Chapter 5: The Confession

We brought Baba Tunde in for questioning. He was in his forties, bald, fat, and people called him "Baba Tunde Fatty." He had no criminal record, and honestly, he looked friendly—he didn’t even look like someone who could kill a chicken.

Even in the interview room, he smiled nervously, sweat soaking through his faded buba. His hands trembled as he accepted a bottle of water, muttering, 'God knows I'm innocent.'

We asked him many questions, but no matter what we said, Baba Tunde didn’t defend himself or reply, just kept quiet throughout.

He stared at the table, lips pressed together, not even meeting our eyes. The silence was thick, and my colleague started to lose patience.

After hours of silence, Baba Tunde suddenly made a strange request: “I want to see her parents.”

His voice cracked, almost like a prayer. In our culture, this is not a normal thing—no suspect begs to see the bereaved parents. My skin prickled, as if I’d heard a masquerade's whisper at midnight.

Normally, we wouldn’t agree to such a thing, but if Baba Tunde kept silent, the investigation would go nowhere.

My oga weighed the options. 'Let them meet. If e go break am, make we try.'

With the oga’s approval, I brought Baba Tunde and Nnenna’s parents into the same office.

As soon as they met, Baba Tunde spoke: “Nnenna is dead. I will return her bones and flesh to you.”

The way he said it, not shouting, not crying, just plain, like returning empty cooler after owambe—no feeling, no shame. It chilled everyone to their bones.