He was only 27 years old, just one year younger than my own son today. Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like if I suddenly heard that my son had participated in killing the leaders of a country. I would collapse from shock because only a deeply misguided young man could think such an action was a solution to political problems.
A group of angry and immature young officers, boys, really, convinced themselves that killing political leaders and senior military officers was the answer to Nigeria’s frustrations. They believed violence could magically purify society. Like many reckless young people throughout history, they mistook destruction for heroism.
But reality arrived quickly.
This is what Gowon wrote about meeting Nzeogwu after the failed coup:
"Following his capitulation, (Major Chukwuma) Nzeogwu was brought to Lagos and admitted at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH) where I went to see him. I asked why they killed all senior officers in Lagos and Kaduna, and further asked, ‘do you realise the damage this has done to the esprit de corps of the army and the Nigerian armed forces?’ After I asked, ‘why did you kill Ademulegun?’, I realised I should not have bothered because the answer to the question was obvious. Everyone knew he was hostile to Ademulegun; they never agreed on several issues, especially because of what he termed the Brigade Commander’s romance with the Northern political leaders. I then asked: ‘What about Shodeinde, one of the most decent and gentle officers we had?’
"At that point, Nzeogwu visibly became truly angry but not with me. He was quite upset with his other colleagues in Lagos, his co-conspirators in the South, especially (Major Emmanuel) Ifeajuna and others at the core of the planning. He said there was no such plan for a one-sided execution, that is, killing of the officers from the North. I was not too convinced, but he sounded quite sincere and it truly sounded like he was double-crossed by his colleagues. I then made him realise, just in case he didn’t know, the enormity of the problem they had created. I said: ‘Do you realise what you have done? You’ve taught other people what they could do, and it could go against anybody or group in the future’…My well-known position remains that Nzeogwu was ‘a misguided but gallant soldier with principles’, which was a primary reason I ordered that he be buried with full military honours after he died in battle during the civil war…"
That passage is deeply revealing.
It suggests that even among the coup planners themselves, there may not have been a unified understanding of what they were actually doing. Nzeogwu appeared shocked by the pattern of killings and angry with some of his co-conspirators, especially Major Ifeajuna and others involved in the Lagos operations.
But that raises even more troubling questions.
What exactly was the rationale behind the selection of targets? Why were some people marked for death while others were spared? Why was Brigadier Ademulegun killed alongside his pregnant wife? Why was the wife of Ahmadu Bello also murdered? Even in war, civilized people understand the distinction between combatants and innocent family members.
These are not small moral questions. They reveal the terrifying recklessness that often accompanies violent political extremism.
Nzeogwu himself may eventually have realized that he had entered a conspiracy where different participants carried different motives. Some may have spoken the language of national reform while secretly pursuing personal vendettas, ethnic resentments, ideological fantasies, or private ambitions.
That is one of the enduring dangers of political violence: once violence is unleashed, nobody truly controls it anymore.
The saddest part is that these young men destroyed not only lives but the stability of an entire country. The January 1966 coup triggered a chain reaction, the revenge coup, ethnic massacres, the collapse of trust within the military, the civil war, and decades of mutual suspicion that Nigeria still struggles with today.
Yet my greatest concern is not even the past itself.
My greatest concern is that many Nigerians still have not learned the lesson.
Even today, there are young people who believe complex national problems can be solved through simplistic, radical, emotional solutions. They speak with absolute certainty despite limited understanding of history, human psychology, ethnic tensions, or the consequences of violence. They romanticize “revolution” without understanding that revolutions often consume innocent people first.
Nzeogwu may have eventually realized that he was part of something far uglier and more dangerous than he initially imagined. But by then, the country had already been pushed into a fire that consumed millions of lives and altered Nigeria forever.
History becomes truly dangerous when societies refuse to learn from it.
DISCLAIMER: This article is published for public information and legal education purposes only. It does not constitute legal advice. The views expressed are those of the author and do not represent the position of any government or institution. If you need a lawyer and you are a registered member of DPA, you may contact DPA at +818 000 8266 (WhatsApp) to be referred to a lawyer in your area.
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