The disappearance of Abubakar Idris, widely known as Dadiyata, remains one of the most troubling unresolved cases in Nigeria’s recent civic history. His abduction in 2019 in Kaduna State has persisted without closure; in fact, it has become a reference point in debates about state power, political rivalry, and the limits of accountability. The recent interview granted by Nasir El-Rufai on Arise TV has revived the matter, especially his allegation that Abdullahi Ganduje may have had a hand in the abduction.
This intervention is significant; it shifts the narrative from defensive denial to outward accusation. However, the development also raises deeper questions about how responsibility should be located in a democratic setting where security and political authority intersect.
The first issue is structural responsibility. Dadiyata was abducted in Kaduna. At the time, El-Rufai was governor. While governors do not command the police in a direct operational sense, they function as chief security officers of their states. In this case, the abduction occurred within the territorial and administrative space under his watch. That reality cannot be set aside. A citizen disappeared. No conclusive findings followed. No transparent public inquiry produced closure. The prolonged silence has, over time, created suspicion and public doubt.
This does not amount to proof of direct involvement. However, it does establish a burden of political accountability. A government’s legitimacy depends not only on what it did but also on what it failed to do. The absence of a clear investigative outcome leaves a vacuum; and in politics, vacuums rarely remain neutral.
The second issue concerns the allegation against Ganduje. El-Rufai’s claim reportedly rests on information attributed to a police source. Such a claim, made years after the incident and outside formal judicial processes, requires scrutiny. Allegations of this magnitude demand evidence. They require documentation, investigative follow-up, and institutional validation. Without these, the claim risks appearing strategic rather than evidential.
At the same time, Ganduje’s denial, however categorical, does not settle the matter. Political denial is routine. It is not equivalent to exoneration. If credible information exists linking actors in Kano to the disappearance, then an independent and transparent investigation is necessary. The seriousness of enforced disappearance requires more than rhetorical exchanges between political elites.
What emerges, therefore, is a shared field of culpability, though of different kinds. El-Rufai bears responsibility for the unresolved security breach that occurred in his state and for the delayed emergence of allegations that, if credible, should have triggered earlier institutional action. Ganduje, on the other hand, stands under the weight of a public accusation that touches on fundamental rights and democratic norms; such a claim cannot simply be brushed aside without thorough inquiry.
Beyond individual blame lies a systemic concern. The Dadiyata case illustrates how security failures, political rivalry, and weak investigative transparency converge. In a polity where institutions are often perceived as politicised, public trust erodes quickly. The continued absence of definitive findings reinforces that erosion.
The central problem, therefore, is not merely whether one former governor is right or wrong. It is that a Nigerian citizen disappeared, and the state has not convincingly accounted for what happened. Until that gap is addressed through credible, independent mechanisms, both the former Kaduna and Kano administrations remain implicated in the broader failure of governance that allowed such a disappearance to remain unresolved.
