America is a country that runs on systems. Charlie Kirk, a polarizing political activist, was shot dead on Wednesday, September 10, while speaking at a rally in Utah. A single shot to the carotid ended his life instantly. By the very next day, September 11, the FBI had identified his shooter. 22-year-old Tyler Robinson, a straight-A student. He was not shielded by privilege or family ties. He was reported to the authorities by his own father a sheriff in Utah and a close friend gave all the information the FBI needed to know about him. By September 12, just two days later, the assassin was under arrest.
In America, the system kicks in with machine-like precision. The President of the United States ordered that all flags, anywhere in the world, be flown at half-mast. The Governor of Utah addressed the press seven times within three days of the tragedy twice on Wednesday, twice on Thursday, and three times on Friday. There is an iron rule, when tragedy strikes, leaders must be visible, decisive, and accountable. Failure to deliver justice is a political death sentence. In America, accountability is not optional it is the bare minimum.
Charlie Kirk’s death has already set ripples in motion. His wife’s words at the memorial made it clear that this was not just a farewell. It was the spark of a movement and a reminder that his ideas will outlive his body. A bullet can end a man but it cannot end a cause. Once planted in the hearts of millions an idea cannot be erased.
The arrest of his killer Tyler Robinson shows the complexity of violence. Robinson was a 22 year old prodigy on a prestigious scholarship and from a wealthy Christian background. He did not fit the stereotypes the world rushed to assume. He was neither Muslim nor immigrant nor outsider. He was born of the same political soil Kirk himself cultivated. His own father a retired officer handed him over proving that integrity can weigh more than blood.
The greatest threats are often not external enemies but fractures within. And while Robinson now faces the death penalty, Kirk’s ideas move forward perhaps louder than ever.
Now let’s come home to Nigeria. Imagine if such a shooting took place here. Would the father of the shooter ever hand over his son? Or would he quietly shield him, call in connections, and erase evidence? Would our security agencies move with lightning speed, piecing together evidence and announcing arrests within hours? Or would we still hear the familiar refrain months later.The suspects are unknown gunmen, but investigations are ongoing.
In America, systems are designed to work even when individuals falter. In Nigeria, individuals bend systems until they break. Here, leaders often see accountability as a burden rather than a duty. The expectation that a governor must brief the press multiple times in three days? In Nigeria, a governor would rather stay silent or worse, travel abroad while his people mourn in confusion.
The Kirk tragedy shows that a functional state is not about perfection, it is about process. Citizens trust the system because the system works. In Nigeria, trust is thin because leadership has repeatedly failed to respond with urgency, transparency, and justice. Where America offers answers, Nigeria offers excuses.
And that is the tragedy of my country,we do not lack the capacity to act, we lack leaders willing to act.
On the night of June 13/14 in Yelewata, Benue State, 258 Nigerians were butchered in cold blood. Attackers stormed in on hundreds of motorbikes, killing, maiming, and burning. No single arrest has been made. Instead, the nation was served a media circus statements without substance, condolences without commitment. Sponsors and collaborators of the attackers, some embedded in government houses and emirates, continue to dispatch them for fresh killings. Their kinsmen shamelessly celebrate the massacre on TikTok.
Not one flag was lowered. Not even a curtain shifted. The governor of the state has not addressed a single press conference to brief citizens, nor has he shown any seriousness about justice or security. Worse still, part of the money donated for reconstruction is already suspected to have been siphoned into private pockets. In Nigeria, tragedy too easily becomes transaction.
And Yelewata is not an isolated wound. In 2018, over 200 were massacred in Plateau State till today, no one has faced justice. In 2014, the world watched as 276 schoolgirls were abducted from Chibok; to this day, many remain unaccounted for. In 2022, Owo’s Catholic Church was turned into a slaughterhouse, dozens massacred at the altar. Yet no mastermind has been punished. The litany is long: Zaki Biam, Odi, Southern Kaduna—graveyards upon graveyards, and the killers still walk free.
The difference is clear. America has leaders, Nigeria has dealers. In the U.S., politicians know that failing to act is political suicide. In Nigeria, they calculate that doing nothing is safer than upsetting their alliances with killers, sponsors, and vote banks.
The tragedy of Nigeria is not only the bloodshed, it is the indifference that follows. A country where condolence replaces accountability and silence substitutes for justice is a country living on borrowed time.
But history has no permanent night. One day, Nigeria will find her dawn. One day, this land will be led by people who understand that condolence without justice is cruelty, and silence in the face of slaughter is complicity.
Nigeria shall one day be great but only when we bury our dealers and raise up leaders.
There is also the matter of the $100,000 bounty. If any member of the killer’s family were to collect it, then the tragedy risks being reduced to a transaction. Justice must not be tainted by reward. A father who handed over his son did so out of duty and conscience, not for profit. To commercialize that act would not only cheapen the sacrifice but also cast a shadow over the credibility of the entire process. In moments like this, integrity is more valuable than any prize.
Charlie Kirk is gone. But his ideas right or wrong, loved or hated will ripple through generations. Tyler Robinson fired a shot at a man, instead, he launched a thousand debates, a thousand convictions, a thousand reflections on justice, leadership, and accountability.
So may Charlie rest in peace. And may Nigeria wake up from her shadows. For as America proves systems protect nations. And as Nigeria shows shadows consume them.
Stephanie Shaakaa
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