This story will annoy you so much....
He gave a lengthy detailed narration about the entire traumatic encounter on his substack page, Adekunle says;
''Backstory: My mum and I swapped cars this week.
All of this happened last night.
It’s past midnight and I couldn’t sleep. I had received some news the day before, which has been on my mind. So I thought to take a drive out to clear my head—a hoodie, sweatpants, flip-flops, nothing serious. A few minutes with the open wind will help me feel better, or so I thought. It was past 1 a.m. by the time I approached the VGC roundabout to make a U-turn, and to my surprise, I saw a police checkpoint. Police drama wasn’t part of my drive plans, so I immediately turned my lights on and obliged them.
The officer who flagged me down asked me to park by the side of the road. I parked and offered to show him my license, but he refused; instead, he asked me to step down and open the booth for a search.
The car, my mum’s, was temporarily in my possession because it was being serviced. For that reason, the vehicle was quite clean and relatively empty (so nothing valuable gets missing). The police officer checked the booth, found nothing, then moved to the driver’s side, checked the doors, under the seat, and every nook and cranny. He repeated this process on all sides. NOTHING WAS FOUND.
Seemingly unsatisfied with not finding anything, he then asked me to empty my pockets. I was shocked, as I do not know how emptying my pockets became an issue. I thought all of this was funny. Was I a suspect in any way? At this point, fifteen minutes had gone by, and the attention of the other officers was being drawn. I asked if he was done searching and if I was free to go; he said yes.
Then, someone shouted from the back, “Does he have a driver’s license?”
The officer who searched finally remembered. I caught a glimpse of his face, and he looked visibly intoxicated. I handed over my driver’s license and the car’s documentation for proof of ownership. This was when he started to make a scene. He took the documents and walked off. I moved closer to them because I needed to know what was going on. He demanded to know if these were the only documents, and I said yes, wondering why I was being delayed for no reason. Eventually, a senior officer stepped in and asked why the name on the ownership document was different from the name on my license. I explained that it was my mum’s car and she was no longer married to my dad, hence the name change. He didn’t seem satisfied.
He then escalated the matter, declaring me a suspected thief and suggesting it was a case of a stolen vehicle because “what evidence did I have to back my story?”. I found this absurd, and I brought out all the other supporting documents in the car to prove its ownership and handed them over to the officer.
Again, appearing unsatisfied, he pointed out that some of the documents had expired. I explained that the updated documents were with my mum because (again) the car was currently being serviced. By this time, they had stopped other cars and let them go. It was almost 2 a.m., and the head I wanted to clear was getting filled up with anxiety again.
I began asking why I was still being held up and why they hadn’t handed over my documents. The senior officer started shouting and demanded that the car be seized and driven away. This is Nigeria; they didn’t identify themselves, anything could have happened. I wasn’t going to hand over the car keys.
This is when everything changed.
Before I could move an inch, two police officers grabbed me from the back, restrained me, and forcefully tried to take the car keys. Their intentions no longer looked like it was to serve justice, so I held them off, and the senior officer cocked his gun. I didn’t think any of it was serious at this point; I thought it was gra-gra and we could talk it out. Because there is no way in any world, a civilian will be able to stand against 4 police officers with weapons.
The next thing, I was being called a thief and a fraudster. My mannerisms were suspicious, and they had brought out planks to weaken me. An extra officer had joined them at this point, so it was me against 4 police officers with weapons, and now they had started to drag me into their minibus. Not a patrol vehicle, not a police car, but a minibus without plate numbers. The situation started to look too serious, so I eased off and got into the mini-bus myself. Big mistake! But then again, what other choice did I have?
Once I got into the minibus, the senior officer immediately asked them to bring out the handcuffs. I became hysterical. I’m not a criminal. I had done nothing wrong. I had never been handcuffed in my life, and I wasn’t about to be. One officer held my left hand and put the handcuff on it. I brought out my phone with my right hand, attempting to record the injustice I was facing, but then, they noticed my phone, and another officer grabbed my hand from the back of the minibus. While still trying to get my hands together, another officer grabs me by the throat and starts to strangle me, while the last one was trying to get the car key and my phone away from me. I pushed back while being held in the van, and still tried not to get cuffed. Unfortunately, two other men were already in the van, handcuffed, and they echoed that I shouldn’t resist and should stop being stubborn. Not having anyone on my side, I succumbed.
I was shouting in disbelief. Handcuffs were on my hands. I was at the back of a minibus and being treated like a criminal. I couldn’t believe it, and I think that angered them more. One of the officers said, “Will you be the first?” In that moment, I saw how little they valued human life, and that changed everything. I was restrained; they had my phone and the car key, no one knew where I was - now I was scared.
I was in a van with police officers who hadn’t identified themselves; they had taken my car; they were driving me off into the night at past 2 a.m., and I didn’t know where they were taking me to. I don’t know how the next person would interpret this, but this is kidnapping.
After driving outwards on the Lekki-Epe Expressway for about 30 minutes, the realization that this might be my last night on earth hit me. I looked out of the vehicle and only saw darkness. I couldn’t even see my car anymore. So, I was sure this was it. I smiled, resigned to faith, and said my last prayers. I started talking to the other men in the van, wondering why they were so chilled. They said they knew where we were going and nothing would happen to us. Now, I was convinced it was all a coordinated plan, and my life was definitely going to end.
After driving for almost an hour on a free road, we arrived at their station: Area J Command, Elemero, Ibeju-Lekki.
I had been transported against my will from VGC to Ibeju-Lekki in the dead of the night, and no one in my life knew my location, not offline or online. The people who are meant to serve and protect us had dehumanised me, seized my phones, and did not allow me to make any calls or communicate with anyone. I didn’t know where I was being taken to, and what fate awaited me. I could have been swapped for a prisoner, killed, and left in the bushes, I mean, anything could have happened, and this is really what has traumatised me the most.
We got to the station, and they separated all three of us. I was left alone for a while until they called me into the room. They started asking questions, wondering who I was, to be able to stand against police officers, and why I wasn’t afraid or worried. They asked me to undress because they believed I was a cultist, and this was why I was so confident. They wanted to see my tattoos to know where I belong. To their disappointment, there were none, a fact that further infuriated them. They had nothing to stick on me.
Then they asked me to open my phone, and the senior officer went through it, I guess looking for further incriminating materials. I don’t think he was too happy seeing mostly pictures of food, memes, and recent gym videos. He dropped my phone and again asked me to explain why the names on the documents were different. I explained that my parents weren’t together anymore, so they didn’t have the same name. He pressed further with his accusation of how the car could be stolen and asked me to put myself in their shoes. Their tone was calmer now as he stated they would only release me once they could conclude their investigation and prove the car belonged to my mum.
I then asked what happens after they conclude their investigation and find out the car is for my mum, and next time, I’m stopped with the same car and the same documents, what happens then? The officer said he’d only answer me after they conclude their investigation.
They walked me out. It’s about 3:30 am now, and they asked me to write a statement, and an officer basically directed everything I wrote. It is important to mention that the statement I drafted was written under duress and without the presence of a surety or legal counsel/representative.
When I finished, I was asked to sit somewhere else, and I was there until 5 a.m. A different officer then approached me and said I had two options: to call my mum in the morning to come and identify the car, or I “do something” for them - from the goodness of my heart.
By this time, I still hadn’t been given my phone. No one knew where I was. I asked if I could make a call. They hesitated, but when I said I wanted to make calls to raise money, they gave me my phone. But a police officer stood beside me the entire time, reading my texts and monitoring my calls. Too distraught to think straight, I asked the officer what they wanted. He said they didn’t want anything and had given me the options.
It dawns on me what was happening now, I’m a bit relieved now, but a heavy sadness washes over me all over again. I didn’t have to suffer the humiliation and abuse I went through. I didn’t have to go through the waves of emotion, be subjected to nudity, or have my time wasted. I didn’t have to go through emotional distress if all they needed was a bribe. We could have discussed it at the checkpoint, and all of this would have been averted.
The fact that police officers are visibly intoxicated and carrying arms while on duty is one of the most ridiculous things to exist in this country. Were they meant to be where they were? Was the checkpoint legal? Was their treatment of me right or lawful in any way? When you see police officers, you don’t feel safe. Instead, you feel instant fear. The police is your friend indeed.
It was almost 6 a.m. I guess they were discharging all the people they had illegally abducted. Someone came to meet me and asked how much I was willing to give them. I’m a man, I should speak up, so I can leave their station on time. I asked for my phone again to see what I can do. I open my bank app, and the officer stood over my head, not giving me privacy, and saw it all. They asked me to go to a POS just outside the police station and make a withdrawal.
Only after this was done was I given the car documents, my phone, and then some “advice.” The next time, police officers stop me at a checkpoint. I’m in my mum’s car, an officer of the Federal Republic of Nigeria advised that, “before the officers get to me, I should shout that the car belongs to my mum and I should get her on the phone right away, even before I present any document”.
Then I asked: “Why wasn’t I given this option earlier?”
I didn’t think Nigeria would happen to me this soon, nor did I imagine it would be this way. What if I lost my cool, and they ended my life? No one would know, and the truth of what happened will never see the light of day. This is an experience I haven’t properly processed, but I know for a fact that something has changed in me.
It was past 8 a.m., and I was already in the Abraham Adesanya morning rush traffic when I said to myself, “I’m fine,” and that’s when tears started rolling down my cheeks.''
He gave a lengthy detailed narration about the entire traumatic encounter on his substack page, Adekunle says;
''Backstory: My mum and I swapped cars this week.
All of this happened last night.
It’s past midnight and I couldn’t sleep. I had received some news the day before, which has been on my mind. So I thought to take a drive out to clear my head—a hoodie, sweatpants, flip-flops, nothing serious. A few minutes with the open wind will help me feel better, or so I thought. It was past 1 a.m. by the time I approached the VGC roundabout to make a U-turn, and to my surprise, I saw a police checkpoint. Police drama wasn’t part of my drive plans, so I immediately turned my lights on and obliged them.
The officer who flagged me down asked me to park by the side of the road. I parked and offered to show him my license, but he refused; instead, he asked me to step down and open the booth for a search.
The car, my mum’s, was temporarily in my possession because it was being serviced. For that reason, the vehicle was quite clean and relatively empty (so nothing valuable gets missing). The police officer checked the booth, found nothing, then moved to the driver’s side, checked the doors, under the seat, and every nook and cranny. He repeated this process on all sides. NOTHING WAS FOUND.
Seemingly unsatisfied with not finding anything, he then asked me to empty my pockets. I was shocked, as I do not know how emptying my pockets became an issue. I thought all of this was funny. Was I a suspect in any way? At this point, fifteen minutes had gone by, and the attention of the other officers was being drawn. I asked if he was done searching and if I was free to go; he said yes.
Then, someone shouted from the back, “Does he have a driver’s license?”
The officer who searched finally remembered. I caught a glimpse of his face, and he looked visibly intoxicated. I handed over my driver’s license and the car’s documentation for proof of ownership. This was when he started to make a scene. He took the documents and walked off. I moved closer to them because I needed to know what was going on. He demanded to know if these were the only documents, and I said yes, wondering why I was being delayed for no reason. Eventually, a senior officer stepped in and asked why the name on the ownership document was different from the name on my license. I explained that it was my mum’s car and she was no longer married to my dad, hence the name change. He didn’t seem satisfied.
He then escalated the matter, declaring me a suspected thief and suggesting it was a case of a stolen vehicle because “what evidence did I have to back my story?”. I found this absurd, and I brought out all the other supporting documents in the car to prove its ownership and handed them over to the officer.
Again, appearing unsatisfied, he pointed out that some of the documents had expired. I explained that the updated documents were with my mum because (again) the car was currently being serviced. By this time, they had stopped other cars and let them go. It was almost 2 a.m., and the head I wanted to clear was getting filled up with anxiety again.
I began asking why I was still being held up and why they hadn’t handed over my documents. The senior officer started shouting and demanded that the car be seized and driven away. This is Nigeria; they didn’t identify themselves, anything could have happened. I wasn’t going to hand over the car keys.
This is when everything changed.
Before I could move an inch, two police officers grabbed me from the back, restrained me, and forcefully tried to take the car keys. Their intentions no longer looked like it was to serve justice, so I held them off, and the senior officer cocked his gun. I didn’t think any of it was serious at this point; I thought it was gra-gra and we could talk it out. Because there is no way in any world, a civilian will be able to stand against 4 police officers with weapons.
The next thing, I was being called a thief and a fraudster. My mannerisms were suspicious, and they had brought out planks to weaken me. An extra officer had joined them at this point, so it was me against 4 police officers with weapons, and now they had started to drag me into their minibus. Not a patrol vehicle, not a police car, but a minibus without plate numbers. The situation started to look too serious, so I eased off and got into the mini-bus myself. Big mistake! But then again, what other choice did I have?
Once I got into the minibus, the senior officer immediately asked them to bring out the handcuffs. I became hysterical. I’m not a criminal. I had done nothing wrong. I had never been handcuffed in my life, and I wasn’t about to be. One officer held my left hand and put the handcuff on it. I brought out my phone with my right hand, attempting to record the injustice I was facing, but then, they noticed my phone, and another officer grabbed my hand from the back of the minibus. While still trying to get my hands together, another officer grabs me by the throat and starts to strangle me, while the last one was trying to get the car key and my phone away from me. I pushed back while being held in the van, and still tried not to get cuffed. Unfortunately, two other men were already in the van, handcuffed, and they echoed that I shouldn’t resist and should stop being stubborn. Not having anyone on my side, I succumbed.
I was shouting in disbelief. Handcuffs were on my hands. I was at the back of a minibus and being treated like a criminal. I couldn’t believe it, and I think that angered them more. One of the officers said, “Will you be the first?” In that moment, I saw how little they valued human life, and that changed everything. I was restrained; they had my phone and the car key, no one knew where I was - now I was scared.
I was in a van with police officers who hadn’t identified themselves; they had taken my car; they were driving me off into the night at past 2 a.m., and I didn’t know where they were taking me to. I don’t know how the next person would interpret this, but this is kidnapping.
After driving outwards on the Lekki-Epe Expressway for about 30 minutes, the realization that this might be my last night on earth hit me. I looked out of the vehicle and only saw darkness. I couldn’t even see my car anymore. So, I was sure this was it. I smiled, resigned to faith, and said my last prayers. I started talking to the other men in the van, wondering why they were so chilled. They said they knew where we were going and nothing would happen to us. Now, I was convinced it was all a coordinated plan, and my life was definitely going to end.
After driving for almost an hour on a free road, we arrived at their station: Area J Command, Elemero, Ibeju-Lekki.
I had been transported against my will from VGC to Ibeju-Lekki in the dead of the night, and no one in my life knew my location, not offline or online. The people who are meant to serve and protect us had dehumanised me, seized my phones, and did not allow me to make any calls or communicate with anyone. I didn’t know where I was being taken to, and what fate awaited me. I could have been swapped for a prisoner, killed, and left in the bushes, I mean, anything could have happened, and this is really what has traumatised me the most.
We got to the station, and they separated all three of us. I was left alone for a while until they called me into the room. They started asking questions, wondering who I was, to be able to stand against police officers, and why I wasn’t afraid or worried. They asked me to undress because they believed I was a cultist, and this was why I was so confident. They wanted to see my tattoos to know where I belong. To their disappointment, there were none, a fact that further infuriated them. They had nothing to stick on me.
Then they asked me to open my phone, and the senior officer went through it, I guess looking for further incriminating materials. I don’t think he was too happy seeing mostly pictures of food, memes, and recent gym videos. He dropped my phone and again asked me to explain why the names on the documents were different. I explained that my parents weren’t together anymore, so they didn’t have the same name. He pressed further with his accusation of how the car could be stolen and asked me to put myself in their shoes. Their tone was calmer now as he stated they would only release me once they could conclude their investigation and prove the car belonged to my mum.
I then asked what happens after they conclude their investigation and find out the car is for my mum, and next time, I’m stopped with the same car and the same documents, what happens then? The officer said he’d only answer me after they conclude their investigation.
They walked me out. It’s about 3:30 am now, and they asked me to write a statement, and an officer basically directed everything I wrote. It is important to mention that the statement I drafted was written under duress and without the presence of a surety or legal counsel/representative.
When I finished, I was asked to sit somewhere else, and I was there until 5 a.m. A different officer then approached me and said I had two options: to call my mum in the morning to come and identify the car, or I “do something” for them - from the goodness of my heart.
By this time, I still hadn’t been given my phone. No one knew where I was. I asked if I could make a call. They hesitated, but when I said I wanted to make calls to raise money, they gave me my phone. But a police officer stood beside me the entire time, reading my texts and monitoring my calls. Too distraught to think straight, I asked the officer what they wanted. He said they didn’t want anything and had given me the options.
It dawns on me what was happening now, I’m a bit relieved now, but a heavy sadness washes over me all over again. I didn’t have to suffer the humiliation and abuse I went through. I didn’t have to go through the waves of emotion, be subjected to nudity, or have my time wasted. I didn’t have to go through emotional distress if all they needed was a bribe. We could have discussed it at the checkpoint, and all of this would have been averted.
The fact that police officers are visibly intoxicated and carrying arms while on duty is one of the most ridiculous things to exist in this country. Were they meant to be where they were? Was the checkpoint legal? Was their treatment of me right or lawful in any way? When you see police officers, you don’t feel safe. Instead, you feel instant fear. The police is your friend indeed.
It was almost 6 a.m. I guess they were discharging all the people they had illegally abducted. Someone came to meet me and asked how much I was willing to give them. I’m a man, I should speak up, so I can leave their station on time. I asked for my phone again to see what I can do. I open my bank app, and the officer stood over my head, not giving me privacy, and saw it all. They asked me to go to a POS just outside the police station and make a withdrawal.
Only after this was done was I given the car documents, my phone, and then some “advice.” The next time, police officers stop me at a checkpoint. I’m in my mum’s car, an officer of the Federal Republic of Nigeria advised that, “before the officers get to me, I should shout that the car belongs to my mum and I should get her on the phone right away, even before I present any document”.
Then I asked: “Why wasn’t I given this option earlier?”
I didn’t think Nigeria would happen to me this soon, nor did I imagine it would be this way. What if I lost my cool, and they ended my life? No one would know, and the truth of what happened will never see the light of day. This is an experience I haven’t properly processed, but I know for a fact that something has changed in me.
It was past 8 a.m., and I was already in the Abraham Adesanya morning rush traffic when I said to myself, “I’m fine,” and that’s when tears started rolling down my cheeks.''
This is Nigeria
ReplyDeleteI am emotional right now
Oh God!! Haa this is a very sad story....All successive government have refused to do anything about the Nigerian Police with their brazen disregard for the rule of law....
ReplyDeleteSo sorry Adekunle about your experience....SARS is still abound
I'm not a fan of trump, but i love the way he has rattled people in govt. Very lawless country.
ReplyDeletePolice is my friend oh, matter of fact, we are bff.
Aah God! If they had used their weapon on him and unfortunately he passed, nobody would have known it a so called NPF that ended it. I'm imagining the headlines, some will say he was drunk, ooh! He was coming from the club and you know this guys are always doing drugs. So many speculations would spread not knowing that it is the people that are suppose to protect us that actually k!lled him. Thank God for your life Ade.
ReplyDeleteVery scary. Thank God for your life
ReplyDeleteVery sad experience
ReplyDeleteI have sat to comprehend this and I just can't!
Why did he end up giving them money after the humiliation? You should have call your mum and refuse being bully into submission. It prove you are not that really smart after all.
ReplyDeleteThat’s a long read and I’m not here for it. I hope you find healing and truest again.
ReplyDeleteMay Nigeria police and politicians not happen to us.
ReplyDeleteOh Dear
ReplyDeletePele Ade
Hello iya Boys