No Tyre Is Worth A Child

Femi Akintunde-Johnson

The bullet that ended the life of 14-year-old schoolboy, Kehinde Alade in Ibadan, the capital of Oyo State, didn’t come from the battlefield. It wasn’t the aftershock of a robbery gone wrong. It didn’t ricochet from a hoodlum’s gun in a neighbourhood skirmish. No – it came from a man in uniform. A man licensed by the state to protect, not to destroy. A man who, on that fatal morning, pulled the trigger not on a criminal, but on a car’s tyre – and hit a boy instead.

  Let’s be clear: there was no war. No ambush. No shootout. Just a father driving against traffic. Just another of our countless daily acts of civic misconduct –  foolish, wrong but rarely deadly. This time though, it turned deadly. And as Kehinde slumped inside the black Honda Accord, bleeding from a state-issued bullet, a tragic line was crossed – again.

  On Tuesday, 20 May 2025, at about 7:45 a.m., Kehinde Alade’s school day never began. He was seated in the back seat of his father’s car as they tried to navigate the Alakia-Adelubi/Airport Road, in Ibadan’s bustling Egbeda LGA. His father, Odunayo Alade, allegedly drove against traffic – a familiar transgression in the madness of Nigerian roads. Based on viral video evidence seen, the driver exhibited manic recklessness in trying to avoid capture, as is common with some of our bus drivers. But what followed was anything but common.

A team from the Oyo State Road Traffic Management Authority (OYRTMA), backed by police officers, tried to stop the car. The driver reportedly attempted to evade arrest. In response, an officer – trained, armed, and supposedly disciplined – fired his weapon. A bullet meant for rubber tore through flesh. It missed the tyres and hit the teenager behind the driver. No warning. No protocol. No justification that makes moral or professional sense.

  The outcry was instant. Protests erupted in Alakia. Residents marched to the state secretariat with Kehinde’s corpse in tow – a grotesque but necessary protest of grief and rage. What else could they carry to get the attention of a system so deaf to the cries of the living?

 Let’s not be distracted by the official hand-wringing. The Oyo State Government called the act “sad, shocking and painful.” The Police Command said they suspected an abduction or criminal intent because of the father’s erratic driving. They spoke of barricades rammed and patrol vehicles damaged. They explained, excused, obfuscated. But no explanation can cleanse the image of a bleeding child in school uniform, caught in the crosshairs of enforcement turned execution.

  We must ask: What sort of training emboldens a police officer to shoot at a moving vehicle in a crowded civilian space – because of a traffic violation? How have we created an enforcement culture that sees bullets as corrective tools for disobedience? And more damning – how many of these officers are ever truly held accountable?

The officer who pulled the trigger is reportedly in custody. Investigations are said to be ongoing. The Commissioner of Police has promised justice. But Nigerians have heard it all before. From Apo to Ajegunle, Port Harcourt to Iyana Ipaja, bodies have fallen under the fire of poorly trained, trigger-happy officers – most of whom walk free after the hashtags fade and the protests tire out.

  And here lies the deeper tragedy: Kehinde’s killing is not an anomaly – it is a pattern. A national illness. One that thrives where there is no consequence. Where uniforms offer impunity instead of responsibility. Where the life of a child is no more sacred than a dented Hilux. Where tyres are worth more than tears.

  We must break this cycle. Not just with statements, but with action. The officer must be prosecuted swiftly and transparently – not posted to another command or quietly retired. The leadership of OYRTMA and the police must revise their enforcement protocols. Firearms should never be part of traffic enforcement. Ever. And above all, justice must not just be done – it must be seen by every grieving mother, every protesting neighbour, and every frightened schoolchild.

 Kehinde Alade could have been anyone’s son. He died not because his father was right, but because a man with a gun thought his duty was to punish with bullets. And if that doesn’t shake the conscience of this nation, perhaps nothing ever will.

  Until then, may his blood continue to ask the question Nigeria seems reluctant to answer: how many more?

Of Presidents, Popes and Priorities

So, the Nigerian President packed his bags – and his son – and flew off to Rome for the inauguration of a new Pope. A momentous event by all accounts, no doubt, but one wonders: in a nation teetering on every edge known to civil society – hunger, insecurity, institutional rot, currency collapse – is this the pilgrimage that best defines our urgency?

  Let’s be clear: diplomatic courtesy, especially to the Holy See, carries symbolic weight. Nigeria, after all, boasts the highest number of Catholics in Africa. The Vatican is no small corner of the global stage. But when the presidential delegation begins to look like a family field trip – complete with the president’s son, Seyi, in tow – it tilts toward something less official and more indulgent.

  What exactly was Seyi’s portfolio on this spiritual expedition? Special Adviser on Pontifical Applause? Or perhaps Minister for Papal Optics? Jokes apart, the matter is far from funny. In a season when fuel prices have refused to fall like stubborn pests, when university graduates hawk sachet water, and when the naira exchanges humility for humiliation – our leaders must learn that perception is policy.

  It’s not about whether a son travels with his father. It’s about optics in a republic where even civil servants can’t afford to send their children across state lines, let alone continents. Symbolism matters. Frugality must not only be practised, but paraded – especially by a president who rose on the wings of “renewed hope.”

This Rome trip might have been well-intentioned, diplomatically sound, even spiritually edifying. But in the eyes of a weary populace, it was yet another procession of privilege, tone-deaf and tin-eared, missing the spirit of servant leadership.

Until public office begins to reflect public service – sober, selfless, sacrificial – we’ll keep jetting toward reverence abroad while losing relevance at home.