On Thursday, March 06, 2025, chaos erupted in Lagos as no fewer than 12 Nigerian Air Force (NAF) personnel from Logistics Command, Ikeja, stormed the Corporate Headquarters and Oshodi Business Unit of Ikeja Electric Company (IKEDC) in a commando-style raid. Armed and furious, they unleashed mayhem—battering 15 staff, including Oshodi’s Commercial Manager, arresting them, and smashing phones, laptops, vehicles, and office equipment. The trigger? A two-week blackout at their base over a staggering N4 billion debt, plunging the facility into darkness and igniting a powder keg of tension.
The invasion was a two-act assault. First, NAF personnel trashed IKEDC’s headquarters, shattering glass from the third to fifth floors and bundling staff into vehicles with heads forced between knees. Word reached the 9 Brigade Nigerian Army, who couldn’t pinpoint the culprits amid the “military” melee. A senior officer intervened, ordering the airmen out—but after he left, they stormed back, doubling down.
Journalists and civilians filming the carnage had phones seized and smashed; one was attacked. IKEDC’s Kingsley Okotie, Head of Corporate Communications, recounted the horror: “I’ve never seen anything like it—armed forces beating us, looting laptops, fracturing my leg.”
The NAF’s gripe traces to IKEDC cutting power after Lagos State’s plea to restore it went unpaid. The base had warned of dire stakes: a reference hospital crippled, surgeries halted, patients rerouted, and jet fuel—plus bombs and rockets—baking in soaring heat, risking a repeat of the 2002 Ikeja blast. On March 3, NAF cried foul, claiming consistent payments despite the N4 billion tab. IKEDC counters: “We’re privatized, not subsidized—debts like theirs cripple us.” After a 48-hour reconnection ultimatum, NAF’s response was brute force, not negotiation.
Air Officer Commanding (AOC) Logistics Command, AVM Adeniran Ademuwagun, called it “unfortunate,” promising an investigation and sanctions. “We’re here to protect, not harm,” he said, visiting the wreckage. Yet trust’s thin—16 IKEDC vehicles were driven off, staff tortured, and though the 15 arrested were later freed, their untreated wounds and lost gear tell a grim tale. Okotie’s plea to the Chief of Armed Forces and President Tinubu: “Intervene before this escalates—we’re not safe.”
The National Union of Electricity Employees (NUEE) roared back, stunned by the “gangsterism.” Acting General Secretary Dominic Igwebike condemned the “barbaric” assault, demanding the release of staff, replacement of destroyed property, and medical care for the beaten. “We won’t work under brutality,” he declared, pulling members from duty nationwide until safety’s assured. PowerUp Nigeria’s Adetayo Adegbemle branded it “barbaric,” urging legal action against Sam Ethnan Barracks. ANED’s Sunday Oduntan piled on: “Military branches owe billions, enjoy Band A power, reject prepaid meters—then invade us. It’s sad.”
This isn’t Nigeria’s only fire. Rivers‘ Niger Delta Rescue Movement threatens oil production over withheld funds, tied to a Supreme Court ruling stalling Governor Fubara’s budget. The Senate’s suspension of Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan—defying a court order—draws parallels: institutions flouting law for leverage. Shehu Sani’s 2018 near-suspension for exposing senators’ pay nods to a culture of silencing truth. Yet where Sani was spared, IKEDC staff weren’t—NAF’s fists replaced debate, echoing CISLAC’s “treasonable felony” charge against Rivers’ chaos.
X is ablaze. “NAF’s lawless—Tinubu, act!” one user demands. Another quips, “Pay your bills, not staff faces.” Rufai Oseni cites a threat letter from an NAF commander, warning of edgy troops—a smoking gun NAF dodges, neither denying nor owning the assault. Sentiment splits: some see a military wronged by blackouts endangering lives and bombs; others a bully flexing might over a private firm. “Democracy, not thuggery,” Okotie insists, but NAF’s “blackmail” retort—referencing 2002—hints at desperation or deflection.
Contrast this with Air Marshal Hasan Abubakar‘s Zamfara visit, owning an airstrike that killed vigilantes, offering aid and reform via the NAF’s Civilian Harm Mitigation plan. There, accountability shone; here, it’s murky—Ademuwagun’s probe promise lacks teeth without swift arrests. IKEDC’s feeder shutdown, locking out the base and others, ups the ante: a standoff with jet fuel simmering and a hospital dark. “We can’t disconnect just them—they won’t let us in,” Okotie explains, a logistical cage match.
The N4 billion debt’s roots run deep—10 years of unpaid bills, per IKEDC, despite “several appeals.” ANED’s Oduntan says military bases nationwide owe billions, scoffing at meters to curb theft. This isn’t new: power firms battle non-paying giants, but NAF’s escalation—violence over dialogue—crosses a line. Adegbemle’s call for “civil resolution” feels quaint when rifles meet laptops. On X, a user muses, “If NAF can’t pay, who can?”—a jab at a nation where might trumps right.
Broader stakes loom. Nigeria’s oil teeters with Rivers’ threats; the Senate’s impunity festers; PDP pros beg for discipline to save their party. NAF’s raid fits a pattern—power wielded raw, from Abuja to Lagos. Okotie’s fractured leg and NUEE’s strike threat signal a workforce on edge, echoing Akpoti-Uduaghan’s “unjust” cry. Yet Afe Annang’s defense of Akpabio contrasts with NAF’s silence on who ordered this—top brass or rogue airmen?
Legally, IKEDC’s next move could reshape military-civil ties. Adegbemle’s push for lawsuits tests Nigeria’s courts—can they tame an armed Goliath? NAF’s “protection” vow rings hollow when staff nurse wounds and journalists dodge fists. X users demand justice: “Sanction them, not promises!” The 2002 blast spectre—bombs cooking in heat—adds urgency; a misstep could spark literal flames.
At 10:15 AM GMT, March 07, 2025, Nigeria’s pulse races. NAF’s probe must bare culprits—names, ranks, orders—or it’s theater. IKEDC’s plea for safety and NUEE’s walkout frame a nation where utilities and uniforms collide, each claiming victimhood. Rivers’ oil, Zamfara’s dead, Lagos’ blackout—crises stack like tinder. Tinubu’s silence deafens; the Chief of Armed Forces must weigh in, or this escalates beyond feeders and fists. On X, the cry’s clear: “Accountability, not anarchy!” Nigeria’s watching—will law bend, or break?
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