The Twist of Fate
Dedicated to the loving memory of Akintunde Ojo and all the unfortunate students killed by police officers in Nigeria.

Lukeman James, alias LJ was a very hardworking police officer of junior rank. He was only a corporal. He was born and bred in Benue State and wanted to go to the university after passing out of the secondary school. But he had failed the University Matriculation Examinations five times and out of frustration he joined the Nigerian Police Force. He was trained at the Nigerian Police College and soon posted to the anti-riot mobile police force in Lagos.

“Lukujames,” one of his fellow officers hailed him. The ugly Yoruba man he disliked for giving him the nickname he never found funny. He preferred to be called LJ and not Lukujames.

“Look! I have warned you to stop calling me Lukujames and you think you are stubborn? Hmm. One day one day, you will regret the day you first called me that nickname!” Lukeman snarled at the colleague.

The colleague was joking. But when the saw the threatening posture of Lukeman as he grimaced in anger, he became sober.
“Haba, Lukeman! I was only joking,” he said.
“Please, let this be the first and last time,” Lukeman warned.
“Rafiu, don’t mind him!” Another colleague shouted as he rose from the wooden seat he was sharing with three other police officers by the roadside of the checkpoint on the Lagos-Ibadan Expressway. They were stationed there to be on the look out for criminal suspects in any vehicle on the road. And they were all armed with their official rifles with supplied ammunition they always signed for before leaving their various police stations for their duties wherever they were assigned.
“Oga. Please, with due respect, I won’t accept any derogatory remark or insult from anyone irrespective of their age or rank. If Rafiu calls me that Lukujames again, I will report him to more intelligent superior officers,” Lukeman said and frowned to show his displeasure at the senior officer who was encouraging the so called Rafiu. He was a sergeant and the Officer in Charge (OC) of their duty post.

“Mister Oyinbo Grammar. You had better mind how to blow that your big grammar whenever I am around. If others are afraid of you, I am not. Nonsense!” The OC said.
He hissed and Lukeman hissed before strutting to flag down a suspicious looking vehicle. It was a red sports car with trendy looking occupants.
“He is too full of himself. If he was really brilliant, why is he here with us suffering and smiling under this hot sun? He should be at the University of Ibadan. He is here, because he failed JAMB five times,” the OC murmured to the other two officers nearest him.
“Shoo? Nawaoh! Five times a failure?” One of them exclaimed without fear of Lukeman hearing him. The other one made a pitiable face and shook his head.
“Nawa for Naija oh! E no easy at all,” he said in pidgin English.


Suddenly a radio message came and the OC received an order to send two of his junior officers to join a patrol team elsewhere. He chose Lukeman James and another officer and they left on their police patrol motorbikes with siren.
The OC sighed with relief. He did not like the sight of Lukeman James.

Lukeman soon saw that the patrol was meant to prevent a crowd of protesting students of the Ogun State Polytechnic who were gathering at the major roundabout in Sagamu and were disrupting the free flow of traffic in the town as they were chanting war songs insulting the governor and his administration.
“Governor na goat oh-goat oh!
Governor na goat oh! Omo eran!”
The fearless students were brandishing banners with anti-government messages and were armed with sticks and clubs. Suddenly they started attacking any vehicle they knew belonged to the government and the occupants were pulled out of the government vehicles and molested indiscriminately. There was pandemonium as the frightened panic-stricken commuters were running away and other vehicles were being driven away from the troubled spots of the mayhem.

The District Police Officer (DPO) commanding the anti-riot patrol was afraid of the worse consequences if he failed to stop the violent demonstration. He must restore peace and order in Sagamu before the angry students would wreck more government properties. So, he ordered his officers to shoot canisters of teargas to scare the students away. But that provoked the infuriated students and they charged at the anti-riot police squad. Gunshots echoed in the sky. There was stampede as smoke filled the whole vicinity of the crisis. Echoes of screaming students rent the sky. Three students fell and were writhing in pains.
“Yeeeeee! They have shot Ododo and Galala oh!” A female student yelled in alarm.
Echoes of exploding Molotov-cocktails, teargas canisters and gunshots rent the air.
The whole place was like a scene in Dante’s Inferno. Hell had been let loose on Sagamu town.


The tragic news made headlines on the major dailies, on the radio and TV.
Two Students Killed and Several Others Wounded in Sagamu Riot.

Lukeman James hissed at the TV as he sat on the rug inside his one room apartment at the Magodo Police Barracks. There was a bottle of Gordon’s gin by his side. He lifted it and took a swig and gargled before swallowing the hot drink. He glanced at the cheval glass mirror near the TV. His bloodshot eyes glared at him. He saw the two red bruises on his forehead. He cursed silently. But the student that did that paid fatally for it. His shot hit his chest and he fell at his feet clutching his torn and worn black boots. He had to force his boots out of his grip as the student screamed and clenched his teeth in the pangs of death. He saw the blood gushing out from a hole in his chest and Lukeman was petrified for a moment. The DOP ordered them to leave immediately to escape from being caught or killed in retaliation by the vengeful students. They jumped into their patrol truck and fired shots into the air as they fled. The DOP told them to return to their barracks and wait for further instructions. Those students were mad. They always thought they were invincible. And with two of them killed, the reality of sudden death gripped them. But he knew that they would revenge. He felt numb. He had never killed a student before.

He heard his cell phone ringing.
He reached for it on the sofa he was resting on.
“Yes?”
He recognized the velvet voice of his fiancée Agnes.
He could tell that she was speaking in-between sobs.
“Please, James hurry and join me”.
She needed him urgently.
She said there was trouble in her house.
Agnes lived with her uncle and his family in Ojodu Estate. Not far away from Magodo Barracks.

Lukeman hurriedly had his bath in the common bathroom shared by all the ten junior police officers on the first floor of their block of flats. He only used ordinary water to gargle and wore his ordinary native clothes with sandals. He took a public transport minibus called Danfo to Ojodu Estate.

When he got to where Agnes lived, the gateman told him that Agnes and her family had gone to the Ojodu Hospital. The gateman was looking sorrowful. Lukeman did not like the sorrowful look.
“Sorry oh,” the gateman said as Lukeman turned to leave for the Ojodu Hospital.
“Okada!” He called one of the nearest public transport motorbikes on the street. The biker wanted to ask him where he was going to, but Lukeman just jumped on the backseat of the motorbike and ordered the biker to ride on. He had no time to waste.
He got to his destination and gave the biker money for the agreed fare. He would collect a remaining twenty naira. The biker handed him the change and Lukeman put it into the breast pocket of his sleeveless brown tunic. He was dressed like the Hausas and nobody would know he was a police officer.

He hurried into the emergency ward of the Ojodu Hospital and soon saw Agnes with her uncle and an elderly woman he did not know in native Nigerian attire. And they were wailing. His heart skipped some beats. Something tragic must have happened. He feared the worst news. A beloved one had died in an accident? Or could be at the point of death?
As Agnes saw him, she wailed louder. He had never seen her like this. She was always cheerful as if she had never known sorrows since she was born. And she was his comforter as he told her his dreams and hopes for a better future. She was working as a receptionist in a business center and taking lessons in computer management. He would eventually go to the university next year. The newly established National Open University had given him a provisional admission. He would still be serving Nigeria as a police officer and attending lectures at the weekends.
“James,” Agnes sobbed in a quivering voice and tearful brown eyes.
His heart was beating faster in trepidation as he feared to hear the worst news one always feared in critical emergencies like this.
“Ododo is dead!” Agnes wailed and crumbled at the feet of Lukeman.
“Ododo is what?” He asked in alarm. He felt twitched.
“Ododo oh!” She wailed louder as he tried to hold her up.

Agnes always told him about her brilliant cousin Ododo who was in a higher institution. And Lukeman never had the opportunity of seeing or meeting him.

She held on to him as she led him to a stretcher in the emergency ward filled with victims of different tragic accidents. The wounded and the dying were here and there with frantic medical doctors, nurses and attendants trying to save the lives of those on the danger list.
“See Ododo oh!” Agnes wailed as she showed Lukeman the lifeless body of a young man laid half naked on the stretcher. Lukeman saw the bullet wound on his chest. He gazed at the face. A look flashed in his eyes. No. No. No. Oh, God! Please, no!
“He was shot and killed in the riot in Sagamu,” a deep voice echoed behind Lukeman.
It was her uncle speaking with tears in his red eyes.
“My first son. Ododo. Killed by a policeman in the Sagama riot Dead and gone! Gone. Ododo is gone. Just like that?
Gone with all his dreams of being the first Justice in Omowa Village? All is gone!”
The elderly woman slouched to his side. She was also sobbing profusely.
“Olomisi my son. Don’t weep. Ododo will not die in vain. The killer will also die as our son died. As long as Osonobua lives, no one kills any son of Omowa and lives long without judgment. Not when I go naked to mourn my grandson!” The woman wailed and one of her wrappers fell off her fat waist.
“Osonobua!” She screamed.

Cold shivers ran through the veins of Lukeman and hot urine wet his underwear as he recognized the face of the student he had shot yesterday. The future brother in-law he had looked forward to seeing and meeting. Now he was seeing. Lifeless. Killed by his own live ammunition.
“Lukeman?” Agnes cried as she saw him staggering before her. And then Lukeman fell and collapsed beside the corpse of Ododo.


N.B:
I just wrote this short story two hours ago. And I love it.
September 21, 2006.

It's really good, i love it.

What a torching story[i][/i]

This is a lesson to all students and the Nigerian police and others in Nigeria.

Sad stories like this are not my cup of tea, but most Nigerians like them so much!!

Did Lukeman actually die?

Very beautiful,i luv d story.wateva goes around comes around.its a lesson 4 evry1.d evil dat men do livs wit dem

Seun:

Did Lukeman actually die?

Seun,
The story ended on that note.
Finis.

Can a short story like this be adapted into a 60 minute movie? Everywhere I turn, I see potential movies!

Seun,
This story means more to me than all the other short stories I wrote and posted on Nairaland.

This story brings back memories of the murder of innocent students in Nigeria.

The Police should remember that every student or civilian could be a relation or an in-law.
Before they shoot, they should think twice.

Tear gas is enough.
No more live ammunition to stop students from disturbing the peace.

Seun: Can a short story like this be adapted into a 60 minute movie? Everywhere I turn, I see potential movies!

Good for Nollywood.

Seun, now that there are grants for Nollywood, you should revive your abandoned movie projects.