IG Disu shares father's conflicted reaction to son’s cultism arrest

Reading the IG’s interview, my mind goes back to the countless nights we hear about cultism swallowing our youths. Tunji Disu, the Inspector‑General of Police, recounts a father’s reaction that is both heartbreaking and infuriating. The man said, “Kill him!” when he learned his son had been nabbed for cult activities, yet his eyes later filled with tears as he imagined the future his child had thrown away. How can a parent swing between curses and sorrow in the same breath? It reveals a deeper malaise: the erosion of moral guidance, the lure of quick money, and a justice system that many still view as a distant, ineffective entity.

The father’s confession is not an isolated anecdote. It mirrors a pattern we have seen across Lagos, Benin, and even the North‑East: families torn between denial, anger, and the painful realization that their children are being used as pawns in a larger criminal network. The IG’s decision to publicise this story is a bold move – perhaps a warning that silence only fuels the fire.

What does this tell us about our society?

• The desperation that drives youths into cults is rooted in unemployment and lack of purposeful education.
• Parental authority is weakening, often replaced by peer pressure and social media hype.
• Law enforcement’s punitive approach must be balanced with community‑based rehabilitation.

We cannot keep waiting for the next headline to shock us. It is time for parents, community leaders, and policy‑makers to sit down, confront the root causes, and invest in real solutions. If we fail to act now, who will mourn the next generation lost to cultism?

Man, this kain story dey break my heart. A papa wey first shout “Kill am!” then weep like river – e show say the whole system don collapse. We no fit dey blame only the youths; the whole society dey push dem into gang dem, with quick cash and weak morals. Police IG sabi use this talk to wake people up, but we also need schools, churches, and community leaders to step in. No more “justice far away” talk – we must make law work for us, not just talk. If we continue to turn a blind eye, another father go become another victim. Time to stop the silence, start the hustle for better guidance, and protect our future generation.

Okoro, you hit the nail. The father's flip‑flop isn’t just personal tragedy; it’s a mirror of a society that rewards shortcuts and punishes conscience. When a kid trades school books for a cult badge, the whole community feels the loss – but the blame game stops at the doorstep.

We need schools that teach pride, parents that model resilience, and a police force that moves beyond sensational interviews to real community outreach. Money‑hungry recruiters thrive because we leave our youths hungry for hope. Stop crying over the symptoms; start fixing the root. Nigeria’s future isn’t a drama we watch, it’s a script we write together.

The numbers tell the story before the tears do.

A youth pulled into cults costs the family ≈ ₦2‑3 million in lost education, medical bills and future earnings. Multiply that by the thousands of cases in Lagos and the economic drag runs into billions—money that could fund schools, sports academies or micro‑enterprise grants.

What we need isn’t just moral outrage; it’s a data‑driven allocation of resources: early‑intervention programs measured by dropout rates, community‑center usage stats, and crime‑trend analytics. When the IG publicises a father’s “Kill him!” to “I can’t bear it” switch, it’s a signal that the current deterrent model is failing. Redirect funding to proven prevention models, track ROI, and the “kill‑him” sentiment will fade into a relic of a broken system.

Okoro, the story wey IG Disu drop na like one bitter highlife track wey start with heavy drums and end with a soft, weepy guitar. The father’s “Kill am!” shout na the pounding bassline – raw, angry, and full of frustration wey dey echo the pain of a generation wey feel say the system no dey listen. Then the tears wey follow be the gentle strings that remind us say, underneath all the noise, there’s still a heart wey dey beat for hope.

The thing wey dey cut deep na the tempo of our society. Youngsters dey hear the fast‑track “money‑quick” chorus of cult groups, and the rhythm they follow no be the traditional drum we grow up with – the one wey teach patience, education, and respect. Instead, dem dey jam to a Afrobeats remix where the hook is “rich quick, no question.” When a father flips from curse to sorrow, e be like a singer who forgets the lyrics mid‑verse – the melody gets lost, and everybody hear the dissonance.

We must change the tracklist we dey play for our communities. Schools, churches, and even street hustlers fit become the backup singers wey reinforce the right verses: hard work, integrity, and community support. Police IG using this story is a bold bridge in the song, a chance to switch the beat from despair to action. Let us all become producers of a new anthem – one wey tells our youths say “Your future no be for gang money, na for your own talent and hustle.”

So, as the father weeps, let his tears be the remix that forces us to rewrite the lyrics of our neighbourhoods. Turn the “Kill am!” shout into a powerful call‑and‑response: “No more killing our future, we go rise together!” If we all add our voices, the chorus will drown out the cult’s false rhythm and bring back the real Nigerian beat we deserve.