Olu Allen
Two men, both former high-ranking public officials, both facing corruption-related allegations. One, declared wanted by the country’s premier anti-graft agency, moves freely and is warmly received at political events.
The other moves through one of Nigeria’s fastest prosecution cycles and ends up in Kuje.
The alleged offences differ in size, but the gap in treatment is the real issue, a vivid demonstration of how selective justice erodes national trust.
The cases of former Kogi State Governor Yahaya Bello and former Minister Chris Ngige are not about guilt or innocence. Those are questions for the courts.
What troubles many Nigerians is the glaring inconsistency in the system’s response, an inconsistency that signals, whether intentionally or not, that the application of the law is influenced by politics rather than principle.
Yahaya Bello: The Untouchable?
The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) has accused Yahaya Bello of involvement in the mismanagement of over N100 billion in state funds.
As part of its efforts, the agency declared him wanted after what it described as repeated challenges in securing his presence for questioning.
Yet, even with this declaration, Bello has been seen moving around publicly. His presence at the launch of the APC National Youth House, where he was acknowledged as a “Special Guest,” drew significant public attention.
While his appearance is within his rights, the optics were jarring: a man the EFCC publicly seeks is simultaneously appearing at a major party function with no apparent restriction.
His legal team continues to challenge the EFCC’s actions in court, arguing procedural and jurisdictional issues, rights guaranteed to every Nigerian.
But for the public, the contrast remains stark: a high-profile defendant, wanted by an institution of the state, still maintains an uninterrupted political visibility.
Chris Ngige: The Exceptional Expedition
In contrast, the case of former Minister of Labour and Employment Chris Ngige unfolded with unusual speed. Facing allegations of mismanagement of around N2.2 billion, Ngige went from inquiry to conviction within a fraction of the time such cases typically take in Nigeria’s overburdened judicial system.
In a country where corruption trials can drag on for years or even a decade, the rapid progression of his case stood out.
There were no prolonged interlocutory battles, no publicised resistance from political allies, and few procedural delays. The quietness surrounding the matter made the speed more noticeable.
Again, it is important to emphasise: a conviction is the product of a court process, and Ngige retains the right to appeal.
The concern for many Nigerians, however, lies in the contrasting pace, how one case moves like a marathon while another proceeds like a sprint.
The Mechanism of Distrust
This disparity is more than a procedural irregularity. It reflects the deeper architecture of a system shaped by patronage and uneven enforcement.
When justice is perceived as selective, its credibility diminishes. When the state appears vigorous in one case and hesitant in another, citizens begin to interpret such differences through the lens of politics.
Selective justice does two things simultaneously:
It shields some individuals through prolonged legal battles, political alliances, or procedural technicalities.
It showcases others as examples of “decisive action,” reinforcing an appearance of anti-corruption commitment.
The public sees both approaches. And they draw the inevitable conclusion that the law is not an impartial referee but an instrument that responds differently depending on where one stands within the political hierarchy.
Once citizens begin to believe that legal outcomes can be influenced by connections, the entire premise of shared civic responsibility becomes weakened.
When trust fractures, everything else becomes open to doubt, contracts, policies, elections, even national security decisions.
The Road to Nowhere
For Nigeria to build enduring trust in its institutions, the law must speak with the same weight in every case.
This requires insulating agencies like the EFCC, the police, and the judiciary from political interference, real or perceived.
It means ensuring that resistance from one defendant triggers the same institutional urgency as cooperation from another.
And it requires that the pace of prosecution is governed by evidence and procedure, not political temperature.
Ultimately, the greatest loss is not measured in money or time, but in confidence.
It is seen in the disillusionment of young Nigerians who watch these contrasting outcomes and conclude that success depends not on merit or integrity, but on proximity to power.
This is the most damaging kind of national theft, the quiet erosion of belief in the possibility of fairness.
Posterity’s judgment will be unforgiving. But the greater danger lies in the present: a nation cannot build a credible future on an uneven scale of justice.
Allen writes on public affairs and advocates for good governance. He can be reached at oluallen1904@gmail.com.
