At 92, Festus Arhagba should be resting, surrounded by peace and the warm laughter of his children and grandchildren. Instead, he sits in his modest Lagos home, frail and broken—his heart weighed down by grief. His son, Kingsley, who had been his caregiver and daily strength, is gone—snatched, as he puts it, “by deception, cruelty, and extortion.”
It began on June 26, 2025. Festus’s younger son, Kenneth, was taken by five police officers—members of the IGP Intelligence Response Team. Kingsley, ever the devoted brother, stepped in to help. But that act of love would be the last he’d ever make.
“I regret coming back to this country,” Festus whispered, clutching his walker. “Since I returned, I’ve never faced this kind of sorrow. Kingsley was the one taking care of me. Now… who do I turn to?”
Kingsley was arrested while dropping off his children at school—humiliated in front of them, handcuffed, and taken away. Days passed with no answers. Finally, a call came from ASP Danjuma, directing the family to bring food to Ajeromi Police Station. But when they got there, things had already spiraled into tragedy.
Kenneth had been promised bail—but only if someone of ‘level 12’ in civil service signed. When that failed, Festus offered his house papers. A deacon took them to the station. What he met instead was horror—Kingsley had collapsed. By the time they reached the hospital, doctors said he was already d£ad. The officers? Gone. They claimed they had gone to “pump their tyre.”
The case, it turns out, was rooted in a long-standing property dispute involving Kenneth’s ex-girlfriend, a storey building, and forged documents. But when Kenneth was finally able to speak, he said his Abuja detention had nothing to do with the building. Instead, he was accused of kidnapping and conspiracy. Worse, he was denied food, calls, and contact with his family for four days. A chilling warning still haunts him: “Even if you d!e here, nothing will happen.”
Kingsley’s de@th shattered the family. Now, they are demanding justice—not just for closure, but because they believe no Nigerian should ever feel this helpless again.
“The police k!lled my child,” Festus sobbed, slumping in his chair, as his wife silently wiped away tears. “They took my son and returned a corpse.”
The police insist Kingsley collapsed in front of family members. But that explanation feels empty to the Arhagbas—yet another page in the long, painful book of lives lost to systemic abuse. For them, justice remains a distant hope in a country where silence often follows tragedy.
