EFCC’s midnight raids: Reincarnation of SARS?

BY AJIBOYE AMOS OLAKUNLE

On a quiet street somewhere in Nigeria, families are asleep. It is 2am when the banging starts, loud, violent, and terrifying. Men dressed in dark tactical gear scale fences, smash doors, and burst into bedrooms with rifles raised. They drag young people into the darkness like captured animals. Mothers scream as they cling to their children. Fathers plead for mercy. Neighbours tremble behind windows, whispering prayers. The dreaded letters stamped on the jackets of these intruders are EFCC, an institution originally created to fight the powerful thieves who have stolen Nigeria’s wealth and future.

Yet, in these raids, the suspects are not governors who steal billions. They are not the ministers who sign away national resources. They are not men who return from foreign trips in private jets financed by public funds. They are ordinary young Nigerians, struggling to survive a system that has given them little and blames them for trying to make something of their lives. This horror, repeated across cities from Lagos to Port Harcourt to Abuja, mirrors the darkest days Nigerians suffered under SARS. The fear is unchanged. The humiliation is unchanged. The brutality feels reborn, only under a different name.

The EFCC was never meant to become a domestic terror unit. It was created out of a national hunger for justice, accountability, and fairness. When corruption was crippling Nigeria’s economy and hopes for progress seemed lost, the EFCC emerged as a bright symbol of change. It was empowered to challenge the elite, prosecute criminal financiers, recover looted funds, and give Nigerians a sense that no one was above the law. The commission once made bold moves that shook established power structures. Nigerians applauded when politicians and bank executives were held to account. For the first time in years, the powerful were afraid of justice.

But that promise has dimmed. Somewhere along the line, the eagle that once flew high lost its sight and purpose. Today, the EFCC often parades young men accused of cybercrimes before a court has even heard their cases. Meanwhile, high-profile corruption allegations against politicians fade away quietly. Cases involving former governors such as Peter Odili and Ibrahim Saminu Turaki dissolved into nothingness. The accusations against Femi Fani-Kayode that once made national headlines vanished from public scrutiny. Over time, Nigerians have realised the painful truth: the closer one stands to political power, the less likely they are to be held accountable.

The drama surrounding former Kogi state governor Yahaya Bello is a telling example. He was accused of stealing as much as eighty to one hundred and ten billion naira, a figure so staggering it could transform the lives of millions. Although an arrest warrant was issued, Bello walked into the EFCC headquarters and casually left minutes later without restraint. Shortly afterwards, a dramatic scene unfolded in Abuja where gunshots were fired as security forces faced off over whether he could be arrested. Yet to this day, he remains a free man. What message does that send to the Nigerian people? If the accused billionaire walks away untouched, why does the EFCC hunt unemployed youths with laptops as though they are threats to national survival?

While mega-corruption cases gather dust in legal files, EFCC’s energy appears directed at mass raids that treat the nation’s youths as criminals by default. Hotels, hostels, residential apartments, and nightclubs are stormed like militant bases. Property is seized without warrants. Phones and laptops are confiscated as assumed tools of crime. Dignity and privacy are crushed in the name of investigations that sometimes never lead to prosecution.

Despite repeated public declarations that midnight raids have been banned, they persist. One of the latest was the chilling invasion at Goodnews Estate in Sangotedo, Ajah, Lagos. Around 2am, EFCC operatives stormed the estate, broke into homes, and arrested over fifty young people. Among them was an Uber driver simply working his shift to feed his family. Instead of releasing those found innocent, the agency imposed stringent and exploitative bail conditions that many families could not afford. These individuals remain detained, not because evidence exists against them, but because their socioeconomic status makes them easy prey.

This pattern is disturbingly familiar. Just like SARS, EFCC conducts operations rooted in profiling rather than investigation. The young are automatically guilty until proven innocent. A laptop is treated as a weapon. A smartphone is seen as evidence. Youthful ambition becomes a crime in a country that has failed to provide opportunities. The rich steal billions, yet it is the poor who face handcuffs.

The psychological and emotional damage caused by these raids is immeasurable. Parents spend sleepless nights in fear and grief. Families lose property or life savings to brutal bail conditions. Reputations are destroyed before innocence can be proven. Young people carry trauma and shame from experiences that should never have happened in a democratic state. Every raid kills another dream. Every unjust arrest pushes young Nigerians further into hopelessness or exile. A nation whose future fears its own institutions cannot build prosperity.

Nigeria stands at a dangerous crossroads. A country where the innocent fear the law more than criminals is a country where justice has failed. Trust in institutions collapses. Anger grows beneath the surface. Protest movements form. History has shown repeatedly that when a government’s enforcement body becomes an agent of fear rather than justice, the system eventually implodes under the weight of its own cruelty.

The EFCC now faces a moment of reckoning. It must decide whether to remain trapped in the shadows of its failures or reclaim its noble purpose. The agency must restore its focus on high-profile corruption. It must uphold constitutional rights and due process. It must investigate with evidence, not intimidation. It must reject political manipulation and pressure. Most importantly, it must remember that justice is not justice if it only targets those without power.

The EFCC was created to defend Nigeria’s future. Yet today, many see it as a reincarnation of SARS: feared by the powerless and manipulated by the powerful. Nigeria deserves a justice system that protects, not persecutes. Nigeria deserves an EFCC that is an eagle with clear vision, not a blind predator hunting the wrong prey.

The choice before the EFCC is simple and irreversible. Reform and redeem itself with honour, transparency, and humanity. Or continue down this dark path and be remembered as SARS was: a fallen institution destroyed by its own abuse of power.

The Nigerian people are watching. And their voices, once silent, are rising again.

Ajiboye Amos Olakunle can be contacted via [email protected]