If the Nigerian judiciary were a Western movie, the magistrates’ court would be the wide, wide West — a place where dust clouds rise, rules are optional, and justice often depends on the mood in the room rather than the law in the book. It is the first rung on the judicial ladder, sitting politely between the customary court and the High Court, and rudely on the liberties of citizens.
On paper, the magistrates’ court is a modest institution with a split personality: it handles civil and criminal matters. In reality, it has perfected the art of disgracing both. No court in Nigeria has done more damage to the idea of justice per square metre. It does so quietly, efficiently, and without ever trending — which may be its greatest trick.
This is the court where people are routinely remanded on mere allegations not grounded in any known offence. The presumption of innocence enters, looks around, and promptly applies for bail. Habeas corpus is mentioned only as a rumour from law school.
Take the now-infamous Ekpoma students’ remand. Young students, whose most serious crime appeared to be inconvenience to authority, were bundled before a court and remanded with the enthusiasm usually reserved for armed robbery suspects. No urgent danger, no completed investigation, no compelling reason — just the familiar incantation: “Police application for remand granted.” Liberty was lost in Ekpoma, but nobody in power misplaced any sleep.
Government critics fare no better. In the magistrates’ court, dissent is a suspicious activity. Journalists, activists, bloggers, and inconvenient citizens are charged not for what they have done, but for what they have said — or worse, what they have typed. Enter the all-purpose offence of cyberstalking: the duct tape of Nigerian criminal law. Too vague to fail, too flexible to resist abuse, and sufficiently modern to sound serious. Once the word “cyber” is mentioned, legal reasoning powers down.
Even more impressive is the remand of defendants for offences where, if eventually convicted, the maximum punishment is a fine. Yes, a fine. Not imprisonment. Not community service. A fine — something payable at a bank, not served behind bars. Yet the magistrates’ court sees no contradiction in sending a defendant to prison “pending trial” for an offence that does not require prison at all. Logic objects. The law protests. The remand order is still signed.
Statutes do not help matters, because statutory requirements are treated as polite suggestions. Magistrates are legally required to visit detention facilities periodically to review cases of remanded persons. This is not optional. It is not aspirational. It is the law. Yet many magistrates have never visited a single detention centre. The cells remain overcrowded, files gather dust, and detainees age faster than their case files. Justice is delayed, unattended, and unbothered.
Independence of the judiciary is often loudly proclaimed, but in the magistrates’ court it is largely ceremonial. The court functions less like a co-equal arm of government and more like a convenient annex of the charging authorities. If the police say “remand”, the court nods. If the police say “Friday”, the court understands perfectly.
And yes, the legendary Friday Charge remains undefeated. A troublesome citizen is arrested late on a Friday, marched to court, and remanded just in time to enjoy a full weekend in custody. Bail applications are adjourned with religious devotion. Liberty is sacrificed to the calendar.
The invisibility of the magistrates’ court ensures this continues. Unlike the High Courts, these proceedings do not attract senior advocates, press conferences, or constitutional outrage. What happens there happens to the poor, the unknown, and the expendable. In these courts, law is not interpreted; authority is exercised. It is not justice being administered, but obedience being enforced.
Reform is no longer optional. The magistrates’ court must be restructured. Its civil jurisdiction should be separated from criminal matters. Remand powers must be drastically curtailed and strictly supervised. Abuse of vague offences like cyberstalking must end. Mandatory prison visits must be enforced, not ignored. And above all, the magistrates’ court must be dragged into the sunlight.
Until then, the wide, wide West remains open — where critics are silenced, students are remanded, fines earn prison terms, and justice is something you hope to meet one day, preferably in a higher court.
Centre for Nigeria Progress 