Some call it the law of karma. I prefer the older formulation: what you do unto others shall, in time, be done unto you. Nigeria’s recent political history offers few more instructive illustrations of this truth than the parallel fates of Sambo Dasuki and Abubakar Malami.
Those expressing sympathy for former Attorney‑General of the Federation, Abubakar Malami, over his current ordeal with the EFCC and the DSS may have conveniently forgotten what befell former National Security Adviser (NSA), retired Colonel Sambo Dasuki—arrested barely a day after handing over office. His story remains one of the most troubling indictments of executive overreach in Nigeria’s democratic era: a case study in how personal vendetta, political score‑settling, and institutional disregard for judicial authority can be disguised as the pursuit of justice.
_*The Roots of Bitter Feud*_
The roots of the Dasuki saga run deep into Nigeria’s military past. Dasuki played a significant role in financing and facilitating the 1983 coup that brought General Muhammadu Buhari to power according to retired Colonel Mustapha Jokolo, Buhari’s former ADC. He was also involved in the 1985 countercoup that removed Buhari and installed General Ibrahim Babangida, though he was not among those who physically arrested Buhari. Colonel Abdulmumini Aminu, who led that operation, confirmed that he and three others actually carried out the arrest without Dasuki. These historical details matter because the bitterness they produced never fully disappeared.
Dasuki was arrested in late 2015 and charged with money laundering over the alleged diversion of arms‑procurement funds during the Jonathan administration. What his accusers refused to acknowledge, however, was that during his tenure as NSA dozens of towns were successfully reclaimed from terrorists. It was also a period when banditry had not yet taken root in the Northwest or North‑Central—an insecurity trend that escalated only later under the Buhari administration.
While the allegations against Dasuki appeared serious on paper, what followed was far worse: a systematic assault on the rule of law.
Multiple courts granted him bail. He met every condition. Yet each time, he was immediately re‑arrested without any new charges. This cycle continued until he became the only public official in Nigerian history to remain in detention despite bail orders from four different courts, including the ECOWAS Court.
_*Media Trials and Institutional Impunity*_
In a particularly troubling twist, Malami falsely claimed in a VOA interview that Dasuki had killed 100,000 people and justified his continued detention—despite multiple bail orders—on national‑security grounds. This misinformation and media‑trial posture led to his summons before the LPDC in 2019, where he eventually recanted.
President Buhari later made the administration’s stance explicit during a televised media chat, declaring that Dasuki would not be released regardless of court orders and describing him as a security risk. It was a rare moment when executive contempt for judicial authority was openly acknowledged.
Beyond the physical detention, the Buhari era normalised media trials—where citizens were convicted in the court of public opinion long before any judge had ruled. The EFCC and the DSS were the most notorious instruments of this strategy.
The case of Colonel Nicholas Ashinze illustrates this vividly. Ashinze, a military intelligence officer who played a key role with technical partners in operations that reclaimed territories from Boko Haram, found himself facing charges even as the EFCC issued a statement so inaccurate that it provoked a rare judicial rebuke.
Justice Gabriel Kolawole condemned the EFCC’s conduct, describing its statement against Ashinze as “scandalous and prejudicial to fair trial.” He ordered the agency to apologise publicly to the officer and suspended the trial. The EFCC complied, attributing the falsehoods to an internal “mix‑up.”
Similarly, the arms probe panel under ONSA, chaired by one Air Vice Marshal Jon Odeh, was disbanded after members were themselves indicted for receiving bribes from individuals they were investigating. These episodes underscored the institutional impunity that characterised the period.
_*Sultan Who Died Without Seeing His Son
and Elrufai’s Ordeal*_
Perhaps the most heartbreaking dimension of Dasuki’s ordeal was the treatment of his father, the late Alhaji Ibrahim Dasuki—former Sultan of Sokoto and one of Nigeria’s most revered traditional and Islamic leaders. Despite repeated appeals, he was denied permission to visit his son in detention. He died without seeing him.
This act was widely condemned as unnecessary cruelty—an example of how political rivalry had crossed into something far more callous.
By contrast, when the current administration of President Bola Ahmed Tinubu detained former Kaduna Governor Nasir el-Rufai over corruption charges, he was immediately released following his mother’s death. I welcomed the gesture, while wishing that the mercy had come earlier and that no public official should spend more than a month in custody merely awaiting trial. The standard of decency we apply must be consistent, regardless of who occupies the dock.
Dasuki was eventually released on Christmas Eve 2019, after Buhari’s re‑election. His freedom—coming after more than four years in detention—felt less like justice and more like a political calculation that had finally run its course.
_*Malami: The Architect Meets His Own Architecture*_
Contrast this with the treatment of Abubakar Malami, who served as Attorney‑General and Minister of Justice from 2015 to 2023. In 2025, Malami was arrested by the EFCC on allegations ranging from corruption and acquisition of exotic properties to terrorism‑related offences and illegal possession of firearms.
The irony is unmistakable. Malami was the chief law officer who authorised and supervised the prosecution of Dasuki. He wielded the machinery of state prosecution against perceived opponents for eight years. Now he sits where they once sat—on the receiving end of the same system he helped to shape.
Yet there is a crucial difference. Within two months, Malami was granted bail by both the EFCC and the DSS. There were no sensational media trials. No re‑arrests after meeting bail conditions. No presidential declarations that he would remain detained regardless of court orders. Whatever one thinks of the current administration’s handling of the matter, the contrast with the Dasuki precedent is stark.
_*The Military Victims of Executive Overreach*_
The Buhari administration’s disregard for due process extended beyond political opponents. On June 9, 2016, the Nigerian Army summarily retired 38 senior officers—nine major generals, eleven brigadier generals, seven colonels, and eleven lieutenant colonels. They learned of their retirement through the media. Despite vague allegations of “professional corruption,” none was formally accused, charged, or tried under military law.
These were decorated officers. Colonel Mohammed Suleiman had foiled a Boko Haram attack on Aso Rock. Colonel Danladi Hassan had led troops in reclaiming territories, while Lt. Colonel Mohammed Abdulfatai commanded a special counterinsurgency operation in Konduga that resulted in the elimination of more than 200 terrorists in December 2014. Yet they were dismissed without the dignity of a fair hearing.
The National Industrial Court ruled six times that the retirements were unlawful and ordered reinstatement with full benefits. The Senate and House of Representatives reached the same conclusion. The Army ignored them all. One officer, Ojebo Ochankpa, died in 2017 still awaiting justice.
Nearly a decade later, most remain unreinstated—vindicated by every court, yet denied the justice those courts prescribed.
_*A Moment for Reflection*_
This is the legacy of the administration that Malami served and defended. By any honest measure, it was one of the most lawless periods in Nigeria’s democratic history.
While we must insist that Malami receive the fair trial that Dasuki was denied, we must also demand accountability for those who orchestrated the abuses of the past—not through fresh lawlessness, but through the very institutions they once undermined.
What you do unto others shall be done unto you. The real question is whether, this time, we will do it better.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Yushau A. Shuaib is the author of ‘An Encounter with the Spymaster’
Email: yashuaib@yashuaib.com
