Another Call For Stiff Penalties Against Drug Traffickers
Aernan Lubem
A few days ago, while browsing online, I came across a troubling report about a 37-year-old man, Nwobodo Chidiebere Basil, who had once again been arrested for the same drug-related offence he was punished for some years earlier. The story was unsettling, not just because of the crime itself, but because it highlighted a deeper problem: how lightly some drug offences are treated, even after the damage they cause has become painfully clear.
Stories like this revive a long-standing public conversation about whether punishments for drug trafficking truly match the gravity of the harm involved. Across the country, many concerned citizens have continued to argue that weak sentences fail to discourage offenders, especially when drug abuse and trafficking are already tearing families apart, destroying young lives, and burdening communities with lasting health and social problems.
There is a widely held belief that punishment should not only be corrective but also preventive. When penalties are mild and easily bypassed with money, they send the wrong message—that crime can be a calculated risk rather than a serious moral and legal violation. Young people watching from the sidelines may conclude that the rewards outweigh the consequences, and that is a dangerous lesson for any society.
Consider the effort involved in bringing a drug offender to justice. Law enforcement officers often risk their lives tracking suspects, gathering evidence, and seeing cases through to court. Yet, after all that sacrifice, a conviction may result in a short prison term with an option of a fine that a well-funded offender can easily pay. The individual walks free, unchanged, while the officer is left wondering whether the struggle was worth it. In such situations, justice feels incomplete—not just to the public, but to those tasked with protecting it.
Contrast that with a firm, non-negotiable sentence that reflects the seriousness of the offence. A lengthy prison term without the option of a fine sends a powerful signal. It tells potential offenders that drug trafficking is not a business risk but a life-altering mistake. It also reassures honest citizens and dedicated NDLEA officers that the law stands firmly on the side of public safety.
The case of Nwobodo Chidiebere Basil is cited because it follows a familiar pattern. After an earlier arrest involving a large quantity of hard drugs concealed for export, he was convicted and paid a fine. Rather than abandon the trade, he reportedly returned to it, adopting new methods and deeper secrecy. That return to crime suggests that the earlier punishment failed to reform or deter him.
One can only imagine the mindset of those around such offenders—friends, partners, or associates—who may assume that arrest is merely a temporary inconvenience, easily resolved with money. If consequences were truly severe and unavoidable, that confidence would vanish, and with it, much of the temptation to persist in the trade.
Ultimately, this is not about vengeance; it is about protection, responsibility, and the value we place on human life. Drug trafficking fuels addiction, violence, broken homes, and lost futures. If the law treats it casually, society pays the price repeatedly. Stronger, more consistent punishments may not solve the problem overnight, but they could mark a decisive step toward discouraging repeat offences and safeguarding the next generation from a path that leads only to ruin.
Aernan Lubem writes from Makurdi, Benue State.