On May 15, 2026, tragedy struck the Orire community in Oyo State.
The irony was clear. Orire means good fortune in Yoruba, but that day brought only despair. Armed kidnappers took 46 people, 39 pupils and seven teachers. To show they meant business, they beheaded one victim.
Weeks later, the remaining victims were freed. We should be grateful for their rescue. Security personnel and everyone who helped bring them home deserve praise. For their families, this marks the end of a terrifying ordeal.
The military said it took over a month of intelligence gathering, surveillance, and coordinated work between agencies to break up the kidnappers’ network before the victims were released without conditions. That level of professionalism should be recognized.
But while the rescue ends one chapter, it also raises tough questions we cannot ignore.
If intelligence made this rescue possible, could better intelligence have stopped the abduction from happening at all?
How can a group of armed criminals kidnap 46 people without anyone noticing or stopping them? Forty-six people do not just disappear. These crimes take planning, movement, and local knowledge. There must have been chances to spot or stop the attack.
That is why every successful rescue should be followed by a careful review of the security failures that led to the incident. I hope we have learned some important lessons from this.
The military’s report gives us an important lesson for Nigeria’s security strategy. Instead of rushing in and risking the children’s lives, the operation focused on intelligence, patience, and precision. Security agencies broke up the kidnappers’ logistics network, arrested collaborators in several states, and kept up the pressure until the victims were freed. The smooth teamwork among the agencies was also impressive. This intelligence-driven, multi-agency approach should become standard practice.
Now more than ever, our security agencies need to work more closely together, use technology more effectively, and gather information from communities. Criminals often leave clues before they act. The challenge is building systems that can spot these signs early enough to respond. That is why I support state policing. If done right, it can bring law enforcement closer to the people and improve local intelligence.
We also need to protect our most vulnerable institutions.
Schools are now more often targeted because they are easy to attack and can draw national attention, leading to ransom demands. This means governments at all levels must rethink how they protect schools, especially in rural areas.
For the rescued pupils and teachers, coming home does not mean life goes back to normal.
These children have gone through a long and traumatic captivity. They will face anxiety, sleep problems, depression, fear of public places, and trouble focusing in school. Some may struggle to trust others. They will need years of psychological support to regain their confidence. Their teachers will also face challenges.
So, the government’s responsibility does not end when the victims return home. It must also provide full rehabilitation, including trauma counseling, long-term mental health care, educational help if needed, and structured reintegration programs. Their healing cannot wait.
Now comes a difficult question: What happens to kidnappers and those who help them?
It is natural for the public to focus on the victims, but justice also means holding those responsible to account. The military has said that several arrests were made in Oyo State and other parts of the country, and more operations are ongoing. This is the right way to deal with these crimes.
Rescuing victims is just one part of the job. The bigger goal is to dismantle the entire criminal network. This means ongoing intelligence work, financial investigations, disrupting logistics, and prosecuting everyone involved. As I have always said: FOLLOW THE MONEY. Every terrorist act is funded, supplied, and supported by a network. Breaking up these financial and logistical networks is key to defeating these criminals.
Finally, we need to rethink how we respond to tragedies like this. We must do better as a society.
Why does every major security incident turn into a political argument? Supporters defend the government no matter what, while opponents use the tragedy to score points. Soon, the victims are forgotten, and the focus shifts to blame and propaganda.
This cycle only helps the criminals.
Asking the government to be accountable is not disloyalty. It is our democratic right. At the same time, recognizing successful rescues does not excuse the failures that allowed the crime. We can do both at once.
The government cannot win the fight against banditry, kidnapping, and terrorism alone. We, as citizens, have a role to play. People notice things. People hear things. We need to build a culture that encourages prompt reporting of suspicious activity. Traditional leaders, religious figures, and local vigilantes should work more closely with security agencies. Public vigilance is still one of the best sources of useful information.
In the end, security is everyone’s responsibility.
The children of Orire are home again. For that, we should be grateful.
But the real challenge starts now.
The Orire case should become a key example for Nigeria’s security strategy. It should focus on intelligence gathering, inter-agency teamwork, prevention, and dismantling criminal networks.
This incident has revealed important lessons that we must not ignore. We should make these lessons part of our system so the suffering of the children and their teachers is not in vain.
Chiechefulam Ikebuiro,
