Till Death Do Us Part
Episode 2: Ghosts from Nsukka
Enugu State CID, Anti-Kidnapping Unit — 8:15 PM
SP Ngozi Onuorah rubbed her temple and stared at the board filled with post-it notes, photos, and CCTV stills. The pressure was on. A bride kidnapped on her wedding day in broad daylight? That was front-page disgrace.
She faced Obinna, his phone buzzing nonstop with calls from panicked relatives and concerned friends.
“You said she didn’t talk about her past much,” Ngozi said again.
“She didn’t,” Obinna muttered. “She just said she came from a rough background… that she worked hard to become who she is.”
“Was she ever sponsored by anyone?” Ngozi’s voice was sharp now. “A sugar daddy, a benefactor?”
Obinna hesitated. “I don’t know.”
Ngozi turned to her assistant. “Get her UNN student records. I want academic sponsors, scholarship benefactors, roommates, ex-boyfriends, everything. And pull up hotel footage again. I want that tinted GLA traced.”
Nsukka — 9:03 PM
Ifeanyi Eze’s Residence — ‘The Dog House’
It looked like an abandoned compound, with overgrown grass and broken windows. But inside, it was a fortress — hidden surveillance cameras, armed boys in the backyard, and enough weapons to start a small war.
Ifeanyi “Togo” Eze sat in a plastic chair, feet propped up on a center table, phone in hand. Shirtless, scars crisscrossed his chest like tribal markings. One eye was slightly lazy from an old bullet graze. But his voice? Sharp. Commanding.
He was watching a TikTok video when his lieutenant, a broad-chested man nicknamed Smally, entered.
“Boss, the girl dey refuse eat. She no dey talk.”
Ifeanyi smirked. “She go talk. When her body remember who I be.”
He stood up slowly.
“Dem don forget say na me scatter that Labour Party rally in 2019? Say na me deal those boys wey want expose Honourable Mbakwe?”
He raised his voice as his men gathered.
“I no get degree, but I dey sit with commissioners! I dey enter Government House through back door! But one small girl say I no be her class?”
He paced.
“I pick her from gutter, make sure say she graduate. Law degree! I give her money, phone, even pay her father hospital bills. And now—she wan marry one Ajebo because the guy speak big grammar and wear agbada like mumu?”
He spat.
“Tonight, she go remember say no be only book get power.”
Unknown Location — 9:40 PM
Nkiru sat on a dusty mattress in the dark. Her veil was gone. Her second dress torn. One heel still on. Her hands were tied behind her back, lips bruised from crying and screaming.
Her eyes adjusted slowly to the faint lightbulb swinging overhead. Shadows danced across the cracked walls.
Footsteps.
The door creaked open.
And there he was.
Taller than she remembered. Bulkier. Eyes harder. Hairline receding.
“Ifeanyi…” she gasped. “You…”
He entered, shut the door.
“Long time, Nkiru. You look good. Even better in white. Pity the dress no fit reach reception.”
She sobbed. “Why? What do you want?”
“What I want?” He squatted in front of her. “I want you to feel what I felt. I want you to answer that question I asked you two years ago. When you blocked me and disappeared.”
Her voice trembled. “I told you… we were in different worlds. You became… violent. Scary.”
He laughed. Loud and cruel.
“You used me to climb ladder. And when you reach top, you remove the ladder.”
She stared at him. “You want revenge?”
He stood, cracked his knuckles. “No. I want truth. And when I get it… you’ll be free.”
10:00 PM | Enugu Anti-Kidnapping Office
Ngozi’s assistant returned with a manila file.
“Ma, we got a name. During her second year at UNN, her school fees were constantly paid via direct cash deposits made by a Mr. Ifeanyi Eze — no relation listed. Same name came up in police reports multiple times: extortion, assault, and illegal possession of firearms.”
Ngozi raised a brow. “Where is he now?”
“No official address. But in 2021, he was linked to the burning of campaign buses during party primaries in Nsukka. Allegedly got ₦70 million from a top senator to silence political opponents.”
Ngozi nodded. “From what I see, he’s more than capable. A man like that doesn’t ask for ransom. He wants something personal.”
11:35 PM | Nsukka — Inside the Compound
“Tell me you’re sorry,” Ifeanyi said, voice calmer now. “Look me in the eye and tell me you knew what you were doing.”
Nkiru sniffed. “I didn’t plan to hurt you.”
“But you did.”
“I was scared, Ifeanyi. Your world… guns, beatings, all those boys hanging around… I loved you, but I couldn’t breathe. I wanted more than that life.”
He clenched his fists.
“I gave you everything.”
“And I gave you my heart too,” she whispered. “I just couldn’t give you my future.”
Silence.
Then a shout from outside: “Police! Stay where you are!”
Gunshots.
A loud explosion.
Screaming.
Ifeanyi rushed to the window. “How did they find here?!”
Smally barged in. “Boss, dem trace the car from Enugu! E don cast!”
Ifeanyi pulled a pistol from his waistband.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he told Nkiru.
But before he could drag her up, a tear gas canister crashed through the window.
11:58 PM | Final Moments of the Raid
The Enugu tactical squad stormed the compound.
Gunshots lit up the night like fireworks.
Obinna, against orders, had ridden with the backup team. He watched as men in black helmets leapt over fences and disarmed the touts one after another.
In the chaos, Ifeanyi slipped to the back, dragging Nkiru through a kitchen door.
They reached the bush path behind the house.
A light flashed on him.
“DROP YOUR WEAPON!”
Ngozi’s voice boomed.
Ifeanyi hesitated.
Nkiru screamed, “Please don’t shoot him!”
But he lifted the gun.
Ngozi fired.
He dropped instantly, clutching his shoulder, blood soaking his chest.
Nkiru collapsed beside him, sobbing uncontrollably.
