Justice or jungle?
“Not even the police could stop him—until the day the hunters became the hunted.”
laughTales WhatsApp Channel
For years, the name Derico Nwamama struck fear into the hearts of southeastern Nigerians. He wasn’t just a criminal—he was a phantom. A ghost that moved through Onitsha’s crowded markets, leaving blood and silence in his wake.
He started small: petty theft, street fights, armed robbery.
But by 2001, Derico had evolved into a monster.
He led a gang that robbed banks, hijacked buses, and killed without blinking. Policemen, traders, travelers—it didn’t matter. If you stood in his way, you didn’t live to regret it.
They said he killed over 25 people.
Some said 50.
He laughed in the face of the law.
And the law did nothing.
---
Onitsha trembled.
Shop owners closed early. Commuters whispered his name like a curse. Families prayed not to be caught in his path.
Even the police—armed and uniformed—hid when Derico was near. They simply weren’t equipped to stop him. Every attempt to catch him ended in bloodshed. He knew the streets too well. He had eyes everywhere. Guns. And no conscience.
---
Until one day, something shifted.
A new name surfaced: Bakassi Boys.
A feared vigilante group with their own brand of justice. They didn’t carry badges. They carried machetes and amulets. And when they came, it wasn’t to arrest—it was to cleanse.
They were called in by traders desperate for peace.
Derico laughed.
Until they found him.
---
The hunt was swift. Brutal. Precise.
Derico tried to run, but the streets that once protected him betrayed him.
The Bakassi Boys caught him in full daylight.
No courtroom. No lawyers.
Just vengeance.
---
In the heart of Onitsha Main Market, with thousands watching, they dragged him out. Bloodied. Broken. Silent.
There was no trial. Just steel and fire.
They butchered him in public.
To send a message.
The crowd cheered.
Some wept.
But peace returned.
---
Derico’s reign ended not in justice, but in raw, bloody revenge.
The people rejoiced—but something darker remained.
If the system had worked… would the Bakassi Boys ever have been needed?
And when the people become the law… who holds them accountable?
---
Justice or jungle? In Nigeria’s shadows, sometimes the line is too blurred to see.
“Not even the police could stop him—until the day the hunters became the hunted.”
laughTales WhatsApp Channel
For years, the name Derico Nwamama struck fear into the hearts of southeastern Nigerians. He wasn’t just a criminal—he was a phantom. A ghost that moved through Onitsha’s crowded markets, leaving blood and silence in his wake.
He started small: petty theft, street fights, armed robbery.
But by 2001, Derico had evolved into a monster.
He led a gang that robbed banks, hijacked buses, and killed without blinking. Policemen, traders, travelers—it didn’t matter. If you stood in his way, you didn’t live to regret it.
They said he killed over 25 people.
Some said 50.
He laughed in the face of the law.
And the law did nothing.
---
Onitsha trembled.
Shop owners closed early. Commuters whispered his name like a curse. Families prayed not to be caught in his path.
Even the police—armed and uniformed—hid when Derico was near. They simply weren’t equipped to stop him. Every attempt to catch him ended in bloodshed. He knew the streets too well. He had eyes everywhere. Guns. And no conscience.
---
Until one day, something shifted.
A new name surfaced: Bakassi Boys.
A feared vigilante group with their own brand of justice. They didn’t carry badges. They carried machetes and amulets. And when they came, it wasn’t to arrest—it was to cleanse.
They were called in by traders desperate for peace.
Derico laughed.
Until they found him.
---
The hunt was swift. Brutal. Precise.
Derico tried to run, but the streets that once protected him betrayed him.
The Bakassi Boys caught him in full daylight.
No courtroom. No lawyers.
Just vengeance.
---
In the heart of Onitsha Main Market, with thousands watching, they dragged him out. Bloodied. Broken. Silent.
There was no trial. Just steel and fire.
They butchered him in public.
To send a message.
The crowd cheered.
Some wept.
But peace returned.
---
Derico’s reign ended not in justice, but in raw, bloody revenge.
The people rejoiced—but something darker remained.
If the system had worked… would the Bakassi Boys ever have been needed?
And when the people become the law… who holds them accountable?
---
Justice or jungle? In Nigeria’s shadows, sometimes the line is too blurred to see.
Justice or jungle?
“Not even the police could stop him—until the day the hunters became the hunted.”
laughTales WhatsApp Channel
For years, the name Derico Nwamama struck fear into the hearts of southeastern Nigerians. He wasn’t just a criminal—he was a phantom. A ghost that moved through Onitsha’s crowded markets, leaving blood and silence in his wake.
He started small: petty theft, street fights, armed robbery.
But by 2001, Derico had evolved into a monster.
He led a gang that robbed banks, hijacked buses, and killed without blinking. Policemen, traders, travelers—it didn’t matter. If you stood in his way, you didn’t live to regret it.
They said he killed over 25 people.
Some said 50.
He laughed in the face of the law.
And the law did nothing.
---
Onitsha trembled.
Shop owners closed early. Commuters whispered his name like a curse. Families prayed not to be caught in his path.
Even the police—armed and uniformed—hid when Derico was near. They simply weren’t equipped to stop him. Every attempt to catch him ended in bloodshed. He knew the streets too well. He had eyes everywhere. Guns. And no conscience.
---
Until one day, something shifted.
A new name surfaced: Bakassi Boys.
A feared vigilante group with their own brand of justice. They didn’t carry badges. They carried machetes and amulets. And when they came, it wasn’t to arrest—it was to cleanse.
They were called in by traders desperate for peace.
Derico laughed.
Until they found him.
---
The hunt was swift. Brutal. Precise.
Derico tried to run, but the streets that once protected him betrayed him.
The Bakassi Boys caught him in full daylight.
No courtroom. No lawyers.
Just vengeance.
---
In the heart of Onitsha Main Market, with thousands watching, they dragged him out. Bloodied. Broken. Silent.
There was no trial. Just steel and fire.
They butchered him in public.
To send a message.
The crowd cheered.
Some wept.
But peace returned.
---
Derico’s reign ended not in justice, but in raw, bloody revenge.
The people rejoiced—but something darker remained.
If the system had worked… would the Bakassi Boys ever have been needed?
And when the people become the law… who holds them accountable?
---
Justice or jungle? In Nigeria’s shadows, sometimes the line is too blurred to see.
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