Japheth Njoku: When a death in police custody becomes evidence of the rule of law, by Okechukwu Nwanguma – THISAGE

Japheth Njoku entered police custody alive. He didn’t leave alive.

He was 32 years old when he died after weeks of detention at the Anti-Kidnapping Unit of the Imo State Police Command, popularly known as Tiger Base, Owerri.

For his family, the tragedy did not end with his death. They had to begin another fight: to establish how he died, secure an autopsy, protect potential witnesses and overcome repeated obstacles placed in the path of a forensic investigation.

More than a year later, the Owerri Chief Magistrate’s Court, acting as Coroner, has produced results that deserve national attention. The importance of the decision goes far beyond Japheth Njoku. It raises fundamental questions about what happens when citizens disappear behind the walls of police detention facilities and the enormous difficulties families face when trying to hold the state accountable.

According to coroner’s reports, Njoku was detained for about six weeks on suspicion of theft, a normally bailable offence.

The coroner found that money had been demanded in connection with his release and rejected attempts to justify his continued detention by subsequently portraying him as a terrorist.

The court reportedly found that conditions at Tiger Base were incompatible with detainees’ rights to dignity, liberty, legal representation, and bail, and found practices involving torture, intimidation, and extortion.

Although medical evidence identified meningitis, bronchial pneumonia and hypertensive heart disease among the causes of death, the coroner made an extremely important discovery: the conditions in which Njoku was detained and the length of his detention contributed to the deterioration of his health and possible death. This distinction is important.

A person does not have to die directly from a police bullet or an officer’s blow for the state to assume responsibility for a death in custody. Once the State deprives a person of liberty, it assumes an enhanced duty to protect that person’s life, health and physical integrity.

Police custody must never become a place where illness is ignored until it becomes fatal.

Perhaps one of the most troubling aspects of the Njoku case is what happened after his death.

On June 11, 2025, the coroner ordered an autopsy and appointed an independent pathologist appointed by the family to observe the examination. The court also summoned police officers and other material witnesses.

What should have been a simple process became a prolonged struggle.

The Njoku family’s lawyer, Dr. Christian C. Nwadigo, has repeatedly expressed concern about police conduct regarding the implementation of the coroner’s orders. RULAAC and the People’s Rights Organization subsequently petitioned the Police Service Commission alleging repeated failures to make Njoku’s body available for scheduled autopsies, including appointments for October 28 and 30, 2025, despite repeated extensions granted by the court.

The concerns were not limited to civil society accusations.

Amnesty International later reported that Tiger Base officials failed to show up on three occasions for court-ordered examination even when court-appointed pathologists were present.

This aspect of the case deserves a separate study.

When a person dies in state custody, the preservation of the body, medical examination, documentation and independent investigation are no favors to the family of the deceased. They are indispensable guarantees against impunity.

If officials implicated in a death in custody can delay or obstruct the very procedures designed to determine how that person died, the integrity of the entire accountability system is threatened.

There was another disturbing development. During the inquiry, concerns arose that people who had been detained alongside Njoku and who could potentially provide evidence about what had happened inside Tiger Base were themselves the subject of renewed police attention.

RULAAC expressed concern about reports of new investigations, detentions and threats of prosecution against potential witnesses. The family and his lawyer also denounced alleged intimidation.

These charges should not simply disappear now that the coroner has concluded the inquest.

The Inspector General of Police and the Police Services Commission should determine whether any police officer attempted to frustrate the autopsy, intimidate witnesses, interfere with evidence or otherwise obstruct the administration of justice.

Liability for a death in custody includes liability for attempts to hide, distort, or obstruct the truth about that death.

The Coroner has reportedly recommended prosecution of Inspector Barnabas and ACP Oladimeji Odeyeyiwa (the Tiger Base Commander) for alleged extortion and corruption. The court also recommended compensation for Njoku’s family, payment of burial costs, better training, CCTV coverage of detention facilities and the transfer of officers serving in the Anti-Kidnapping Unit.

These recommendations should not add to the long list of official findings disappearing into government records.

The Attorney General of Imo State should promptly examine the complete record of cases and determine all offenses evidenced by the evidence.

Such a review should not necessarily stop at extortion and corruption.

Nigeria has an anti-torture law. If pre-investigation evidence reveals torture or other criminal behavior, the relevant investigative and judicial authorities have a duty to follow the evidence wherever it leads.

The Police Services Commission will also have to investigate whether disciplinary offenses have been committed, including in relation to prolonged detention, requests for money, the treatment of the prisoner and alleged attempts to obstruct the autopsy and intimidate witnesses.

However, there is a risk of reducing this case to two police officers.

For years, victims, families, lawyers, journalists and human rights organizations have raised allegations regarding the Tiger Base: prolonged detention, torture, extortion, denial of access to lawyers and relatives, disappearances and deaths in custody.

These accusations require an institutional response.

The coroner’s reported recommendation to relocate serving officers to the unit should in itself lead law enforcement authorities to ask a much bigger question: What is happening inside Tiger Base?

An independent audit should examine custody records, deaths in custody, missing persons reports, periods of detention, bail practices, access to lawyers and relatives, medical care of detainees, allegations of torture and extortion, CCTV records and previous complaints against unit staff.

This should not be yet another internal investigation in which the institution investigates itself behind closed doors. Credible oversight requires independence.

The importance of Njoku’s findings becomes even greater when compared to other allegations involving the same structure.

In the case of Onuocha Johnbosco v Commissioner of Police and 3 Ors (case no. COME/161M/2025), another case arising from the alleged detention at Tiger Base remains before the court and the hearing is scheduled for 13 October 2026.

No conclusions should be drawn about a case that remains pending.

But its existence reinforces the need to institutionally examine allegations regarding Tiger Base rather than wait for victims and their families to fight separate, grueling battles one after another.

When complaints repeatedly emerge from the same detention facility, accountability cannot simply consist of investigating each incident in isolation.

Police reform is ultimately about what happens inside the cell

Nigeria has been debating police reform for decades.

We have enacted the Police Act 2020. We have an anti-torture law. We have constitutional guarantees of dignity and personal freedom. We have judicial decisions that affirm the rights of suspects. We have police oversight institutions.

However, the true measure of police reform is not the number of laws enacted or committees inaugurated.

This is what happens when a poor or helpless Nigerian is arrested.

– Is the arrest recorded?

– Is the family informed?

– Can the prisoner contact a lawyer?

– Is bail really free?

– Is the suspect brought before the court within the constitutionally prescribed period?

– Can an officer demand money and keep someone locked up when relatives can’t pay?

– Can a prisoner get medical treatment?

– And if that prisoner dies, will the family be able to discover the truth without fighting the police for months?

These are the true tests of police reform.

The Coroner’s findings provide an opportunity to demonstrate that accountability mechanisms can still work.

But a rating or recommendation is just the beginning.

Officers against whom criminal action has been recommended must receive due process. Allegations must be proven in accordance with the law. This is exactly the protection that the rule of law requires for everyone.

The rule of law itself, however, demands justice for the dead.

Japheth Njoku’s family deserves truth, accountability and appropriate reparation. The public deserves assurance that police detention facilities are not spaces beyond constitutional control.

And police officers who carry out their duties professionally also have an interest in ensuring that torture, extortion and illegal detention are not tolerated within their institution.

Japheth entered police custody alive.

The State had the duty to protect him by exercising complete control over his freedom.

He died in that custody.

His family then spent months struggling to establish what had happened to him.

Now the medical examiner has spoken.

The real test begins with what the authorities will do next.

Okechukwu Nwanguma is the Executive Director of the Rule of Law and Accountability Center (RULAAC).

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