They killed Fish Magnet, but what they’re really killing is hope. The South East is bleeding brains — even the law couldn’t protect Peter Obi’s property.
It started like any ordinary morning in Onitsha. The sun rose lazily, the streets buzzed with traders, and the scent of dried stockfish blended with exhaust fumes on the ever-chaotic Port Harcourt Road. But somewhere behind the scenes, in the alleys ruled not by commerce but by silence and shadows, something was already dead—hope.
They called him Fish Magnet—young, smart, and full of fire. He wasn’t your regular hustler. He built an empire from fish farming, turned mud ponds into gold mines, and inspired a generation of Igbo youth to believe again in the dignity of building from home. But dreams are dangerous in a land where guns speak louder than governance.
One evening, as dusk bled into darkness, they came for him—faceless, heartless men. Kidnapped. Held. Negotiations failed. Then silence. And then… death. Another candle snuffed out in a region that once raised warriors, thinkers, traders, and builders.
But he wasn’t the first.
Obiajulu Umeh, a young Labour Party House of Assembly candidate in Anambra, was kidnapped and found dead days before the 2023 elections. He was 34. His crime? Daring to challenge the old order.
Ifeanyi Omozino, a respected real estate developer in Enugu, was abducted at gunpoint last September. They found his body riddled with bullets in a shallow grave. His thriving business, which employed dozens of youth, has folded.
Chinelo Okechukwu, a 29-year-old bank staff in Nnewi, was taken while on her way to a wedding. The ransom was paid. They still killed her. Her only crime? Being young, female, and successful in a broken system.
And the list goes on.
According to SBM Intelligence, the South East recorded over 370 kidnappings in 2024 alone, many targeting the young, industrious, and mobile—those daring enough to build something despite a broken system. Once proud cities like Aba, Awka, and Enugu are slowly becoming ghost towns of ambition. Businesses are folding. Streets are drying up. Our brightest are fleeing—not for adventure, but for survival.
They’re heading west—to Lagos, Ibadan, Akure—cities where they’re not always welcomed. Lagos, the city that recently began erasing Igbo heritage from its streets with silent precision, replacing names like Nnamdi Azikiwe with state-sanctioned neutrality. No press release. No dialogue. Just quiet erasure.
Even the mighty aren’t spared. A property belonging to Peter Obi was desecrated in broad daylight despite standing court orders. No outrage. No justice. Just silence—a chilling reminder that even the law bows when the target is Igbo.
And where are the leaders of the South East? Still asleep in perfumed palaces, arguing over zoning formulas and ceremonial titles while the house is on fire and the people are being picked off like flies.
This is not fiction. This is not a Chase novel or a Nollywood thriller. This is real. This is now.
The question is simple: How many more Fish Magnets must die before we realize we’re losing the soul of Ala Igbo?
If this tide isn’t stemmed, the South East will soon become a land of the aged—ruled by fear, hollowed of its future. The brain drain will not only be about relocation; it will be about elimination.
We must demand action, protection, investment, and pride in our homeland—not next year, not after elections—now.
The future of the region is in our hands. But first, our leaders must wake up and smell the blood on the soil.
D-BIG PEN
