By Muktar Adamu Wudil
It gets even more suspicious when one examines the original invitation letter sent to Emir Sanusi. The letter addressed him as “His Royal Highness” (HRH) and acknowledged that the incident had occurred “within your domain”—a clear recognition of his status and jurisdiction. But after the public reacted with criticism and scrutiny, the police quickly withdrew the invitation and shifted the investigation to Kano. Suddenly, in the official press release announcing that the Emir was no longer needed in Abuja, the tone changed: Emir Sanusi was now simply “Alhaji Sanusi,” and the police made no reference to the incident occurring in “his domain.” This linguistic shift was not accidental—it was strategic. It marked a deliberate effort to strip the Emir of the respect and authority initially granted in internal communication, aligning instead with a federal narrative that seeks to delegitimize him.
It is impossible to ignore the broader context: Emir Sanusi was lawfully reinstated by the Kano State Government, which has exclusive constitutional authority over the appointment of traditional rulers. Aminu Ado Bayero, the pretender, remains ensconced in the Nasarawa mini-palace under heavy federal security, defying the state government’s directive—thanks to the police, whose refuge in false neutrality continues to enable a constitutional crisis.
If neutrality were truly the goal, then why did the police deploy to protect Aminu Ado Bayero’s unauthorized occupation of public property? Why did they turn a blind eye to federal interference in a state matter, while rushing to hold Emir Sanusi accountable for being the target of a criminal assault? Why is a federal police force rewriting its own internal reports to craft a narrative that blames the victim? Since the first leaked police signal that informed Abuja of the murder stated that the arrested thugs attacked Emir Sanusi’s entourage, what is the result of the police investigation? Who hired the thugs to attack the Emir? Why is the Emir suspect in a case the Kano State police already absolved him of, and in which he is a target? Would the IGP have treated the Oni of Ife or Oba of Lagos the same way if they were involved?
These inconsistencies reveal a deeper institutional rot. The IGP did not act independently. He acted on instruction—whether whispered or direct—from political patrons who find Emir Sanusi’s presence inconvenient. Emir Sanusi’s return and uprightness threaten entrenched interests. And so, as has happened before, the system is being marshaled not to protect the law, but to suppress a man who speaks inconvenient truths.
This is no longer about a Durbar procession. It is about the Inspector General of Police surrendering the police mandate at the altar of politics. When law enforcement agencies change their story to suit shifting political winds, when the IGP redacts honorifics and revises titles to suit new allegiances, and when he ignores violence against a state-recognized first class Emir of international repute while targeting him with bureaucratic intimidation, the public has every right to ask: who is the IGP really serving?
