DEAR PRESIDENT TINUBU, WHO WANTS TO KILL MALLAM NASIR EL-RUFAI?

Mr. President, there is a question that hangs in the air, refusing to dissipate. It is asked in the quiet corners of living rooms from Kaduna to Lagos. It is debated with hushed urgency on social media timelines. It is whispered even within the corridors of power. And it demands your attention, not as a political favor to an adversary, but as a solemn duty to the Constitution you swore to defend. Who, Mr. President, wants Mallam Nasir Elrufai dead?

One does not need to hold a medical degree to understand a simple biological truth: a human body denied food and medicine, day after day, will eventually break down. What began as a high-profile corruption investigation now carries the unmistakable stench of a protracted, calculated, and perhaps even deliberate campaign of attrition. Mr. President, the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission, an agency of your government, has allegedly become an executioner dressed in the garb of a law enforcement body.

Let us review the facts as documented by multiple independent Nigerian news platforms. On May 15, 2026, a date that should be seared into our national consciousness, two things happened. First, Elrufai’s personal physician, Dr. Bimpe Adegoke, visited the ICPC headquarters at approximately 3 p.m. She was there for a legitimate purpose: to discuss the results of recent medical tests. Yet, despite a valid and subsisting court order granting the former governor unrestricted access to his medical team, officials turned the doctor away. They reportedly insisted on a written approval from the ICPC chairman himself, as if a court of law holds less authority than an internal memo. This, people view—albeit rightly or wrongly—as a direct and brazen violation of judicial authority.

But the assault did not end with the denial of healthcare. Later that same evening, around 7 p.m., Elrufai’s wife, Mrs. Aichatou Elrufai, arrived at the facility with his evening meal. In a heartbreaking video circulating online, she stands forlornly outside the gate, clutching a flask of food, narrating her ordeal. She was turned away. The reason? An internal directive, according to the family, that food deliveries were strictly forbidden after 6:30 p.m. Let that sink in, Mr. President. An agency of the federal government has instituted an arbitrary curfew to stop a man's wife from feeding him. Bello Elrufai, a member of the House of Representatives, correctly observed, "This arbitrary rule is no less offensive than blocking his right to medical care".

This raises a deeply disturbing and unavoidable question for your administration, Mr. President. If an institution is willing to brazenly disregard a court order for medical access, what other laws is it willing to break? This is not a minor procedural oversight. The pattern of denying both food and medical attention simultaneously suggests a coordinated effort that goes far beyond standard detention protocols. The family has explicitly accused the commission of engaging in "intimidation dressed up as protocol". And many Nigerians are beginning to ask: what is the endgame here? If the ultimate goal is to force a confession or to make an example of a political rival, are we truly watching a new form of lawful execution unfold in real-time?

For the sake of context, it is worth noting that Elrufai is no stranger to legal battles. A Federal High Court had granted him permission to seek dental and eye treatment in Abuja while in custody, under the "strict supervision" of the ICPC. Furthermore, his legal team has previously accused the commission of engaging in a politically motivated campaign against him, with his lawyer alleging that operatives attempted to "coerce" him to abandon his political activities. These layers of conflict do not reduce the burden on the ICPC to act humanely. A man can be guilty of the highest crimes, yet his right to eat and to see a doctor remains absolute.

The implications of this case ripple far beyond the fate of one man. If the state is permitted to starve a high-profile detainee in the capital city, under the glare of national media, what happens to the thousands of anonymous citizens held in police stations across the country? What happens to the poor man who cannot afford a lawyer to file a contempt suit? We are, as a nation, witnessing a dangerous test of how far the limits of state power can be stretched. If we allow Elrufai to be killed slowly under this "protocol," we are not just losing a political figure. We are conceding that the government has the right to decide who lives and who dies outside the purview of the courts.

This is the terrifying specter of a civilian dictatorship. We fought a civil war and endured decades of brutal military rule to escape the reality where a man could be detained and forgotten. In those dark days, men died in cells not by the bullet, but by neglect; they died of treatable diseases because their "political offenses" had stripped them of their humanity. If this continues unchecked, we are sliding back into that abyss. We are building a civilian version of the barracks, where the ICPC chairman holds the power of life and death over a citizen without a single firing squad.

Mr. President, we recall that a coalition of civil society groups recently warned that the continued detention of Elrufai constitutes an "abuse of state power" and a "direct affront to the Constitution". How much more affront can our democracy take? Even former Vice President Atiku Abubakar has reportedly called for his release. The calls for adherence to the rule of law are growing louder, and your government must heed them.

To the Northern stakeholders, the youth groups, and the traditional institutions, a strong call is made. This is not merely a political crisis involving a former governor of Kaduna State. This is a crisis of conscience for the entire Nigerian project. The North knows intimately the price of tyranny. The youth groups, who bear the brunt of the nation's economic pain, must recognize that if the law can be set aside for a former governor, it will certainly be set aside for a student protester. Traditional rulers, the custodians of our conscience, cannot remain silent while a man is allegedly being starved and denied medical care in the nation's capital.

Mr. President, the world is watching. History is recording. The question is not whether Elrufai is innocent or guilty of the financial allegations against him. The courts, and only the courts, can determine that. The question is whether Nigeria, under your leadership, will remain a nation of laws, or revert to a jungle where the state acts with impunity. Denying food and medicine, despite a clear court order, is not an investigation. It is not a trial. To many observers, it looks exactly like a slow, painful, and wicked attempt to extinguish a life. Mr. President, your government must stop this immediately. Because if you do not, the very foundation of our democracy will crumble to dust.

Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via bellodoka82@gmail.com

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