Rule of law vs. rhetoric: Rebutting the “March of Folly” critique, by Bukola Oyeniyi

Introduction

I would like to thank Mr. Christopher Chidera for his detailed response to my essay. Engaging in open discourse about Mr. Nnamdi Kanu’s case is essential, and I appreciate the opportunity to clarify my position. That said, I was taken aback by the barrage of personal insults and name-calling in his critique – especially coming from a legal practitioner. Terms like “government-funded crawler” and insinuations that I “eat from the crumbs of tyranny” do little to advance a reasoned debate. Such ad hominem attacks are disappointing and detract from the serious legal issues at hand.

Nonetheless, I will refrain from responding in kind. Instead, I will address each substantive point raised, using facts and the law to shed light on why calls for Kanu’s unconditional release were improper under the law, why his continued detention is lawful (given his history and pending charges), and why Mr. Omoyele Sowore’s march, no matter how well-intentioned many might see it, was misdirected in this context. This rebuttal will focus on the legal realities of Nnamdi Kanu’s case, correcting the misinterpretations of law in Mr. Chidera’s critique, and importantly educating readers – including Mr. Chidera – on the relevant charges and court decisions.

Personal Attacks vs. Legal Arguments

Mr. Chidera’s critique begins by questioning how anyone “with a brain cell” could oppose the release of Nnamdi Kanu, especially since “a Court of Appeal” supposedly discharged and acquitted him on October 13, 2022. It’s implied that only those “sponsored” by the government or lacking legal education would support Kanu’s continued detention. This rhetoric, however, ignores the complex legal process that unfolded after that appellate decision. Yes, the Court of Appeal quashed the charges against Kanu and ordered his release on October 13, 2022, primarily on the ground that his extraordinary rendition from Kenya was unlawful (AllAfrica/Leadership, 2025). However, that was not the end of the road. The Federal Government promptly exercised its legal right to appeal to the Supreme Court, and on October 28, 2022, the Court of Appeal itself granted a stay of execution on its judgment pending the Supreme Court’s review (The Cable, 2023).

In other words, the appellate ruling was put on hold by lawful judicial order just two weeks after it was issued. This crucial fact is glossed over in Mr. Chidera’s critique. There was no “final” victory for Kanu’s camp on October 13 – the matter was sub judice (under judicial consideration) until the Supreme Court could weigh in.

It is therefore misleading to claim that only an ignoramus would “stand against the release of a man” who has been freed by an appellate court. Any lawyer should know that, in our legal system (as in many others), an appellate judgment can be appealed further, and its enforcement can be stayed by the court. Section 36(9) of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended) – our double jeopardy clause – explicitly provides an exception to finality of acquittals “…save upon the order of a superior court” (Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999, as amended). In plain terms, while no person can be tried twice for the same offense, a higher court can set aside an acquittal or discharge if seized of the case on appeal.

That is exactly what happened with Kanu. The Court of Appeal’s pronouncement was subject to Supreme Court review, so it did not attain untouchable finality. To ignore this process by anyone is to ignore how the rule of law functions. Far from representing “tyranny” or carte blanche impunity, the Federal Government’s decision to challenge the appellate ruling was itself an exercise of legal rights in a constitutional democracy. Our courts exist to resolve such disputes, and it is not propaganda to let them do so.

I also note that Mr. Chidera was quick to accuse me (and Western Post, which published my piece) of “spreading ignorance” and acting as a mouthpiece for state injustice, even comparing my arguments to the level of a first-year law student’s embarrassment. Again, rather than trade barbs, I will let the actual law speak to these issues. The irony here is that name-calling does not bolster one’s legal position – if anything, it signals a resort to emotion over evidence. So, let’s move past the invective and scrutinize the key legal contentions:

(1) the status of the Court of Appeal judgment and whether Kanu can be retried, (2) the legality of Kanu’s continued detention despite that judgment, (3) the relevance of international law (including the manner of Kanu’s arrest, i.e., the Kenya rendition) to the jurisdiction of Nigerian courts, (4) the justification for calls to release Kanu unconditionally, and (5) the role of media and activists vis-à-vis the rule of law.

Finality of the appellate decision and double jeopardy

The heart of Mr. Chidera’s argument is that the Court of Appeal’s October 13, 2022, judgment “terminated the entire proceedings” against Nnamdi Kanu, such that no further trial or detention is lawful. He cites Section 36(9) of the Constitution, Nigeria’s double jeopardy provision, claiming that once an appellate court discharged Kanu “on a substantive criminal ground, double jeopardy protection is activated,” barring any future trial. He even suggests that “not even the Supreme Court” could revive the case. This is a bold claim – and one that the Supreme Court of Nigeria has expressly rejected.
To be clear, Section 36(9) states: “No person who shows that he has been tried by any court of competent jurisdiction or tribunal and either convicted or acquitted shall again be tried for that offence save upon the order of a superior court.” The italicized proviso is critical (Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999, as amended). In our judicial hierarchy, a “superior court” includes appellate courts above the trial court. The intent is to prevent repeated prosecutions after a final acquittal, except where a higher court orders a retrial or continuation of proceedings as part of the appeals process. In other words, double jeopardy does not mean that a case cannot be appealed; it means the prosecution cannot start afresh after a final judgment has been settled at the highest level. In Kanu’s situation, the appellate discharge in 2022 was not the final stop – it was reviewed by the apex court, which is firmly within the “superior courts” contemplated by the Constitution.

Indeed, on December 15, 2023, the Supreme Court delivered its judgment in Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, unequivocally overturning the Court of Appeal’s verdict and ordering that Kanu’s trial on the charges should continue (The Cable, 2023). The five-member panel of the Supreme Court acknowledged that the Federal Government acted “irresponsibly” in the way it brought Kanu back from Kenya but nonetheless held that “there is no legislation that prevents the trial court from continuing with the case” against him (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024). This is now the law of the land – binding, final, and authoritative. Any argument that the earlier discharge is untouchable “finality” is simply moot. The Supreme Court’s ruling effectively nullified the discharge and restored the status quo of the trial. It bears emphasizing that the Supreme Court considered all the issues, including the jurisdictional question, and still concluded that the trial must proceed in the interest of justice.

Mr. Chidera cites a principle from criminal jurisprudence that “finality attaches to discharge, not to the opinion of a superior panel.” With respect, that is a misinterpretation. Finality in criminal proceedings attaches when all appeals are either exhausted or waived. An appellate panel’s opinion is subject to review until the highest court delivers a conclusive decision. Mr. Chidera’s reliance on finality at the Court of Appeal level ignores the hierarchical nature of our court system. Furthermore, he invokes the concept of double jeopardy as if Kanu had already been finally acquitted and then newly charged. But what happened here was a continuous process – the same case moving up on appeal, not a second prosecution after a final acquittal. No new charges were filed after October 2022; it was the same indictment being disputed all along. Thus, there is no violation of double jeopardy at all. The same case Kanu was facing in 2015–2017, and again since 2021, is the one proceeding now under judicial supervision. The exception in Section 36(9) clearly applies, as a higher court’s order (the Supreme Court’s) has allowed the trial to resume.

It is worth noting that Kanu’s own legal team has challenged the Supreme Court’s interpretation of Section 36(9), arguing that the phrase “superior court” should not mean just a higher court in the hierarchy. They pointed to the Supreme Court’s decision in Dikko v. State (2016) where the Court held that once a trial is nullified, the accused stands discharged and cannot be retried (Dikko v. State, 2016). However, the Supreme Court in Kanu’s case distinguished or departed from Dikko, finding that the unique circumstances – including the national security implications – warranted continuation of the trial (Leadership Newspaper, 2025). Whether one agrees or not, the Supreme Court’s 2023 Kanu judgment is per curiam (by the court) and stands as the governing law. Mr. Chidera characterizes the Supreme Court’s stance as “self-contradictory” or per incuriam, but such language does not change the fact that it is the final decision. Under our legal system, the Supreme Court’s rulings are binding, and lower courts (like Justice Binta Nyako’s Federal High Court or Justice Omotosho’s court now handling Kanu’s case) are obliged to follow it. In fact, Justice J.K. Omotosho of the Federal High Court, Abuja, on 26 September 2025 dismissed Kanu’s “no-case” submission and held that Kanu “does have a case to answer” – thereby affirming that the trial must proceed on its merits (The Whistler, 2025). This judicial order directly refutes the notion that Kanu “has no case to answer” or that the matter cannot be reopened; it has already been reopened, lawfully, by the highest court in Nigeria and is ongoing.

Lawful detention vs. unlawful detention

Mr. Chidera’s critique asserts that detaining Kanu after the Court of Appeal discharge is per se illegal – painting it as “executive disobedience” and “state impunity.” Here again, context is crucial. When the Court of Appeal issued its judgment on October 13, 2022, Kanu technically had a court order in his favor. However, once the stay of execution was granted on October 28, 2022, the government was under no legal obligation to release him until the Supreme Court decided the appeal (The Cable, 2023). A stay of execution in criminal proceedings is admittedly unusual (since ordinarily an acquitted person walks free), but the Department of State Services (DSS) obtained that stay from the court, not by fiat. There was an eight-day window (October 13–21, 2022) before the stay when Kanu’s team argued he should have been released (Daily Post, 2025). However, the authorities acted swiftly to secure legal cover, and after October 28, keeping him in custody was pursuant to a judicial order, not in defiance of one. Thus, calling his detention “unlawful” ignores that a competent court authorized it during the appellate process.

Even beyond the appellate stay, after the Supreme Court ruling in 2023, Kanu’s detention continues to be on a firm legal footing. With the trial reinstated, he is essentially a defendant in ongoing criminal proceedings. Under Section 35(1)(c) of the Nigerian Constitution, it is lawful to deprive a person of liberty “for the purpose of bringing him before a court… upon reasonable suspicion of his having committed a criminal offence” (Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria, 1999, as amended). Kanu was initially arrested and detained in 2015 on reasonable suspicion of serious offenses, and again in 2021 on renewed charges. The same section adds that detention is allowed as may be reasonably necessary to prevent a suspect from committing further offenses (Action4Justice, n.d.). Considering Kanu’s history – particularly the fact that he jumped bail in 2017 and fled the country, remaining a fugitive for years (Leadership Newspaper, 2025) – the authorities have a compelling argument that detaining him now is necessary to prevent him from absconding again. Kanu’s previous release on bail (granted by Justice Binta Nyako in April 2017) was met with his disappearance after a military raid on his residence in September 2017; he failed to appear in court, his bail was revoked, and he was declared wanted by 2019 (Leadership Newspaper, 2025).

This established track record of evasion justifies a very cautious approach to any future release.

No court in Nigeria, to my knowledge, has been willing to grant him bail again since his re-arrest in 2021, precisely because he is a proven flight risk. In such circumstances, continued remand in DSS custody is legally justified to ensure he remains available for trial. It is not “unconditional and arbitrary detention” but rather detention in accordance with law, as permitted by our Constitution and criminal procedure statutes.

To put it plainly, Nnamdi Kanu is not being held without charge or trial – he is being held because of pending charges and an ongoing trial. There is a fundamental difference between detaining someone arbitrarily and detaining someone who is facing serious indictments in court. International human rights law, including the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, recognizes this distinction. Article 6 of the African Charter prohibits arbitrary detention but explicitly allows deprivation of freedom “for reasons and conditions previously laid down by law” (African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, 2004). Kanu’s detention falls under the reasons laid down by Nigerian law: he has been charged with grave offenses and remanded by a court of competent jurisdiction. As long as his trial is underway, and he is produced in court and afforded due process, his custody cannot be deemed arbitrary or illegal.

It might be helpful here to recall what charges Nnamdi Kanu is actually facing, as this context often gets lost in emotional narratives. Upon his re-arrest and return to Nigeria in June 2021, the Attorney-General charged Kanu with a series of offenses, including treasonable felony, terrorism-related charges, illegal possession of firearms, and management of an unlawful society. According to the official account from the Ministry of Justice, “He faces charges that include acts of terrorism, treasonable felony, possession of firearms and managing an unlawful society” (VOA News, 2021). The government has accused Kanu of instigating or encouraging violent attacks, alleging that his broadcasts and commands to followers led to “the loss of lives and property of civilians, military, paramilitary, [and] police” in the Southeast (VOA News, 2021).

Mr. Chidera argues that Kanu has been “discharged and acquitted” and has “no case to answer.” But given the Supreme Court’s decision, it is clear he does have a case to answer in the eyes of the law (The Whistler, 2025). In fact, after the prosecution presented its evidence through 2022–2023, Kanu’s lawyers filed a no-case submission (arguing the evidence was insufficient). Justice Omotosho’s court in September 2025 dismissed that submission, meaning the judge found that the prosecution had made at least a prima facie case that Kanu should respond to (The Whistler, 2025). This indicates that there is evidence on record that needs to be evaluated at trial. If Kanu truly has no blameworthy conduct, a fair trial is his chance to be exonerated.

Extraordinary rendition and jurisdiction

A major theme in Mr. Chidera’s critique is the manner of Kanu’s arrest – described as a “kidnap… from Kenya in violation of international law.” He implies that this illegality (often termed extraordinary rendition) robs the Nigerian courts of the right to try Kanu and that it’s hypocritical to hold him while “imported Fulani Sahelian terrorists roam free.” Let’s unpack the legal aspect first: Does an unlawful abduction from a foreign country strip our courts of jurisdiction over the person? The Court of Appeal answered yes in 2022, which is why they discharged Kanu (The Cable, 2023). However, the Supreme Court disagreed in 2023, effectively adopting the doctrine of male captus, bene detentus (“bad capture, but properly detained”). The Supreme Court held that while the government’s actions were improper, Nigeria presently has no domestic law that automatically voids a trial due to an unlawful rendition; therefore, the trial could continue (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024; Leadership Newspaper, 2025). In other words, the illegality of the arrest is a separate issue that can be addressed through diplomatic or human rights channels, but it does not confer immunity on the accused from answering to charges once he is physically before the court.

This principle is not novel; it aligns with precedent in other jurisdictions, especially the United States. In Ker v. Illinois (1886), the U.S. Supreme Court confronted a nearly identical scenario and ruled that irregularities in how a defendant is brought before the court do not entitle him to escape prosecution (Ker v. Illinois, 1886). The Court acknowledged potential breaches of international law but stated the remedy is diplomatic, not a free pass for the defendant. This Ker doctrine was reaffirmed in United States v. Alvarez-Machain (1992), which likewise held that an unlawful apprehension does not divest a domestic court of jurisdiction (United States v. Alvarez-Machain, 1992).

Comparative jurisprudence reflects similar reasoning. For example, discussions of Re Argoud (France, 1965) have been cited to illustrate that a domestic court may proceed despite an illegal capture, focusing instead on whether the court itself has lawful authority and can ensure a fair trial (see Leadership Newspaper, 2025). The underlying rationale is consistent: courts should not condone illegal conduct by state agents, but neither should they allow an accused to avoid trial solely because of the manner of his return.

The United Kingdom traditionally resisted the doctrine. In Bennett v. Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court (1993), the House of Lords indicated that courts could stay a prosecution if the defendant was abducted in violation of extradition laws (Bennett v. Horseferry Road Magistrates’ Court, 1993). Yet the UK’s approach has become more nuanced. In R v. Mohammed (2006), involving a suspect unlawfully transferred from India, the Court of Appeal, while criticizing the methods used, still allowed the trial to proceed, holding that the court’s jurisdiction was not automatically ousted by defects in the extradition process (R v. Mohammed, 2006).

In Kanu’s case, the debate over “extraordinary rendition” is significant from a human-rights perspective, but from a strictly jurisdictional standpoint within Nigeria, the Supreme Court has spoken: Kanu’s trial stands (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024; The Cable, 2023). Moreover, some analysts, including Mr. Chidera argue that what happened to Kanu, while a forcible rendition, does not neatly fit the classic definition of “extraordinary rendition,” which often involves secret transfer to a third country for detention or interrogation beyond legal safeguards; here, Kanu was returned directly to Nigeria to face open charges (Leadership Newspaper, 2025). That does not excuse any violation of Kenyan sovereignty or international norms; it simply situates Nigeria’s conduct closer to “irregular extradition” than to clandestine third-country rendition. The Nigerian government’s position – and evidently the Supreme Court’s – is that while the means were improper, the end of having him answer charges in court remains lawful (Leadership Newspaper, 2025).

Crucially, Kanu has had the opportunity to challenge the circumstances of his arrest in court. His legal team raised the issue as a preliminary objection at the Federal High Court (which was rejected) and then at the Court of Appeal (which agreed with him). Ultimately, the Supreme Court weighed these arguments and permitted the trial to continue, expressly condemning the “irresponsible” manner of the rendition while separating that condemnation from the question of prosecutorial authority (The Cable, 2023; Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024). This shows the issue was not ignored but litigated through to the apex court.

Globally, courts grapple with this tension between vindicating human rights and avoiding impunity. International law frowns on cross-border abductions; states can be responsible for violations of sovereignty or individual rights. Yet there is also a countervailing interest in ensuring that serious offenses are adjudicated. The Israeli Supreme Court’s decision in Attorney-General of Israel v. Eichmann (1962) is frequently cited for the proposition that illegality in capture does not necessarily invalidate the forum court’s jurisdiction where the court otherwise has authority and can ensure a fair proceeding (Attorney-General of Israel v. Eichmann, 1962). While Kanu’s case is very different factually, the jurisdictional principle is analogous: the Federal High Court is competent to try the charges, and once the defendant is before it, the focus shifts to guaranteeing a fair trial on the merits.

To sum up: The manner of Kanu’s return to Nigeria, though legally and ethically problematic, does not immunize him from prosecution. Remedies for wrongful rendition may include diplomatic engagement with Kenya, international censure, or civil claims for rights violations. But an outright release without trial would grant a windfall unrelated to factual innocence and could set a troubling precedent. The better approach is what the Supreme Court signaled: condemn the illegal rendition to deter future abuses, but still hold the accused to account in court, thereby upholding the rule of law on both sides (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024; Leadership Newspaper, 2025).

Why calls for Kanu’s “unconditional release” were improper

With the legal background established, consider Mr. Chidera’s portrayal of Omoyele Sowore’s march and broader calls to “free Nnamdi Kanu unconditionally.” Mr. Chidera frames the activism as demanding enforcement of a valid appellate judgment and “obedience to the law,” casting the government as defiant. However, by the time marches were occurring in late 2022 and 2023, the Court of Appeal’s decision was under appeal and its execution stayed – the case was sub judice pending the Supreme Court’s determination (The Cable, 2023). Insisting on “obedience” to a non-final order effectively urged the executive to disregard an ongoing judicial process. As a lawyer, I expected Mr. Chidera to know all these.

Moreover, demanding an unconditional release goes beyond compliance with any court order and asks for a political solution irrespective of pending charges. Whatever the politics, the legal mechanism for clearing an accused person remains a judicial acquittal or dismissal. The government’s stance – shared by many citizens – is that Kanu should answer the serious allegations in court (VOA News, 2021). Given the security context in the South-East since 2021 and the allegations linking parts of IPOB/ESN activity to violent incidents, including the incitement to arsons, killings, etc., in Lagos, authorities argue that a summary release would risk public safety and flight (VOA News, 2021). While activists may see Kanu as a prisoner of conscience, the state has charged him with grave offenses; the rule-of-law-consistent path is to test those charges at trial, not to bypass the courts through street pressure or executive fiat.

The role of the media and responsible advocacy

Mr. Chidera lambasts Western Post (and, by extension, me as a writer) for being part of a “rent-seeking intelligentsia” and a “media collaboration with illegality.” This is a misrepresentation of what responsible media commentary should do. My original essay did not endorse any illegality—it did not suggest the government ignore court orders or abuse anyone’s rights. Rather, it argued that the rule of law entails following all applicable laws and court decisions, not cherry-picking one favorable judgment. In fact, it defended the integrity of the judicial process against what I perceived as mob pressure. If anything, that is a stance against anarchy and impunity.

We as commentators have a duty to explain to the public the often-complicated developments in high-profile cases. In Kanu’s case, there has been immense misinformation—for instance, the notion that he was “acquitted,” suggesting a judgment on the merits of evidence, when in reality the Court of Appeal decision was on a preliminary objection about jurisdiction (The Cable, 2023). I am not a lawyer; however, I sought knowledge. I know for a fact that many laypersons might not be ready to seek knowledge and, as a result, not grasp that distinction, but depend on lawyers and the media. In addition, the word acquitted has been used loosely in the media in recent times. However, legally, being discharged due to an invalid indictment or unlawful rendition is not the same as being found innocent of the charges. The Court of Appeal did not exonerate Kanu’s conduct; it halted substantive trial by ruling that the process was improper. Explaining this difference is not propaganda—it is factual clarification. In fact, Mr. Chidera should be educating the public on this issue as he claimed to be a lawyer.

Similarly, reminding people that an appeal was pending was crucial because, by trumpeting only the Court of Appeal ruling and ignoring the Supreme Court’s involvement, some activists like Messrs. Chidera and Sowore created a narrative that Kanu was being held in defiance of law—when in truth he was being held through law, awaiting a higher court’s outcome (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024).
Western Post gave space to a viewpoint (mine) that diverged from popular sentiment in some quarters. So also, Nigeria in Depth that also published the same essay. But that is the role of a free press: to air diverse opinions, including those critical of government actions and those supportive of the government’s legal positions, so long as they are grounded in fact. To dismiss an argument as state propaganda simply because it aligns with a government stance is to commit the genetic fallacy—judging an argument by its source rather than its merit. I stand by my reasoning because it is supported by constitutional provisions, court rulings, and comparative jurisprudence. If the government says the sky is blue, it doesn’t become false simply because the government said it. Likewise, if human-rights activists claim Kanu’s continued detention is unlawful, that does not make it true simply because activists said it; every claim must be checked against the law and facts.

Importantly, once the Supreme Court ruled in December 2023, the landscape changed. From that moment, any media narrative that Kanu was “discharged and acquitted” became outdated and incorrect, because the charges were reinstated (Federal Republic of Nigeria v. Nnamdi Kanu, 2024; The Cable, 2023). Responsible media and advocates should have updated their stance to reflect that reality rather than persist in accusing the government of ignoring a judgment that had been overturned. Mr. Chidera’s piece, while accusing me of ignorance, ignores this Supreme Court development entirely—an omission that misleads readers. One might ask: Who is truly confusing the public? The person explaining that the case is ongoing and the law permits it, or the person insisting that Kanu has “no case to answer” despite the highest court saying otherwise?

As for Sowore’s march—peaceful protest has an important place in a democracy, and I do not suggest criminalizing or silencing it. However, rallying for a cause should rest on a sound premise. Demanding adherence to the rule of law means urging all parties to respect all legal outcomes. A truly principled position would have been: if the Supreme Court ultimately frees him, the government must release him; and if the Supreme Court rules that he must face trial, then he should face trial. Instead, Mr. Sowore and others chose one side of that equation in advance. That is why I described it as opportunistic—it appeared more about aligning with a popular grievance than about consistent application of legal principle.

Conclusion

History may indeed remember those who “spoke truth to power,” but it also reveals, upon cooler reflection, who actually adhered to the truth and who was swayed by rhetoric. Mr. Chidera’s critique ended dramatically, implying that those supporting the government’s stance are on the wrong side of history. I respectfully counter that truth and justice in Nnamdi Kanu’s case lie in the full and unbiased application of the law. Nigeria’s Constitution and courts provided avenues for Kanu to challenge his prosecution—and he utilized them. Those challenges reached their apex and did not result in permanent freedom but a return to trial. He is accused of serious offenses against the state, and the victims of unrest, arsons, and killings tied to his movement also deserve justice.

Upholding the rule of law is not endorsing tyranny; it is the best protection against it. By insisting that even the government must follow due process—filing appeals, obtaining stays, and respecting court verdicts—we reinforce a system where the law, not might, prevails. In this case, the law at its highest level says Kanu should stand trial. Supporting that outcome is an affirmation of justice, not its betrayal.
I take no joy in anyone’s incarceration. As someone conscious of human-rights issues, I am sympathetic to the conditions of Kanu’s detention and the passions of his supporters. Yet my both original essay and this one are about ensuring that, in seeking justice, we do not subvert the very system that guarantees everyone’s rights. Calls for “unconditional release” tried to short-circuit judicial proceedings. That was the problem—not an ethnic or sectional bias, but a legal one.

There is no treason in telling the truth as the law sees it. Sowore’s march may have been well-intentioned, but it missed the legal mark. There is nothing reckless about urging patience for due process, and nothing opportunistic about aligning with the rule of law. Debate is healthy, but it must remain civil and fact-based. Ultimately, we all seek a Nigeria where justice and rights prevail—and the surest path to that is to let the courts decide and obey their decisions. Anything less—whether executive or populist overreach—would indeed be a true march of folly.

From the foregoing, it is evident that Mr. Chidera’s claim of seeking to educate me on the legal aspects of Nnamdi Kanu’s case is fundamentally misplaced. On the contrary, the legal misstatements and procedural confusion reflected in his rebuttal suggest a worrying disregard for established judicial principles. While I refrain from questioning his academic credentials, I do believe his interpretation of the law—especially regarding double jeopardy, jurisdiction, and lawful detention—falls far short of the standards expected of legal professionals and human rights advocates. This is not a personal slight, but a sincere call for greater fidelity to the legal process and more rigorous engagement with judicial precedent.

Our legal system deserves advocates who champion its integrity, not those who weaponize it for rhetorical effect.

Bukola Adeyemi, Oyeniyi
Dept of History, Reynolds College
Missouri State University
Email: [email protected]