“My Children Are Sick, and He Can’t Even Send Us Money”: Wife Cries Out as Arrested Ondo Inspector Is Moved to Abuja Over WhatsApp Message

The quiet town of Idanre in Ondo State was shaken this past week—not by gunshots or sirens, but by the silent removal of Inspector Emoruwa Olabode, a police officer now at the heart of a growing national storm. His alleged offense? Sharing a message in a WhatsApp group of fellow officers about a planned protest set for July 21, 2025, aimed at demanding better working conditions for serving and retired police personnel.

On Friday, July 4, Olabode was arrested from his duty post and whisked away to the State Criminal Investigation Department (SCID) in Akure, where he was kept in solitary confinement. By Monday morning, he was quietly moved under heavy escort to Abuja—a development that has further deepened fears among rank-and-file officers and their families.

His wife, speaking to SaharaReporters, gave a glimpse into the human cost of the drama unfolding behind closed barracks.

“My children are not well. My second boy is seriously sick. Since Friday, they have not even allowed my husband to send money to us. They collected his phone, and even this morning when he was taken to Abuja, they refused to release it,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

Inspector Olabode isn’t the only one being targeted. Two other WhatsApp group administrators—Otamere Ewamade (“Hero”) and Fasoyin Ayodeji—were also arrested earlier in Lagos State and taken to Abuja, where they’ve reportedly been in detention for over two weeks. All three are believed to be involved in discussions about the planned protest calling for reforms in the Nigeria Police Force (NPF).

The protest, now just days away, is being driven by one burning issue: the Contributory Pension Scheme (CPS), which police retirees say has plunged thousands into poverty, depression, and even premature death. Their demand is simple yet powerful: Remove the police from the CPS and establish an independent pension board to reflect the unique risks and sacrifices of law enforcement officers.

“We serve with our lives, and in retirement, we’re abandoned. No dignity. No support. That is what this protest is about,” said a retired officer, who asked not to be named.

But rather than engage with the grievances, the authorities appear to be clamping down on those speaking out. Critics say the arrests are part of a broader effort to silence internal dissent and intimidate officers who dare to question the status quo.

Inspector Olabode’s wife says she is now left to fend for her family alone, without communication or support. Despite repeated appeals, police officers in Akure allegedly refused to release her husband’s phone even for urgent family needs.

“I called the IPO holding the phone, and he promised to give it back today. But before I knew it, those taking my husband to Abuja had collected it,” she said.

Observers warn that this kind of crackdown could backfire, fueling more disillusionment within the force and worsening morale among officers already grappling with low wages, poor welfare, and dangerous working conditions.

What happens next—whether the July 21 protest goes ahead or whether the growing unrest inside the police force is acknowledged—remains to be seen. But for now, a mother in Ondo, with sick children and no access to her detained husband, represents the painful, personal price of systemic silence.

This is not just about a WhatsApp message.

It’s about voices being muted, families suffering, and a police force crying out—not for chaos, but for care.