‘Give us his body to bury’: a mother’s six-year fight for justice for son killed in Nigeria’s anti-police protests

Pelumi Onifade, a young journalist, was allegedly shot while covering the #EndSars demonstrations in 2020. His body has never been released and no one has been held responsible

Sitting in her family’s two-bedroom apartment on a sweltering Sunday afternoon, Bosede Onifade says she is tired of waiting for news about her son. Pelumi Onifade has been missing for six years. The last time his mother saw him was on the morning of 24 October 2020.

An intern with a Nigerian news channel, the 20-year-old was excited to be going on assignment to cover the #EndSars protests, an anti-police brutality movement that had rocked the country that year, while unleashing a further onslaught of state violence against Nigerian citizens.

Pelumi had been filming a demonstration in Abule Egba, Lagos State, for Gboah TV, when he was hit by a bullet, according to witnesses, who said members of the Lagos police taskforce then dragged him into a van along with arrested protesters.

Bosede, family and friends searched for Pelumi to no avail until a relative found his body in a morgue in Ikorodu, 23 miles (37km) north of the city, on 30 October. But by the time the family arrived, the body was no longer there.

“We want them to release his body. If they have already killed him; they should give his body to us to bury,” Bosede says, sobbing.

The family’s efforts to retrieve his body have proved futile, including attending judicial panels of inquiry for people killed or injured during the protests and their relatives, supplying a DNA sample, and attending court hearings.

The then federal police spokesperson, Olumuyiwa Adejobi, said in 2020 that Pelumi’s death had been reported to a panel of inquiry looking into allegations of police brutality. In 2024, the Lagos State government told the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) that an internal investigation was under way.

Nearly six years on from the protests, on 24 June 2026, a coroner’s inquest finally confirmed that the body tagged 1385, seen at the mortuary, was Pelumi, matching a DNA sample submitted by his mother. The case has been adjourned twice, until July 29.

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Thousands of Nigerians took to the streets in October 2020 in protest against the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, or Sars, a police unit created in 1992 that had become notorious for committing crimes such as kidnapping, extrajudicial killings, robbery and rape.

The protests went on for more than two weeks across major cities in the country. They began as a call for the disbandment of Sars but expanded to include demands for responsible governance, the eradication of corruption, police reforms and a better standard of living for all. The authorities responded with force, including the Lekki massacre, where protesters were fired on, killing at least 12 and injuring many more. Amnesty International said at least 56 people were killed during the course of the protests.

Nigeria’s then information minister, Lai Mohammed, denied the Lekki killings, calling it a “phantom massacre”. One year later, after a damning judicial report, he described the findings as “riddled by many errors, discrepancies. Its conclusion is not supported by evidence.”

On 11 October, Sars was disbanded by the government and replaced by Special Weapons and Tactics (Swat), but continued to face backlash due to public distrust and belief that the move was a mere rebrand.

Inquiry panels set up in various states found security agents responsible for shooting or abusing protesters, but no one has been held responsible.

Pelumi, a second-year mass communication student, had been interviewing protesters in Abule Egba after a crowd had broken into a warehouse storing Covid-19 relief equipment.

“He was not doing anything wrong, and even if he was doing something wrong,” says Bosede, breaking down in tears, “they could have arrested him and not killed him in cold blood.”

The lack of closure has been agony for Bosede. She has lost weight and suffers from memory lapses. She has had depression, and is tormented by not knowing what happened to her son.

“If this is what those in government do to other people’s children, one day they will have a taste of their medicine. If the Earthly king does not see you, the king in heaven sees,” she says, quoting a Yoruba adage that implies divine judgment.

Isa Sanusi, the director of Amnesty International in Nigeria, said it is completely unacceptable that Pelumi’s family has been denied justice as well as the dignity of a proper funeral, saying the authorities must immediately hand the body to his family and ensure there is accountability for his killing.

“The fact that the government is not yielding to this basic demand of his family shows utter disdain for the pain of a victim of atrocity and his family,” he says.

Pelumi was the eldest of three siblings, and the only son. He loved bean porridge and was active in the community and church, where he was part of the Boys Brigade.

“He is a gentle and responsible boy; he does not fight and never gets angry. He is jovial, and they like him everywhere he goes,” says Bosede.

Bosede has been left to raise her two daughters with the little she earns from selling homemade ogi, a thick paste made from maize used to make pap, as her husband’s electrician business is struggling.

“They said they would give families of the victims some money, but will it bring my son back to life?” She shakes her head slowly. “But at least we can use it to take care of his siblings. I know that whatever Pelumi couldn’t do for us, his siblings would.”

Pelumi’s sister, Beauty, says she misses him every day. “He always shares even when he does not have enough,” she says. “No matter what it is, he always has a smile on his face, and that is what I miss with him.”

Sanusi says Pelumi’s case reflects the wider threat journalists face from security agencies when covering peaceful protests.

“The killing of Onifade is one of many examples of the consistent danger faced by journalists while doing their job,” Sanusi says.

In Iyana Ipaja, where she lives, Bosede says she tells people not to stop calling her Mama Pelumi, a popular way of addressing parents by adding their child’s name as a suffix.

“Many people try to start calling me by his siblings’ names; I tell them not to do it because his name will never depart from my household,” she says.