Why didn't I know better? I didn't think to inspect Maxwell's phone right away due to my overwhelming excitement. My head was clouded, and I failed to verify if Maxwell had kept his promise. It was just a day since I got the phone, and I hadn't even noticed the Facebook app on the interface. I genuinely wanted to trust Maxwell, believing him, but it was my mistake to trust a yahoo boy.
I was clueless about escaping the predicament I stumbled into. The officer kept going through Mr. Utomi's Facebook for more damning evidence. Whenever I tried to assist him with using the device, he distanced himself, suspecting I might snatch my phone and make a run for it. I stood a few feet away, observing the officer, I caught his name "NJoku" off his uniform, incase of any trouble. But, in a lawless country, there was limited I could do with it, especially when authorities showed no care for people like me; instead, they tended to cause us more harm.
My hands were nervously pinching each other, and my body trembled, but I tried to hide it. I struggled under pressure, couldn't even turn to check on Investor and Prudence in the car. I wondered if they caught wind of what was happening; would they still allow me to go with them? The paranoia of how it might alter my life consumed me.
“Who is this person?” The officer thrust the chats between Mr. Utomi and the deleted account in front of me.
Not sure how to reply, I quickly blurted out, “I don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?” Officer NJoku yelled. I swallowed hard, feeling only surface-level embarrassment.
I couldn't grasp what he wanted me to say about something I genuinely didn't know. I realized no explanation would rescue me, as he was convinced I was using Mr. Utomi's account to 'do gay'. A bit of attention would reveal the account hadn't been used in years, but I doubted that was sufficient for my case with him.
"14 years!" Officer NJoku clicked his tongue. I felt inundated with the blatant homophobia, reminded of the frightening reality of being gay in Nigeria. Despite all my efforts to avoid anything leading to this, meeting Maxwell took my life down a one-way road to such a situation.
Officer NJoku's expression alternated between disgust and shock. "You don't know this group too?" He displayed the gay group I had initially seen when I accessed Mr. Utomi's account. He swiped back to the chats between Mr. Utomi and the deleted account, scrolling through the links exchanged between them—posts from the group. Despite his fast scrolling, I stood frozen, picking up the little I saw, unable to provide a response.
I pondered his ultimate goal, realizing he mainly aimed to waste my time, becoming quite tiresome. Even Investor grew weary and stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him, startling me. I didn't turn to look. "Oga, what's the issue?" Investor asked from across, not sounding impolite. "Ask your friend," Officer Njoku directed the question at me, leaving me still, unsure how to explain to Investor. Prudence also got down, I could hear her turning around from the right side of the car. "Ehis, what's happening?" I heard my name, and I couldn't ignore them. I turned halfway, extending one folded hand toward the police officer, muttering unclearly and shrugging. I did manage to say something like, "I don't know what he's doing..." but it wasn't audibly clear even for me to confirm.
“You don't know you're spoiling your future.” The officer grimaced his ugly dark face at me. “You think your parents will be happy with what you're doing?” It stung that he spoke of me this way without really knowing me. I still couldn't comprehend what he was accusing me of since he couldn't find anything substantial. I wasn't offering any explanation either. I knew he wouldn't let me off easily, but involving my parents was something I wanted to avoid. I'd rather die than have my father see me differently forever because his elder son was gay or risk causing my mom a heart attack if she found out.
Investor and Prudence were starting to catch the gist, even though it remained somewhat unclear. "We no fit dey stand here like this," Investor muttered aloud, making sure the officer heard. Officer Njoku didn't respond; he was determined to thoroughly check my entire phone. I felt utterly helpless, unable to retaliate or do anything to stop him.
“Ehis enter make we dey go” Investor directed impatiently, crossing over with Prudence right in front of the officer. I wondered how he expected me to leave without my phone. Confused, I turned to look at him, signaling that I needed to retrieve my phone. "Make we dey go." Investor repeated, thinking I hadn't heard him the first time.
“Ehis no dey go anywhere, he dey follow me go police station.” The officer declared, indicating his intention to arrest me. If Investor hadn't spoken up, perhaps it wouldn't have agitated the police.
Investor became upset, wanting to confront the police, but he brought out his phone. I didn't want him complicating matters, knowing I was the one who would bear the brunt. Initially scared, I feared he might start recording the police violating my rights. I didn't want that to happen because if the police exposed my actions, they might somehow align with them, escalating the situation. Investor was actually dialing someone, leaving me distraught as everyone reacted. The phone rang in Investor's ear, and Prudence looked at me, curious about the reason for my arrest. Another one of the officers emerged from the police vehicle to figure out what was happening.
“...e dey tell me say e wan carry your guy go station” Investor conveyed the information from Maxwell as the call connected. “I no just sabi these people" visibly enraged, he directed his frustration toward Maxwell instead of confronting the police directly. “Abeg talk to your guy.” Investor handed me his phone, and I took it with trembling hands.
"Maxwell. Maxwell," I uttered fearfully, my heart racing.
"Ehis, calm down. What's happening?" Maxwell tried to reassure me, but I couldn't control my emotions, as I never wanted to find myself in this situation. "Ehis, please, what exactly is going on?" Maxwell begged.
"I don't know..." I admitted sheepishly, even though I did know. I wasn't sure why I initially claimed not to know. Maxwell didn't respond, and I could hear him struggling to understand. "I thought you told me you logged out of Mr. Utomi's account?"
"I did," Maxwell interjected without hesitation. "I did, na?" It became more like a question, as if he wasn't entirely sure. I couldn't understand why, as if he had indeed logged out, I would be in this complication. I felt so angry at him that I couldn't find the words. I was shaking, my back turned away from the police, listening to Investor vent to Prudence.
“You don finish?” Officer NJoku directed at me. I turned back as he sarcastically questioned, clearly growing impatient with us wasting his time. He was determined to move me.
"Ehis, don't worry; I'll meet you at the station. Please- I- just give the phone to Investor," I slowly took the phone away from my ear and handed it to Investor.
Investor took the phone, and 'hmm'd' to the rest of what Maxwell had to say. Meanwhile, the other officer placed her hand on my back, maneuvering me toward the patrol van's prison compartment, as if I were a puppet being controlled. I felt powerless, overwhelmed with shame. Officer Njoku took the driver's seat, instructing the remaining officer to stay behind. I was locked in the cage with the female officer, who had placed me there, seated opposite me. Investor and Prudence quickly got into their car, and as we drove off, they followed suit.
The female officer, identified by the last name Bassey, surprised me. I had assumed she might be more lenient since she was a woman, but her harsh treatment was unbearable. The inappropriate questioning, such as "so you dey collect prick for your yansh?" made the experience dehumanizing. I was close to tears, but I fought to hold back my emotions.
I didn't know what my crime was to deserve such treatment from her. She continued being homophobic without understanding my actions. “This generation is only God that can save them, honestly we better be praying, cause this homo thing is becoming very rampant”. she shared with her fellow officer who was driving. I listened as she expressed her confusion, questioning, “I don't understand what they enjoy from all these, why would you choose to be gay?”. Although she asked the right questions, she wasn't seeking the right answers. If only she understood that being gay was not a choice, perhaps her views could change.
I wanted to reach the police station quickly, eager to avoid being with her any longer. It was a painful reality I had to endure, preferable to the fear of them deviating to a secluded area, robbing me, beating me, and leaving me for dead. Given their power, no one would likely find out.
I had only heard of police stations but had never been close to one. I hoped Investor knew its location because I couldn't see him following behind anymore, and that scared me. Feeling abandoned, it was comforting to know he was upset about their mistreatment, but only because it affected him as well. If I did get out, I wondered how I would rebuild my friendship with Prudence after ruining her birthday.
The vehicle's speed decreased, and I thought it was due to traffic. I realized we had arrived at the station when Officer NJoku came down and opened the back. Officer Bassey accompanied me as I climbed down, scanning the area for Investor's car, but it was nowhere in sight. I wanted to linger for a moment before entering the station, hoping to delay the inevitable, but Officer Bassey seemed ready to hold me. Not wanting to be led like a criminal, I swiftly moved from the roadside into the station. I quickened my pace to avoid being pushed, yet I didn't want to move too fast to avoid the appearance of attempting to escape. Simultaneously, I wasn't sure where exactly I was headed.
Officer Bassey directed me to my right inside. The interior was a mix of old and dilapidated infrastructure, showcasing the wear and tear of time. The walls were adorned with faded posters and notices, and the yellow paint had chipped off in places. Upon entering, the reception area, the lighting was florescent, there was a front desk where officers managed paperwork and interacted with visitors.
The station lacked the sleek, modern technology as I had imagined. Instead, it was traditional record-keeping systems, manual typewriters, and paper-based documentation. Contrary to what I had seen in movies, there was no formal procedure involving removing my cuffs, taking my fingerprints, or holding up a signboard with my name while taking mugshots, I had not been handcuffed, so I didn't know why I was expecting it.
Just my phone was confiscated and handed over to the police at the desk, after which I was placed into a cell. It was so much better because I couldn't imagine holding a sign stating my offense as "homosexuality" or anything similar. The thought of it being publicized on university TVs and notorious blogs like Instablog9ja was something I couldn't bear. I would have never shown my face to the world again.
The cell confined me along with eight other men, all casting curious glances at me when I entered. I could sense their thoughts, probably wondering what a slight 18-year-old like me had done to end up in a cell. One man, in particular, had faint bloodstains on his shirt. I glanced at him, contemplating if it was his blood, but fear prevented me from staring too long. I worried that prolonged eye contact might prompt him to question me, and I could end up getting seriously hurt.
Sitting on the wooden bench attached to the wall, I pondered how long I would be confined with people I shouldn't be sharing a space with, cause I was aware the Nigerian police could detain me for long without a trial. The idea of spending even a night in the cell was unsettling; I struggled even in the hostel, and being in a cell would be even more dreadful. Since the police hadn't informed me of my specific crime or sought any details about me, it seemed unlikely they could contact my parents, which had me less worried. Although, the thought troubled me that my parents were in a different state, believing I was at school studying while I was actually being held at the station.
I fervently wished that Maxwell could expedite whatever he was doing and reach the station promptly. I held onto the hope that he wouldn't allow me to spend the night in the cell. While Investor might have possibly forgotten about me, Maxwell was the primary cause of this predicament, so he had to be here for me. Maxwell had a knack for navigating situations, and I truly hoped he could work his magic because I desperately needed it. Officer Njoku, who arrested me, entered the cell only once without acknowledging my presence. Although I wanted to ask him when he planned to release me, summoning the courage to do so felt challenging. I had remained silent for too long, creating an impression that they could easily take advantage of me, and any attempt to assert my rights might come across as feeble.
Resting my head against the unpainted wall, I began to hear a song playing, and I found myself vibing along—it was the most enjoyable moment in the cell. The song abruptly stopped and then resumed. As I continued to groove, it dawned on me that it was Maxwell's phone that was ringing. I stood up and approached the cell bars, intending to ask the officer with the phone if I could answer it, but the words refused to leave my mouth. I stood there, gripping the bars, contemplating how worried Maxwell must be as the calls persisted. In an attempt to convey my concern, I mumbled words about the phone to the officer, feeling awkward just standing and staring, while the other men in the cell wondered why I had stood.
The officer stared directly into my eyes, and my hope dwindled that he would hand me the phone. Feeling embarrassed, I contemplated returning to the bench. The officer stood up as the phone continued to ring, saying, "Answer it so they'd stop calling." I felt relieved that he took pity on me.
When I took the phone, it wasn't Maxwell calling; it was Sewa, and I had completely forgotten her. I felt pleased that she chose to reach out, hoping she wasn't still angry with me. I didn't know how to explain everything that had transpired since our last conversation. I answered, and she said, "...unreachable, why?" She had begun speaking before the call fully connected, but I deduced what she was asking.
“Sorry my phone got stolen and I got arrested.” I managed to provide some explanation, even though it might have been confusing, as Sewa could have thought I got arrested because of the stolen phone.
"Ehn? Where are you?" Sewa exclaimed in panic, as I found it challenging to articulate the events that happened, while in the cell. "We're coming!" Sewa didn't broach much; she was eager to come to my aid. Although I felt a bit embarrassed about her bringing Eseosa along, considering she mentioned 'we,' and Eseosa might learn about the reason for my arrest, I still informed her.
I ended the call and glanced at the officer, who hadn't realized the conversation was over. Desiring to swiftly log out of Mr. Utomi's account and eliminate any potential evidence, I hesitated, fearing Officer Njoku might detect tampering. Additionally, I could face significant consequences if the sympathetic officer caught me. Carefully, I extended the phone outside the cell, handing it back before returning to the bench to reason my situation.
Maxwell had yet to arrive, and my concern was growing. Anticipating Sewa's arrival, thoughts of her led me to remember Ossai and how I ended things with him. He probably had no idea where I was and likely didn't care after how poorly I treated him. Apologizing to him became a priority, the first thing I wanted to do once I got out. Nearly facing a dire situation made me reflect on how I could have ended things with my cousin in such a manner.
Officer Njoku returned, and this time he focused on me. He opened the cell and instructed me to "get up." I pointed to myself to confirm he was addressing me, and his sarcastic response, "no, me," clarified that it was indeed me. Walking out with trepidation, I turned right into the hallway with Officer Njoku leading me, and there stood Maxwell. "Maxwell," I exclaimed, and he happily smiled upon seeing me. Although I wanted to run up and hug him, I opted for a slow approach, releasing a sigh. I had numerous questions for him.
“What's happening now?” Was the main question weighing on my mind.
“They didn't want to let us see you before. My guy wanted to follow the DPO to talk but I've already sorted things out.” Maxwell tried to stay shush about the whole thing “let's get out of here first.”
I returned to the section where the cell was, feeling scared and hesitant. Officer Bassey was now with my phone, she handed it back and shook her head at me, but I paid no attention, just relieved to be leaving. As we stepped out, I noticed Investor and Prudence waiting by their car, confirming that they had indeed come. I turned and saw Sewa approaching from the opposite direction, and we met in front of Investor's car. Sewa greeted everyone and then turned to me with a questioning look, clearly baffled and concerned about why I was at the station.
"Where's Eseosa?" I redirected the conversation.
"Sorry, she couldn't come; she had to be with Favour," Sewa gestured back as if Eseosa and the baby were present. She then inquired about what happened, and as I recounted the story, which seemed implausible but was indeed true, Sewa remarked, "So, in less than a week of not talking, you lost your phone, almost died, then got arrested?" She expressed gratitude to Maxwell for assisting me "Thank you, by the way", extending her appreciation to the others present with her hands.
Everyone felt fatigued and preferred to postpone discussions until later, especially since it was getting dark. Sewa intended to take a motorcycle back, but I suggested she join us in Investor's car. Despite feeling uneasy about the idea, she couldn't refuse. Sewa, Maxwell, and I sat in the back, with me in the middle. The ride was notably quiet; no one initiated any conversation, and I silently hoped that no one would bring up the events again.
When I unlocked the phone and went to Facebook, Mr. Utomi's account had been logged out. I checked the photos for any content but found nothing. Curious, I navigated to the "bin" section, a feature for recently deleted media, available on Maxwell's android phone. I came across two recently deleted screenshots of Mr. Utomi with the deleted account. I promptly exited, contemplating what they might have thought upon reading it. Placing the phone on my lap, I observed Maxwell and Sewa, speculating that they might have seen what I saw. However, they were engrossed in their own phones. I chose not to use my phone again, as I had experienced enough for the day, I gazed straight ahead at the road.
Sewa was let off at her junction, assuring me that she would check in once she believed I had arrived home. I requested her to pass my greetings to Eseosa, and we continued our journey. Initially, I thought Maxwell was heading back to his hotel, but to my surprise, he alighted with me when Investor dropped me off. We exchanged waves as they drove away, and Maxwell accompanied me into my home. I had a hunch that they might have discussed our situation after driving off.
The immense relief of not spending the night in a cell overwhelmed me, but as I reflected on the day, the multitude of topics to discuss left me uncertain about where to begin. I eagerly awaited Maxwell to acknowledge and apologize for betraying my trust, sensing that it was inevitable. To my surprise, Maxwell started undressing without uttering a word, prompting me to initiate a conversation. "What about your sister?" I recalled that was the reason he stayed back at the hotel, making it peculiar that he chose to spend the night with me instead.
"She was never coming," Maxwell disclosed as he removed his shirt, leaving him in a vest. Seating himself on my bed, he placed his hands on his face and exhaled, signaling that he was about to share a lot. “I wanted to stay at the hotel, because I couldn't keep staying at Investor's." Maxwell confessed, "You were right; I shouldn't have trusted them. I don't trust Investor, Madrid, or Kunle. That's why I stayed over with you before. I couldn't even sleep that night in my own hostel; I felt like they were planning something," His tone carried a blend of regret and apprehension. I joined him on the bed, absorbing the weight of his disclosure.
"How were you able to bail me out?” I felt bad for not even trying to empathize with him, instead just changing the topic.
“I paid the guy 150k.” Maxwell revealed, my eyes widened. “He didn't gree for 100k, so we settled for 150.”
“what the fuck!”
“It's no problem” Maxwell attempted to downplay it.
“It is, Maxwell!” I exclaimed, my pent-up emotions now flooding my mind. “I really don't like it when things like this happen, because I love to pretend that I'm 100% safe, and it makes me forget what kind of country I'm in.” Tears welled up as I continued, taking a seat on my bed, “I'm just so tired of this world, I just wish it was a better place” Turning to face me, Maxwell became my refuge. Falling into his arms, I hugged him tightly, allowing the tears to flow without gasping for breath, simply reveling in the solace he offered. Gradually, Maxwell enveloped me with his comforting embrace. “What were the things that the police saw on your phone?” He inquired, his voice resonating above my head.
"Only Mr. Utomi's Facebook account," I disclosed, withdrawing from him, wiping my face and sitting upright, anticipating his explanation for the presence of the account.
"Just that?"
"Yeah, he was scrolling through Mr. Utomi's chats with that deleted account," I patiently waited for him to explain himself.
"You told me you had a Grindr account when your phone got stolen. When was the last time you logged into it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I think I know why they stole your phone," Maxwell insinuated, suggesting a connection between my missing phone and the unfolding events. There were so many missing pieces, making it challenging to grasp the full picture.
Maxwell requested his phone and swiftly navigated through it, muttering how he had frozen the Facebook app, so how did the police found it, unless the police was looking for it. “Why did he even collect your phone?”
“He just asked for it and I gave him. He walked away with it to one side, before you know it, he started pressing it anyhow.”
“Why would you just let him take the phone like that?” Maxwell realized how insensitive it was to victim blame me, but he was right, the fault laid partly with me. “I'm sorry.” Maxwell got back to his phone and returned an installed Grindr to me “Please log in”.
Although I didn't comprehend Maxwell's motives, I complied, eager to conclude this revelation to avoid him seeking answers from somewhere that could attract more trouble. As Grindr opened, I noticed a single message. Since I hadn't used the app in a while, receiving a message seemed ordinary. Upon opening it, I found a simple "hey" from 'Kennedy.'