THE TYRANT'S UNIFORM NEVER CHANGES COLOR.
Every time a clash happens in the community, an innocent man somewhere must answer to the crime of a thousand others. Perhaps, because he was a victim of circumstance, found at the wrong place at the wrong time or something within that semblance.
There are many actual accounts of this tyranny to serve as proof. One was the exploits of a one time Divisional Police Officer in Ijora - Badia Police Station, CSP Rotimi Odutona. Odutona, revered and dreaded, would go about claiming he belongs to the Awo cult and can deal with any person he so wishes, legally or illegally. It becomes obvious hence that power has changed hands when the police force is even more dreaded and avoided than the hooliganism sect. But regardless of how much you try to avoid Odutona, he will, like some kind of cobweb always wrap himself around you.
One of those cases is was that of a carpenter, Saheed Akinboye who also operates rental services somewhere not too distant in the neighbourhood. He had, on this fateful day, rented out chairs for the graduation ceremony of a lady from some tailoring workshop and the event itself was taking form and building up into a smooth, hitch-free party. About 300 meters away from the ceremony spot, a clash occurred among some dark axe cultists which led to killings and bloodshed. Memorable was the murder of a popular cultist, Tansho. At the realization that Tansho was dead, the clash became more intense and news travelled around, to the extent even the ceremony organisers had to disperse the party in a frenzy to avoid getting in the harm's way.
Saheed Akinboye, who was merely packing his chairs into his shop later that evening suddenly found himself rounded up by the police and before he could process anything, his chairs (about six dozen) was confiscated into the van immediately and drove off.
Perturbed, dismal, restless; he rushed down to the police station the next morning with Mr. Balogun, the father of the lady whose graduation ceremony held the previous day and another community leader, Mrs. Modupe Ojediran. While the two other persons were not allowed in, Akinboye managed to get in and was about explaining himself to Odutona. However, the tyrant of an officer laid him flat and continuously hit him with a baton across all his body parts till his left hand and leg got fractured. Despite all pleas and cries by Akinboye, Odutona did not stop until the young man was visibly immobile and gnashing in pains. But for the timely intervention of traders around, Mr. Balogun and Mrs. Ojediran who got a vehicle to convey him to a local orthopaedic hospital, Akinboye could have been dead after being bundled out like a refuse bag or at worst, paralyzed totally and forever. Even then, it almost took forever before his bones could return to normalcy, not to talk of the money hurriedly garnered for, just to rescue his life, all because he went in search of what was his rightful possessions.
What succeded this was a proposed meeting with Odutona by the community elders and the tyrant again turned down every request, chasing them off with a shotgun, under the threat that he will kill anyone who dares come to meet him on Akinboye's issue again. According to him, he has killed many. Killing some oldies whose days were already numbered won't make a difference.
I still remember vividly that Mr Balogun and the community tried all their best to pay Odutona back in his own coin. Asides from the fact that they involved the media then (worthy of mentions was Punch, The Town-crier) and filed a lawsuit with about two-three appearances in court, the whole issue gradually fizzled out when Akinboye started receiving threat calls and bounties were already being haggled on his family members.
A friend would say - if you wonder why people are miserable, ask them the kind of battles they engage in. Perhaps, the realization of what Odutona and his goons were capable of doing if tried, was the leading factor which made Akinboye gallantly swallowed defeat and adopt silence.
Fear, for long, has always been a foremost element employed against the masses. Create fear in them, watch their eyes almost jump out of their sockets, make your voices husky a bit, point at them dangerously, command them to sit and they will sit, command them to stand and they will still be sitting - because they cannot bear the repercussion of standing against a powerful lord, scratch that, a power-drunk lord.
I have however come to realize especially with this End SARS movement and the revolution brewing out of it, there in - every man can be presumed tall, as long as no one considers that judgement arguable. The moment it becomes arguable, we would be utterly shocked to know most of these men ain't tall, they just had to stand upright on a stool to accelerate their heights. The narratives must change and there is no value procrastinating it in wait for the leaders of tomorrow, many of which are already buried alive by the Nigerian police force. The kernels of truth are evident, join me, let's crack them.