The death sentence handed to Peter Nwachukwu, husband of late gospel singer Osinachi, by an FCT High Court has reopened old wounds in Nigeria’s justice system specifically the gaping wound left by the country’s failure to follow through on executions. While judges pronounce death sentences with legal precision, state governors continue to act as the final often reluctant gatekeepers.
Their refusal or delay in signing execution warrants has cast a long shadow over the finality of justice and has fueled calls for urgent reforms in the administration of capital punishment.
At the heart of the controversy lies a peculiar tug-of-war between law and morality, legality and sentiment. Senior lawyer and constitutional expert, Femi Borisade, believes this standoff is not only expected, but constitutional. He anchors his argument on three key provisions in Nigeria’s 1999 Constitution (as amended): Sections 33(1), 175, and 212.
According to him, while Section 33(1) empowers the courts to impose the death penalty, Sections 175 and 212 grant the President and state governors the power to commute such sentences or grant pardons after consulting with the Council of States.
“Whatever the governor does, whether it’s signing the warrant or causing delay while consulting the Advisory Council on Prerogative of Mercy, it is not an infraction of the law,” Borisade clarified.
“Even if it appears to undermine court judgments, it is so only in accordance with the Constitution.”
But beyond legal text, Borisade views the governor’s hesitance as a reflection of a deeper, more humane shift in global thinking from vengeance to preservation.
“The world is moving away from ‘pro-death’ to ‘pro-life’,” he said, noting that wrongful convictions, moral dilemmas, and the irreversibility of execution all call for caution.
“An eye for an eye is an archaic principle,” he added. “Killing in the name of justice won’t bring back the dead. Instead, we must teach higher values;
kindness, love, forgiveness.” He therefore advocates alternative forms of punishment such as life imprisonment without parole or long-term incarceration of at least 25 years, which still serves justice but avoids the permanent mistake of executing the wrong person.
However, not everyone is swayed by this “pro-life” gospel. A former chairman of the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) Ikorodu Branch and Convener of the Fight Against Corruption in the Judiciary, Bayo Akinlade, takes a more procedural stance.
While he personally does not support the death penalty, he emphasised that the law must be respected in its entirety. “The Judiciary may pass a death sentence, but the law allows the governor to weigh in,” he stated.
“Importantly, the defendant has the constitutional right to appeal. Until that appeal process is exhausted, possibly up to the Supreme Court, the execution cannot proceed.” For Akinlade, this multi-layered process is not a flaw but a safeguard, ensuring no citizen’s life is taken unjustly or prematurely.
A human rights advocate, Akingbolu Kabir, sees the delay in executions as a deliberate show of caution, not negligence. He underlined that all three arms of government must act in unison when it comes to executing a person.
“The legislature makes the law, the judiciary interprets it, and the executive implements it,” Kabir explained. “The delay in signing warrants doesn’t mean the court’s judgment is invalid. It just shows due care is being exercised. Taking a life in the name of the law is not a trivial matter.”
Still, there are others who believe that this legal hesitancy is creating more problems than it solves. One contributor, who expressed strong support for capital punishment, described the governors’ reluctance as “a dangerous culture” that weakens the judiciary’s authority.
“If we continue to sentence people to death but never execute them, what message are we sending?” he asked. “This practice is not only a mockery of justice, it’s a financial drain.”
He pointed out that as of May 2022, over 8,000 prisoners were on death row in Nigeria.
“Each year, we spend millions feeding and housing these inmates, many of whom should have already faced the consequences of their crimes.”
He also dismissed the argument about wrongful convictions being a strong enough reason to abandon the death penalty.
“Even in countries like the United States, mistakes happen but that’s not a reason to stop enforcing the law. If you fear executing the wrong person, then strengthen the investigation and judicial process. Don’t paralyse justice.”
The long-term economic burden, he argued, should also factor into the decision-making process. “That money could be spent on infrastructure, healthcare, or education. Instead, we’re feeding convicted murderers and armed robbers for decades.”
Recalling Nigeria’s past, he described an era when fear of the firing squad was enough to deter most people from committing crimes.
“Growing up, the knowledge that armed robbery attracted death by firing squad kept many in line. Now, people commit heinous crimes knowing they’ll just end up living comfortably in prison at the taxpayers’ expense.
“This leniency is emboldening criminals,” he warned. “If we’re serious about justice, governors must start signing execution warrants in deserving cases. Otherwise, the judiciary is just going through the motions.”
This disjointed system—where the judiciary delivers justice but the executive refuses to enforce it—creates a justice paradox.
The courts are seen doing their job, yet victims’ families remain without closure, and society watches as dangerous offenders continue to breathe easy behind bars.
At a time when public confidence in the legal system is waning, the failure to carry out court-ordered executions risks eroding what little trust remains. Some say it’s a matter of conscience. Others argue it’s a matter of justice.
One thing is clear: Nigeria cannot continue to exist in a limbo where capital punishment is both legal and impractical.
Either the nation must abolish it formally and stop handing out death sentences, or the governors must stop shielding the condemned from the consequences of their crimes. Justice, after all, must not only be done; it must be seen to be done. And when it is continually deferred, it begins to look more like mercy for the guilty and betrayal for the victims.
