How I got arrested for giving someone my number in church (Part 3)

Read part one and part two

When we arrived at the station, Titus got out of the car and left me alone with Mike. We sat in the car for a while and Mike seemed almost sympathetic. He gave me more frightening details about Mama Duke. All I can remember now are the words “terrorism” and “attack on the seat of the President.” 

Photo: Pexels/ Toni Cuenca

For a minute the ridiculousness of my predicament struck me and I started to laugh. I told Mike I would definitely write about my arrest when I got out. He laughed and said he couldn’t wait to read my story. Then he told me he’d trained with the CIA for two years and I was both impressed and afraid. My friends had told me stories of black ops style agencies in Abuja but I thought they were exaggerating. 

Mike’s AC was on for a while as we sat in the car, as though he was waiting for some information. It obviously didn’t come so he decided he couldn’t waste anymore fuel in his attempts to make me comfortable. We got out of the car and went inside the station. He took me past the main building and we walked to the back where he pointed out a bench for me to sit on.

A mean looking officer who was seated in the same area asked him “Is this the lady you were talking about?” “Yes it’s her,” Mike said. I wondered when he had communicated with his colleagues about me. Had I been the subject of a whole police operation and without my knowledge too? Na wa o! I could hear my phone ringing in Mike’s hand, obviously all the people I had informed about my situation. Despite my pleas though, he refused to let me pick up.

His excuse was that the calls I was making could spook Mama Duke and she could flee the country. “The woman is very connected,” he said. “She could be listening to us right now.” In my desperation, I threatened that my friends would start a trend on Twitter to raise awareness about my arrest. He obviously heard the uncertainty in my voice because he dismissed me without a second thought. Who was I kidding really? Me with a total of 2,000 followers to my name worldwide and maybe only 20 who truly cared about me. There was no way #FreeJola would trend anywhere. 

Photo: Pexels/ Cristian Dina

Meanwhile, Mike’s story had changed. They were not going to let me go home because they couldn’t risk me informing Mama Duke of the plans to arrest her. Apparently, I was still a suspect. All my attempts to convince him that I didn’t know the woman fell on deaf ears. The new plan was to take me home to get cleaned up and properly dressed, and then lodge me in a hotel with a female police officer. Yes, I hadn’t showered at the time of my arrest. I was just grateful that I decided to put on a bra and baggy trousers before walking to the gate. The thought of being in that station with jiggling boobs and pyjama shorts was too scary to imagine. 

I had also not eaten all day. I was on day three of one of the many three-day fasts my mother’s pastor prescribes for me to repair my marital destiny. Food was the last thing on my mind though. You need to be alive to eat and at this point in time, I was afraid for my life. I was in a Nigerian police station with no phone and no other way to get help. My family was far away in Lagos and didn’t even know what was happening. I had never felt so alone in my life. 

As I sat on the hard bench with my head bowed, I noticed a pair of feet that looked familiar. I looked up to see one of the friends I had sent my live location to.  Actually, he was more than a friend. He was a guy who liked me and waited till I liked him back to inform me that he had a girlfriend. We had a big fight on Valentine’s Day because he wanted to take me to lunch and I thought that was disrespectful to both me and his girlfriend. I had made peace with him just two days before my arrest because I hate holding grudges. 

As I hugged him and buried my face in his neck, I was grateful I had made that decision. At that moment, I couldn’t care less whose boyfriend he was or how much he’d hurt me. He was my reminder that God sees and hears me. I had been praying for a beacon of hope in that moment, something, anything to show me that I wouldn’t end up as a Jane Doe in an unmarked grave. He was a sliver of light in that dark tunnel and to this day, I’m grateful to him for finding me in that station. 

Photo: Pexels/Fernando Makoto

I stepped out of his embrace to find Mike staring at us. He wasn’t expecting anybody to come looking for me. As far as he was concerned, he had grabbed my phone before I could tell anyone where I was. “How did you find her?” he asked my friend. “I sent him my live location,” I answered.” “Smart girl,” Mike said, impressed. 

My friend called Mike aside to have a conversation. Apparently, he had called a lawyer and wanted to know how to proceed. Mike told him everything he’d told me. There was nothing a lawyer could do because there was no official case against me. “We can’t afford to let her out of our sight,” Mike said. “Orders from above,” he added. Mike then asked my friend to leave after promising that I was in safe hands. So after a second brief hug, I was alone again.

Another hour passed and I began to get agitated. “What’s going on?” I asked Mike. “You can’t just keep me here indefinitely. I have rights.” I said. Mike glared at me and said “If you make trouble for me, I’ll put you in a cell. Is that what you want?” I remembered all the horror stories I had heard about Nigerian prison cells and I kept quiet. Going to military school almost damaged me, I refuse to imagine what would’ve happened to my mind if I had entered a cell.

While I was pondering my fate, I overheard the conversation between a group of people and the mean police officer from before. Apparently, they were all members of the same family and their case had been transferred from one of the Eastern states. They were relatives of a 21-year-old widow who had been married for seven years before her husband’s death.

Photo: Pexels/Micael Widell

After her husband died, her in-laws attempted to send her out of his house. When she wouldn’t leave, they accused her of killing her husband, took away her children and alleged that her relatives had helped her commit the crime. Then the in-laws used their connections to get the case transferred to Abuja so the family would have no one to help them.

I took in these details with shock and disbelief. How could this young girl in the tattered white dress be a mother of three and already a widow at 21? Who in their right senses gave her out to be married at 14? How can anyone be heartless enough to arrest a woman immediately after her husband’s death? I played these thoughts out in my head as the young girl rolled on the floor and wailed. Her wails penetrated through my body, soul and spirit. I could feel them in my blood, bones and marrow. As she got louder and louder, I began to cry. 

Never before then had I realized how dangerous it was to live in Nigeria. There I was, an innocent who was being held for sending a text to someone she met in church. And then there was that girl, she never had a choice. She was married off before she could have a say and was now a widow.

She hadn’t even lived, yet life as she knew it was over. I decided then that I would never subject my children to life in Nigeria. I would never give them such a life lacking in hope and opportunity. A life that could be taken from them as if it was never sacred. Even dogs deserve to be treated better than that. 

Evening came and I began to realize that I would probably not be going home or to a hotel. I paced round the station and prayed in tongues. I cried, I sang and I laughed. I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. Mike bought me some food but I had no plans of eating it. Then he confirmed my suspicions. There would be no female officer or hotel room. I would not be going home to shower. Instead, I was going to sleep on the floor of the station’s reception. 

Photo: Unsplash/David Rotimi

I was livid when I saw Mike walking out of the station with my phone. “How can this be happening in a democracy?” I screamed knowing how ridiculous I sounded but not caring. The other occupants of the reception looked at me in amusement while they made themselves comfortable on the floor. There was a woman with a newborn who I heard was a bank manager. The widow and her entire family were also there. Mike ignored me and walked out of the station. I sank into a chair and handed the food to the widow, then I prepared for the longest night of my life.

To be continued…

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