  • Dele Giwa’s assassination: More questions than answers

    Dele Giwa’s assassination: More questions than answers

    • By Ray Ekpu

    Dele Giwa and I were close friends and colleagues at Concord and Newswatch. At Concord some colleagues called us Ray Giwa and Dele Ekpu, an attempt to emphasise the closeness of our relationship. And when Dele was badly treated by Chief MKO Abiola, the sole proprietor of Concord, I resigned my appointment as the chairman of the Editorial Board even before Dele did. And when Dele was assassinated, I lost 10 kilogrammes within two weeks and lost my memory for one year. That was how deep the relationship was. But at the 10th anniversary of his assassination, we, his colleagues, decided that despite the depth of the loss, we needed to forgive those who killed him and move on.

    However, the former president, Ibrahim Babangida has laboured to explain in his autobiography, A Journey in Service, why, according to him, the investigation of his assassination was not concluded by his government. But his explanation has produced more questions than answers, while he was trying to defend the officials in his security services who were fingered for the crime.

    In the book he says: “The insinuation that the parcel may have come from the headquarters of the administration was cheap and foolish. Why would an officially planned high-level assassination carry an apparent forwarding address of the killer? Why would a government-planned and executed crime point directly at the suspect? All this did not make sense to me.” That did not make sense to Babangida but it made sense to other people when we explained that Dele had received letters from President Babangida which had the inscription “From the Office of the C-in-C” and the address was always to “Chief Dele Giwa” although Dele was not a chief. And written on the parcel was “To be opened by the addressee only.”

    I had seen one letter addressed that way when Dele asked me to join him in drafting a speech for Babangida. Dele was angry that General Muhammadu Buhari was in power for 18 months without starting a programme for return to civil rule. So he wanted to draft a speech for Babangida that made a statement on return to democracy. I joined him to draft the speech. So anyone who sent the parcel bomb must have been familiar with how Babangida’s speeches or letters were dispatched to Dele. And to ensure that the envelope was opened only by the addressee, it was important to state so. That is why Kayode Soyinka, who was in the study with him did not seek to open the parcel. That mystery about writing the address of the sender is cleared. In any case, when the parcel exploded, what was written was wiped off but Dele’s son Billy saw what was written on the parcel before giving it to his father. That is point number one.

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     Point number two: When Dele was questioned by Col. A. K. Togun a couple of days before his assassination, they asked him four questions. One of the questions was about Alozie Ogugbuaja, a policeman who had a problem with the police authorities. The discussion about Ogugbuaja was on telephone between Dele and me. In 1986, only the federal government controlled telephones in Nigeria. I discovered later that our phones were bugged by the government and had to get a security expert to come and “sweep” our residence.

    Point number three: After Dele’s assassination Augustus Aikhomu, the number two man in the government addressed the press on the issue but never allowed any questions to be asked on the matter or to be addressed to the suspects. Why?

     Point number four: A day before Dele’s assassination, Brigadier Halilu Akilu phoned Dele’s wife Funmi and asked for the address of Dele’s residence. Funmi asked why he wanted the address. Akilu said he intended to stop there and see Dele on his way to Kano. Did he stop there? No. Did he go to Kano that day? No.

    Point number five: In July 2001, Abubakar Tsav, who investigated the case appeared at Oputa panel in Abuja. He said that he wanted permission to interrogate both Akilu and Togun but he was not allowed to interview or question them. And when he submitted the case file to the DIG in charge of the CID, Chris Omeben, he neither got the case file back nor was he allowed to proceed further with the case. The matter was simply closed and he was left hanging in the air.

     Point number six: The suspects in the matter went to the High Court in Abuja to stop the Oputa panel from inviting them to appear before the panel. One would have thought that people who were accused of murder would be eager to appear at a duly constituted panel to clear their good names instead of going into hiding through litigation.

    Point number seven: Our lawyer Chief Gani Fawehinmi went to courts at all levels seeking to be allowed to independently prosecute the accused persons but the authorities devised all kinds of harassment strategies to frustrate him. Police helicopters were used to intimidate him around his office. Why did they do that if they were not guilty of something?

    Point number eight: Omeben accused the directors of Newswatch of being the suspects because there was, according to him, a crisis in the Newswatch Communications Limited board. But there was no crisis. The executive directors, Dele, Dan Agbese, Yakubu Mohammed and Ray Ekpu were all earning the same salary and allowances and each of them was entitled to write a column a week. The external directors were our friends and only invested in the company because they wanted to help us.

    Point number nine: Omeben also accused Kayode Soyinka of being the accused person since he was in the same room with Dele when the bomb exploded. How can any sane man stay in a room where he knew that a bomb was likely to explode? Obviously Kayode was not a suicide bomber. He had a family he cared very much for.

    Point number 10: If Omeben and the police thought that Kayode was the accused person, why did they not ask Interpol to arrest him in London? Kayode came to campaign in two election cycles in Ogun State for the governorship of the state, why did the police not arrest him?

    Point number 11: When I was awarded the International Editor of the Year honour in 1987 in New York, United States, the Babangida government sent some security men to monitor our movements and speeches because they thought we were there to scandalize the government on the Dele Giwa affair. When one of the officers, Major Debo Bashorun thought the government was unfair in the way it was targeting us, they harassed him out of the service.

    If Babangida thought that Dele’s death was being politicized by those who were opposed to his government’s policies, why didn’t he use his friendship with Dele and the novel manner of the assassination as genuine excuses for bringing the matter to a conclusion? His excuse is untenable, unviable and unacceptable.

  • Dele Giwa: Not a vacuous judgment

    Dele Giwa: Not a vacuous judgment

    • By Idowu Adewale

    Sir: On Sunday, February 25, ThisDay published an article titled “A Vacuous Judgment on Dele Giwa” suggesting that the judgment of Honourable Justice Inyang Ekwo of the Federal High Court, sitting in Abuja, delivered on February 16, in Suit No: FHC/ABJ/CS/1301/2021: Incorporated Trustees of Media Rights Agenda v Attorney-General of the Federation, is a futile decision.

    Although the newspaper conceded in the article that “liability for crime has no time lag or statute bar”, it nonetheless took the view that the court’s decision, in effect ordering a re-opening of investigations into the gruesome murder of the renowned journalist, Dele Giwa, more than 37 years after the incident, including the order that the perpetrators be brought to justice, “does not really excite many people who knew how muddled up this matter had been.”

    We respectfully disagree.

    Firstly, for purposes of accuracy and completeness, it is important to note that the judgment by Honourable Justice Ekwo was not about Dele Giwa alone. There were seven named journalists who have been killed in the last few decades and whose killings remain unresolved, that were referenced in the suit and in the judgment of the court. However, the judgment of the court applies to all journalists and other media practitioners killed over the years as well as journalists and other media practitioners who have been victims of other forms of attacks.

    In effect, even if one anticipates some difficulty in conducting a conclusive or successful investigation into one or more of these killings, that would not render the judgment vacuous as it offers the possibility of a successful investigation into many other cases that have remained uninvestigated, including some very recent killings.

    But more importantly, there is absolutely nothing vacuous about a judgment of a court that reaffirms the principle, established under regional and international instruments, that there should be no impunity for crimes against journalists and other media practitioners; and that validates the responsibility which states bear to properly investigate crimes against journalists and other media practitioners and ensure that the perpetrators are prosecuted and punished in accordance with the law. There is nothing vacuous about a judgment which seeks to compel the government to perform this statutory and constitutional duty, which also constitutes an international treaty obligation.

    The judgment of the court enures to the benefit of all journalists and other media practitioners who have been victims of attacks in the past as well as for those who may similarly be attacked in the future.

    The court’s decision reflects a commitment to upholding the rule of law and ensuring that those responsible for crimes against journalists and other media practitioners, including such gruesome acts as occurred in Dele Giwa’s case, are held accountable, regardless of the time that has passed.

    It is a commitment that should be applauded, encouraged and nurtured, no matter how late in coming we may consider it to be.

    While the Nigerian legal system faces challenges and scepticism about the effectiveness of investigations, especially considering the historical context of Dele Giwa’s case, it is crucial to recognise that justice delayed should not be justice denied.

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    The reopening of the investigation into Dele Giwa’s case specifically as well as other cases that may have gone cold, provides an opportunity to re-examine these cases with a new approach, utilising advancements in forensic technology and investigative techniques that may not have been available in the past.

    The court’s decision is an independent initiative, and any failures in the past should not serve as a deterrent to the pursuit of truth and justice today.

    We firmly believe that the reopening of the investigation into Dele Giwa’s murder is a positive development that reflects the judiciary’s commitment to ensuring that justice prevails, regardless of the challenges faced. It is an opportunity to demonstrate that our system of justice can evolve and adapt to address unresolved cases, providing hope to victims’ families and fostering public confidence in the pursuit of justice.

    We are excited about the judgment and committed to ensuring that it is complied with by the relevant authorities.

    •Idowu Adewale,

    Media Rights Agenda, Lagos.

  • Dele Giwa: Justice overdue

    Dele Giwa: Justice overdue

    All eyes are on the Minister of Justice and Attorney General of the Federation, Lateef Fagbemi, and the Inspector General of Police, Kayode Egbetokun, to see whether they will carry out the order of the Federal High Court, Abuja, on February 16, directing the Federal Government to “investigate, prosecute and punish perpetrators of all attacks against journalists and other media practitioners, and ensure that all victims of attacks against journalists have access to effective remedies.”

    Justice Inyang Ekwo also made an order directing the Federal Government to “take measures to prevent attacks on journalists and other media practitioners.”

    This judgement was the outcome of the suit instituted by Media Rights Agenda (MRA), a non-governmental organisation, in 2021, seeking to enforce the fundamental rights of journalists to safety as stipulated in the Nigerian Constitution and the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights.

    The NGO had named journalists in the country who were killed extrajudicially. The list included Dele Giwa, the colourful, high-profile journalist and founding Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch magazine who died from injuries inflicted by a parcel bomb with Nigeria’s coat of arms on it, which he received while having breakfast in his home in Ikeja, Lagos, on October 19, 1986. He was 39.

    Others were Bolade Fasisi of the National Association of Women Journalists, killed in March 1998; Edward Olalekan of Daily Times, killed in June 1999; Omololu Falobi of The Punch, murdered in October 2006; Godwin Agbroko of Thisday, December 1999; Abayomi Ogundeji of Thisday, August 2008; and Edo Sule-Ugbagwu of The Nation, April 2010.

    The judge noted that the Federal Government “neither denied that these killings have taken place or that these persons were not journalists or media practitioners.”

    Unsurprisingly, reports of the court judgement highlighted Giwa’s murder, which was a unique case and perhaps the most devastating of the unresolved cases of journalists murdered in the country.

    In 2015, 29 years after Giwa was killed, a former Deputy Inspector-General of Police who investigated the murder, Chris Omeben, was reported saying his efforts to interrogate a “principal suspect” failed due to interference from “high places.” He was in charge of the Research Department of the Police CID when Giwa was murdered.

    The gruesome murder happened under the Gen. Ibrahim Babangida military regime, which was accused of the killing in some quarters. In 2001, Babangida rigidly refused to appear before the Human Rights Violations Commission, popularly known as the Oputa Panel, concerning the Giwa murder. He demonstrated desperation for silence by going to court. Babangida, Col. Haliru Akilu (retd) of the Directorate of Military Intelligence (DMI) in his regime, and Lt. Col. A.K Togun (retd), who was the Deputy Director of the State Security Service (SSS), obtained an order barring the commission from summoning them to appear before it.  It was puzzling that the three men rejected what was a golden opportunity to prove their claimed innocence.  

    An astounding travesty of justice followed as the commission’s chairman was reported saying while it had powers to issue arrest warrants for the trio, it decided against such a move “in the overall interest of national reconciliation.”

    A 360-page book titled Honour for Sale, described by the author, Major Debo Basorun (retd), as ‘An Insider Account of the Murder of Dele Giwa,’ caused a stir when it was launched in Lagos, in November 2013.  Basorun served in the Babangida regime as Press and Public Affairs Officer (Military Press Secretary) to the Military President of Nigeria between 1985 and 1988.

     He dropped a bombshell.  In the prologue to his autobiographical book, he said of the explosive volume:  “It is a laborious attempt at documenting over twenty-one years of a kaleidoscopic but exciting career – a gaudy reminder of the sweet days at the pinnacle of power and how a miscalculation on the part of the powers-that-be led me to uncover the truth that, in concert with his Intelligence Chief, Colonel Haliru Akilu, Babangida has not come clean with the Nigerian people – nay the world – concerning the duo’s roles in the mindless assassination of a foremost Nigerian journalist of his time, Dele Giwa.”

     Basorun added: “I am hopefully looking forward to the day when General Ibrahim Babangida, Colonel Haliru Akilu and myself would be brought before the people’s court to answer all we know pertaining to the cruel murder…”

    The campaign for justice for Giwa has been relentless. It’s been 38 years since he was killed. But the matter is alive, despite the years that have passed since the killing.

    The other listed media victims of extra-judicial killings deserve justice as well. According to a 2021 report by the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), 278 journalists were killed in Nigeria in the 10 years prior to the report. It is unclear whether any of these cases was resolved.

    Read Also: Again, who killed Dele Giwa?

    The court order directing the authorities to reopen the unresolved murder cases involving journalists is a powerful legal and moral statement.

    It is said that there is no perfect murder. The failure of the authorities to bring the perpetrators of the stated extra-judicial killings to justice amounts to a failure of law enforcement and a contradiction of that assertion. The failure of past investigators, and previous investigations, should be investigated towards resolving the unresolved murders.

    It is also said that the law is no respecter of persons. Fagbemi and Egbetokun must carry out the court order by reopening the unresolved cases of extra-judicial killing involving journalists, particularly the ones listed by MRA, and pursue justice for the victims. The momentous judgement demands nothing less.

    A notable quotation attributed to Giwa in another context has an enduring relevance. He was quoted as saying, “No evil deed can go unpunished. Any evil done by man will be redressed, if not now, then certainly later; if not by man, then certainly by God, for victory of evil over good can only be temporary.”

    The court order demands justice by man now, not later. In Giwa’s case, justice is long overdue.  The same thing can be said of the other named media victims of extra-judicial killings in the country.   

  • Again, who killed Dele Giwa?

    Again, who killed Dele Giwa?

    Some 34 years after Dele Giwa, crusading journalist and founding editor of the defunct Newswatch was killed in what remains one of the most horrific acts of preternatural malevolence ever carried out in Nigeria, nothing has been established beyond the fact and the manner of the murder.

    “Who killed Dele Giwa?” has been a recurring question ever since.  Whodunit?

    Former military president, General Ibrahim Babangida, with whom Giwa enjoyed a cozy relationship, that he was not loath to advertise, has been and remains a principal suspect in the murder.  No arrests were made, and no suspects have been arrested, and no persons have been charged, much less prosecuted in what passed for the official investigation of the murder: a travesty perfused by obfuscation, intimidation, blackmail, perjury, denialism, and all the bureaucratic weapons that officialdom can conjure up.

    There was ample reason for regarding Babangida as a principal suspect in the murder.

    Just two days before that ghastly incident, a senior official of the Directorate of Military Intelligence, had accused Giwa of illegally importing and stockpiling arms and ammunition to stage a socialist revolution in Nigeria.

    The charge was preposterous. Giwa had nothing but contempt for socialism. He was a shining advertisement for capitalism and the market economy. But he had, in a widely discussed column, warned that if the structural adjustment programme on which the government was pinning all its hopes for economic recovery failed, the authorities would be stoned publicly.

    Alarmed at the charge, Giwa quickly briefed his attorney, the late and much lamented Gani Fawehinmi, and asked him to pursue the matter at law. The following day, a security chief, Colonel Halilu Akilu, called to reassure Giwa that the accusation had resulted from a misunderstanding; that the matter had been cleared, and that Giwa should think nothing to it.

    Asked by Giwa’s wife, Funmi, why he had been calling repeatedly, Akilu said it was to obtain directions to Giwa’s home so he could stop by on his way to the airport to board a flight to Kano, as a demonstration of his good faith. Akilu then went on to intimate that a parcel from the commander-in-chief, most likely an invitation to some official event, was on its way to Giwa’s home.

    A few hours later, the emissary arrived. Giwas’s son, Billy, collected the parcel and handed it to his father who was seated at the dining table, in the company of Kayode Soyinka, the London correspondent of Newswatch, who was visiting from the UK. The envelope, which bore the seal of the Presidency, was marked “To be opened by addressee only.”

    Giwa had said, “This must be from the Presidency.”  Those were his last words. As he opened it where it lay on his lap, the package exploded, pulverizing his pelvis, setting a section of the house on fire and reducing the cars parked in the garage to smouldering heaps of mangled metal.

    Giwa died as he was being rushed to a nearby hospital. Miraculously, Soyinka survived, and so did Giwa’s wife and baby daughter, who were in another section of the house.

    If they had perished with Giwa, the authorities would have passed off the blast as an accident waiting to happen.

    Had they not publicly accused Giwa of illegally importing and stockpiling arms and ammunition? The ordinance had exploded, killing its procurer, they would have said. There would have been no witnesses to suggest anything to the contrary.

    A perfect murder would have been committed.

    If the foregoing narrative provides largely circumstantial evidence, the murder weapon unequivocally implicated the Military Intelligence establishment.  It was not the kind of thing you could purchase off the shelf at a hardware store, nor the kind that could be assembled in a journeyman technician’s workshop, nor yet the kind that could be fabricated at the local blacksmith’s foundry.

    Yet the official investigators looked everywhere except where the evidence pointed.

    Kayode Soyinka, the visiting Newswatch correspondent who had witnessed the incident, came to be named a suspect. If he was not complicit in the crime, senior state security officials said, how come he had survived the blast when his host seated across from him had perished

    My brother, Herbert Tunde Dare, a deputy commissioner of police with the Special Branch, had been assigned to the investigation. Soon after he set out with his accustomed energy and commitment – failure was not in his dictionary – he was transferred from Lagos to Kaduna but kept on the case. He had been summoned to Lagos to file a preliminary report and had planned to return to Kaduna the same way he had travelled to Lagos: by air. But at the last minute, the police authorities came up with an assignment that warranted his returning to base by road.

    Somewhere between Jebba and Mokwa, in Niger State, he was killed in a curious motor accident. Announcing his death, the police said he had lost control of his car while trying to overtake another vehicle and crashed. He had died instantly, they said.  The wreck of the car he was alleged to be driving was never produced. The police said an unnamed driver and an unnamed aide assigned to him for the trip were injured in the accident but had been treated at an unidentified hospital and discharged.

    Francis Karieren, the one-time test cricketer and retired police chief and my brother Herbert’s former supervisor at the old ‘E’ Brand of the Police and a consultant on security matters with the Editorial Board of The Guardian, of which I was a member, said the official announcement of Hebert’s death was anomalous.  In laying the blame on Herbert’s shoulder, the police broke sharply with tradition, he said, adding, “They never do that to their own.”

    They did so in Herbert’s case to pre-empt further inquiry.  Case closed.

    Fed up with the dilatoriness of the police in the investigation of the murder of his client, Gani Fawehinmi decided to institute a private prosecution. The court of first instance allowed itself to be misled to hold that Fawehinmi’s court filing was libellous, and it went on to order Fawehinmi to pay damages in the amount of N5 million, then a huge fortune, failing which his office housing probably the nation’s richest  Law Library would be auctioned.

    An appellate court set aside this egregious ruling.

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    The Oputa Truth and Reconciliation Commission, before which Babangida and his military colleagues declined to appear, made a finding that there was evidence to suggest that Babangida and his security chiefs, Brigadier General Halilu Akilu and Colonel A. K. Togun, are “accountable for the death of Dele Giwa by letter bomb.”  It recommended that the case be reopened for further investigation “in the public interest.”

    Hear Babangida’s testimony in his own words, in this interview with Karl Maier, as recorded by Maier in his book “This House Has Fallen: Midnight in Nigeria.”

    “It was emotive. There was a lot of passion. I think one of the problems was that the people, or more or less the media … up to now nobody seemed to say okay let’s look at these things dispassionately. But from the word go, the government did it. That’s the first reaction. The media, his friends, and most important, the lawyers, the crusaders in this thing. Then anybody who would want to say something different from the popularly held belief, you were seen as part of it. So they succeeded in getting only one side of the story dished up.

    “But we carried out investigations,” Babangida continued. “We had leads. There were questions we asked but nobody went into this thing about the so-called questions that we asked. But the circumstantial aspect of it. . . Akilu spoke to him twenty-four hours before. But somebody had to talk to somebody. That’s the harsh reality of life. But unfortunately nobody wanted to listen. I suspect the media, whatever human rights groups, if they tried to look at this dispassionately, like normal intelligent people would, we may have gone (sic) somewhere. But people have already made up their minds. That government is guilty, period. The report, they are not interested.”

    This Joycean effusion was Babangida’s answer to the question, “What happened to Dele Giwa?

    The murder has been memorialized on every anniversary and featured betwixt. For all practical purposes, however, the matter was dead until two weeks ago, when the Incorporated Trustees of the watchdog Media Rights Agenda breathed life into it through a petition before the Federal High Court, Abuja.

    Ray Ekpu, Giwa’s colleague at Newswatch witnessed the saga first-hand and has reported it in absorbing detail in the first instalment of his reprise in The Guardian (“Dele Giwa is dead, Dele Giwa is no dead (1),” February 20, 2024, as a preface to this latest development in the case.

    The court, per Justice Inyang Ekwo, has asked the Attorney General of the Federation to bring Giwa’s killers to justice because the killing violates the right to life under the Nigerian Constitution and the African Charter on Human and People’s Rights.

    Is this, finally, the momentum the attentive public has been yearning for?

  • Court orders FG to investigate, prosecute killers of Dele Giwa, others

    Court orders FG to investigate, prosecute killers of Dele Giwa, others

    A Federal High Court, Abuja, on Friday, ordered the Federal Government (FG) to investigate, prosecute and punish perpetrators of the murder of founder of Newswatch Magazine, Dele Giwa, and other journalists in the country.

    Justice Inyang Ekwo, in a judgment, also made an order directing the FG to take measures to prevent attacks on journalists and other media practitioners, henceforth.

    The News Agency of Nigeria (NAN) reports that the applicant; the Incorporated Trustees of Media Rights Agenda, had sued the Attorney-General of Federation (AGF) as sole respondent in the suit dated and filed Oct. 26, 2021.

    In the motion on notice marked: FHC/ABJ/CS/1301/2021, the applicant sought a declaration that the killings of various journalists and media practitioners in Nigeria is a violation of their fundamental right to life.

    This right, according to the group, is encapsulated in Section 33 of the 1999 Constitution (as amended), Article 4 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (Ratification and Enforcement) Act (Cap A9) Laws of the Federation of Nigeria, 2004, among other reliefs.

    In the affidavit, the group listed some of the journalists murdered in the course of their duty to include Dele Giwa, killed on Oct 19, 1986; and Bolade Fasisi of National Association of Women Journalists, March 31, 1998;

    Others include Edward Olalekan of Daily Times, murdered on June 1, 1999; Omololu Falobi of The Punch, Oct. 5, 2006; Godwin Agbroko of Thisday, Dec. 22, 1999; Abayomi Ogundeji of Thisday, Aug 17, 2008; and Edo Sule-Ugbagwu of The Nation, April 24, 2010.

    Justice Ekwo, who observed that the AGF did not file any process to counter the arguments of the applicant, held that since the group’s arguments were not controverted, such arguments would be deemed to be true.

    “I have studied the response of the respondent to the averments of the applicant and I find the said averments to be generic nature and they do not controvert the case of the applicant specifically.

    “The applicant has stated names of journalists killed in Paragraph J of the affidavit in support

    “It is pertinent to note that the respondent has neither denied that these killings have taken placed or that these persons were not journalists or media practitioners.

    “The position of the law is that affidavit evidence which is not challenged or controverted howsoever, is deemed admitted and can be relied upon by a court,” he said.

    He said media is a constitutional profession, hence,the journalists and media practitioners ought to be protected in the course of the duties.

    The judge said he found in the end that the applicant had established its case by credible evidence and ought to be entitled to the reliefs sought.

    “An Order is hereby made directing the Federal Government of Nigeria to take measures to prevent attacks on journalists and other media practitioners.

    Read Also: How I fell out with IBB over Dele Giwa’s death

    “An Order is hereby made directing the Federal Government of Nigeria to investigate, prosecute and punish perpetrators of all attacks against journalists and other media practitioners, and ensure that all victims of attacks against journalists have access to effective remedies.

    “An Order is hereby made directing the Federal Government to take measures to raise awareness and build the capacities of various stakeholders, particularly journalists and other media practitioners, policy makers, law enforcement, security, intelligence, military as well as other officials and relevant stakeholders on the laws and standards for ensuring the safety of journalists and media practitioners.

    “This is the judgment of this court,” Justice Ekwo declared.

    (NAN)

  • How I fell out with IBB over Dele Giwa’s death

    How I fell out with IBB over Dele Giwa’s death

    • – Ex-Press Secretary Debo Basorun
    • Recalls encounters with Haliru Akilu, Aliu Mohammed, others
    • Says he quit army because there was plot to eliminate him

    One incident that has remained mysterious in the annals of journalism in Nigeria is the assassination of Dele Giwa in October 1986. That singular incident heralded other unresolved killings that have occurred in the country. Yesterday, Major Debo Basorun (rtd), a former Military Press Secretary to ex-military President General Ibrahim Babangida (rtd), clocked 80 years. Basorun, in a no holds barred interview with ASSISTANT EDITOR, MUYIWA LUCAS, gives an insight into the Dele Giwa episode. He also talks about the intrigues and power play in the military, noting that the institution “has been politicised and requires a lot of surgical cleansing and reorientation”. The octogenarian survivor of two military court martials also seized the occasion to explain why he fell out with Babangida and had to go on exile. Excerpt:

    Congratulations for attaining the landmark age of 80. What would you say is your greatest source of joy and your greatest regret as you join the league of octogenarians?

    My greatest source of joy is my children: that they are alive and well. During my ordeal in the military, we were actually in the wilderness because they were very young at that time. But then, with God’s grace, they were able to meander through the obstacles of life, and you can see them around me here (pointing to them). But as for what you call regret, what I regret is the national problem. Nigeria ought to have developed faster. I remember when we were young, around the early 1960s, we were at par with India and Brazil. Can you imagine now that Nigeria is buying arms from countries like Brazil and India, even up to tanks? Everything, including hardware.

    So you can imagine what it is now. It is something I am not very happy about. We were not able to progress as we should have. I just hope that the present leadership will do something constructively. Our President is known to be a futuristic leader; I mean President Bola Ahmed Tinubu. He is known to be an enigmatic person as he can read through things. I just hope he will be able to achieve this objective before him and place Nigeria back on the world map.What motivated you to join the Nigerian Army?

    It’s actually a funny story. I was a clerk at the UAC office then in Lagos. I kept records of things and was promoted from one level to the other. On a certain day after work, I invited my friends that in a month’s time I was going to be elevated to a higher level in the office. So we went to celebrate in advance — myself, my girlfriend and my friends. There used to be a hotel at where we call Boundary, in Idi-Oro area, around Mushin, Lagos. That was the boundary of Lagos colony back then. It was also where Sunny Ade and Ebenezer Obey did their musical gigs.

    That was the place to be then. So we went there to celebrate. This was immediately after the military coup in 1966. At the venue of our hangout was this soldier; a recruit. He had no belt but he was in military uniform. Then we sat down and tried to entertain and accommodate him, because at that time, the image of the military was very high. After taking two bottles of Stout with pieces of meat to go with it, he started misbehaving, and the next thing that happened was that he grabbed my girlfriend, dragged her off her seat without any courtesy of even saying “excuse me.” So my girlfriend started screaming my name and I saw it as a challenge.

    I was angry and said to myself where is this tiny guy taking her? So I grabbed her by the arm. We had like a sort of scuffle. Eventually, I secured her and this soldier guy just went berserk. All the drinks on the table, he started to overturn them and started scattering the place. Everybody started running helter-skelter. He left the venue in shame and other people there began to run away, saying “he’s going to get soldiers; he’s going to kill people here.”

    That time, there was a police station around that area, so I hid in the bush to observe what was going to happen. About an hour later, soldiers in loaded trucks, with whips and everything arrived at the venue and there was pandemonium in the area. I was watching from a distance; they were flogging everybody and arresting people, putting them in the truck. I was really upset and I started thinking of joining the army.

    At the next army recruitment that year in Abeokuta, I went there, notwithstanding my promotion at UAC, which was just like two weeks away…I just wanted to join the army. In the first recruitment I attended, I told my late mum then, I deceived her because anything army, nobody wanted to send his son there because “you’ll die” was what parents believed, which in truth is a misconception. I did well at the recruitment interview session, but at the last stage, they told me that the Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) of a unit would order you to open your mouth and spit inside it. I couldn’t imagine myself swallowing another person’s saliva. So at the last stage, I didn’t attend the interview. I just left, went back to work and found an excuse why I was away for three to four days.

    But the lure of the military at that time did not leave me. I started paying more attention to it. I thought of the Landrover with gun, starched uniform, and everybody giving you respect. So I went back at the next recruitment exercise. That was how I got into the army on my second attempt at recruitment.

    Can you share with us what you consider your highpoint in the military and your experience in the civil war?

    What I’ll call the highlight of my career is since I left school, I’ve always been somebody who wanted to know about things, increase my knowledge educationally, socially and politically. I was very much aware that this was what I wanted. I wanted to become somebody. I became a Corporal but later knew that I had no chance to reach the top, and the next thing I was gunning for something higher. And when I started seeing my peers, I mean age bracket who were officers and commanders, I said to myself why not? Why can’t I be an officer? So I raised my aspirations, and that was it.  I’ll read, I tried all best, I’ve never fallen back. So those were the things that propelled me, and with a bit of hard work, I was able to rise.

    You fought for Nigeria’s unity during the civil war. Can you share a little of your civil war experience?

    It’ll surprise you, and this is no fiction, I volunteered to go to the war front myself, because there was a guy, we were together at the depot, training. He was sent to the police sector while I and my platoon mates were sent to Ibadan. We were basically doing guard duties. So, after about two weeks or a month, this guy came back from the police sector as a Lance Corporal. In the army, your senior is your senior even though you all may mingle together. When it was lunch time and they sounded the beagle, this guy would go to the Corporal’s mess to eat, while we were ordinary Privates. So I decided to move forward. I rose from the rank of Private to become an officer. I was injured four times, various marks on my body. The last one was on 4th July, 1969. It was a few months before the end of the war. That was where I had my last injury before I was flown to Lagos.

    Many will remember you because of your association with General Babangida. What sort of boss was IBB?

    I retired as the military Press Secretary to the Ex-Military President Ibrahim Babangida. I don’t want to say something that will portray me as an ingrate.

    I was going to come to that because you eventually had a fall out with him…

    Yes, I wrote a book about him. When I finished at the Nigerian Institute of Journalism (NIJ) as a student there between 1980 and1982 where I obtained my Diploma in Journalism, that was the time former President Shehu Shagari was about to move to Abuja and the late Lateef Jakande was the governor of Lagos State.  I belonged to the Infantry Corps, but because of courses I ran simultaneously, I was posted to MPRC (Military Public Relation Corps). My Director at the Public Relations Department then, it was commanded by Brigadier Fusho Sotanmi. He is deceased now. He was an Infantry officer.

    Read Also: Remembering Dele Giwa

     The MPRC was a combined military Public Relations unit; that is Army, Air Force, Navy. So after I got my posting to the corps, I was sent on ad hoc trainings to do basic trainings and ethics, and I started attending courses at the same time. So I was his military assistant. He just picked me. At the time, I was a Second Lieutenant. I was his military assistant before he had problems with Brigadier Adekunle and then he (Adekunle) was retired. As soon as he was retired, the next person who was next to him in Command that time was a major, Major Ukut, a seasoned officer. He was a product of University of Ibadan. He became our acting commander. Out of my peers, he just picked me and appointed me the Standard Officer Grade 3 at the headquarters. That was where I started understudying my superiors, and from there I think they considered me good enough to start sending me on different courses.

    I remember in 1975, I was at the Defence Information School. That is the foremost Western military information school in the world in the United States. So after finishing the course, I came back to Nigeria. But before I got back, there had been this brouhaha about fraud, centered around people stealing army money. Incidentally, I was a paying officer at the Directorate then because the paymaster had been redeployed, because that time they had relegated our corps to a department. So I was the paying officer then, all kinds of accusations. I was tried at the garrison together with other officers. Myself and one other officer were exonerated while others like Odubanwo, who was a nephew to the late Chief Obafemi Awolowo, was among those who were convicted as well as so many senior officers. But I was discharged and acquitted.

    So I was told to report back to my unit. I was the most junior. So all those convicts, the senior officers who were convicted, wrote a petition that because I just came back from the United States on course it is evident that I had bribed all the people and that was the reason I was acquitted. So they insisted that we should reconvene for another court martial. But this time around, it was at the Dodan Barracks in Obalende, Lagos. Our trial used to take place in the night and very early in the morning. We were detained at the Ikoyi Prison.

    On the second round of Court Martial, I was again discharged and acquitted. So from there, people started taking note of me, because I defended myself; I refused to be defended by anybody. I knew my hands were clean. Those were the things that propelled me. And the next thing was that General Vatsa, then Lt. Colonel or Colonel, sent for me. That was when people started noticing me. So by the time Shagari was about to move to Abuja, the Directorate sponsored me to go and start the office of the Chief of Army Staff there. At that time, we were in Lagos. I reported to the Chief of Army Staff before our departure. That time the Chief of Army Staff was General Wushishi, who was Babangida’s boss.

    But I have to tell you the truth about the manner and way I was treated. General Wushishi was a tribalist and any officer who was not from the Northern part was a nobody to him. All the staff in his office, and I mean it, were 99.9 per cent from the North. There was one Intelligence officer then who was a Lieutenant and I was a Captain. His name is Obasa, who I think rose to become a Major-General before retiring. He is a Yoruba from Kabba, in Kwara State then but now in Kogi State. We were the only two who were not of the Northern extraction working with General Wushishi then. I tell you what, General Wushishi was a tribal bigot; he wouldn’t work with anybody who was not from the North, especially me who didn’t speak Hausa.

    So General Babangida got to know of the way he was treating me, because he (Babangida) was the Principal General Staff Officer then. It was Babangida who influenced that I become somebody in that office. I was given an office. Initially, I wasn’t given anything. This same Sambo Dasuki, we were both on same rank as Captain, but still he was holding the ace. Whatever he said then was law. This Sambo Dasuki, who was of the Artillery Corps as a Second Lieutenant, was posted to the Artillery Headquarters as an Officer, which is an aberration because you cannot be less than a Captain to serve in the Artillery Headquarter as an Officer. He was a ‘special breed’ and whatever he said then was law for obvious reasons.

    Unfortunately, that was where I found myself. But it was Babangida who corrected the ills done to me. And as we got close, he later began to recognise that I had some qualities which had not been highlighted because I was not given the opportunity to prove myself. Even all the Principal Staff Officers at the Army Headquarters then were so charmed by my productivity, and all of them wanted me to do one thing or the other for them.

    So the Babangida “Coup” happened; the first one that made him Chief of Army Staff. I was aware through the movements around but I couldn’t participate, and I kept my mouth shut. By the time he was resuming, I had moved back to my Directorate in Bonny Camp because I was a public relations person. It was Babangida that sent his ADC then, Colonel Shuaibu, to call me back to his office. I was never given a posting initially to his office; it was he that told me that I would be his public relations officer. So I was there with him. I started working and the press he had then was a positive press and he enjoyed it.

    Babangida was very open to criticism, because he told us to criticise him if he was going wrong, and as a staff officer, it was my job to point out whenever I thought some things were not going well in the army. The first observation I made in a memo to him was about the Arabic inscription on the Nigerian Army Crest: “victory is from God alone”. But it was written in Arabic. All I suggested to him then was why don’t you write it in English because people get offended at seeing Arabic inscription on the crest? That kind of thing would bring a sort of rise in tension as they would take it that it’s a Muslim army we are running. I’m a Muslim, but that was the perception everybody had, which was not good for the army then.

    So when Babangida got my memo on this observation, he didn’t do anything about it. On a particular day, Haliru Akilu (remember Colonel Akilu of the DMI?), who was an Infantry Officer; he was never an Intelligence Officer but they just brought him and lorded him over people like Azazi (who later became a General and even COAS). The game plan then was that the high command wanted to get rid of intelligence officers in strategic places so that they could do what they wanted to do with the army and look at where it got to. So Akilu barged into my office and started questioning me on the rationale behind the memo I wrote to Babangida that we should write the inscription in English. That was my offence and he never let it go throughout my career.

    But I didn’t just roll over and those that served with me then can confirm this. I made it clear respectfully to Babangida that I wouldn’t do anything wrong or disobey my superiors. However, I added that the mindset by a few people that “we own the army” was something I wouldn’t abide with. So it was a ragtag between me and Akilu and by implication, Aliu Mohammed got involved. I was there the day Aliu Mohammed brought in Ernest Shonekan to introduce him; the same Shonekan that became Interim President of Nigeria. Babangida was very receptive of me because of what I was contributing and not because of any other thing. He knew I couldn’t speak Hausa, yet even his domestic issues were entrusted to me. That was how close we were. But when you are in the public eye and in high office and you don’t apply caution, then you will easily fall. Go and ask President Tinubu now and he will tell you that governing the Federal Republic of Nigeria is not the same thing as governing Lagos State.

    Will you say that memo you sent was the turning point in your relationship with Babangida, because you later fell out?

    Well may be not. Even during the topsy-turvy period of that time, Babangida stayed with me. He reassured me notwithstanding all the shenanigans that eventually followed, and that I shouldn’t be worried. But eventually, when the Dele Giwa incident happened, it just came like a bang and we had to discuss it at the kitchen cabinet table. I mean  those of us who were personal staff to Babangida, we would sit down every Friday and Monday, because anything that happens over the weekend we discussed it on Monday, and anything that happened during the week we discussed it on Fridays, and maybe we had something to do over the weekend or something. When public protest became loud, I suggested to Babangida that “Sir, you know that I have a good rapport with the press. Let me go and join them because you have reassured us that the government is not complicit in Dele Giwa’s assassination and you have set up a board of investigation headed by Mohammadu Gambo, who was the chairman, Kunle Togun was a member and I was a member. So during the procession, those who took part, ask the journalists of that period, they’ll tell you, I was the only military officer. I was a Captain then, wearing the black arm band that they gave to me as a member of the NUJ and all the press council in all the procession. I was the only Officer in uniform because I felt very safe in that environment.

    Unfortunately, the panel on Dele Giwa’s death dragged on. So at one particular meeting, I brought up the subject because I wanted to bring feelers from outside on what was happening. Babangida got angry and said “if you want to find out, you have a chairman, go and meet him.” He was referring to Gambo. I said “okay, alright sir”. We used to have heated debates and arguments, and being that the government is mainly controlled by a section (all our staff officers) and I was the only Yoruba man there, and you make a case and my colleagues, both senior and junior, would just want to rubbish you. They were seeing things from the Northern point of view. As they were doing that, I was taking stock.

    So when Babangida told me to go meet Gambo, in my ignorance, I just went to ask Gambo to give me the results of what he had done as instructed. He said why asking, and I said the President told me to meet you for update since you are the chairman. Gambo was shocked and said, “but I just gave him the interim report on the matter.” So the following morning when I got to the office, I wanted to go and see him (Babangida) before he called me. He asked what happened and I answered that you told me at the meeting that I should go and meet Gambo. He said “so what’s this nonsense about?” What he meant was that before I could even see him, overnight, my detractors fed him with wrong information that I was the person feeding the protesters with information and everything. So he was angry with me.

    Babangida knows that I am fearless and that I would stand and tell it to anybody’s face “sir this is not the truth and this is wrong”, and he knew me for that. He’s still alive now. And it’s not only him; ask from any staff officer I’ve worked with. I’m a principled person. But I will not disobey orders. I’ll not be rude to my seniors. All those contraventions in the army, I avoided them like a plague.

    So it was there the whole thing became wrong. On a certain day, Akilu came to the Presidential Staff meeting, though he was not a member or staff of the Presidency. He was the Director of the military intelligence and you know he’s a Northerner and that was why he could do that. He came to the meeting and started saying that there was an investigation he was conducting; that there were some people who were black legs and giving information out. The moment he started saying that I knew that I was the target. So immediately we finished the meeting, I went straight to Babangida and I reaffirmed my loyalty to him, but you know he too had to avoid landmines everywhere.

    When he discovered that I was saying the truth, he wanted to ease the tension so he said that I should go for a course at ASCON in Badagry, that after that, he would think about my report. During the course, I used to call him on the phone and tell him the progress about the course. After we finished, we agreed to meet after the completion of my course. So I went back and look who I saw; Akilu with his goons, and he told the boys that they should not allow me to enter the presidential place again. I was even surprised that the security boys who knew me very well could do that. It was not even up to three minutes when I got there that Akilu appeared and started speaking in Hausa to them that they should not allow me in. I confronted him and I was ready to fight him. He was my senior at that time. He was a Lt. Colonel and I was a Major, so he was just a step ahead of me. And the position he was holding then in the army, if it was in the real army, he couldn’t have held it because his rank at that time was lower for the position. Besides, he had no training about intelligence. A Director of Military Intelligence must be very versatile, very deep in spy work, but in his case, he just came in and was told to go and bust them and everything. Not that he had any training about military intelligence (hisses).

    So what is your relationship with Babangida now?

    Babangida and I have no relationship, and the reason why is that the time that the cabal were about to strangle me, he just stood aloof, and rightfully so for his own neck. He didn’t want to lose the presidency. He did not want to be toppled. He thought he was infallible, but in the long run, Major Gideon Okah and the young guys toppled him…

    You mean they almost toppled him?

    No, they really toppled him. If not because they (Okah) misspoke…they tried to excise some states from the country… that statement was their greatest mistake. Otherwise, they toppled Babangida. Okah was a very gentle man, soft spoken. He was not the “people should see me” type. He was very levelheaded. And that tells you something about the army; that even if somebody doesn’t talk, he does have something in his head.

    The perception in that period even coming up to the early part of democratic rule is that the army has been greatly politicised…

    Oh, very much so. During the time that I was attached to General Wushishi as the PRO to the COAS, even though I was virtually floating, he didn’t make use of me because he is a bigot. He cannot refute it; everybody knows. The army was retrogressive. You see politicians in our office and they dictate what we should do. Even now, I pray that God gives Tinubu the fortitude, wisdom and will power to correct the wrongs in the military. It is not magic or rocket science. I have cited instances of the Middle East war. Several wars have taken place. Why Israel is what it is today is because it acts on time. In Egypt, over 200 fighter jets were ready to go and attack Israel, but because of the timely intervention by Israel, which realised that potent danger such poses should it happen, they brought in the air force and neutralised about 200 aircraft of the Arab armies.

    What I’m trying to say here is that most of the military, the fighting force of the army is concentrated in the north. Take Kaduna for instance, we have the NDA, War College, navy headquarters, Army headquarters, everything concentrated in a place. We learn from examples. People should know that this is a dangerous game. Northerners did it purposely so as to keep them in power, and that is what they use to threaten us. Until that is corrected, then we all know we belong to an army. The army should be deployed everywhere so that if the enemies come, the military can respond from different angles and not just from one location. In Buhari’s case, it would have been easier to decentralise these military concentration from Kaduna, but everybody wants everything good coming to him. Unless that is changed, the balance of power problem will always be there in the armed forces. In the armed forces there are so many brilliant officers who have been retired unjustly.

    You were abruptly chased out of the system. What led to it?

    By the time they didn’t allow me to go back to my work, Babangida didn’t redeploy me after I finished the course. Then I was hearing rumors here and there, and the next thing is that from the presidency I was deployed to 32 Diamond Brigade Training School in Makurdi, and that place was a killing ground for people who refused to obey stupid orders in the army. I’ll give you a good example. There was this officer, a Northern minority Christian, an engineering officer; that time, they used power to send him to that training school because he was going to reveal some things about fraud in the army.

    They posted him there as an officer. The first two to three months they were not able to give him accommodation so they gave him a room, and from there, in the evening he would go out to a joint to relax. Some people were sent after him to monitor his movements. He was getting out of a drinking parlour during the day when a trailer full of cement ran over him deliberately. The case got nowhere up till I left the service. The person who drove the truck was in mufti so most people didn’t know he was a soldier. He was an intelligent operator. That was how they silenced him. There are numerous cases like that.

    I’ve done so many things for the government that they would go behind my back and misinform Babangida. But when I got to him, I would just deflate the insinuations that they had loaded him with. But when they brought it up to him, he couldn’t do anything; he was helpless. He didn’t want to lose his position. He’s a human being. So I started sending people to him and he would say he hadn’t forgotten me, he would do something about it. So I got a hint that I had been posted to that place in Makurdi and I knew that what they wanted to do was to kill me.

    I got wind of what they wanted to do and wrote a resignation letter. Before I did that, I managed to see Babangida, I found my way in during an evening game he had with an officer who was the only person that saw good in anything I did there. People said I was too vocal and too brave, but others didn’t want somebody who would confront them because they were full of evil and they had skeletons in their cupboard. If you confronted them, they would find a way to put you out.

  • Remembering Dele Giwa

    Remembering Dele Giwa

    How time flies? Today makes it exactly 37 years that founding Editor-in-Chief of Newswatch magazine, Dele Giwa, was killed by parcel bomb in his Adeniyi Jones, Ikeja, Lagos home. Time virtually stood still that Sunday, as news spread of his death. Sympathisers rushed to his residence and the Newswatch office then at Oregun to condole with his family and colleagues.

    Giwa was a colourful journalist. After returning home from the United States (US), he landed at the Daily Times, where he made the features pages a delight to read. He crossed over to Concord Group of Newspapers to edit the Sunday paper. Giwa wrote with passion. He threw himself into his job and when he and his three friends started Newswatch in 1985, magazine publishing came of age. Giwa’s forceful nature gave Newswatch its outlook.

    Read Also: ‘Why Dele Giwa’s doctor left home after Newswatch editor’s death’

    The circumstances surrounding his death remain as hazy as they were when he was bombed in 1986. Who killed Dele Giwa? This is the question his family, friends and colleagues have been asking since his death. The question remains pertinent today, just as it was in 1986. The Ibrahim Babaginda-led junta under which he was killed pledged to fish out his killers. It failed to do so despite the linking of some of its top officials with the dastardly act.

    Will Giwa die in vain? Will we continue to ask the question: Who killed Dele Giwa? Or will the latter change to: Revealed: Those who killed Dele Giwa? For his children and grandchildren, finding Giwa’s killers and bringing them to justice is the only way to bring closure to the matter. May he continue to rest in peace.

  • Dele Giwa: When one murder begat another

    Dele Giwa: When one murder begat another

    Around 10 o’clock in the morning of October 19, 1986, I sat down and wrote a letter to Dele Giwa, after completing my usual Sunday morning chores.  My younger brother who had spent Saturday night with us and was about to return to his lodgings in Ketu was to deliver the letter early Monday.

    “What if he is not around?” he asked in all innocence.

    “Give it to his secretary,” I said, attaching no significance to his question.

    About five hours later, his question would turn out to have been a stunning prophecy.  For, at the time I was composing that letter, Dele Giwa was being blasted out of this world by a parcel bomb whose origin is yet to be determined, two full years after the event.

    My undelivered letter, roughly two octavo pages long, lies before me as I write these lines.  The content, I am sorry to report, will not yield a scintilla of evidence, hard or soft, concerning the identity or motive of his murderers.

    I was only asking him to mollify a Newswatch staffer who was inconsolable after failing to secure a place in the mass communication programme at the University of Lagos.  The young man was persuaded that if I had pleaded his cause vigorously enough, he would have been accepted.  Nothing I said to the contrary moved him.

    So I thought I should ask Dele Giwa to help me make peace with him.   All along, he was aware of the young man’s quest but did not intercede for him.  As befitted the self-made man that he was, he felt his young staffer should earn a place in the university by his own effort.

    I suspect that if my letter had reached him, he would have called in the young man and told him baldly that he had flunked the entrance examination and should strive to do better the next time.

    Dissembling was not one of Dele Giwa’s vices.  He was blunt to a fault.  In his writings and in private conversation, he said exactly what he knew or believed about the events and the men and the women behind them, without fear of the consequences .

    That explains how he could state in cold print that if the Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) failed, the people would rise up and stone its authors.  It is not disrespect to his memory to say that this was tactless in the extreme. Other commentators gave warnings that were just as dire, but in language not so direct and provocative.  But Giwa would not have been true to himself and to his conscience if he had framed the matter in any other way.

    I wonder what he would be saying today of SAP were he alive.  In the light of all the startling evidence around us, he would have cast grave doubts on the vaunted “gains” of the scheme. But I doubt whether he would have moved on to stir things up and lead the people to desiring a (socialist) revolution.

    He was no agitator.

    An unabashed admirer of capitalism, he was a good advertisement for that system.  His life story was proof that it worked.  And if that system was not working the way it was supposed to, adjust it incrementally, not wholesale; fine-tune it.  But, for goodness sake do not dismantle it. He would never have put himself to the mildest of exertions to institute a socialist order in Nigeria.

    Dele Giwa was an exemplar of the journalist as insider, if not participant.  He relished his closeness to power and influence, and was not above flaunting it.  He prized the access to news and information that it gave him.  Such closeness has its uses, to be sure.  Few public affairs commentators can perform effectively without it.

    But it also carries a price.

    For, as the great Walter Lippmann has warned, if the various guises and disguises that power assumes do not always corrupt, in the end they almost certainly co-opt or seduce the commentator, sometimes to the point of vitiating his critical faculties.  The reporter makes the agenda of his powerful sources his own.  Without his realising it, their fears and anxieties become his own, and he comes to regard his own survival as linked inextricably to theirs.

    I will not be surprised if, at the time of his death, Dele Giwa had begun to find the cost of access to power too high and to question whether it really made a great difference to his work. Journalists who pride themselves on that kind of access should once in a while stand back and  ask themselves whether the professional rewards justify the cost.

    One aspect of Dele Giwa’s life remains a puzzle.  If he had any admiration for Chief Obafemi Awolowo who, all things considered, should have been his role model if not his idol, he kept it splendidly to himself.

    Like Awo several decades before him, Giwa had raised himself by his bootstraps and by a determination that bordered on monomania.  Like Awo, he was driven by stupendous energy and possessed a prodigious capacity for work.  Again, like Awo, he believed very much in  himself and never doubted that he could attain any goal he set for himself.

    And yet, Dele Giwa almost could not bring himself to speak well of Awo, at least in public.  Even the probing, sceptical reporter in him could not see the so-called Maroko land deal as the hoax that it was.

    What forces were at work here?  Over to you, psycho-historians.

    It remains to add a grisly footnote to the foregoing  reminiscences, first published in The Guardian, in 1987, and later anthologised in my 1993 book, Matters Arising.

    My brother Herbert Tunde Dare, a deputy commissioner of police with the Special Branch, was  named a principal investigator  in the Giwa murder.  Shortly thereafter, he was  transferred to Kaduna but kept on the case.

    Concerning his work, he was as secretive as an oyster.  Taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere of Yuletide, I asked him in late December 1987 how the investigation was shaping up.

    “Oba,” he replied, using the name we reserved for each other, “they are not serious.”  By “they,” he meant the authorities.  He went on to add that he was not even allowed to ask the basic questions on which a proper investigation must be grounded.  But he plugged on.  “Failure” was not in his dictionary.

    Some two months later, he was summoned to Lagos to file a preliminary report on his investigations.  He had planned to return to Kaduna the same way he had travelled to Lagos:   by air.  But at the last minute, the police authorities came up with an assignment that warranted his returning by road.

    Somewhere between Jebba, in Kwara State, and Mokwa, in Niger State, in the dead of night, he was killed in circumstances powerfully indicative of foul play.

    Announcing his death, the police said he had lost control of his car while trying to overtake another vehicle and had crashed it.  He had died instantly. The wreckage of the car he was allegedly driving was never produced. The police said a driver and an aide assigned to him, both unidentified, were injured in the accident but had been treated at an unidentified hospital and discharged.

    The announcement, my brother’s one-time boss in the Special Branch told me, could only have been designed to pre-empt an enquiry into his death.

    The death had resulted from his own careless driving. Case closed.