“Alive in One Paragraph, Dead in the Next”: Omotosho’s Judgment on Nnamdi Kanu Continues To Comes Under Logical Examination

Abuja, Nigeria – December 22, 2025

The wave of legal and public outrage has continued to erupt following a blistering social media intervention by the wife of Nnamdi Kanu, Uchechigeme Anyanwụụtụtụ Okwu-Kanu, who has torn into the judgment delivered by Justice Binta Nyako’s successor, Justice James Omotosho, in the illegal terrorism trial of Mazi Nnamdi Kanu, leader of the Indigenous People of Biafra (IPOB).

In a post already gaining traction across legal and political circles, Okwu-Kanu describes the judgment as not merely flawed, but logically incoherent, accusing Justice Omotosho of committing a fatal contradiction that strips the court of jurisdiction and collapses the entire ruling.

At the heart of the controversy lies the Terrorism Prevention and Prohibition Act (TPPA). Justice Omotosho reportedly held that the TPPA “should be treated as though it does not exist,” yet paradoxically relied on Section 98(3) of that same Act to arrive at his conclusion.

For Okwu-Kanu, this single contradiction amongst many detonates the judgment from within.

“How did he see a law he claims does not exist?” she asked pointedly. “You cannot rely on a law that exists in order to argue that the same law does not exist. That is a clear sign of mental illness and incoherence of reasoning of the highest order.”

According to her analysis, Section 98(3) cannot exist in isolation, suspended in mid-air. It draws its authority solely from the TPPA itself. By citing it, the court inadvertently conceded that the Act is alive, operative, and legally binding.

“Section 98(3) TPPA does not float in the air. It exists only because TPPA exists. The moment the Omotosho cited section 98(3), it admitted—without escape—that TPPA is a living, operative statute. How then can you turn around to say the same statute you cited, no longer exists? Its like saying, I am sitting on a chair but the chair I am sitting on does not exist. Judicial insanity!”

In unmistakably sharp language, Okwu-Kanu insists that the law does not permit statutes to be selectively animated or buried to suit judicial convenience.

“Law does not permit a statute to be alive in one paragraph and dead in the next. Courts are not allowed to switch laws on and off like a light bulb to suit a desired outcome.”

She further explains that the judgment traps itself in an unavoidable dilemma. If the TPPA exists, then it governs terrorism-related offences and replaced the repealed Terrorism Prevention (Amendment) Act of 2013, under which Kanu was convicted, rendering that conviction legally unsustainable.

Conversely, if the TPPA does not exist, then Section 98(3) could never have been invoked at all, stripping the court’s reasoning of any legal foundation.

By attempting to occupy both positions simultaneously, Okwu-Kanu concludes, “Justice Omotosho tried to occupy both positions simultaneously. That posture is unknown to law, unknown to common sense and fatal to his jurisdiction to try Nnamdi Kanu.”

The implication of her argument is profound. It analysis that the judgment is not merely appealable on technical grounds, but void for internal contradiction, incapable of standing legal scrutiny.

The judgment has ignited international condemnation, with human rights advocates, legal scholars, and pro-democracy groups across the world describing Justice Omotosho’s ruling as a textbook case of judicial persecution.

In Okwu-Kanu’s final assessment, once this contradiction is acknowledged, “everything else in the judgment collapses with it.”

Critics argue that the decision fits into a broader pattern of Nigerian courts being weaponised to sustain a political vendetta against Mazi Nnamdi Kanu, in defiance of binding and persuasive rulings delivered by other competent courts.

These include domestic decisions questioning the legality of Kanu’s arrest and detention, as well as foreign court judgments affirming that his extraordinary rendition violated due process, international law, and Nigeria’s treaty obligations.

Observers say Omotosho’s ruling appears designed not to interpret the law, but to neutralise it.

More troubling for international watchdogs is the growing perception that the judiciary has slipped into active collaboration with the executive, rather than acting as an independent arbiter.

Legal advocacy groups note that courts in Nigeria and abroad have repeatedly ruled in Kanu’s favour on jurisdictional, procedural, and human rights grounds, yet those rulings have been ignored, sidestepped, or re-litigated under shifting legal theories.

This, they argue, erodes the rule of law and signals to the international community that judicial outcomes in politically sensitive cases are pre-determined.

As pressure mounts, calls are growing for foreign governments, international courts, and legal bodies to scrutinise Nigeria’s handling of the Kanu case as a sustained campaign of state-enabled judicial abuse rather than a genuine criminal prosecution.