by Femi Kayode
Chika sighs. ‘I told you it’s a common name.’
I look up at the buildings: six blocks of four floors each.
‘Which floor is E287?’
Chika points in the direction I should go and we agree to meet back at the Land Cruiser in an hour. If our interviews extend longer, we will call.
The stairs to the second floor of the block are not as arduous as I anticipated, what with my hangover. The door to E287 is ajar, ostensibly to air the room, given the intense heat. There are two young men inside: one lying on an unmade bed, eating a huge chunk of bread as he flips through a textbook, while the other lifts a worn single mattress off the floor and slides it under another bed. A squatter.
‘Hello?’
They both look at me.
‘I’m looking for …’ I check the piece of paper, ‘Sobi Kurubo?’
‘Who wants to know?’ asks the one moving the mattress.
‘Are you Sobi?’
‘If I am?’ His suspicious tone doesn’t faze me. I am sure I look as out of place here as a strip show at the Vatican.
‘I’m Dr Philip Taiwo.’ I walk into the room and offer my hand. The other roommate perks up at my American accent.
‘I just want to ask you a couple of questions for some research I’m doing. Are you Sobi Kurubo?’
A wary pause and then, Sobi takes my hand. ‘How can I help you, sir?’
The roommate stands and invites me to sit on the bed. I nod my thanks and accept the offer. He is packing several books, eating and slinging his backpack on his shoulder, all in a series of deft movements. He leaves me with Sobi, who now sits across from me on the other single bed.
‘I’d like to talk to you about Winston Babajide Coker.’
There’s silence for a beat.
‘Are you police or something?’
‘No. I’m writing a paper on the whole incident.’
‘But, you’re not from around here –’
‘I’m affiliated with a university in the US.’ Since this is not entirely true, I quickly add, ‘I am doing a study on mob action and crowd control.’
‘Which university?’
‘USC.’
‘South Carolina or Southern California?’
The boy’s knowledge throws me a bit but I recover quickly. ‘California.’
‘Cool. As soon as I’m out of here, I’ll be applying for the summer programme in film production there.’
‘Great programme. Why don’t I give you my details? I can give you a referral when you’re ready …’
Three quarters of an hour later, after answering all my questions and giving me a tour of Harcourt Whyte Hall, including a visit to the room where Winston stayed – locked, but Winston’s picture is posted on the door with ‘Never Forgotten’ written across it – Sobi informs me that the other interviewee on my list is a ‘ghost’.
‘He actually graduated last year,’ Winston explains, ‘but he got a room by paying extra, then rents it out.’
I don’t bother expressing any surprise at this bit of information. ‘Sobi, you’ve been such great help, but I wonder if you know a Tamuno, who was Kevin Nwamadi’s friend …’
Sobi frowns. ‘I’m not sure, but if I remember correctly, the only Tamuno I can associate with Kevin is the one who was in his department.’
‘He was supposed to meet a Tamuno on the day he died.’
‘Off campus? That would be strange because that Tamuno lives here.’
I am not convinced that we are referring to the same Tamuno, but you never know. ‘Maybe he was staying off campus then?’
Sobi shakes his head. ‘T-Man – that’s what we call him – has always stayed on campus.’
I look at the time and quickly text Chika to give me another half an hour. Then I ask Sobi, ‘You think he’s around?’
Sobi motions for me to follow him. ‘No harm in trying.’
When we stop in front of Room 481, he knocks. No answer.
‘It’s a busy time. Mock court sessions at the Law Faculty. Especially for final year students.’
I look around. The doors on this floor are fewer. I mention this.
‘Single man rooms,’ Sobi explains. ‘More expensive. You can get one if you apply on time and are willing to grease some palms. T-Man has always lived here.’
It makes no sense that Kevin would go all the way to Okriki to see a student who lived in the same block as him. I am not entirely sure this Tamuno is the same one Mercy was referring to.
I thank Sobi for his time as he walks with me to the parking lot. I can see Chika watching as Sobi saves my number, shakes my hand accompanied with a lot of ‘sir’s. He heads back towards his block but not before sending a tentative wave and slight frown Chika’s way.
‘You know he’ll certainly call, don’t you?’ Chika says as soon as the boy is out of earshot.
‘I don’t mind really. He seems like a bright young man. How did you do?’
‘Well, I didn’t have an American accent to fall back on but Tochukwu Nwandu happens to come from Enugu, and we found out we come from the same neighbourhood.’
‘Are you from Enugu?’
‘Owerri. But Tochukwu doesn’t know that.’
I chuckle at this, a bit uncomfortable that Chika can read me so well. So well that he could guess how I went about persuading Sobi for an interview.
We get into the car and Chika reverses out of the parking lot. We had booked an appointment with Ikime, but his secretary has yet to confirm. Same with the Dean of the Law Faculty, a Professor Esohe who insists on written approval from the Registrar before he commits to a face-to-face meeting.
‘Let’s go somewhere we can compare notes while we wait,’ I suggest, and Chika turns at a traffic light in the direction given by a sign: ‘This way to Students’ Village’.
When we get there, the place is bustling with lots of canteens, makeshift second-hand bookshops and several cybercafes. Students mill about, some reading and others already drinking beer even though it’s barely noon. There’s a youthful carefreeness in the air that makes me feel relaxed.
We find a rather quiet canteen with an outside seating area. There are three students sitting at the table next to us: two guys and a bespectacled girl gathered around a laptop. They’re loud but not consistently so. We order some soft drinks and what appears to be the canteen’s speciality: plain eggs sealed in toasted bread. When it arrives, it’s hot, golden brown and really delicious.
I tell Chika what Sobi said about Tamuno.
‘I told you. Could be anyone.’
‘This Tamuno is key to knowing what Kevin was doing in that compound that day. But if the one living on campus, who also happens to be his classmate, is not the Tamuno we are looking for …’ I shake my head, already thinking what our options are.
‘Let’s compare notes first,’ Chika interrupts my musing, bringing out his phone and reads off it.
‘Tochukwu was Bona’s roommate and he recalls being in the room when Winston left that day.’
I check my handwritten notes. ‘Could he remember what time?’
‘He said it was in the afternoon. Just before four.’
I frown. ‘Why is he so sure?’
‘He said it’s because he was one of the people who gave statements to the police and the university’s panel of enquiry.’
I riffle through my notes, ‘Sobi says he was also in the room around that time, and Bona was the one that came to pick up Winston.’
‘Yes, apparently Bona had told Tochukwu he was going to town with Winston. Tochukwu said he assumed it was a party because Bona was looking really sharp.’
‘Same with Sobi. He said Winston had seemed excited and he’s sure there were girls involved because when Bona came, there was lots of whistling and laughing between the two guys before they left at around 4 p.m.’
Chika nods. ‘Correlates with Tochukwu’s timing too.’
‘It would’ve taken them about thirty minutes at least to get to Okriki if th
ey took public transport.’
‘That’s right. Police reports say that the boys were captured –’ Chika puts ‘captured’ in air quotes and continues, ‘around 5:30.’
An involuntary shudder goes through me as I mentally calculate the boys’ ordeal. Reports stated that the burning of the three boys had taken place around 7:15 p.m. and the time stamps on some of the videos posted online confirm this. That would imply that the boys had been beaten and tortured for nearly two hours before they were finally killed.
‘Sobi said there was no Kevin in the picture. That only Bona had come to the room to meet Winston.’
‘Even more,’ Chika says, ‘Tochukwu said he would have known if Kevin was part of Bona’s entourage to Okriki.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Kevin was his friend. He says one of the things Kevin always asked him was how he could be roommates with someone like Bona.’
‘Why would Kevin ask that about Bona?’
‘Because of the rumours that Bona was in a cult. Apparently, Bona and Kevin used to be somewhat friends until they had a falling out when Kevin found out that he was in a cult.’
‘So,’ I quickly cut in, ‘Tochukwu can confirm if Bona was in a cult?’
Chika shrugs. ‘He insists no one knows for sure. Certainly, Bona was connected and popular, but he was not the violent type. Always well dressed, always managed his image with the girls and definitely a party animal.’
‘Sobi says the same about Winston. He said he sometimes thought Winston thrived on the rumours that he was in a cult, and had been known to boast more than once that –’ I read from my notes, ‘“he’ll f–up anyone who messes with him because he’s a don.”’
Chika wipes bread crumbs off his chin and the edge of his lips. ‘According to Tochukwu, Bona was known to make threats and boast of his connections, but no one can trace any violence directly to him. But I guess if they were high up in the cult hierarchy, they could be the ones ordering hits without necessarily getting their hands dirty?’
‘So why didn’t they order their minions to go to Okriki?’ I ask.
‘Maybe the stakes were higher?’
‘Stakes of laptop and cell phones?’ I snort. ‘The same kinds of items Godwin claims had been extorted from him in the past with minimal violence?’
‘You’ve got a point,’ Chika agrees.
I swallow the last of my egg sandwich just as my phone rings. I don’t recognise the number but I answer.
‘Hello?’
‘Dr Taiwo?’ I don’t know the voice on the other end.
‘This is he.’
‘I met Sobi on my way from class. He says you’re looking for me.’
I try to keep the excitement from my voice. ‘And you are?’
‘Tamuno.’
BREAKTHROUGH
The young man I assume to be Tamuno enters the canteen. I think it’s him because of the way he stops at the entrance, and looks around, his eyes passing over the group of students in a heated discussion then settling on the table where Chika and I are seated.
He is tall, lanky even, with light brown skin covered in a sheen of sweat, perhaps from the exertion of walking from Harcourt Whyte Hall to the Village. He is wearing a slightly rumpled white shirt over well-ironed, dark blue khaki pants.
He walks over to us and looks from Chika to me. ‘Dr Taiwo?’
I like that he is not presumptuous. I reach out my hand. ‘I am Dr Taiwo. You’re Tamuno?’
‘Yes, sir. Tamunotonye Princewill. Everyone calls me Tamuno.’
Chika pulls a seat out and the boy sits. ‘I am Chika Makuochi.’
‘Nice to meet you, sir.’
‘Thank you for coming,’ I say to help the young man feel comfortable. ‘We were close to giving up hope of identifying you. There are a lot of Tamunos in these parts and we didn’t have a surname to go with it.’
The boy laughs self-consciously. ‘It’s a curse and a blessing, sir.’
‘Did Sobi tell you why we were looking for you?’ I ask, curious about how much he knows.
‘He did, sir. That’s why I had to meet you.’
The boy’s earnestness catches me off guard, and the investigator in me becomes suspicious. Eager witnesses are generally a red flag.
I decide to come clean. ‘Truth is, we are writing a report on the Okriki Three, and it’s not just a random investigation into mob action as I told Sobi.’
Tamuno’s face falls. ‘I understand, sir. In fact, I suspected this must be the case, since Sobi said that all your questions were centred around them.’
I nod at Chika to speak, since I can see he is raring to go and I wanted a moment to study the young man.
‘We were told Kevin went to the compound in Okriki to see you that day.’
Tamuno looks at Chika with a frown. ‘Not really. We agreed to meet there.’
I try to curb my excitement. We do have the right Tamuno.
‘Why? I ask. ‘Both of you lived on campus, didn’t you?’
‘It’s because of our project, sir,’ Tamuno answers. ‘Well, mine actually. I was writing a paper on the effect of the Anti-Gay laws that were enacted a couple of months before the tragedy.’
Chika looks at me with a slightly raised eyebrow as if to ask what I know of this.
I nod. Folake and I were part of the community of Nigerians in the US who had signed a strongly worded petition to the Consulate in DC to decry the homophobic law that had horrified most of the international community and human rights activists across the globe.
‘My paper was investigating the procedural ramifications of prosecuting those accused of engaging in homosexual activities.’
‘Kevin was helping you with your project?’ Chika asks.
‘Not really. He had vested interests. His friend Momoh had been arrested on suspicions of homosexual activity, but he died in custody.’
I put on a frown. ‘Momoh?’
‘Momoh Kadiri, yes.’
‘This Momoh was arrested by the police in Okriki?’ Chika asks, taking my cue to act as if this is the first time we’ve come across the name.
‘Yes, but he died in custody. He had an asthma attack and had no access to medical care in jail.’
‘And Kevin knew this?’ I ask.
‘Kevin didn’t know anything beyond wanting the police to be held accountable. Momoh was his friend, and he started a movement on campus to demand that the university sue the police. Of course, that didn’t happen, but I think the police in Okriki were very aware of Kevin’s activities and this was why they didn’t step in to help him and the other two when the crowd descended on them.’
‘You think the police set them up?’ I ask.
‘If it were only Kevin, I would have said so, but the involvement of the other two throws my hypothesis into doubt.’
‘This Momoh, what was the ruling on his death?’ I ask.
‘Accidental,’ Tamuno says scornfully. ‘It was proven that, while Momoh’s Ventolin was empty when he was in custody, the police did not confiscate it from him as was initially reported. They were just doing their job.’
Convenient. My next engagement with Inspector Omereji promises to be quite interesting.
‘So, your meeting with Kevin was to do what exactly?’ Chika throws in.
‘We were going to confront Godwin about it.’
‘Godwin?’ Chika and I say almost at the same time, unable to hide our surprise.
At this point, Tamuno looks around as if checking if anyone is listening in on our conversation. His voice lowers conspiratorially. ‘Kevin had it on good authority that Godwin was the one who reported Momoh to the police, claiming that there was gay porn on his phone.’
‘Kevin told you this?’ I ask.
‘Yes.’ Tamuno nods. ‘He showed me his text exchange with Godwin. He had confronted Godwin about it and of course that one denied it.’ Tamuno’s derision towards Godwin is evident every time he mentions the name.
‘So, you decided to go there t
o confront him in person …?’ Chika prompts.
‘When Kevin found out what my paper was about, he offered to help. We just planned to ask Godwin some questions that would either confirm or disprove his suspicions.’
‘But why would Godwin do that to this Momoh boy?’ I ask, genuinely perplexed.
Again, Tamuno looks around to be sure no one is within earshot. ‘Because Momoh found out that he was selling drugs and was planning to expose him.’
‘Godwin was selling drugs?’ Chika asks, not giving any indication that this supported his earlier theory.
‘Big time, sir. When Momoh found out, Godwin told him to keep quiet or else. Momoh said he was uncomfortable with the unsavoury people who were coming to the compound at all times of the night. They were rowdy and even violent. Momoh then gave Godwin an ultimatum to move out or he was going to report him to the police and the school authorities.’
‘You’re saying Godwin had a bone to pick with this Momoh?’ I ask, also lowering my voice.
‘Yes, sir. Kevin told me Momoh had asked his advice on how to deal with the situation, so he knew Godwin must have been the one who told the police about the pictures on Momoh’s phone. The police said they acted on an anonymous tip, and the fact that Momoh’s inhaler was somehow empty on the day of his arrest seemed to point to someone orchestrating everything.’
‘But Kevin could not be sure it was Godwin?’
‘As far as Kevin was concerned, no one else had a motive. The question was whether Godwin knew Momoh would die in custody and Kevin felt confronting Godwin would reveal the truth.’
‘And he needed you to come with him?’
‘No, sir, he didn’t.’ Tamuno’s face falls again. ‘I offered. Since my paper was about the burden of evidence in prosecuting cases like that, I was interested in knowing if Kevin’s assumptions were true.’
‘Did Kevin know Godwin was on drugs?’ Chika asks.
‘Everyone knows that,’ he says dismissively. ‘In fact, Kevin and I banked on Godwin being so high he’d admit to his role in Momoh’s death. We even planned to record the interview.’
‘Godwin claims he does not know how Kevin became part of the Okriki Three.’ I hold Tamuno’s gaze.
‘He is lying!’ Tamuno’s voice rises, contempt mixed with outrage. ‘He may not have known we were coming, but I reckon Bona and Winston came to buy drugs from him, a fight must have ensued, and that was when Kevin must have appeared on the scene.’