The news that Maryam Sanda, previously sentenced to death for the murder of her husband, was among 175 individuals granted presidential clemency has sparked a storm of debate and understandably so. It raises serious questions about justice, accountability, and the political use of mercy in Nigeria.
What We Know: The Maryam Sanda Case
In November 2017, Maryam Sanda was arrested for the murder of her husband, Bilyamin Bello, the son of a former PDP chairman. The killing reportedly followed a heated argument over alleged infidelity. Sanda claimed he died after falling onto a broken shisha pot during the quarrel. But the court was not convinced.
She was convicted of culpable homicide in January 2020 and sentenced to death by hanging. The court emphasized inconsistencies in her defense, applying the “last seen” doctrine since she was the last person with him alive, she bore the burden of explaining his death.
In December 2020, the Court of Appeal upheld her conviction. She had already spent over six years in prison when the clemency came. According to the presidency, her pardon was based on her good conduct in prison, expression of remorse, and an appeal made by her family particularly considering her two young children.
The Broader Picture: Who Else Was Pardoned?
Maryam Sanda’s case drew attention due to the nature of the crime and the death sentence. But her name was just one among a long and complex list. The 175 pardoned individuals include prominent historical and political figures like Herbert Macaulay, widely considered one of Nigeria’s founding fathers, and Mamman Vatsa, a military general executed for treason in 1986. Former lawmaker Farouk Lawan also made the list.
Others included individuals convicted of drug trafficking, illegal mining, and various white-collar crimes. Some are foreigners. The list is sweeping and symbolic, raising questions about justice, national healing, and the role of forgiveness in governance.
The Public Reaction: A Country Divided
The reaction to Maryam Sanda’s release and the broader clemency list has been mixed, often emotional, and deeply reflective of the public’s complex relationship with the Nigerian justice system. For some, the pardon represents a humane act of mercy. They argue that justice must be tempered with compassion. If an inmate shows genuine remorse and transformation, especially when children are involved, then clemency is not only justifiable it is necessary. In this view, the state has not absolved Sanda of her crime but chosen to emphasize rehabilitation over retribution. There is also the practical reality of Nigeria’s overcrowded, under-resourced prisons. Some believe that clemency can serve as a necessary valve, a way to make room and recognize that long incarceration may be punishment enough in certain cases.
Supporters also see the symbolic pardons, such as those of Herbert Macaulay and Mamman Vatsa, as acts of national reconciliation. They believe that revisiting controversial convictions is a way of correcting historical wrongs or at least acknowledging their complexity.
Many feel that the pardon undermines the seriousness of the crime and the long legal process that led to a conviction. Granting clemency to someone convicted of killing their spouse sends a dangerous message about accountability, especially in a country already struggling with gender-based violence and impunity.
Others are deeply skeptical about the fairness and transparency of the process. How were these 175 individuals chosen? Was it based on political connections, influence, or emotional appeals? There is concern that the rich, famous, or well-connected are more likely to benefit from mercy than the poor or forgotten.
For the family of the victim, this pardon could feel like a reopening of old wounds, a signal that their loss can be brushed aside by state authority. The justice system, after all, is not just about punishing the guilty but also about offering closure to the victims.
There’s also the wider fear of precedent. If presidential pardons appear to override high-profile murder convictions, it could weaken public trust in the courts. It sends a message that finality in justice is optional and potentially political.
