On 17 April 2024, the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission declared that Yahaya Bello, a former Kogi State Governor, was wanted over allegations of money laundering to the tune ₦80.2 billion fraud. He appeared in court with a full legal team and the next day he addressed the press, surrounded by lawyers. Legal proceedings in the case have involved multiple applications and arguments on jurisdiction. As of August 2025, the matter remained at pre-trial stage at the Federal High Court in Abuja. The former governor has not been remanded and has continued to make public appearances.
On 9 February 2024, in Osogbo, Osun State, a 29-year-old welder named Tunde Ojo was arrested. His alleged offence was stealing 3 tubers of yam worth ₦15,000 during protests over food prices. He was arraigned at the Osogbo Chief Magistrate Court 1. The court granted him bail of ₦100,000. Having no lawyer and unable to meet the bail conditions, Ojo spent the next three months at the Ilesa Correctional Centre, sleeping on the prison floor, while his case suffered repeated adjournments.
₦80.2 billion, freedom. ₦15,000, prison. Same country. Same constitution. Two very different experiences of justice. Which raises the question: Is everyone really equal before the law in Nigeria?
One country, two systems
In practice, Nigeria operates two tracks of criminal justice.
For the rich and powerful: Bail is not a barrier. Sums of ₦500 million can be paid within hours. Defendants appear with teams of Senior Advocates. Cases are contested through motions, appeals, and jurisdictional challenges. Trials can stretch for years, and during that period the accused remains free, often able to travel and speak publicly.
For the poor: Bail becomes a sentence. ₦50,000 or ₦100,000 is often impossible to raise. Most defendants have no legal representation. So they wait. As of December 2024, the Nigerian Correctional Service reported that 70.3% of inmates nationwide were awaiting trial. Many are held for petty offences: theft of food, public fighting, or loitering.
For the wealthy, delay is a legal strategy. For the poor, delay is the punishment.
Why this matters
This is not only a legal issue. It is a question of trust, security, and social justice.
Erosion of public trust. When citizens see unequal treatment, faith in the law collapses. That vacuum fuels jungle justice and self-help.
Prison overcrowding. The Nigerian Correctional Service reported over 53,000 inmates in late 2024, with the majority awaiting trial. Most are poor and charged with minor offences. The cost to the state is high, and the human cost is higher.
The cost of “free” bail. Section 158 of the Administration of Criminal Justice Act 2015 states that bail is free. Yet the CLEEN Foundation’s 2023 Police Perception Survey found that 62% of respondents said they had paid money to secure bail.
The problem is compounded during crises. After floods on 1 October 2022 displaced thousands, reports emerged of people in IDP camps arrested for survival theft. Legal aid rarely reached those camps. Hunger pushed people into crime, and poverty kept them in custody.
Both the 1999 Constitution of Nigeria, Section 36, and Articles 3 and 7 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights guarantee equality before the law and the right to a fair hearing. If access to a lawyer depends on income, those rights exist only on paper.
Three practical steps towards equal justice
Speedy trial for petty offences. Cases involving amounts under ₦100,000 should be concluded within 90 days. Where this is not possible, defendants should be released on liberal bail terms. Government-funded legal aid lawyers should be posted to every magistrate court.
Bail reform. For minor theft offences, bail should be capped at no more than 10% of the alleged value. Courts should publish bail schedules online to reduce opportunities for extortion by police and court officials.
Expand community legal aid. South Africa’s Legal Aid system assisted over 1.1 million people in the 2023/2024 financial year by placing lawyers in communities. Nigeria can replicate this model in LGAs and IDP camps to ensure that poverty does not equal conviction.
Conclusion
Until welders and former governors receive the same speed of trial, the same bail terms, and the same dignity in court, the promise of equality before the law remains unfulfilled. Justice that must be bought is not justice. It is commerce. And in that commerce, the poor pay with their liberty. If Nigeria wants peace and security, it must build one justice system for all citizens. Not two.
By Ijeoma Adeniyi