A Moment for Caution, Not Overreach
This is a moment where discretion must take the place of legal overconfidence. While the Federal Government’s criminal defamation case against Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan may appear to be strictly a domestic legal affair, it now casts a growing international shadow. It is a case that, due to its complexity and context, risks attracting scrutiny beyond Nigeria’s borders.
This writer has no interest in partisanship or political validation. I do not endorse Senator Natasha’s political style, statements, or strategy. I do, however, offer this as a free counsel—especially to the Attorney General of the Federation, Mr. Lateef Fagbemi. The handling of this case could set off unintended global legal consequences, particularly in the United States, where legal systems are highly responsive to cross-border allegations involving civil liberties, gender equity, and institutional integrity. We are no longer in a world where internal actions remain internal. The reality is that domestic legal procedures that appear unjust, retaliatory, or gendered in tone can quickly evolve into transnational matters, especially when digital communications and U.S.-based actors are involved.
When a Plea for Investigation Is Met With Prosecution
It must be emphasized that Senator Natasha made several public appeals—not in whispers, not behind closed doors, but in full view of the nation and the world. She asked for protection. She asked for investigation. She called on the Nigerian Government, the Inspector General of Police, and the Attorney General to examine her claims of harassment, threats, and reputational targeting. These appeals were not only public—they were consistent. Yet, there is no record of meaningful institutional follow-up. There was no neutral inquiry panel, no public fact-finding committee, no protective mechanism publicly announced. What followed was a suspension from the Senate, prolonged silence from key state bodies, and eventually a state-backed prosecution. From an internal political view, this might seem routine or manageable. But in a wider, international legal context—especially in the eyes of courts in democratic societies—this can be read as an attempt to punish, not to listen. It creates a narrative that institutions shield the powerful and isolate the accuser.
What Happens If This Case Is Filed in a U.S. Court?
This brings us to the core of the growing international concern: the active involvement of Sandra Duru, also known as Prof. Mgbeke, a figure who resides in the United States. Her connection to this case introduces not just a geographic dimension, but also a legal one that could extend into the American judicial system. Duru has been publicly accused of leading a digital campaign that targeted Senator Natasha Akpoti-Uduaghan. Allegations include orchestrating a cyber smear effort, seeking payment in exchange for narrative control, and releasing sensitive information—most notably, during a livestream where she reportedly exposed the private phone number of Senate President Godswill Akpabio.
In the Nigerian context, these actions might incite online controversy and be absorbed into political discourse. However, in the United States, the legal interpretation is different. In the U.S. judicial framework, digital communications of this nature—livestreams, screenshots, voice messages, transaction records—are not treated casually. They are considered potential legal evidence. If elements of the harassment or reputational damage campaign can be traced to U.S. soil or if digital platforms headquartered in the U.S. were used to disseminate the harmful content, then this matter could rightfully fall under the jurisdiction of American courts.
This potential legal reach becomes even more pressing when we consider recent developments surrounding a Nigerian journalist and media activist, Maazi Obinna Oparaku Akuwudike. He was arrested by police in Imo State after giving an interview on Adeola Fayehun’s U.S.-based YouTube channel. In the interview, Obinna claimed that Sandra Duru had paid him to produce content aimed at damaging Senator Natasha’s reputation. He initially took the assignment believing it was a legitimate media contract, but later grew uncomfortable after noticing inconsistencies in Duru’s narrative. His eventual disclosure of the campaign—and the subsequent arrest—has further drawn public attention to the roles being played behind the scenes.
The implication here is significant. A whistleblower, having participated in and then withdrawn from what he describes as a coordinated smear campaign, gave his testimony on a global platform hosted in the United States. That interview now lives in the public domain, creating a digital trail accessible to international observers, legal experts, and possibly even American attorneys. If the case is perceived as involving cross-border psychological harm, manipulation, or cyber harassment, then the likelihood of it drawing interest or action from American legal institutions increases. And this is precisely why this case must be approached with care: once a foreign jurisdiction begins to consider the facts, the matter could evolve beyond the control of Nigerian institutions.
Should Natasha, or even a third-party legal or advocacy group acting on her behalf, choose to pursue a civil case in the United States—particularly on the grounds of defamation, digital harassment, or psychological harm arising from cross-border activities—then the issue takes on a whole new life. The jurisdictional threshold is surprisingly low in such matters. It does not matter whether the bulk of the public impact was felt in Nigeria. What matters is where the digital activity was initiated, who the actors were, and whether American systems, platforms, or territory were part of the chain of events. And once activated, U.S. courts do not entertain political interference. They do not recognize status as a shield. They deal in evidence, timeline, consistency, and the protection of individual rights.
American Legal Standards and the Question of Retaliation
American legal systems take a hard stance on retaliation against whistleblowers, especially those who raise gender-based allegations against individuals in power. In this kind of setting, Natasha’s political popularity or public behavior is largely irrelevant. The courts will focus on process. Did she report misconduct? Was she acknowledged or investigated? Was she offered institutional protection or was she subsequently punished? These are the exact questions that trigger judicial sympathy and legal remedy in systems that prioritize fairness over force. If evidence shows that the complainant became the defendant, while her alleged aggressors became protected witnesses, this scenario will not be considered neutral by international standards. It may be interpreted as state-enabled retaliation—a label that no justice ministry should be comfortable with.
This Is Not Support—It Is Institutional Concern
And so I restate my position clearly and respectfully: this is not about supporting Senator Natasha. I am not advocating for her political elevation or legal vindication. My concern here is with Nigeria’s institutional image, with how our justice processes are perceived abroad, and how decisions made today may echo in foreign courts tomorrow. If the American legal system begins to dissect this matter, the focus will not be on politics. It will be on whether the procedures followed fair legal doctrine, whether the AGF’s office acted with impartiality, and whether the judicial process was allowed to unfold without the weight of political power tipping the scales.
The Window Is Still Open for Institutional Reflection
There remains time for reflection. There is still room for recalibration. There is an opportunity to demonstrate that the Ministry of Justice upholds fairness—not only within Nigeria, but in ways that can stand international scrutiny. The question the AGF must consider now is not simply whether the case is legally defensible, but whether it is institutionally sustainable under international watch. In the age of global accountability, prosecutorial decisions can be measured not just by domestic legality but by global perceptions of fairness, gender equity, and due process.
Final Words: This Is Counsel, Not Condemnation
This is not an accusation. It is not a provocation. It is professional guidance from a neutral observer who has worked within institutional frameworks. The goal here is not to undermine the Attorney General’s office or the broader administration, but to encourage reflection. When a nation’s legal apparatus takes on a case that intersects gender, politics, and international scrutiny, its decisions ripple beyond local courtrooms.
The risk ahead is not inevitable, but it is increasingly foreseeable. The moment this issue lands within the jurisdiction or awareness of international legal bodies—especially American courts—the standards for what is considered “due process” will shift to more transparent and rigorous expectations. If that moment comes, it may not be reversible.
Let it not be said that those entrusted with our legal institutions were not warned. Let it instead be said that they paused, reflected, and recalibrated—choosing the path of fairness and credibility over political expedience.
– John Egbeazien Oshodi
This writer does not know any of the individuals involved; the focus is solely on upholding democracy, truth, and justice.
