30/04/2026
I have searched for the word in the world's encyclopedia to describe this orchestrated drama yet to no avail. What will you call this, a character in search of an author or an author in search of a character. WHERE DID WE GET IT WRONG, WHERE BROTHERS?
It sounded like a movie, an unrehearsed content, some dramatic scene but yet it is reality. One voice shouted repeatedly, his eyes suggestive of desperate honesty. The words ached out of his mouth. "a friend gave me the package to waybill it at the motor park" A harmless errand. Nothing more! Did someone hear that, did the custodians of the law reason that, no!
A pistol was found as a package of waybill, everything change. No arrest, no investigations, no accomplices, nothing. A boy is accused of a crime yet to be established, a mystery yet to be unraveled but he kept shouting...
“I didn’t know.”
“My friend deceived me.”
“Take me to him — I will show you.” Oh my God!
This was the part that mattered most, the melting point between truth and unfounded reality but, no
ASP Nuhu Usman aka "Ogbegbe"
knows it all. Lead or no lead, direction or misrepresentation, my happy trigger police officer, without thinking, without pausing, without verification, corks and fires the shot, the killer blow that quietens even the mighty. Ogidi Mena fluttered and went cold in seconds, he is no more. Gone never to rise again, never to desperately cry out under the pressure of entangled fear or the urgency of disbelief.
Words erode me, tears confronts my quivering frail, silence placates my soul. I weep, I cry that justice so deserving finds the resting soul of Ogidi Mena, whose desperate voice still echoes in the horizon.
JUSTICE FOR OGIDI MENA!💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪💪
