Chapter 12: Motives and Pressure

Nnenna’s parents pressured me every day to send the case to the court quickly—they couldn’t bear to see their daughter’s killer alive for even one more day.

Every morning, the secretary would announce, 'Sir, the Okafors are here again.' I could hear Mrs. Okafor’s sobs from the corridor. They would not let the matter rest, not even for a second.

But I still had many questions about this case.

The whole affair kept me up at night. I would toss and turn, haunted by the girl's smile, by the way her parents avoided my gaze.

First was Baba Tunde’s motive.

Every crime has a reason, even if it is madness. But this one felt different. The pieces would not fit.

Most dismemberment cases I’d seen before were impulsive killings, where the killer panicked and tried to destroy evidence. Such cases were messy and full of mistakes—easy to solve.

Usually, there are footprints, a bloody cloth, or a neighbour who hears a scream. Not this time.

But Baba Tunde’s actions were calculated. He disposed of the body with chilling precision. His motive clearly wasn’t fear.

He worked like someone following a recipe, not running from the police. That kind of evil is rare.

But neither money nor lust made sense. If it was money, he could have kidnapped her for ransom—no need to kill. If it was just for desire, and he wasn’t afraid of the death penalty, what’s a few more years in prison?

I thought, 'Na so people dey craze? Or is there more to this thing?'

After thinking it over, the only reasonable motive I could think of was hatred.

Hatred that deep, that cold, can burn through years, through families. It can hide behind smiles and Sunday clothes.

I privately checked the backgrounds of Baba Tunde and Nnenna’s parents. They were from completely different worlds. I couldn’t find any connection between the two families.

One was from Oyo, the other from Awka. No overlapping schools, no land disputes, no family quarrels.

The truth could only come from Baba Tunde or Nnenna’s parents themselves.

But Baba Tunde stayed silent, and Nnenna’s parents were not willing to talk.

It was like all of them had swallowed their tongues, each waiting for someone else to speak first.

I decided to try my luck.

Sometimes, to catch a rat, you must rattle the cage.

I told Nnenna’s parents, “The court has sent the case back, saying the motive is not clear and more evidence is needed. This process could drag on for a year.”

Their faces fell. Even their lawyer, a plump man with glasses, looked away.

Nnenna’s father couldn’t take it and shouted at me: “Baba Tunde is just a madman! Do madmen need a reason to kill? Maybe killing is as normal to him as eating or drinking!”

He banged the table, sending my biro flying to the floor. The mother sobbed into her wrapper.

I reminded Nnenna’s father that if Baba Tunde was declared insane, he wouldn’t be punished. If I put that in my report, Baba Tunde might soon be released.

“Please think carefully. Are you sure you’ve never met Baba Tunde? Not even once?”

The air in the room changed. You could feel the crackle of electricity, the way it comes before a storm.

Nnenna’s mother pressed her lips together, her eyes suddenly opening wide. “Could this Baba Tunde be..."

She trailed off, as if the words were burning her tongue. She looked at her husband, eyes pleading.

Nnenna’s father looked confused, but Nnenna’s mother quickly made a strange gesture—she gripped something with both hands and swung it forward.

It happened so fast, even the lawyer stared. Her hands sliced the air, strong and sure.

Nnenna’s father’s eyes immediately widened.

He turned and poked my chest, warning, “Listen, I have plenty classmates who are big men in the police and the courts. You better make Baba Tunde disappear for me, or I’ll get you sacked immediately!”

His finger pressed hard, his voice cold and low. It was no longer a plea, but a command.