Lessons from Dariye’s bruising Waterloo

The Nigerian adage “every day is for the thief, one day is for the owner” came true last Friday when Joshua Dariye met his bruising Waterloo at the Supreme Court. All the sitting justices held unanimously that he should be locked up for 10 years for stealing public funds entrusted to him when he was […]

Lessons from Dariye’s bruising Waterloo

Joshua Dariye

The Nigerian adage “every day is for the thief, one day is for the owner” came true last Friday when Joshua Dariye met his bruising Waterloo at the Supreme Court. All the sitting justices held unanimously that he should be locked up for 10 years for stealing public funds entrusted to him when he was governor of Plateau State from 1999 – 2007. The court quashed his conviction on criminal misappropriation, but that did not in practice change anything as the one-year sentence that offence carried was going to be served concurrently with the 10 years they upheld. And coming from the top court in Nigeria, this is the end of the road for Dariye.

Even the experience of months in the strictest coronavirus lockdown doesn’t come close to Dariye’s future. A two-time governor, who enjoyed the power to pardon others, and two-time senator, has woken up convicted a prisoner on the authority of the highest court. A powerful politician who moved around in a convoy of dozens of exclusive cars and security guards will remain behind bars for 120 months. The owner of multiple enormous mansions across this country and beyond is confined to a tiny filthy room with a shared toilet in a location secured not for, but against, him. A man who flew around in private jets now has his legs firmly chained up. Our broken system might allow Dariye to improvise some of his luxury in prison, but he will never come close to his ill-gotten extravagance. His lawyer couldn’t have been more apt when he said 10 years is more than a lifetime for his client.

Dariye deserves every single second of it. He breached the trust of his poor constituents by misappropriating over a billion naira intended to be used not only to make lives better, but to save many lives including those of women and children dying of avoidable diseases and disasters. His conduct was not only legally wrong, but also religiously condemnable and morally repugnant. The Supreme Court was right to reject his lawyer’s plea for mercy, as a man who showed no mercy.

In a disgraceful move that exposes how united crooked politicians are, Jonah Jang, another ex-governor of the very state Dariye swindled, hurried to beg President Buhari to use (or rather misuse), his constitutional powers to pardon not only Dariye but also Jolly Nyame, ex-governor of Taraba State serving a 12-year sentence on similar charges to Dariye. Jang claimed to be speaking “as a leader from Plateau and as an elder statesman in this country”. He obviously doesn’t give a damn about the plight of the millions cheated by the duo, nor our international image, nor the kind of country we are bestowing to generations yet unborn. Another past governor, Gabriel Suswam, did not hesitate to add his voice to Jang’s dirty call. It is hard to escape the impression that these are the actions of a desperate clique, standing up for their own so that someone would speak up for them when they meet their nemesis.

Granting executive pardon to condemned leaders, who so brazenly stripped their states of billions of naira, would not only constitute an abuse of presidential powers, but undermine the government’s claim to be fighting the scourge of corruption. Action on Jang’s and Suswam’s call would be a mockery of our justice system, and send the wrong message to upcoming generations that they can do as they wish. Six years of demystification of Buhari has taught me to always expect the worst, but I fervently hope that the president will heed the cause of justice.

Incumbent governors, public office holders and indeed upcoming generations will be wise to learn from this disgraced criminal. Nothing is more transient than power especially in a tenured, constitutional democracy like ours. Our unscrupulous politicians have got away with a lot of things, but thanks to the onerous provisions inserted by the drafters of our constitution, they have found it impossible to extend their eight-year two-tenure limit. They would have liked to remain in power, and thus immune, for life. They have tried to go around this painful provision by installing their cronies as their successors, but this has mostly backfired in the fierce battle for supremacy that almost inevitably breaks out. This means a politician may be the most powerful, most influential or most connected person today, but they must know that tomorrow they may be reduced to nothing. And when they become the underdog, no one will show them compassion.

Dariye’s case took 17 frustrating years of legal process from his arrest in 2004 in London for money laundering. It took four appeals including two to the Supreme Court. It took dozens of frivolous interlocutory applications and adjournments. It took years of dither and delay tactics by his team. It took five different chairmen of the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission. But his doomsday has finally arrived. The course of justice can be delayed, but it is not to be permanently damned.

It is possible for some to conclude that Dariye was simply unlucky to be caught, and to believe that they will be smarter than him. But like all criminals, Dariye will have worked out a perfect plan to get clean away with his crimes. He will have employed accountants, bankers and pen-robbers so that no trace, clue or exhibit would be left behind. He thought he would never get caught, but he was wrong. When he got caught, Dariye hired the best defence attorneys; he must have phoned every contact in the corridors of power, and paid every “man of God” that would pray for a fee. But to no avail.

After all, Dariye is not the first governor to be jailed. His Taraba State counterpart, Jolly Nyame, was sentenced to 12 years in jail one year ago. Before him, Lucky Igbinedion of Edo State was jailed. Former governor of Bayelsa State, late Diepreye Alamieyeseigha, was sentenced to two years for money laundering. James Ibori of Delta State was sentenced to 13 years imprisonment by a London court for stealing government funds. Several others like Orji Uzor Kalu of Abia and James Ngilari of Adamawa have spent time in prison for convictions that were later quashed and many others are facing trial presently. The bottom line is summed up in the words of the 17th century British philosopher Thomas Fuller: ‘Be you never so high, the law is above you’.

It is this inescapable reality that seems lost on serving governors such as Abdullahi Ganduje. On the very day Dariye was dealt the final blow by the Supreme Court, Ganduje was on BBC Hausa boasting of a secret plan “to deal with” the publisher of the infamous footage in which he was shown receiving bundles of dollars believed to be a bribe. A wrongdoer caught on camera red-handed is publicly threatening a whistle-blower because he is enjoying a momentary immunity and his party is temporarily at the helm. It will be a couple of years before Ganduje’s tenure expires. It may take several more years before he is brought to justice, especially if his party retains power. But, as Dariye and the other disgraced former governors above teach us, the day of reckoning shall come. It may not be now or even in several years. But it shall surely come to pass.