The hangman’s trapdoor fell in Abuja this morning for four men convicted of the 2022 Owo Catholic church massacre. In a rare show of finality, the Nigerian state carried out the death sentences against those who slaughtered 41 worshippers during Pentecost mass at St. Francis Xavier Church. For the families of the dead, it is a bitter reckoning: justice done, but at a cost that no mother’s tears can measure.
The attack, carried out by gunmen from the Fulani ethnic militia, was part of a wave of violence targeting Christian communities in the country’s middle belt and north-west. The victims included children and the elderly, shot or hacked down as they prayed. Witnesses described scenes of chaos as the attackers forced their way into the church, shouting Islamic slogans before opening fire. The four executed men were identified as ringleaders in the assault, convicted after a trial that human rights groups criticised for its speed but which the government defended as necessary in the face of rampant insecurity.
Nigeria’s President Bola Tinubu, under pressure from Christian leaders and international observers, had vowed to crack down on religious violence. The executions mark a departure from the usual pattern of convictions that rarely result in capital punishment. Amnesty International condemned the hangings as a step backward for human rights. But for survivors like Mrs. Grace Oluwole, whose husband and two sons died in the massacre, the state’s action brought a moment of solace. “They took everything from me. Now they have paid with their lives. It does not bring them back, but it is something,” she said outside the prison gates.
The executions come amid a broader crisis of violence in Nigeria. More than 10,000 Christians have been killed in the past decade, according to advocacy group Open Doors. The government’s response has often been criticised as tepid, with accusations of complicity or indifference from security forces. This morning’s hangings may signal a tougher stance, but critics argue they are a distraction from systemic failures in policing and community protection.
For the families of the victims, the question remains: where does justice go from here? The four men are dead, but the structures that enabled such terror live on. Land disputes, ethnic animosity, and a government stretched thin by multiple insurgencies continue to fuel the fires of persecution. As the sun sets over Abuja, the price of bread in Owo remains higher than it was before the massacre. And the pews at St. Francis Xavier still hold empty spaces where the faithful once knelt.
