Kidnapping in Nigeria has grown beyond a criminal act—it’s now a thriving underground economy, shrouded in betrayal, corruption, and fear. Despite military patrols, police raids, and regional task forces, victims continue to fall into the hands of abductors, and worse, many never make it back home.
So, what’s really keeping this crisis alive? Why do these criminals seem two steps ahead, even with government-backed countermeasures in place?
Retired military officers, former intelligence heads, and security experts have finally peeled back the curtain—and their revelations are as alarming as the crimes themselves.
Take the case of Brig. Gen. Maharazu Tsiga (Retd), a former Director-General of the National Youth Service Corps. On February 5, 2025, Tsiga and nine others were abducted at gunpoint in Bakori, Katsina State.
The captors demanded N250 million, a staggering sum that neither his family nor the community could raise. After weeks of emotional trauma, the kidnappers settled for a ransom of N60 million, and only then was Tsiga released—nearly two months later.
And it wasn’t an isolated incident.
On March 29, a Delta State farmer, Godwin Anuka, was kidnapped in Ubulu-Uku. He was executed in front of his wife and children, despite the abductors receiving payment. Before targeting Anuka, they had already seized two others—Chibueze and Afam—highlighting the serial nature of their operations.
In Kaduna’s Kauru Local Government Area, another tragedy struck. Three abducted residents of the Surubu community were killed by their captors on March 22, even after a significant ransom was paid.
One of the most disturbing cases came from Anambra State. On December 24, 2024, Justice Azuka, a lawmaker representing Onitsha North 1 Constituency, was kidnapped. His decomposed body was discovered near the Second Niger Bridge in February 2025—almost two months later—marking yet another case where ransom negotiations failed to save a life.
The violence isn’t just widespread—it’s coordinated.
According to Afenifere National Youth President Eniola Ojajuni, who was himself held hostage for 12 days, there are at least 55 kidnapping camps operating in the South-West alone. These aren’t makeshift hideouts. They're strategically placed, professionally run, and deeply entrenched.
Retired Army Chief and former Commandant of Army Signals, Gen. Ishola Williams, didn’t mince words when speaking to Saturday PUNCH.
“Some of these criminals are well known to security agencies. The problem isn’t just incompetence—it’s collusion. There are deals happening in the shadows.”
He pointed out how telecom operators are willing to work with authorities to trace calls. But the challenge? Sophisticated cybercrime tactics, often enabled by Yahoo boys, allow kidnappers to manipulate phone systems and disappear into thin air.
“There are whispers,” he added, “of insiders within telecom firms feeding information to these gangs. Without community collaboration with outfits like Amotekun, we’re playing a losing game.”
For Maj. Gen. Dayo Olukoju (Retd), a former Director of Procurement at Defence HQ, the issue runs deeper than just a few corrupt individuals.
“The real crisis is the lack of synergy between security and communication agencies,” he explained.
With the National Identity Management Commission (NIMC) and Nigerian Communications Commission (NCC) overseeing user registration and phone tracking, it’s baffling that kidnappers remain untraceable.
“In a system where people are registered by SIM, why is it still difficult to identify criminals using phones?” Olukoju asked. “It’s either poor coordination or wilful negligence.”
He advocated for special courts to fast-track kidnapping cases, bypassing the delays of regular courtrooms. He also revealed chilling details from victim testimonies: some kidnapped individuals are murdered and harvested for body parts—evidence that this goes beyond ransom and into ritualistic and black-market trade.
A retired Colonel who chose to remain anonymous summed up the problem bluntly:
“You can’t operate such a crime without help from within the system.”
He shared accounts from former hostages who noted how kidnappers knew when ransom cash was marked by banks. The implication? Insiders are leaking intelligence, from banks to police units.
“This isn’t just a gang—it’s a cartel. They have international arms suppliers, local collaborators, and intelligence moles. Until we overhaul our intel framework, we’re spinning wheels.”
The kidnapping industry in Nigeria is no longer a fringe problem. It’s a multi-billion-naira network sustained by corruption, silence, and fear.
Retired officers and civil society advocates agree on one thing: unless security agencies clean house, and citizens begin cooperating with local task forces, this nightmare will persist.
Fixing this won’t be easy. But it starts with accountability, transparency, and the political will to face the uncomfortable truth—our system is compromised.
From Anambra to Katsina, Delta to Kaduna, Nigeria's kidnapping crisis shows no signs of slowing down. Families are being torn apart, lives lost, and communities traumatized.
But behind every unsolved abduction is a tangled web of collusion, weak intelligence, and systemic failure. And until those knots are unraveled, the violence will continue to cast a long shadow over the country.