Fatima Muhammad’s voice trembled with grief and desperation as she spoke into the phone. Her husband, Abubakar Ahmad—a quiet, dedicated lecturer at the Federal College of Horticulture in Gombe—has been behind bars for over a week. His alleged crime? Sharing a seven-year-old video that had long circulated on social media.
The video, showing Shamsudeen Bala—son of Bauchi State Governor Bala Mohammed—and his wife dancing joyfully, had resurfaced on Abubakar’s timeline. That single post triggered a legal storm that now threatens to rip a family apart.
“I’m begging Shamsudeen Bala, from the bottom of my heart, please show mercy,” Fatima pleaded, her voice cracking with emotion. “Our lives have been turned upside down. My children cry every day. We haven’t known peace since their father was taken.”
What began as a police invitation to clarify a defamation complaint quickly turned into a nightmare. Abubakar, described by colleagues as mild-mannered and respectful, honoured the invitation in good faith. But he never returned home.
“He called me just before going into the station,” Fatima recalled. “He said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be back before dinner.’ But that dinner never happened. He never came back.”
His lawyer, Ahmed Hassan, says the arrest and continued detention are not only excessive but legally unjustifiable. “Defamation is a bailable offence,” Hassan explained. “And this video has been on the internet for nearly a decade. It wasn’t even Abubakar’s original post.”
Yet the wheels of what seems like politically-tinged justice have kept turning. The police, despite a magistrate’s directive for a proper investigation by the State CID, rushed to secure a remand order—keeping Abubakar locked up while his wife and children struggle to cope.
For Fatima, the legal technicalities pale in comparison to the pain of daily life without her husband. She speaks not as a lawyer, but as a wife, a mother, and a woman trying to hold her family together amid growing uncertainty.
“This is a man who taught students, who mentored youth, who came home every evening to help our children with their homework,” she said. “He didn’t hurt anyone. Why must our family suffer like this?”
Fatima has also appealed directly to Governor Bala Mohammed himself, hoping the father in him would understand the pain of seeing children go to bed without their dad.
“Sir, you are a father too. You know how much children need their parents. Please speak to your son. Let us resolve this. Let mercy prevail.”
As Fatima waits—anxious, weary, and hopeful—her story echoes the concerns of many Nigerians who fear that justice is often wielded not as a shield for the weak, but as a sword of the powerful.
What began as a Facebook share now stands as a test of empathy, power, and justice. Whether this story ends in bitterness or mercy is a choice still in the hands of those who hold that power.
