The tragic loss of Sommie
By Rekpene Bassey
Tragedy struck with ferocious cruelty in the quiet shadows of Katampe, Abuja’s genteel suburb, in the early hours of Monday, 29 September 2025. Somtochukwu Christelle Maduagwu, fondly known as “Sommie” to friends, colleagues, and admirers, was murdered in her own home.
The 29-year-old anchor, producer, and writer with Arise NewsTV became the latest victim of armed robbery gone violent, her promising light extinguished in the very city meant to embody Nigeria’s aspirations.
Her death is not just another crime statistic; it is a wound cut deep into Nigeria’s media and civic life. A vibrant storyteller, Sommie carried to the screen stories that mattered, narratives that sought to give voice to the voiceless. That she should fall in such a manner, in the sanctity of her home, throws into sharp relief the vulnerabilities in Nigeria’s much-touted security framework.
Vita brevis, ars longa – life is short, art endures. In her short years, Sommie built a portfolio of work that resonated far beyond newsroom walls. She was a curator of public conscience, illuminating Nigeria’s struggles and triumphs with uncommon clarity. Her murder silences a voice still needed, but it cannot erase the truth she sought to unveil.
In a functioning system, the home should be the fortress, the one refuge where citizens retreat in peace. Yet for Sommie, home became the stage of her violent exit. It recalls the Latin maxim ubi jus ibi remedium – where there is a right, there ought to be a remedy. The right to life, to safety, to dignity in one’s dwelling has been breached, and remedies remain elusive.
Law enforcement responses, too often sluggish or reactive, reflect systemic gaps. Police presence is thin, far between; emergency hotlines are unreliable, and investigative outcomes are uncertain. Nigerians have long complained that the state reacts after the damage is done, leaving deterrence in perpetual deficit. Justice delayed, or denied, only emboldens the next assailant.
Economic strains worsen the climate. With unemployment hovering high and inequality deepening, desperation fuels criminality. Aristotle once wrote that poverty is the parent of revolution and crime. Nigeria, teetering under its own pressures, proves the old philosopher prescient. Without economic relief, policing alone is but a bandage on a festering wound.
But Sommie’s death also reverberates in the corridors of Nigeria’s press. Journalism, already fraught with risk in a nation where power resents scrutiny, has now been bruised in the most personal way. Her colleagues mourn not merely a friend, but also a professional exemplar —a reminder of how fragile the space for truth-telling remains.
Her murder has triggered a cascade of public outcry. From media houses to civil society, questions ring louder: Who protects the protectors of democracy? What assurance do citizens have when even the elite enclaves of Abuja can be breached? And when will Nigeria build a system where justice is not a mirage?
The tragedy spotlights broader lessons about prevention. Security is not merely about armed patrols; it requires layered approaches. Neighbourhood watch structures, technology-driven surveillance, community policing, and quick emergency intervention (QEI) could form a lattice of safety. Yet these remain underdeveloped, underfunded, or absent.
The philosopher Hobbes warned of life in a state of insecurity: “nasty, brutish, and short.” Sommie’s fate evokes that grim Leviathan world, where the social contract falters and violence thrives unchecked. Nigerians, now paying more taxes and pledging loyalty to the state, expect in return the fundamental guarantee of safety. That expectation, time and again, proves to be illusory.
There is also the matter of memory and justice. To honour Sommie is not only to mourn her but to demand accountability for her killers. Without justice, her death risks becoming another entry in Nigeria’s unending litany of unsolved crimes. Cicero reminds us: Salus populi suprema lex esto – the safety of the people shall be the highest law. Nigeria must take heed.
Her loss calls for more than platitudes. It requires institutional resolve: better-trained police, investment in forensic capacity, community-centred prevention, and above all, political will. Nations are measured not by their rhetoric but by their ability to protect the lives of their citizens.
Yet beyond the policy debates lies the aching human void. A daughter, a colleague, a friend – gone. Her laughter will no longer fill newsrooms, her voice no longer animate screens. In moments like these, grief resists abstraction. It insists on being felt, raw and unrelenting.
Still, grief can be a catalyst. Out of tragedy may come reform, if Nigeria chooses to face its demons honestly. The haunting question is whether this nation will once again move on, numbed by the sheer repetition of violence, or whether Sommie’s name will mark a turning point in Abuja’s approach to security.
The lesson is eternal: civilisations endure not by wealth or monuments, but by their commitment to protect human life. As Plato observed, justice is the foundation of a just city. Abuja, aspiring to be the showcase of Nigeria, must decide whether it will embody that principle or remain hostage to the chaos it claims to rise above.
For now, Somtochukwu Christelle Maduagwu lies silent, her voice stolen by violence, her story unfinished. Yet, in her death, an imperative resounds: Nigeria must confront its insecurity with greater seriousness. Sommie’s life was short, her art enduring, but her death must not be in vain.
*Rekpene Bassey is the President of the African Council on Narcotics (ACON) and also a Security and Drug Prevention Expert.
