From Uchenna Ezeadigwe
Awka
Zonal Publicity Secretary Anambra APC Central Mr Arinze Igboeli Haa disclosed that flickering flames of hundreds of candles illuminated more than just the darkness in Awka on Monday evening. As social media activist Martins Vincent Otse, better known as VeryDarkMan (VDM), led a solemn procession through the Anambra State capital, each flame seemed to burn with the collective anger and frustration of a people abandoned by their government's promise of protection.
Despite police warnings against what they termed "inciting statements," VDM pressed ahead with the candlelight march for Ifesinachi Onyekere, the 35-year-old businessman known as "Fish Magnet," whose life was brutally cut short by kidnappers who killed him even after collecting ransom from his family.
The story of Fish Magnet reads like a nightmare that has become all too familiar in Anambra State. On a Saturday night that should have ended in the comfort of his home, armed men stormed Onyekere's residence around 10:30 p.m. They shot him in the leg, dragged him into the night, and held him for days despite his family's desperate attempts to secure his release through ransom payments.
Four days later, his body was discovered—lifeless, cold, and bearing testament to the failure of a system that had promised to protect him.
Onyekere wasn't just another statistic. As the Managing Director of Fish Magnet, a thriving aquaculture business, and son of an APGA chieftain, he represented the entrepreneurial spirit that Anambra State desperately needs to nurture. His death sent shockwaves through the business community and raised uncomfortable questions about who is truly safe in Governor Chukwuma Soludo's Anambra.
At the candlelight march, VDM's demonstration captured the mood of many Anambra residents. The thousands of feet that protested with each thrust forward weren't just for Fish Magnet—they were for a state that seems to have lost its way, where criminals operate with brazen confidence while law-abiding citizens live in fear.
"How many more must die?" We ask, It's a question that echoes in the homes of every Anambra family, in every business establishment, and in every government office that has failed to provide an adequate answer.
On February 18, 2025, Governor Soludo launched what he called a "new security architecture" for Anambra State. The Commissioner for Information and Public Enlightenment has claimed that security has "significantly improved" since then. Yet Fish Magnet's murder, occurring months after this supposed improvement, tells a starkly different story.
Security is not merely a government service—it is the foundational contract between the state and its citizens. When people surrender their right to bear arms and defend themselves, they do so with the expectation that the government will protect them. In Anambra, this social contract appears to be written in disappearing ink.
As candles burned in Awka, harder questions burned in the minds of Anambra residents:
Where are the results of the billions allocated for security in the state? What happened to the intelligence networks that should have prevented this brazen attack in the state capital? Why do criminals feel confident enough to kill their victims even after receiving ransom payments?
The fact that the police issued warnings against VDM's peaceful memorial raises even more troubling questions. Is the government more concerned with controlling the narrative than addressing the crisis that created it?
Fish Magnet's death represents more than the loss of one life—it symbolizes the systematic erosion of Anambra's business environment. Every entrepreneur watching this tragedy unfold must wonder: "Could I be next?" Every potential investor considering Anambra must ask: "Is this a state where businesses can thrive?"
The ripple effects of insecurity extend far beyond immediate victims. They choke economic growth, discourage investment, and create a climate of fear that no amount of government public relations can overcome.
VDM's candlelight march did more than honor Fish Magnet's memory—it held up a mirror to Governor Soludo’s monumental failure in the area of security. The image reflected wasn't pretty: a government that makes promises it cannot keep, security agencies that issue warnings to peaceful protesters while criminals roam free, and a people growing increasingly desperate for leadership that prioritizes their safety over political rhetoric.
As the candles burned low in Awka, one thing became clear: the people of Anambra State deserve better. They deserve a government that understands that without security, there can be no prosperity, no peace, and no future worth building.
The flames have been extinguished, but the questions they illuminated continue to burn. How many more Fish Magnets must die before Anambra gets security right? The answer may well determine the state's future.
Fish Magnet's death is a tragedy. The government's response to it will define whether it remains an isolated incident or becomes a symbol of systemic failure.