Since the return of democracy in 1999, no state pardon has generated as much outrage as the one just announced by President Bola Tinubu. And for good reason.
President Tinubu has granted clemency to 175 convicts and former convicts, with the Presidency claiming the decision was based on factors including remorse, good conduct, old age, vocational skills, and educational programs. The Presidential Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy, chaired by Attorney-General Prince Lateef Olasunkanmi Fagbemi, recommended these pardons after “careful consideration.”
The list includes notable individuals like former Representative Farouk Lawan (convicted of corruption), various drug dealers, kidnappers, and murderers.
But none of them generated the outrage like one particular case – Maryam Sanda.
My reaction to the Maryam Sanda pardon? This is where I draw the line between mercy and madness.
Maryam Sanda stabbed her husband, Bilyaminu Bello, five times while he was sleeping – five times! This wasn’t a crime of passion in a moment of heated argument. This was cold, premeditated murder. She was convicted and sentenced to death in 2020. Yet after spending less than five years in prison, she’s been granted clemency.
The reasoning behind her release is particularly galling. They claim her family pleaded for her release, arguing it was in the best interest of her two children. Her good conduct in prison and remorse are cited as justifications. But here’s the question nobody wants to ask: What lessons are we teaching with this pardon?
We’re telling society that if you kill your spouse, show some remorse in prison, and have dependent children, you can walk free after a few years.
We’re sending a message to abused spouses that their murderers might be released through presidential mercy. We’re telling women that justice for murder is temporary, conditional, and negotiable.
The father of the deceased, Ahmed, claims he fought for Maryam’s release to help her care for the children. But a woman who stabs her husband to death five times in cold blood has no business raising children. Those children deserve to know that their mother paid for taking their father’s life, not that she got a reduced sentence because she has them.
But Maryam Sanda is not alone in this travesty. Consider Kelvin Oniarah Ezigbe, a convicted kidnapper whose sentence was reduced from 20 years to 13 years. This man abducted Mike Ozekhome, senior advocate of Nigeria (SAN), in 2013 and held him hostage for three weeks until a N40 million ransom was paid. Four police officers were killed responding to his kidnapping activities. His gang was responsible for multiple high-profile abductions across Delta State.
This notorious criminal, described as someone who terrorised Delta State and its environs, has had his sentence slashed. The message? Kidnap high-profile people, kill police officers, demand ransoms, and if you show good conduct in prison for a few years, you might get out early.
How is Mike Ozekhome feeling right now? The man was held hostage for three weeks, his family tortured with uncertainty, he paid N40 million to secure his release, and now his abductor has had his sentence reduced.
What’s the point of getting justice if the system will reverse it years later?
I also want to ask the members of the committee that compiled these names – how do they sleep at night granting pardon to murderers, drug dealers, and kidnappers in the name of amnesty? What they’ve done is endanger society and put the rest of us at risk. The people who testified against these criminals don’t even have safe lives anymore.
How is National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA )boss Buba Marwa feeling now? His operatives have lost colleagues fighting drug traffickers. Money has been spent catching and prosecuting these criminals. Convictions have been secured. And with a stroke of the presidential pen, they’re released.
What’s the incentive for law enforcement to keep fighting when their victories can be erased by executive clemency?
The committee is not being fair to Nigerians. Yes, the president and the Council of States have the right to grant a pardon, but they don’t have the right to abuse it. Maryam Sanda hasn’t served her sentence. Where is the justice for the victim who can never be tried again in any court because he’s dead?
The Attorney-General released a damage control statement claiming no inmate has been released yet and that the process remains at a “review stage.” They claim this is standard protocol and reflects a commitment to transparency. But this is pure nonsense. The damage is already done. The message has been sent – Nigerian justice is temporary and subject to presidential whim.
Come to think of it, if we’re in “pardon spree mode,” as some people have sarcastically suggested, let’s be consistent. Gospel singer Osinachi’s abusive husband also deserves a pardon then. Better yet, let’s grant posthumous pardons to Abu Shekau and Terwase Agwaza Aka Gana. Also to the bandits and terrorists terrorising the country. Since we’re releasing kidnappers and murderers, why not release those of them in captivity too?
The sarcasm is bitter because the pardon list exposes the incoherence of our justice system. We sentence people to long prison terms, but then release them midway through their sentences. We tell victims that justice is permanent, but then overturn sentences for political or humanitarian reasons. We claim to have a rule of law, but then subvert it through executive clemency.
What makes this particularly problematic is the exercise of discretion. Why was Maryam Sanda selected for clemency while other convicted murderers remain in prison? Why was Ezigbe’s sentence reduced but not others? The criteria are murky, the process appears arbitrary, and the outcomes feel unjust.
The presidential prerogative of mercy exists in many democracies, including advanced ones. But responsible governments exercise this power sparingly and carefully, with strong justification for each case. They don’t release 175 people at once, including notorious criminals who pose clear dangers to society.
A proper clemency exercise would involve rigorous vetting, transparent criteria, and careful consideration of victims’ rights and public safety. It would avoid releasing violent criminals while explaining why their release serves the interests of justice and rehabilitation.
This exercise did none of those things. It appears to be a mass release that included people who pose genuine dangers to society and criminals who haven’t served adequate sentences for their crimes.
The committee members should indeed apologise to Nigerians. They should apologise to the families of victims who now see their loved ones’ murderers released. They should apologise to law enforcement who spent years bringing these criminals to justice. They should apologise to society for endangering public safety.
But I suspect no such apology will come. Instead, we’ll get more.
