By Nwamulunamma Ogbunka
Abuja
When the Nigeria Association of Women Journalists (NAWOJ), received word over the weekend that criminal charges in an alleged defilement case involving a four-year-old child in Plateau State had been withdrawn, the reaction was swift and unequivocal: “profound shock and concern.” Signed by National Chairperson Aishat Ibrahim, NAWOJ’s press release frames the discontinuance not as a routine legal decision but as a test of public interest, constitutional duty, and society’s willingness to protect its most vulnerable. With Section 211 of the 1999 Constitution granting the Attorney-General power to discontinue cases, NAWOJ is asking the harder question: should that power be used when a child’s justice hangs in the balance?
The facts as reported are troubling. A four-year-old child, allegedly defiled, with a defendant who repeatedly failed to appear in court. A bench warrant issued but, according to NAWOJ, remained unenforced. Then, the charges were withdrawn. For an organization mandated to defend women and children, the sequence reads less like due process and more like systemic failure.
NAWOJ grounds its objection in law, not emotion. Section 211(3) of the 1999 Constitution is clear: the Attorney-General’s power to _nolle prosequi_ must be exercised “in the public interest, in the interest of justice, and in order to prevent abuse of legal process.” The question NAWOJ poses is whether those three tests were met.
“Public interest” is the first threshold. Child defilement is not a private dispute. It carries implications for public safety, deterrence, and the state’s commitment to protecting children. When prosecution is dropped in such a case, the public is entitled to know whose interest is being served.
“Interest of justice” is the second. Justice, in child abuse cases, goes beyond conviction rates. It includes the message sent to victims, families, and perpetrators. A withdrawn charge after repeated non-appearance of the defendant risks signaling that delay and absence can defeat accountability.
The third, “prevent abuse of legal process,” cuts both ways. Prosecutors use _nolle prosequi_ to stop malicious or baseless charges. But NAWOJ argues that withdrawing charges despite a vulnerable victim and unexecuted bench warrant could itself be an abuse — of public trust.
Plateau State has domesticated the Child Rights Law. That domestication is more than legislative text. It creates a binding obligation that “the best interests of the child shall be the primary consideration in all actions concerning children.” NAWOJ is essentially asking: was that principle primary here?
The timing makes the decision more sensitive. Nigeria continues to grapple with high rates of sexual and gender-based violence against children. Each high-profile case shapes public confidence. Each discontinuance without explanation shapes public cynicism.
NAWOJ’s core worry is deterrence in reverse. Victims and families watch courtroom outcomes. When a case involving a four-year-old collapses after procedural delays, the lesson for other families may be: “the system won’t finish what it started.” That discourages reporting and undermines prevention efforts.
The Attorney-General of Plateau State has constitutional authority, but authority without transparency breeds suspicion. NAWOJ’s first demand is direct: Governor of Plateau State should order a transparent review of how and why the case was withdrawn.
The second demand targets the AG directly: provide a detailed public explanation. What evidence issues arose? What efforts were made to enforce the bench warrant? What alternatives to outright withdrawal were considered? In cases involving children, opacity is not discretion — it is abdication.
NAWOJ does not stop at state level. It calls on the Attorney-General of the Federation to examine whether Section 211(3) constitutional requirements were “adequately considered.” The AGF’s oversight role matters when state-level decisions potentially impact national standards on child protection.
The call to action extends to institutions. National Human Rights Commission, FIDA Nigeria, UNICEF, civil society groups, and child rights advocates are urged to monitor the matter. These bodies serve as external checks when internal accountability falters.
The Nigerian Bar Association is also named. For NAWOJ, lawyers have a duty beyond technical arguments. “Justice must not only be done, but be seen to be done.” The NBA’s voice can reinforce that legal technicalities should not eclipse moral duty.
The media’s role, NAWOJ notes, is vigilance. Reporting, questioning, and keeping the case in public view prevents it from vanishing into administrative files. Public scrutiny is often the last safeguard for children whose voices are too small to reach courtrooms alone.
NAWOJ commends FIDA Nigeria and other advocates who consistently demand accountability. Their work, the association argues, is what keeps the justice system honest when cases like this test its limits.
The closing line of NAWOJ’s statement is stark: “The true measure of any society lies in how it treats its most vulnerable citizens. When justice appears to be denied to a child, society has a duty to speak. Silence is not an option.” In Plateau, and across Nigeria, that duty now falls on government, institutions, and citizens to demand answers.
