In the heart of Kano’s political theatre, a single phrase has ignited a legal firestorm: “thieving aide.” It appeared in an article published by Daily Nigerian, a platform known for its fearless investigative reporting. The man described by that phrase, Hon. Abdullahi Ibrahim Rogo, Director-General of Protocol at the Kano Government House, didn’t take it lightly. He filed a criminal defamation complaint against the publisher, Jaafar Jaafar—a name already etched into Nigeria’s media history for exposing high-level corruption.
But this time, the spotlight isn’t on the accused. It’s on the accuser. And the question is no longer just about truth—it’s about how truth is told.
The court’s decision to order a full police investigation under Section 393 of the Penal Code signals something deeper: that journalism, no matter how noble its intent, must tread carefully when reputations are at stake. The phrase “thieving aide” may have been meant to provoke attention, but in legal terms, it implies guilt—a conclusion the courts have yet to reach.
This case offers a sobering lesson for journalists across Nigeria. First, it reminds us that reporting on allegations is not the same as declaring a verdict. When someone is under investigation by the EFCC or ICPC, the language must reflect that status. Terms like “alleged involvement” or “named in an investigation” convey the seriousness of the matter without crossing into defamation.
Second, it underscores the importance of relying on verified sources. Court documents, official press releases, and public records provide a foundation of credibility. They protect journalists from accusations of fabrication and offer a legal shield if challenged.
Third, it calls for restraint in tone. Sensationalism may drive clicks, but it can also drive lawsuits. The facts are often compelling enough—there’s no need to embellish them with emotionally charged language that suggests guilt before trial.
Fourth, it highlights the need for legal literacy in the newsroom. Section 393 of the Penal Code isn’t just a line in a statute book—it’s a real threat to press freedom if misunderstood. Journalists must know where the boundaries lie and how to stay within them.
And finally, it shows that humility matters. If a publication gets it wrong, a prompt apology and retraction can go a long way in defusing tension and restoring public trust. The goal isn’t just to be right—it’s to be fair.
Jaafar Jaafar’s case is more than a legal dispute. It’s a mirror held up to Nigerian journalism, reflecting both its courage and its vulnerabilities. It asks every reporter and editor to consider not just what they publish, but how—and when.
In a country where the press is both a watchdog and a target, the lesson is clear: truth must be pursued, but never presumed. The pen is powerful, but its greatest strength lies in precision, not provocation.
Disclaimer:
This article is intended for informational and analytical purposes only. It does not constitute legal advice, nor does it seek to influence or prejudice any ongoing judicial proceedings. All commentary is based on publicly available information and reflects fair journalistic analysis. The author does not assert the guilt or innocence of any individual mentioned herein.
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