2 February 2026
by Mohammed Bello Doka
This is my personal opinion.
Let us begin with a question so simple that it should not require a law degree, a court filing, or an EFCC press conference to answer: how does a criminal case of ₦8.7 billion suddenly justify the seizure of assets valued at over ₦213 billion? How?
The Economic and Financial Crimes Commission went to court and told Nigerians it has a criminal case against Abubakar Malami involving about ₦8.7 billion. That is the figure in the charge sheet. That is the figure EFCC says it can prosecute. Not ₦87 billion. Not ₦213 billion. ₦8.7 billion.
Yet, in the same breath, EFCC turns around to seize 57 properties valued at roughly ₦213 billion.
This is where common sense rebels.
If ₦213 billion is truly the crime, why is only ₦8.7 billion before the court? And if ₦8.7 billion is the case, by what logic does EFCC feel entitled to confiscate assets worth twenty-five times that amount? Are we doing justice, or are we doing arithmetic by press release?
Anti-corruption cannot survive on vibes, outrage, and headlines. It must survive on evidence, coherence, and restraint. When numbers stop adding up, institutions lose moral authority.
What EFCC appears to be doing here is not just prosecution; it looks dangerously like political theatre. A narrow case in court, inflated into a massive spectacle in the media. A courtroom strategy on one hand, and a headline strategy on the other. Nigerians are being asked to accept that what cannot yet be proven before a judge should nonetheless be punished through asset seizures that read like a final conviction.
That is not law enforcement. That is narrative management.
We have seen this pattern before. Explosive allegations dominate the airwaves. Selective details leak conveniently into friendly headlines. Public outrage is carefully curated. Then, quietly, when the matter reaches court, the case shrinks. Some allegations disappear. Others are never mentioned again. The noise fades, but the damage to reputation remains.
So let us ask the uncomfortable questions EFCC does not want to answer.
If ₦213 billion is tainted money, why is EFCC not confident enough to charge ₦213 billion?
If ₦213 billion cannot yet be charged, why seize it as though guilt has already been established?
Is asset seizure now a substitute for conviction?
Is suspicion now punishment?
This is how due process dies—not loudly, but theatrically.
I am not defending Malami. That is not my job. Courts exist for that. What I am defending is logic, proportionality, and the idea that state power must explain itself when it exercises extreme force. Freezing or confiscating ₦213 billion worth of assets is not a routine administrative action. It is a political and economic earthquake. Such power demands transparency, not theatrics.
What message does this send? That EFCC can publicly accuse you of one amount, prosecute another, and punish you for a third—much larger—figure entirely? That investigations no longer need to mature before consequences are imposed? That reputations can be destroyed first and evidence assembled later?
This approach may win applause in the short term, but it is corrosive. Anti-corruption loses legitimacy the moment it abandons coherence. A system that cannot explain its own numbers cannot be trusted with unchecked power.
Today it is Malami. Tomorrow it could be anyone who has fallen out of political favour. That is why this matters beyond one man or one case.
So I will end where I began, with the question EFCC must answer clearly, publicly, and honestly:
How does an ₦8.7 billion case justify a ₦213 billion seizure?
Until that question is answered, Nigerians are right to suspect that this is less about justice—and more about politics dressed up as prosecution.
Mohammed Bello Doka can be reached via [email protected]
Tags
Opinion