What An Officer Told Me About IGP Olatunji Disu

Written by Adeniran Bamisaye

Years ago, while driving in Lagos, a police officer stopped me. There was nothing unusual about it. He asked for my vehicle particulars, and I handed them over, perhaps not in the most cheerful manner at first. But somewhere between the routine and the silence, a conversation began.

I asked him about his work, just casually, and then I mentioned a name, Olatunji Disu. At the time, he was not the Inspector General yet; I believe he was still a Commissioner of Police. But the moment I mentioned the name, something changed in the officer’s expression.

“Ah! That man…” he said, almost cutting himself short.

Curious, I asked what he meant.

What followed stayed with me. He told me that when he served under Mr. Disu in Owo, Ondo State, there was one thing he could never forget: you could not work with him and be hungry. Not because of charity or handouts, but because he genuinely cared about the welfare of the officers under his command. Then he added something that struck me deeply, that he could confidently say this was a leader who cared.

That immediately reminded me of something a mentor once told me, that you can measure a leader by how much they care about the welfare of their people. That day, on the roadside, in a conversation I did not plan to have, I heard a testimony, not from a podium or a press release, but from someone who had experienced that leadership up close.

When he was eventually appointed Inspector General of Police, one theme stood out clearly: welfare. And I believed it, not because it sounded good, but because I had already heard the evidence. Beyond words, actions began to follow, and what stood out was not just the actions themselves, but the speed with which they came. In a system where delay is often the norm, responsiveness becomes a language of its own.

One of the earliest signals was symbolic yet powerful: the decision to organise a proper pulling out parade for his predecessor, something that had not happened in about sixteen years. Institutions are not only built on systems; they are sustained by memory, respect, and continuity, and that moment quietly restored all three.

Beyond symbolism, there were more structural signals. There has been a renewed push for accountability, with a visible willingness to ensure that erring officers are not shielded but disciplined. There has also been a reawakening of channels like the Complaint Response Unit, CRU, reinforcing the idea that citizens should not feel voiceless in their encounters with the police. Alongside this is a clear direction toward modernisation, strengthening investigative capacity, embracing technology, and repositioning policing to be more intelligence led than force driven.

Aside from these developments, there has also been public conversation around the legality of tenure, particularly in light of existing age and compulsory retirement provisions within the service. However, the Police Act 2020 introduced a defining shift. Section 7 subsection 6 provides that the Inspector General of Police shall hold office for a term of four years, establishing a fixed tenure framework that differs from the traditional retirement structure.

In many ways, this reflects an attempt to balance institutional continuity with leadership stability. And while such interpretations may continue to generate debate, what often matters most is not just the legal framework itself, but how the time it creates is used. In this instance, the focus has remained less on tenure and more on direction, how leadership translates time in office into action, presence, and measurable signals of change.

Beyond these structural efforts, there has also been a pattern of presence. In moments of crisis, leadership has not remained distant. From visits to places like Jos and Kwara following incidents of violence, there has been a visible effort to show up, not just as a figurehead, but as a steadying presence in difficult times. In a country where communities often feel abandoned in the aftermath of tragedy, such gestures carry weight. They signal attention, urgency, and a willingness to engage realities on the ground rather than from afar. Sometimes, presence itself becomes a form of reassurance, both to officers on duty and to citizens watching closely.

Then came a moment that, for me, brought everything into perspective. I watched him oversee the disbursement of funds to families of fallen officers, and as I did, something unexpected happened: I found myself emotional. Yes, the funds were not his personally, but leadership is not just about ownership; it is about priority. He could have delayed it or treated it as routine, but he did not, and that mattered.

I watched widows and families step forward, each carrying a weight that words cannot fully capture. One woman, in particular, struggled to receive her cheque, not because it was heavy, but because she was overwhelmed with emotion. That moment said more than any speech ever could. It was a reminder that beyond the uniform, beyond the structure, beyond the system, there are people, and in that moment, they were seen.

Perhaps this is where the conversation about reform truly begins. This year’s National Police Day, held on April 7, 2026, at Eagle Square, Abuja, carried a theme that feels less like a slogan and more like a direction: “Community Partnership: Building Trust.” When placed alongside these actions, welfare, accountability, institutional respect, responsiveness, and presence, it begins to feel less like ambition and more like alignment.

Trust is not declared; it is built slowly and consistently. When an officer feels cared for, he carries himself differently. When he feels seen, he is more likely to see others. When accountability becomes real internally, credibility begins to form externally. What we may be witnessing is not just administrative change, but the early signs of a cultural shift, the kind that cannot be forced, only lived.

In the end, the relationship between the police and the people will not be repaired by announcements. It will be rebuilt through moments, moments like a roadside conversation, moments when residents feel safe in their communities, and moments when they spot police officers. Moments where leadership moves from position to presence. And perhaps that is where real reform begins, not when it is declared, but when it is felt.

Adeniran Bamisaye writes from Lagos, Nigeria.

Twitter and Instagram: @NiranBamisaye

Police Deploy Extra Security To JAMB Centres, Dismiss Rumours Of Threats

The Nigeria Police Force has deployed additional security personnel to examination centres nationwide ahead of the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board (JAMB) examinations scheduled to begin on April 16, 2026, while dismissing recent rumours of safety threats at certain centres in a North Central state as “unfounded” and “without basis.”

In a statement issued on Tuesday, the Force acknowledged public concerns regarding the safety of candidates but emphasised that it does not act on unverified information. Nevertheless, the police said the concerns had been noted, particularly as they relate to the education and future of young Nigerians.

“Extra security has been deployed at examination centres nationwide, both overtly and covertly, to prevent any untoward incidents,” the Force Public Relations Officer, DCP Anthony Okon Placid, said in the statement. Measures include routine patrols, perimeter checks, and rapid response teams stationed at strategic locations.

The police said they are collaborating closely with other security agencies to monitor and address potential threats effectively, warning that any individual or group attempting to disrupt the examination process will be swiftly identified and prosecuted.

Candidates have been encouraged to arrive early at their centres, adhere to examination regulations, and report any suspicious activities or persons to on-site security personnel. The public was advised to disregard unverified information circulating on social media and to rely solely on official updates from JAMB and the Nigeria Police Force.

“The Force remains committed to maintaining peace, security, and public confidence in all national activities, including the JAMB examinations,” the statement added.

Manipulation of Military Operations to Suit Political Permutations; Nigerian Military Operations in Jilli, as a case study.

By Comrade Oladimeji Odeyemi.

It must be stated clearly and without any apology: the continuous attempt by some political actors to manipulate or reinterpret military operations for political advantage is reckless, dangerous, and unacceptable. The Armed Forces of Nigeria are not an extension of political ambition, nor are they instruments to be twisted to fit changing political permutations.

Our military personnel, especially the personnel of the Nigerian Army are on the frontlines, risking—and in many cases losing—their lives to defend the nation. To politicise their sacrifices is not only disrespectful, it is an insult to the very idea of national service. Those who choose to score political points from matters of security should understand that they are undermining the morale, focus, and effectiveness of the very institutions safeguarding this country.

Recent developments further expose how dangerous and misleading these narratives can be. In a circulating video, a captured Boko Haram member, one Tijani openly affirmed that insurgents frequently congregate at the Jilli Axis—an area that was recently targeted and bombed by the Nigerian military. He went to further affirmed that they mobilised from Jilli to carry out the attack on Benisheikh, which led to the tragic loss of our gallant Officers and Men. This revelation directly contradicts the politicised claims suggesting indiscriminate action or targeted victimisation. It instead reinforces the reality that military operations are intelligence-driven and aimed at dismantling terrorist strongholds.

Equally intolerable is the growing habit of dragging ethnic or tribal sentiments into matters of national security. This must stop. Security threats do not discriminate, and neither should our national response. Any attempt to twist counter-terrorism efforts into ethnic or sectional narratives is not only dishonest but dangerously divisive.

Furthermore, the reckless labeling of security operations as “witch-hunts” without credible evidence is a deliberate attempt to discredit institutions and confuse the public. Such narratives are not harmless—they weaken trust, embolden criminal elements, and place additional strain on already overstretched security personnel.

Those pushing such claims must be prepared to take responsibility for the consequences.

Let it be a warning: the continued politicisation of security issues will not only deepen national insecurity but will also be remembered as a betrayal of public trust. Politicians must draw a clear line between legitimate oversight and destructive interference. The former strengthens democracy; the latter endangers lives.

Our security agencies must be allowed to operate without intimidation, manipulation, or political distortion. Anything less is a direct compromise of national safety.

It is the government responsibility to provide security, especially in a Country like Nigeria, where citizens are not allowed to own the kind of weapons that terrorists and often criminals carry, government must protect the citizens.

In conclusion, the lives of citizens are not bargaining chips for political games. They are sacred. Any individual or group that chooses to exploit insecurity for political gain must understand that they are playing a dangerous game—one that history will judge harshly.

Comrade Oladimeji Odeyemi an entrepreneur, a security analyst and an opinion moulder sent this article from Ibadan, Oyo State.