Bandits Demand N100m Ransom for Abducted Eruku Worshippers – Shocking Kidnap in Kwara

By: Abudu Olalekan

Bandits demand N100m ransom per victim after attacking a church in Eruku, Kwara State. Relatives speak out on the terrifying ordeal during a thanksgiving service. Security concerns rise in border community.

It was supposed to be a night of joy. You know, the kind where folks gather to give thanks after dodging the worst. But in Eruku, a quiet spot in Kwara State’s Ekiti Local Government Area, that all shattered on Tuesday evening. Around 6 p.m., as worshippers at the Christ Apostolic Church, Oke Isegun, sang hymns and celebrated the rescue of 18 folks who’d been snatched away before, bandits stormed in. Gunfire. Screams. Chaos. Three people lost their lives right there. And 35 others? Gone. Kidnapped into the night.

Relatives are still reeling. One family member told me over the phone, voice cracking, how the abductors wasted no time. Calls started coming in fast. Demands. N100 million per person. Yeah, you heard that right. A hundred million naira for each soul they took. It’s insane. Heartbreaking. These aren’t just numbers; they’re lives hanging by a thread.

Take Chief Olusegun Olukotun, the Olori Eta of Eruku. He’s a community leader, respected guy. But that night? He was just another face in the crowd, there with five of his kin. The bandits hit hard. He barely made it out. Jumped through a church window, him and one relative scrambling for safety. The others? Four of his family members vanished with the rest. “We were praising God one minute,” he said, his words heavy. “Next, hell broke loose.”

Now, the kidnappers are playing games. Sources say they’ve split the victims into groups, based on family ties. Smart, in a twisted way. Makes it personal. They’re dialing up relatives one by one. For some, the ask is clear: N100 million each. Chief Olukotun hasn’t gotten that call yet about his people. He’s waiting. Pacing, probably. “From what we’ve heard from their camp,” he explained, “they’re reaching out group by group. Some in the community already got the demands. Mine? Still silent. We’re holding our breath.”

Pastor Bamidele Lawrence Abiodun, the man leading that CAC flock, confirmed it all. He was there, saw the terror unfold. Families are getting those dreaded calls, he said. But the exact ransom? He couldn’t pin it down when we spoke. Maybe he’s protecting them. Or maybe the bandits are keeping details fuzzy on purpose. Either way, the fear’s real. Palpable.

Eruku sits right on the edge, bordering Ekiti and Kogi states. It’s a hotspot for this kind of trouble. Bandits slip in easy, vanish quick. The community leader didn’t hold back his frustration. He thanked Governor Abdulrahman Abdulrazaq for showing up, for the sympathy visit. The police, DSS operatives—they came too. It meant something. A gesture. But gestures don’t stop bullets.

“Security needs to step up,” Olukotun urged. More presence. Real boots on the ground. And weapons? Give the vigilantes something better than sticks and stones. Sophisticated gear, he means. So next time these thugs come calling, the locals can fight back. Not just run.

Think about it. This attack hit during a thanksgiving. For kidnappings past. Irony bites hard. Those 18 rescued earlier? They were probably in the pews, relieved. Now, 35 more in the same boat. Families pooling what little they have. Negotiating with monsters over phones. N100 million. Per head. That’s billions if you tally it up. Who pays that? How?

The air in Eruku feels thicker now. Dusk falls wary. Parents hug kids tighter. Church doors lock sooner. Relatives huddle, phones glued to ears, praying for good news. Or any news. Chief Olukotun’s words echo: We’re waiting. But waiting’s torture. And in places like this, bordered by shadows, hope flickers dim.

Government’s listening, at least. The governor’s team is on it, coordinating with feds. Raids? Possible. But time’s the enemy. Every hour, the demands mount. The fear grows. Eruku’s story isn’t unique. Kidnappings plague these parts. Farmers snatched. Travelers gone. Worshippers, even. When does it end?

One relative, anonymous for safety, whispered to reporters, “It’s like a bad dream. We just want them back.” Simple. Human. No politics. Just pain.

As dawn breaks over the community, questions linger. Will the ransom break families? Or will security turn the tide? For now, Eruku holds its breath. Bandits demand N100m. And lives dangle in the balance.