House of Justice is a multi-door justice platform, a law conglomerate designed to ensure justice is a right for everyone. Our headquarters is in Kaduna. Initially, we were a law firm known as Live Legal Balance and Chambers, established in 2009, before transitioning into a multi-door justice house in 2014 at the House of Justice complex in Kaduna. We offer several services, including the Crime Prevention and Counselling Centre, and the Muluma Yakubu Medical Legal Centre, which handles medical negligence and mass atrocities. We are also well-known for our human rights work, and our media platform, Hog Radio TV, which operates out of the Kaduna office, focuses on “Bringing Light to Life and Taking Justice to Law.” In our Crime Prevention and Counselling Centre, we address crime at the entry point, offering services from lawyers, psychologists, and psychiatrists. We also work on reducing divorce rates. In 2024, we expanded by opening an office in Abuja, focusing on legal issues faced by creatives. In Abuja, our focus includes the fashion law and entertainment, law departments, as well as the My Legals office, which is our law firm. We also handle hog regalia and courtroom-related work, including the design of legal paraphernalia. This year, on July 3, 2025, we opened the Jos office, which is an innovative legal space we’re particularly proud of. It is, by far, the largest of the three offices we have.

In terms of the rule of law and justice, Nigeria faces a significant challenge regarding respect for the rule of law. The courts are continuously losing credibility due to the prolonged time it takes for people to get justice. Additionally, we must consider that the leadership of the country has not demonstrated respect for the rule of law. The rule of law isn’t just for judges, lawyers, or those in the legal community—it must be embodied by the country’s leaders. If the president himself has legal issues, it sets the tone for what the country will look like. The leadership bar itself determines how the rule of law will be upheld and accepted in a country. Every leader, like Caesar’s wife, must be above reproach. When leaders are above reproach, there is a greater likelihood of respect for the rule of law.

However, when the executive doesn’t obey court judgments, and they get away with it, it sends a message to the public that this behaviour is acceptable. You can see this daily on our streets, where policemen and members of the Federal Road Safety Commission break traffic laws because they feel empowered to enforce the rules, but are not held accountable for them. They should be the ones setting the example.

The question of reparations ties directly into the rule of law. In the legal system, when someone steals a goat, they may go to prison, but the question remains: where is the goat? Reparations mean that if something has been taken from you, it must be restored to you, as near to the original condition as possible. This is something that our justice system has failed to address. That’s why we are advocating for the Reparations Act, which will create a framework for ensuring that individuals who have suffered injustices receive reparations. The law must enforce this.

 One example is the transitional justice process. There’s no place that has suffered the kind of atrocities Rwanda did during its genocide. The question was, how do you find justice for those affected? Rwanda set up international tribunals, but due to the sheer scale of the atrocities, these courts couldn’t handle all the cases. So, Rwanda created the Gacaca courts, which were rooted in their traditions of conflict resolution. In these courts, perpetrators and victims sit together, and the victims have the chance to ask, “Why did you do this to me?” Bishop Kukah made an interesting point recently when he mentioned how, during the Oputa Panel, victims would tell their stories, and then the panel would ask them, “What do you want now?” Most victims said they just wanted to be heard. This is a crucial part of reparations—understanding the impact of what has happened to the victim. Unfortunately, in our justice system, the victim often becomes a spectator. We need to make space for victims to tell their stories and for their needs—whether psychological support or financial compensation—to be addressed.

Bishop Kukah also suggested that some of the funds from the Abacha loot should be allocated to victims of past crises. While this may not fully compensate victims, it would at least be a symbolic gesture from the nation, saying, “We are sorry.” This is something that was even suggested at the time—the president should personally sit with victims and offer a national apology. For some, that simple “I’m sorry” is meaningful because it shows accountability and acknowledgment of the pain caused.

In Rwanda, under President Paul Kagame, they even set up a community where both victims and perpetrators live together. I’ve been to Rwanda and witnessed this myself. I saw a situation where a woman, with pain still in her eyes, pointed to a man and said, “This is the man who killed my husband.” Despite the emotional weight, she was able to confront him. This kind of process, where victims and perpetrators are encouraged to face one another and engage in dialogue, is something we need to explore in Nigeria, particularly after mass atrocities.

We must take proactive steps, as Rwanda did. Some people, of course, need to face justice and serve time for their crimes, but we must also create a space for restorative justice. Professor Dakas mentioned yesterday that reparations in Nigeria would be difficult because there’s no legal framework in place to support it. This is why we are pushing for the Reparations Act.

Bishop Kukah, who has worked extensively in the field of restorative and transitional justice, also noted the challenges in implementing reparations. However, we must keep in mind that, no matter how we approach it, some will always feel their issues have not been addressed. But the goal is to set up a process that can stop the bleeding and offer meaningful support to victims. In human situations, there may never be a perfect solution, but there must be a genuine, respectful process that acknowledges the pain and needs of the people. On the subject of victims and perpetrators sitting together, in Nigeria, we see a situation where terrorists are rehabilitated while the victims languish in IDP camps, sometimes even reintegrating into society, while the victims receive little to no support. What do you intend to do from the Plateau perspective? From the Plateau perspective, and in other places we’ve worked, we are collaborating with the government to ensure victims are prioritized. We’ve reached a point where perpetrators often get more attention than the victims, and this needs to change. People are now feeling like it’s more lucrative to be a perpetrator than a victim. Our first step is to create awareness and shift this mindset. Because they feel that there will be terror, and yet human beings are killed without any retribution or compensation, it means we are enabling and empowering the perpetrators. So, here in Plateau, one of the things we’re going to do is engage with the government to make them understand the implications of what’s happening and how it needs to stop. We’re also very interested in ensuring that victims don’t transition into combatants because they did not get the justice they deserved. This means that when victims in every community where they’ve been attacked, the government must step in and do what’s right by ensuring that they receive justice. That justice must be according to the law and allow the victims to find restoration and regain their footing. International laws, including those prescribed by the United Nations, state that when people are displaced, they must be returned to their homes within three months. This is something the Nigerian government has failed to do adequately. As a result, Nigeria now has the highest number of internally displaced persons, which is a situation that perhaps our government hasn’t closely examined. However, we will continue working on this and demonstrate to the government what these challenges are. We’re already seeing communities where more young people are turning to drugs than ever before, which is partly a response to the government’s failure to properly handle the situation. So, we intend to address these issues comprehensively by helping the government recognize the need to prioritize the needs of victims.

There are many aspects, because that’s what we do at House of Justice. I’m not sure if anyone should take more credit than another. But, from my perspective, the cases we’ve won against the governors are perhaps the most publicly known. For example, during Governor Nasir El-Rufai’s first term, he was arresting people and imprisoning them. Kaduna was declared the most dangerous state to practice journalism by the National Judicial Council (NJC). We got those people out of jail. The governor became frustrated and even threatened to arrest and imprison me, so I took him to court, and for the first time, someone dared to challenge him. I won. The public jubilation came when the judgment was about to be delivered. The judge was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the courtroom and had to adjourn. During that time, activists like Professor Odenkalu, whom El-Rufai had tried to imprison, were also involved. Aldo Mikori went into exile, and Stephen Kethers was taken from Port Harcourt. We got them out.

We protect our own. These people are my friends, so it only made sense to invest in their release. More recently, we secured a judgment of N900m against El-Rufai for detaining nine Adara elders, including a former commissioner and a former commissioner of police. They were detained after their paramount chief was killed under suspicious circumstances, following a meeting with the governor.

These are the kinds of cases we handle. But at House of Justice, whether we’re helping a child find their way or handling what the public considers a big issue, we believe it’s our duty. We practice justice, not just law. We use the law to achieve justice, not to prioritize the law itself. Even when we win a case, our goal is not just to get a judgment but to ensure that the judgment serves the person’s needs. Any victim, anyone facing injustice, can come here for help. That’s why we call it the House of Justice. But we don’t always provide free legal services. While we do pro bono cases, we’re not an NGO; we’re a multi-door justice house—a private organization. We need funds to run. However, when we see truly disadvantaged clients who are dehumanized by their circumstances, we step in because it’s the humane thing to do.

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