A national earthquake is quietly ticking down to Monday, October 20, 2025 — the planned #FreeNnamdiKanuNow march in Abuja spearheaded by activist Omoyele Sowore and the “Take It Back” movement. While the rally draws attention to the continued incarceration of Nnamdi Kanu, leader of the outlawed Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB), the real story lies deeper — in the glaring disconnect between Nigeria’s justice system and its promises of equality.
This is not about street noise; it’s about constitutional crisis. The Federal High Court in Abuja cleared the way for the protest, yet simultaneously carved out huge swathes of restricted zones around Aso Rock, the National Assembly, Force Headquarters, Eagle Square and Shehu Shagari Way. In effect, the government said “Yes you may protest,” while also saying “But stay away from our power seats.” The police have since announced they will abide by the order — while also issuing strong warnings.
Kanu’s case is a litmus test. The man was detained, rendered from Kenya in 2021, and charged on terrorism and treason counts. A Reuters dossier noted he is on trial under a fourth judge, after years of procedural quagmires. If a citizen can spend years behind bars despite final court directions to the contrary, who truly enjoys the protection of law in Nigeria? Kanu holds UK-Nigerian dual citizenship — yet his family lambasts Britain for its silence.
Supporters of his release argue that the state selectively prosecutes. Take the case of Simon Ekpa: a leader of the same movement, trapped abroad, prosecuted in Finland and sentenced to six years for terrorism and fraud. If the system can pursue one man abroad with alacrity, why the stagnation with another at home?
The protest isn’t just a cry for one man’s freedom — it is a rebellion against the principle that justice in Nigeria may be optional, contingent on ethnicity, region or political climate. The authorities’ pre-emptive manoeuvres suggest fear: they see a crowd, but what they should fear is the idea they’ve ignored for too long — that equal justice, not selective mercy, is the true foundation of order.
When the state uses drill commands, court orders and media spin to manage dissent rather than address core grievances, the risk isn’t a march — it’s breakdown. If the face of protest is one face, the face of failure is another. From the East to the North, the logic is the same: if law is pliable, peace becomes expensive.
For Nigeria to survive more than another electoral cycle, it must show it values justice over politics, equity over ethnicity, and law over power. The march of October 20 may start at the streets of Abuja — but its resonance will echo in every courtroom, every neglected region and every citizen still waiting for justice.
