Equal Before the Law? Not in Nigeria

The Nigerian aviation industry finds itself at the center of a heated debate over justice. Recent incidents involving two passengers have exposed what many perceive as inconsistencies in how violations are handled, raising questions about our collective values as a nation.

The controversy began when renowned Fuji musician Wasiu Ayinde (Kwam1) publicly apologized for an altercation involving him and a flight crew that culminated in preventing an aircraft from departing. Despite the severity of his actions, he received what skeptics describe as the most lenient treatment: a six-month ban from domestic and international travel. This stands in contrast to the fate of the second passenger, Comfort Emmanson, who faces more severe charges for allegedly assaulting Ibom Air crew members, is remanded in Kirikiri prison, and handed an indefinite flight suspension. 

On August 5, 2025, at Nnamdi Azikiwe International Airport, Kwam1 boarded a Lagos-bound flight carrying a bottle of what he initially claimed was water. When, upon confrontation, he splashed the liquid on a flight attendant, it was revealed to be alcohol. Ordered to exit, the musician instead positioned himself beside the aircraft, physically preventing it from taxiing, an action that could potentially constitute terrorism under Nigerian law.

According to Section 459A of the Criminal Code Act: “Any person who, by any unlawful act, obstructs, causes an alteration to be made in the course of, or in any way whatsoever hinders or impedes the movement of any aircraft, which is in motion on or in flight over any aerodrome, is guilty of a misdemeanour and is liable to imprisonment for two years.”

Yet Kwam1 walked free with only a temporary travel ban, while Emmanson faces indefinite restrictions and possible imprisonment. This apparent double standard has unleashed a social media storm, with Nigerians demanding answers about why wealth and fame seem to shield some from the full weight of the law.

Emmanson’s ordeal began on a routine Uyo-to-Lagos Ibom Air flight when she was instructed to turn off her mobile device. She maintained it was already in flight mode. Upon landing in Lagos, a flight attendant attempted what was a citizen’s arrest, preventing her from disembarking while waiting for airport security. This detention agitated Emmanson, leading to physical altercations with multiple crew members on the ground.

The problem extends beyond these two isolated incidents, but in how they were handled. One cannot help but wonder: would Emmanson have faced imprisonment and indefinite travel bans if she possessed the political connections of a celebrated musician? This question cuts to the heart of Nigeria’s justice system.

Kwam1’s case raises disturbing questions about multiple security breakdowns. How did he clear security screening with alcoholic liquid? When he allegedly refused to surrender the substance, why wasn’t this refusal treated seriously? Why was he permitted through the boarding gate and onto the aircraft despite these red flags? Most troubling of all: after allegedly assaulting crew members and physically obstructing the aircraft—actions that endangered passengers and violated federal aviation law—why was he simply escorted away rather than arrested on the spot? When he positioned himself before the plane, preventing takeoff, why wasn’t he immediately detained and forcibly removed as the law requires?

The pattern becomes even more disturbing when we examine the case of Adams Oshiomhole. On June 12, the former Edo State governor and current Senator representing Edo North allegedly disrupted Air Peace operations at the Lagos airport. According to reports, after arriving late for boarding, he physically assaulted airline staff and ordered his security detail to block access to the Zulu Terminal at Murtala Mohammed International Airport’s General Aviation section.

While Oshiomhole has denied these allegations, claiming he was standing against “systemic extortion and poor customer service”—charges Air Peace firmly refuted—the core issue remains unchanged. Regardless of any service disputes, no elected official has the right to obstruct airport operations. Yet despite potentially violating Section 459B of the Criminal Code Act, which stipulates that “any person who commits any nuisance or trespass in or upon any aerodrome…is guilty of a simple offense and is liable to imprisonment for three months,” the Senator faced no visible consequences.

These three cases paint a troubling portrait of Nigerian justice. As George Orwell astutely observed in Animal Farm, “all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” This principle appears to govern our legal system, where consequences are inversely proportional to one’s social standing.

The precedent being set is dangerous and far-reaching. When senators can allegedly obstruct airports, celebrities can block aircraft takeoffs, yet ordinary citizens face immediate imprisonment for lesser offenses, we must ask a fundamental question: Who is the law truly designed to serve? 

Emmanson’s imprisonment while these figures walk free is a symptom of systemic rot. When citizens witness such blatant disparities, faith in institutions crumbles. The rule of law becomes a hollow phrase, replaced by the rule of influence.

Nigeria stands at a crossroads. Either we recommit to the principle that justice is blind, or we accept that our legal system serves only those with the means to manipulate it. The choice we make will determine not just the fate of future defendants, but the very soul of our democracy. Until then, cases like Emmanson’s will continue to expose that access to justice may depend less on innocence than on influence.