By Mohammed Bello Doka
In Nigeria, there are investigations — and then there are narratives.
When the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) turned its attention to former Attorney-General of the Federation, Abubakar Malami, SAN, over aspects of the Abacha loot recovery, the speed with which suspicion crystallised in the public space was striking. Before documents were examined in court, before testimonies were tested under oath, a conclusion appeared to have taken shape in headlines, commentaries and social media threads.
Yet, when the layers are peeled back, the story that emerges is far less straightforward.
A Probe That Found Its Way to the Front Pages
Officially, the EFCC’s inquiry revolves around long-standing questions touching on the recovery of Abacha-era stolen funds — specifically a tranche originally valued at about $310 million, later accruing interest to approximately $322.5 million.
Unofficially, however, the conversation shifted almost immediately from “review” to “reckoning.” Selective details surfaced in the media, often attributed to unnamed sources, painting a picture of alleged duplication and unexplained discrepancies. The effect was immediate: investigation blurred into implication.
What was curious to some analysts was not that questions were being asked — few Nigerians object to scrutiny of public office holders — but how quickly those questions were framed as conclusions.
The Legal Fault Line: When Is a Recovery Truly Complete?
At the centre of Malami’s response is a point of law so dry it rarely makes headlines, yet so critical it undermines much of the controversy: recovery of stolen assets is only complete when the funds are physically paid into the Federation Account.
According to Malami, when he assumed office in 2015 and when the Buhari administration formally pursued the return of the funds in 2016, the money existed only in foreign accounts under restraint — not in Nigeria’s treasury. By this definition, there was no completed recovery in place, and therefore nothing that could logically be duplicated.
This argument has not been rebutted with documentary evidence in the public domain. Instead, it has largely been bypassed in public discussion, even though it goes to the heart of the allegation.
December 2016: The Detail That Refuses to Go Away
Perhaps the most inconvenient fact for the critics is what happened in December 2016.
Records show that several lawyers — including Swiss lawyer Enrico Monfrini — applied to be formally engaged for the recovery of the same funds allegedly already recovered years earlier. The question writes itself: why seek a recovery mandate for money said to have already been recovered?
This detail does not sit comfortably with the prevailing narrative, and its implications are rarely explored. For investigative observers, it suggests not a closed chapter, but an ongoing process still requiring legal and diplomatic effort.
Fees, Policy and an Uncomfortable Comparison
Disputes over legal fees have long haunted Nigeria’s asset recovery efforts. In this instance, Malami maintains that proposals involving advance payments and high success fees were inconsistent with a clear government policy capping such fees at 5 percent and prohibiting upfront payments.
What followed, according to his account, was the engagement of Nigerian counsel on those terms — a decision that dramatically reduced Nigeria’s financial exposure. When explained in numbers, the policy choice appears less like administrative caprice and more like fiscal restraint.
That framing contrasts sharply with depictions of arbitrary substitutions and opaque arrangements. Again, the difference lies in which facts are amplified — and which are quietly ignored.
A Familiar Atmosphere
For observers of Nigeria’s political-legal landscape, the tone of recent coverage triggers a sense of déjà vu.
There is a history of former senior officials being subjected to sustained public scrutiny through investigative leaks and commentary, only for courts to later find that the underlying cases were weaker than advertised. In those instances, reputations bore the cost long before judgments settled the matter.
Against that backdrop, the current treatment of Malami — intense focus, selective disclosure and an almost theatrical air of suspicion — has prompted questions rather than answers.
The Broader Climate
This episode is unfolding at a time when concerns about the shrinking space for dissent remain alive. Journalists, activists and critics have repeatedly raised alarm about the ease with which state institutions can become instruments of pressure, rather than guardians of due process.
In such an environment, investigations are rarely viewed in isolation. They are measured against broader patterns — how others are treated, whose actions are scrutinised, and whose are overlooked.
It is within this climate that many Nigerians are interpreting the Malami case: less as a singular legal review, more as part of a larger, uneasy conversation about power, accountability and selective intensity.
Where the Money Went — and Why That Matters
Lost in much of the controversy is the final destination of the recovered funds.
Under Malami’s tenure, repatriated Abacha funds were publicly tied to identifiable uses: social protection for the poorest Nigerians through Conditional Cash Transfers, and later, major infrastructure projects subjected to project-based monitoring arrangements.
Debates over effectiveness and transparency persist — as they should — but the contrast with earlier eras, where recovered funds simply disappeared into opaque budget lines, is not insignificant.
Between Accusation and Evidence
At present, what exists is a collision of narratives: allegations on one side, explanations on the other, and a public struggling to separate scrutiny from spectacle.
What does not yet exist is a judicial finding.
Until such a finding emerges, the insistence on treating suspicion as settled fact raises its own questions — about fairness, proportionality and the purpose investigations are meant to serve.
An Unwritten Ending
For Abubakar Malami, the story is unfinished. For Nigeria, it is familiar.
A former public official stands at the centre of a storm, answering questions not only from investigators but from a public already exposed to conclusions. Whether history will record this chapter as a triumph of accountability or as another episode where narrative ran ahead of proof remains to be seen.
For now, the official record still shows this: facts are disputed, processes are ongoing, and the line between justice and judgment remains thin.
— Abuja Network News
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