Last week, I received a disturbing report alleging that Nehemiah Adejoh — the man accused of driving the vehicle that killed Nigeria’s first female combat helicopter pilot — has fled the country.

Naturally, as a journalist with a knack for investigating reports, I tried to verify the claim. A search through publicly available reports shows that the last major update on the case was in October 2020, when a Kaduna state high court granted Adejoh bail in the sum of N2 million. Since then, there appears to be no sustained media coverage, no official briefing, and no clear public record of how the matter progressed.

I made several attempts to reach the spokesman of the Nigerian Air Force and even sent a formal email requesting an update. To date, there has been no response. And so, the uncomfortable question persists: Where is Nehemiah Adejoh, and what is the update on the trial?

If the allegation that he has left the country is untrue, the authorities should say so clearly. If it is true and he has not been declared wanted, then that silence would be troubling. If, on the other hand, the case is still before the court, Nigerians deserve to know its status.

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The absence of information six years after such a high-profile death creates room for speculation — and speculation thrives where transparency is absent.

It bears repeating that the late Tolulope Arotile was not an ordinary officer. She was Nigeria’s first female combat helicopter pilot — a symbol of professional excellence in a country desperate for stories of merit and courage. Before her death in July 2020, media reports were awash with accounts of her role in operations against bandits and armed insurgents in the north. It was gathered that her last mission was part of “Operation Gama Aiki” in Minna, Niger state, where, despite rockets fired in her direction, she reportedly neutralised several bandits.

Then came the shocking news of her death — not in combat, but in what the Nigerian Air Force described as a tragic accident.

In its preliminary report released in June 2020, the Air Force stated: “Upon recognising their schoolmate, Arotile, after passing her, Mr Adejoh, who was driving, reversed the vehicle, ostensibly in an attempt to quickly meet up with the deceased, who was walking in the opposite direction. In the process, the vehicle struck Flying Officer Arotile from the rear, knocking her down with significant force and causing her to hit her head on the pavement. The vehicle then ran over parts of her body as it veered off the road beyond the kerb and onto the pavement, causing her further injuries.”

Her father, Mr Akintunde Arotile, recounted their final conversation in words that still resonate: “Just yesterday, at about 1 pm, I called her because she just came back from an operation against the bandits in Katsina (and) they gave them one week to rest. So, she was sleeping and told me she was in bed resting. She said she will later go out to make some photocopies and I told her not to be long and to return home on time because she was staying with my first daughter in Kaduna.

“Around 5:30 pm, somebody called me and asked if I had called her today and I said ‘yes’. Then the person told me to call her which I did, but no response, so I called her colleagues, and they were all crying on phone. I asked what happened, they were just crying. So, I called one of her bosses who told me that she is in the mortuary and I said, ‘this is somebody I spoke with four hours ago and by 5pm she was in the mortuary’.”

For many Nigerians, the official explanation left unanswered questions. How does one reverse a vehicle “to quickly meet up” with a friend and end up striking her with such force that she is knocked down and run over? Were all relevant forensic and investigative procedures exhaustively carried out? Was due diligence applied?

These questions are not accusations; they are demands for clarity.

At her one-year memorial in May 2021, her father spoke again — this time about the lingering pain of an unresolved judicial process:

“We are trying as a family to put a closure to the whole thing, particularly with the case that is still in court. Up till now, it has not been easy. If the case has been concluded, we will try and see if we can put a closure to that chapter and we will just mourn her till maybe when I and my wife will die. But the case is still on. I don’t even know when the next hearing will be. My wife is so disturbed because of that. It’s like you have an open wound that is not healing. If the case is concluded, our minds will be at rest”.

That metaphor — an open wound that refuses to heal — captures the mood of many who followed the case.

The incident occurred during the Muhammadu Buhari administration. President Bola Tinubu is almost concluding his four-year term. It would not be unreasonable to expect that the office of the commander-in-chief should be interested in ensuring that the death of a decorated officer receives a transparent judicial closure. Justice delayed, especially in a matter of national symbolism, gradually erodes public trust.

This is not about political point-scoring. It is about institutional memory and respect for service. When a country fails to bring clarity to the death of one of its finest officers, it sends a quiet but powerful message about how it values sacrifice.

Civil society groups and the legal community also have a role to play. High-profile cases should not simply fade from public consciousness because news cycles have moved on.

The broader concern is generational. If a young officer who broke barriers and served in active combat can die under controversial circumstances and her case disappears into bureaucratic silence, what hope does the average Nigerian youth have for accountability in less visible situations?

In all of this, I pity Nigerian youths. If this can happen to Tolulope Arotile, Nigeria’s first female combat helicopter pilot, and the government treats it with levity, what then is the fate of the average Nigerian youth on the streets? Rather than being focused, asking questions and demanding good governance, many youths busy themselves with inanities and get distracted by paid elements who are drinking Hypo on social media and dying “hypothetically”.

As a friend of mine said, many youths in Nigeria have not even been to the airport, let alone board a flight. Many have not travelled to neighbouring countries in Africa, not to mention developed countries such as the UK, the US, France or Canada. If they were privileged to spend just two weeks in these countries and see steady electricity, good roads, improved healthcare, security and other good things of life, they would return to Nigeria in anger. Rather than labouring in the scorching sun campaigning for politicians whose children are schooling and living abroad, they will stone them like former Ministers, Rotimi Amaechi and late Tony Momoh said.

Nigeria owes Tolulope Arotile more than ceremonial tributes and memorial hashtags. It owes her parents closure. It owes its armed forces reassurance that service and sacrifice matter. And it owes the public transparency.

So again, the question is simple: What is the status of the case? And where is Nehemiah Adejoh? Silence, at this point, is no longer acceptable.

Written by Akinsuyi, former group politics editor of the Daily Independent, writes from Ibaraki, Japan. He can be reached at shabydayo@gmail.com