Something is brewing in Ondo State that may yet puncture the fragile calm for which that corner of the federation is known. For months, whispers have travelled faster than official memos, and testimonies have piled up like unattended files in a dusty registry. We have watched, listened, and documented. Those who believe they have suffered under the weight of one man’s influence may tarry a little longer. The can of worms is swelling. It will not remain sealed forever.
Curiously, our initial searchlight was pointed in the wrong direction. Like many observers, we assumed the rot, if any, must flow from the very top of the justice architecture. Yet emerging facts suggest something more ironic and more troubling. The Attorney General himself, by multiple credible accounts, appears to have neither the appetite nor the patience for the petty intrigues being conducted in his name. By reputation and record, he is a man who earned distinction long before public office called. Those who know his professional journey speak of diligence, discipline, and an almost old fashioned reverence for integrity. Indeed, he continues to receive commendations for what many consider sincere efforts at reform within the Ondo State Ministry of Justice.
And therein lies the paradox.
For while the principal may be pursuing institutional order, his second in command, his Permanent Secretary, allegedly conducts a parallel theatre of influence that would embarrass even the most creative fiction writer. Never in the institutional memory of that ministry has there been, according to insiders, such a smooth operator who appears to delight in desecrating a lofty public office by simultaneously courting complainants and the accused, squeezing both sides under the noble sounding pretext of “rendering assistance.” Vulnerability, in this ecosystem, reportedly becomes currency. Distress becomes an opportunity. Properties change hands in murky arrangements allegedly justified as necessary sacrifices to “appease the boss,” an explanation that investigations increasingly suggest may be nothing more than a convenient cocktail of lies.
It reaches the height of absurdity when a public officer is allegedly pacified with several acres of land in a property whose ownership is itself contested, yet proxies are deployed and confidence maintained that the tracks are covered. Even more astonishing are claims circulating within official corridors that financial inducements running into millions of naira were collected to facilitate the issuance of yet another nolle prosequi in a matter where one had already been entered. Ironically, the supposed beneficiary at the helm reportedly refused to participate, thereby exposing the possibility that he may not even have authorised the earlier decision attributed to him. What began as a concealed transaction thus mutated into institutional embarrassment.
The plot thickens further. Emerging accounts suggest that a respected human rights campaigner, allegedly unaware of the deeper factual matrix, may have been the individual initially persuaded to intervene, pressing certain influence buttons that triggered consequences now proving difficult to defend. Those familiar with the structure of prosecutorial authority understand that discretionary powers, when exercised without exhaustive scrutiny, can create unintended openings. Opportunists, like hawks circling prey, are quick to exploit such openings for personal enrichment.
And then there are those who had counted their chickens before they hatched. These were the beneficiaries who, believing that the Permanent Secretary had the ear and blessing of his principal, happily collected huge sums of money and secured landed properties through proxies, convinced that subsequent nolles would follow like clockwork. Now, their mirth has curdled into fury, teeth gnashing, eyes narrowing, as the ultimate authority, perhaps through divine intervention, chooses to wash his hands of the entire charade and allow the law to take its ordinary, unflinching course.
Naturally, this sudden shift unsettles the Permanent Secretary’s alleged masterplan. Reportedly, he has scrambled to recast himself as a brilliant strategist, claiming credit for reducing charges from capital offences to mere misdemeanours. But the supposed beneficiaries are not so easily fooled. They insist their day in court was never part of the bargain. What they paid for was a nolle, and a nolle, like in the first instance, is exactly what they expect in return. As at the time of writing, the fiat sought by counsel to the complainant is said to be gathering dust in the office of the second in command, who appears unwilling to act on it because doing so would further expose the injustice. Our man, whose appointment confirmation only happened two or three weeks ago, now finds himself bewildered, restless, and reportedly losing sleep over the unraveling of his schemes.
Meanwhile, the embattled second in command, described by critics as a man who would collect blood money from the devil’s treasury if opportunity beckoned, is reportedly under pressure from multiple quarters. Alleged associates and unsavoury actors who believe promises were made are said to be demanding delivery, creating a climate of anxiety that now follows him like a shadow. Confirmation of his appointment may have produced celebration, but what keeps him awake now, observers say, is the approaching horizon of retirement. A future outside the protective walls of the office can be frightening for a man whose professional survival allegedly depends more on influence than competence. Hence the frantic accumulation, the indiscriminate appetite, the absence of decorum even in the act of taking gratification.
Within the ministry itself, resentment reportedly simmers. Junior officers, who once benefited from minor legitimate tokens of appreciation customary in legal practice, now complain privately that even those crumbs are intercepted. Yet fear seals lips. No one wants to be marked. No one wants to be transferred to administrative Siberia. So they wait, whispering prayers for the calendar to advance toward his exit.
The atmosphere of fear is perhaps best illustrated by the reaction of senior colleagues. When the respected Director of Public Prosecutions, Olubodun, was approached for comment, he reportedly declined, visibly uncomfortable. Among junior staff, merely mentioning the Permanent Secretary’s name allegedly triggers nervous silence, hurried phone disconnections, and the reflex caution one reserves for dangerous power.
And so Ondo finds itself confronting a familiar Nigerian paradox. A system may possess honorable leadership at the top, yet still be undermined by corrosive actors operating just beneath the surface. Empires do not always rise through official proclamation. Sometimes they emerge quietly, built on fear, favours, and the manipulation of institutional gaps.
But every emperor, history teaches, eventually meets the daylight.
And daylight, in this case, is coming.
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