The Unseen Justice: The Uromi Killings and Nigeria’s Security Crisis

posted 30th March 2025

The Unseen Justice: The Uromi Killings and Nigeria’s Security Crisis
No one deserves to be killed extrajudicially. This principle ought to stand as a cornerstone of any civilised society, yet in Nigeria, it appears to be a hollow sentiment, drowned out by the chaos of violence, impunity, and selective outrage. From the amnesty granted to Boko Haram terrorists to the unchecked killings by Fulani herdsmen across the country, Nigeria is grappling with a crisis of justice that has left its citizens questioning the very fabric of governance. The recent uproar over vigilante killings of suspected terrorists in Uromi, Edo State, juxtaposed against the silence over massacres elsewhere, exposes a troubling double standard and a deeper systemic failure.
Amnesty for Terrorists: A Question of Logic
In Nigeria, the notion of "repentant terrorists" has become disturbingly normalised. The government has extended amnesty to members of Boko Haram, a group responsible for countless atrocities, including the deaths of civilians and soldiers alike. Yet, this policy has elicited little condemnation. The same voices now decrying the extrajudicial killings of suspected Fulani terrorists in Uromi have remained conspicuously silent when captured terrorists are reabsorbed into society under the guise of repentance. Why is this acceptable? What evidence exists to prove their transformation? Without transparent accountability, the label of "repentant" rings hollow—a convenient excuse to avoid the harder task of justice.
The hypocrisy is stark when viewed against the backdrop of the Uromi killings. For three years, residents of this Edo State community have endured attacks attributed to so-called "hunters." More than 30 people have been killed in the past year alone, yet the perpetrators remain at large. When vigilantes took matters into their own hands, killing suspected terrorists caught with arms, outrage erupted. But where was this outrage when the killers struck repeatedly, unchallenged by the state? The selective indignation raises uncomfortable questions about whose lives are deemed worthy of protection.
Hunters or Terrorists: A Masquerade of Intent
The narrative of "hunters" traversing Nigeria—from Kano in the north to Edo in the south—strains credulity. What kind of hunters travel such distances, armed to the teeth, crossing ecological and cultural divides? Are they hunting animals, as claimed, or human beings for ransom in dollars and naira? The idea that these are legitimate hunters appears increasingly like a flimsy cover for something far more sinister. Residents of Uromi and beyond assert that these are terrorists—likely Fulani herdsmen—responsible for a wave of killings and land grabs. Yet, where is the evidence to support the "hunter" label? More crucially, who licensed their arms? In a country where firearm regulations are strict, the presence of heavily armed "hunters" suggests either gross negligence or complicity at higher levels.
The Forestry Act, intended to regulate activities in Nigeria’s forests, is being flouted with impunity. These armed groups violate environmental and security laws, yet enforcement is absent. This laxity has fuelled a cycle of violence, with communities like Eha-Amufu, Benue, and Plateau bearing the brunt. In Eha-Amufu, indigenes have been slaughtered, their killers vanishing into the ether. In Benue and Enugu, internally displaced persons (IDP) camps have sprung up, a testament to the displacement caused by Fulani terrorists. Meanwhile, in Plateau State, as Uromi mourned its dead, herdsmen struck again in Bokkos, killing more innocents. As Serah Ibrahim poignantly asked in a media post, “Where is the outrage?”
Jungle Justice: A Symptom of a Broken System
The rise of jungle justice in Nigeria is not an aberration but a symptom of a justice system in tatters. When vigilantes in Uromi killed suspected terrorists, they did so because faith in the police and security forces has eroded. Too often, these institutions are perceived as aligning with the perpetrators rather than the victims. Caught between relentless attacks and an impotent state, communities feel compelled to act. This is not to condone extrajudicial killings—violence begets violence—but to highlight the desperation born of abandonment.
Contrast this with the government’s response to other incidents. When Fulani terrorists massacred people in Eha-Amufu, Ondo, and Oyo, President Bola Tinubu remained silent. No tweets, no condolences. Yet, when vigilantes killed suspected terrorists in Uromi, he found his voice. This selective engagement is telling. Tinubu’s past remarks—mocking victims by asking “where are the cows?” after the killing of Mr. Fasoranti’s daughter—suggest a troubling ambivalence toward the suffering caused by Fulani herdsmen. His creation of a Ministry of Livestock, widely seen as a concession to these groups, only deepens the suspicion of bias.
A Nation on the Brink
Nigeria’s security crisis has international ramifications. The United States is reportedly considering placing Nigeria on its list of Nations of Concern due to the government’s failure to curb the killing of Christians by Fulani terrorists. Across Oyo, Ondo, and other states, women are protesting as their lands are seized, their farms lost forever. In Benue, IDP camps swell with the displaced. And just days ago, Boko Haram executed three Nigerian soldiers at close range—an act met with silence from Tinubu. The pattern is clear: when the victims are ordinary Nigerians, the government’s response is muted; when the narrative shifts to the deaths of suspected terrorists, the condemnation is swift.
This inconsistency fuels distrust. If the state cannot protect its citizens or hold perpetrators accountable, who will? The question of “who shall bell the cat?” looms large. Without decisive action—rooting out corruption, strengthening security forces, and ending the amnesty farce—the cycle of violence will persist.
A Path Forward
Resolving Nigeria’s crisis demands a multifaceted approach. First, the government must abandon its policy of leniency toward terrorists. Amnesty without rigorous vetting and punishment for crimes is a betrayal of victims. Second, security forces need reform—better training, accountability, and a commitment to neutrality. Third, the judiciary must be empowered to deliver swift, impartial justice, restoring public confidence. Finally, the international community should apply pressure, leveraging sanctions and aid to compel Nigeria to act.
The killings in Uromi, Plateau, and beyond are not isolated incidents but threads in a tapestry of lawlessness. No one deserves to die extrajudicially—neither the victims of terrorism nor the suspects killed by vigilantes. Yet, until Nigeria confronts its justice deficit head-on, the blood will continue to flow, and the outrage will remain selective. The question is not just who will bell the cat, but whether anyone dares to try.