President Bola Tinubu’s recent decision to grant clemency to 175 convicts has cast a new spotlight on the deep fissures in Nigeria’s justice system. Among those freed was Maryam Sanda, who had been convicted in 2018 by the FCT High Court in Abuja for the culpable homicide of her husband, Bilyaminu Bello. In 2017, she fatally stabbed him during a heated argument in their home. After spending over six years on death row, she was granted clemency, alongside others whose cases were reviewed by the Advisory Council on Prerogative of Mercy. This council recommended clemency for 82 inmates, commuted sentences for 65 others, and offered relief to seven inmates on death row.
The decision to release Sanda has sparked significant public debate, particularly among the family of the victim. Bello’s father initially opposed the pardon but later expressed his acceptance, albeit reluctantly, after much personal reflection.
In stark contrast to Sanda’s quick release is the case of Sunday Jackson, a 30-year-old farmer and student from Adamawa State, who remains languishing on death row. Jackson was convicted in 2015 for killing a Fulani herdsman during what he and his supporters argue was a clear act of self-defense on his farm. Jackson’s case was tried in an Adamawa high court, falling under state jurisdiction, meaning only Governor Ahmadu Umaru Fintiri has the authority to grant a pardon, not the president. Despite the herdsman’s family forgiving Jackson and calling for his release, the state governor has yet to act. Even a dissenting opinion from a Supreme Court justice, along with strong support from human rights groups, has failed to bring Jackson the mercy he seeks.
These two cases, both involving death sentences for murder, expose the deep cracks within Nigeria’s justice system. The uneven application of mercy appears to hinge on where a crime occurred and who holds the reins of power. As of July 22, 2025, Nigeria’s prisons hold 3,833 inmates on death row, accounting for approximately five percent of the nation’s total prison population, which exceeds 76,000. This figure represents a troubling rise from 3,590 death row inmates recorded just six months earlier, according to the Nigerian Correctional Service.
Certain states have a disproportionately high number of death row inmates. Ogun State leads with 568 individuals awaiting execution, followed by Rivers (504), Enugu (328), Lagos (314), and Delta, which also has a significant number of inmates on death row. Governors in these states hold considerable power, often making final decisions on clemency requests. However, many governors have been reluctant to exercise this power, leaving inmates to languish on death row for years, sometimes even decades.
Despite the heavy toll on those incarcerated, there have been no executions since 2016, turning death row into a prolonged waiting game filled with uncertainty, anxiety, and trauma. This prolonged waiting period is exacerbated by the fact that many inmates remain in prison long after they were sentenced, with no clear pathway for mercy.
The disparity between the swift federal intervention in Sanda’s case and the slow-moving state-level pleas like Jackson’s highlights a deeply fractured system. It calls into question why certain cases receive swift attention while others are relegated to the backburner. This is not just a matter of legal mechanics but also a reflection of the unequal application of justice.
Nigeria’s justice system has long been criticized for its regional, ethnic, and gender biases. Studies have shown that ethnicity and religion often influence courtroom decisions, with minority groups or non-indigenes facing harsher treatment, especially when the crime involves a political or ethnic undertone. In the case of Jackson, his rural background in Adamawa and the context of a farmer-herder clash make his case especially vulnerable to systemic biases. Meanwhile, Sanda’s high-profile connections and family appeals seem to have accelerated her case, despite the severity of her crime.
Gender also plays a critical role. Research conducted in various Nigerian correctional centers, such as the Olukuta Correctional Centre in Ondo State, indicates that women consistently receive lighter sentences than men for comparable crimes. Sanda’s case is emblematic of this trend, where her family’s influence and the public’s perception of her as a victim of circumstances might have swayed her clemency.
On the streets of Abuja, residents expressed their frustration over the unequal treatment of the two cases. Fairview Africa reporters spoke to ordinary Nigerians, asking for their views on the president’s clemency decision. Many, like Nora, a trader in Garki market, believed the system was unjust. “I feel like the government is showing bias,” she said, shaking her head. “They should either free both of them or keep both in prison, because they both committed the same crime.”
Another resident, Unbreakable, agreed, emphasizing that justice should be consistent: “The recent judgment Tinubu made is not balanced. Justice for one is justice for all—if he set Mariam free, he should have also set Sunday free.”
However, some Nigerians offered alternative perspectives. Comrade Usman Saliusu argued that perhaps Sanda’s release was based on evidence of her rehabilitation. “In Mariam’s case, they might have observed that she has changed and can be of benefit to society,” he noted.
Social media exploded with similar opinions. The Middlebelt Guardian posted: “Tinubu Denies Sunday Jackson Presidential Pardon despite Self-Defense against Fulani Herdsmen attack, grants clemency to Maryam Sanda convicted of Husband’s Murder.” Parallel Facts, a popular news outlet, captured national frustration, adding: “Sunday Jackson Sentenced to Death for Defending Himself Against Fulani Herdsmen, While Maryam Sanda Who Killed Her Husband Granted Clemency.”
Lawyer Adekunle Olanipekun voiced his dismay: “Maryam Sanda, who intentionally murdered her husband in cold blood, has been granted a presidential pardon, while Sunday Jackson, who defended himself from an aggressor, is still being kept on death row. We have a long way to go as a country!”
Smaller social media accounts also weighed in, with one user writing: “Maryam Sanda intentionally killed her husband and was sentenced accordingly. Tinubu just granted her pardon. However, Sunday Jackson, in his self-defense, murdered a Fulani herdsman and was sentenced. Tinubu did not remember to pardon him. Maybe his family doesn’t need him too.”
Engr. Christian Chukwu vented: “Sunday Jackson is still in prison for defending himself against Fulani Herdsmen and sentenced to death by the Nigerian court. Maryam Sanda, who stabbed her husband multiple times to death, has been granted pardon. What a country! Nigeria is a joke.”
As public outcry grows, the pressure mounts on Governor Fintiri to act on Jackson’s case, and on the federal government to encourage a more equitable approach to clemency across states. Jackson’s family, alongside human rights groups, continues to hope for his release, while Maryam Sanda begins to rebuild her life.
For Nigeria’s 3,833 death row inmates, their fate often hangs in the balance of laws, biases, and political influence. With prisons operating at over 200% capacity and executions on hold for nearly a decade, the real question lingers: When does mercy become a right, not a lottery?
For now, Maryam Sanda walks free, while Sunday Jackson’s future remains uncertain. Nigeria’s justice system continues to wrestle with the glaring inequalities that leave so many lives in limbo.
