ON OCTOBER 17, 2018, 13-year-old Ochanya Elizabeth Ogbanje died at the Federal Medical Centre in Makurdi, Benue State. Medical records presented in court confirmed that she suffered from Vesicovaginal Fistula, a condition linked to prolonged sexual assault.
According to Premium Times report, Ochanya told social workers and investigators that she had been sexually abused over several years by her guardian, Andrew Ogbuja, a lecturer at the Benue State Polytechnic, and his son, Victor Ogbuja.
Ochanya’s family had sent her to live with the Ogbuja household in Ugbokolo with the hope that she would have access to education and a better future. Instead, according to court proceedings and published testimonies, she experienced repeated sexual violations that led to infections, trauma and ultimately the medical condition that contributed to her death.
In April 2022, after years of court delays, the Benue State High Court in Makurdi acquitted Andrew Ogbuja of rape and of causing Ochanya’s death. On the same day, a Federal High Court convicted his wife, Felicia Ochiga-Ogbuja, for negligence. She received a five-month prison sentence without an option of a fine for failing to protect the girl under her care.
Premium Times reported that the court held her responsible for refusing to intervene even when she became aware of the ongoing abuse.
Civil society organisations questioned how the mother of the household could be punished for not protecting the child while the man accused of assault walked free. One of the recurring public questions remains: how can negligence be punishable, yet the alleged act creating the negligence is not?
The Guardian published an editorial examining the medical and emotional agony the girl endured. The newspaper described her condition plainly: “Ochanya’s pain, a story of neglect, and the truth about VVF,” explaining that the abusive acts inflicted on her resulted in the medical condition that destroyed her health.
Beyond the medical tragedy, activists and journalists note an even more disturbing aspect of this case. The second key suspect, Victor Ogbuja, has never appeared in any court proceeding relating to Ochanya’s abuse. According to Premium Times, Victor “has remained at large,” and to date, no clear explanation has been provided by law enforcement agencies.
The National Human Rights Commission condemned the events leading to her death. In an official statement, the Commission described the case as a “rape of national conscience,” stressing that the country has a responsibility to protect children from predators, especially those in positions of trust.
Meanwhile, advocacy groups persist. WACOL and other organisations continue to keep the case in the public sphere. Punch Newspaper reported recently that a foundation “renewed calls for justice in the Ochanya abuse case,” citing ongoing campaigns and legal follow-up efforts.
Obviously, with the wave of protests at home and abroad bellowing for justice, Ochanya has refused to die! Seven years after her death, members of the public, activists and journalists continue to ask the same questions: where is Victor? Why has the justice system not compelled his appearance even though the allegations concern an offence against a minor? Why does the system seem to bend away from accountability when the accused are powerful?
THISDAY, in its editorial, entitled: “The Tragic Case of Ochanya Ogbaji”, (sic) described the justice system’s handling of the case as “a disturbing reflection of institutional weakness where the vulnerable are left without protection.”
The outcry continues each year under the hashtag: “Justice for Ochanya.” For those who march, speak, publish and demand accountability, the case is no longer just about one girl. It has become a symbol of how children are repeatedly failed by adults, by institutions and by the state.
Until the unresolved questions are answered and every accused person is brought before the law, the case remains unfinished.
The question Nigeria must confront is simple: did the system seek justice for a thirteen-year-old girl, or did it shield the powerful? Justice remains pending.
Abuh, currently doing his mandatory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC), writes from Abuja.
