“I Said I’d Resign If Bello Wasn’t Prosecuted—Well, Here We Are”

By: Abudu Olalekan

EFCC Chairman Olukoyede stands by his resignation vow, reveals how Yahaya Bello allegedly moved $720K from Kogi funds for his child’s school fees. “I’ve done my part—now it’s the court’s turn.”

So. Olukoyede didn’t back down.

Not even a little.

Sunday Politics on Channels TV? He showed up. Calm. Measured. But firm—like a man who’s already signed the resignation letter… and tucked it away just in case.

Remember April 2024? When he dropped that line—“If I don’t personally oversee the completion of the investigation into Yahaya Bello, I’ll resign”—and half the country thought, Yeah, right. Political theatre.

Turns out? He meant it. Still does.

“I’ve fulfilled my mandate,” he said Sunday. Straight. No hedging. “Yahaya Bello is being prosecuted. The case is in court. Three cases, actually.”

Let that sink in.

Three.

One—16 counts. N110 billion. Property fraud. Another—19 counts. N80.2 billion. Money laundering. And then… the one that stings a little more. Personal, almost.

$720,000. Paid in advance. For school fees.

Not from a private account. Not from savings. From the Kogi State Government account. Direct transfer. To a bureau de change.

“A sitting governor,” Olukoyede repeated, voice tightening, “knowing he was leaving office… moved money straight from government coffers. To pay his child’s tuition. In advance.”

Pause.

In Kogi. One of Nigeria’s poorest states. Where teachers go months unpaid. Where clinics run on fumes. And yet—$720,000? Just… poof. Gone. For one child’s future.

“In a poor state like Kogi,” he asked, almost to himself, “and you want me to close my eyes? Under the guise of ‘I’m being used’? Used by who—at this stage of my life?”

Oof. That landed.

People keep asking: Why’s it taking so long?

Olukoyede’s reply? Short. Sharp.

“Am I the judge?”

No. He’s not.

His job? Investigate. Charge. Prosecute. Hand it over. Which he did.

“I have done my work,” he said. “Nigerians must know that. And they must encourage us—not just when we catch the small fish, but when we go after the big ones too.”

He’s right, you know. The EFCC declared Bello wanted back in April 2024. National headlines. Political tremors. Some called it vendetta. Others—relief. Finally, someone’s trying.

But here’s the thing no one talks about enough:
Once charges are filed, the EFCC doesn’t control the timeline. Courts do. Adjournments pile up. Witnesses delay. Lawyers file motions like confetti.

Doesn’t mean the case is weak. Just… slow. Painfully slow.

Olukoyede knows this. That’s why he’s stressing traction—not speed. Evidence? “Substantial,” he insists. Paper trail? There. Bureau de change records? Traced. School invoices? Matched.

He didn’t say “guilty.” Didn’t need to. His tone said enough: The facts speak. Let the court listen.

And about that resignation vow? He’s standing by it. Not because he wants to quit—but because integrity isn’t optional. It’s the price of the chair.

“If the case collapses because we failed,” he implied, “then yes—I walk.”

But if it drags? If judges take their time? If Bello’s team files appeal after appeal?

That’s not on him.

Reportersroom tried reaching Bello’s legal team for comment. No response yet. (Again.)

Still—this isn’t just about one governor. It’s about precedent. About whether “former” means immune. Whether a state account is a personal piggy bank if you wear the right sash long enough.

Olukoyede’s betting it’s not.

And he’s betting public memory hasn’t faded.

Because $720,000 in school fees? In a state where kids walk 10km to broken classrooms?

Yeah. That’s not just fraud.

It’s insult.

And Nigerians? We’re starting to notice.