A Rebuttal To Chidi Odinkalu: NJC Was Unfair To Justice Inyang, JCA -By Alex Morgan

After reading Prof. Chidi Odinkalu’s article, “Blessed Are the Crooked Judges,” I could not help but appreciate its depth and intensity. Odinkalu, a legal scholar and former chairman of the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC), is someone whose contributions to legal discourse are commendable. However, despite the article’s articulate presentation, I must part ways with him, especially in his treatment of Justice Jane Inyang, JCA.
Odinkalu’s lamentation about the rot in the judiciary is valid. He rightly bemoans how corrupt judges often escape consequences and get recycled into more powerful roles. But in his quest to condemn the systemic failures, Odinkalu, like many others, appears to have fallen for a misleading narrative surrounding the NJC’s decision on Justice Inyang.
Contrary to the portrayal of Justice Inyang as a symbol of judicial corruption, the facts tell a different story. Her ex parte order, which has been so severely criticized, was in fact lawful and grounded in the provisions of Sections 555–563 of the Companies and Allied Matters Act (CAMA) 2020. These provisions empower the court to make orders in aid of receivership. To characterize it as an aberration is both misleading and unjust.
Let’s revisit the facts: On June 14, 2023, Justice Inyang, then of the Federal High Court in Uyo, granted a set of ex parte orders in Suit No. FHC/UY/CS/46/2023. Two days later, on June 16, 2023, her name was published as a nominee to the Court of Appeal. As convention demands, she stopped sitting, returned all case files, and moved on to assume her new role.
The ex parte order she issued was not a final judgment, nor was it irregular. It was meant to protect disputed assets pending further proceedings. Importantly, the order was to be served by publication in a national daily, a common directive in such matters, to ensure all parties were informed. Whether that was properly executed was not within her control after she had stepped aside.
Yet, somehow, this order was misused, allegedly by court officials, bailiffs, and others, to carry out a property sale without her knowledge. Justice Inyang had already left the High Court bench. She was not involved in any subsequent actions taken based on the order, nor was she aware of the sale when it occurred. That is critical.
The property sale itself was facilitated not by Justice Inyang, but by a group acting without her supervision. Among the buyers was Justice S. Essien of the National Industrial Court, who testified he never met Inyang and was acting on behalf of an uncle based in the United States who saw the auction ad. Yet, Essien walked free, while Inyang bore the brunt of the NJC’s disciplinary measures.

This is where it becomes troubling: The petition that led to Justice Inyang’s indictment was filed nine months after the ex parte order—well beyond the six-month limitation period stipulated by NJC regulations. Why did the NJC entertain a time-barred petition?
Furthermore, the original petitioner, during proceedings before the NJC panel chaired by Justice Mary Odili, withdrew his allegations of bribery and admitted there was no evidence of inducement. He even apologized to Justice Inyang, acknowledging that his initial accusation was made out of anger. This exchange was reportedly recorded.

Even with this retraction and absence of proof of wrongdoing, the NJC proceeded to indict Justice Inyang. That decision not only raises serious concerns about fairness and due process but also reeks of possible internal politics.

One cannot help but question if there were other motives behind this harsh judgment. Justice Inyang has a known reputation for independence. She was one of the dissenting voices in the Ogun State governorship election appeal, where she stood firm amidst reports of external pressure. Could her stance on past cases have made her a target?

Even her heritage stands as a testament to her legal pedigree. She is the granddaughter of the late Barrister Asuquo Etim Inyang, the first lawyer from the Old Eastern Region to be called to the Bar in both England and Nigeria in the 1920s. Her lineage, like her professional record, reflects integrity—not the kind of person you casually associate with judicial misconduct.

It is therefore baffling that the NJC, after all these revelations—including a retracted petition, a lack of evidence of bribery, a lawful order issued in line with legal provisions, and a clearly manipulated narrative—still went ahead to issue a damning verdict.

Let’s be clear: granting an ex parte order, even if later challenged or misused, is not in itself misconduct. If there is no evidence of bribery or personal benefit, then the proper recourse for an aggrieved party is an appeal, not dragging a judge’s name through the mud.
The matter, at its core, stemmed from a mortgage transaction gone wrong. The receiver manager, acting within his authority, sought protection of the asset through the court. Justice Inyang acted within the legal boundaries, gave a temporary protective order, and scheduled a return date for further hearing. Before that date came, she had been elevated and ceased involvement. What happened after that should not be pinned on her.
The NJC’s action in this case is not just unfortunate,it is damaging. It harms the morale of diligent judges across the country who now fear that even their most routine rulings can be twisted into misconduct. It reinforces a culture of fear, where competence and caution are no longer guarantees of protection.
More worryingly, this case casts a long shadow over judicial independence. When a judge is punished despite a retracted allegation and lack of evidence—while others more directly involved walk free, it suggests that forces beyond the law are at play.
Was Justice Inyang a victim of a silent internal war within the judiciary? Was she “not the preferred candidate” for her elevation and now paying the price? Was her principled stand in past rulings too uncomfortable for some power blocs?

These are questions that deserve answers,not just for her sake, but for the future of the Nigerian judiciary.

In the end, what happened to Justice Inyang should serve as a cautionary tale. We must resist the temptation to scapegoat judges based on public sentiment or manipulated narratives. If we truly want to reform the judiciary, it must begin with fairness within the NJC itself.

Justice must not only be done—it must be seen to be done. And in this case, it wasn’t.