One of the most notorious cases of bad behaviour by a Nigerian institution has to be the police. From illegal arrests and detention on strategic Fridays (the infamous “weekend detention” to frustrate bail), incursions into civil transactions only to come out with a forced undertaking and several threats of arrests, to kidnapping and just all sorts of extremities that should not be visible or envisioned in a civil society with potent laws.

Based on the sheer number of human rights violations and cases that have been concluded and those still pending, the police should have gone bankrupt paying judgment fees. So haven’t they? Because of potent laws, laws skewed to protect a badly behaved institution. This law defies even judicial potency, creating a worrying yet less talked-about screening process by another arm of government, an aberration of the separation of powers.

The law I speak of is the Sheriff and Civil Process Act (SCPA), particularly the section requiring the Attorney General (AG) of the Federation or State to consent to recovering monies on accounts of public institutions, the police being one of them. The police know this, and it is hard and almost impossible for an Attorney General who is effectively the chief lawyer for the same government to grant consent to execute against the police. Imagine if the AG did not need to provide consent, and court judgments could be executed once they are obtained, the entire game would change.

The Vicious Cycle of Impunity

The practical effect of this administrative consent requirement is not even a delay; it is the institutionalisation of impunity. For the victim, the journey to justice is an emotional and financial marathon: they hire a lawyer, file processes, attend countless adjournments, and finally, after perhaps years of effort, they receive the court’s stamp of approval a judgment. They have won the battle, but Section 84 ensures they cannot win the war. The judgment becomes a ‘paper tiger’ it roars in the courtroom but has no teeth in the marketplace.

The Nigerian Police Force, being the judgment debtor in the majority of these human rights cases, is acutely aware of this shield. They know, with almost absolute certainty, that even if a court orders them to pay a substantial sum for illegal detention or torture, the money is safe in the bank or, since the Treasury Single Account (TSA), the Central Bank. This removes the only mechanism that truly forces institutional change: financial consequence. If every illegal arrest cost the police N10 million, and that money was automatically withdrawn from their operational budget, the institution would be forced to immediately discipline officers, train personnel better, and fundamentally rethink their Standard Operating Procedures. Since the money is untouchable, the police budget remains whole, and the cycle of misconduct continues unabated.

The Conflict of Interest: Executive Veto Over Judicial Authority

Furthermore, the requirement for the Attorney General’s consent represents a critical fracture in the doctrine of the separation of powers. The Judiciary has made its findings of fact and law and issued its final order. Yet, the AG, a political appointee and a key member of the Executive arm of government (the same arm the police falls under), is given the power to essentially veto the court’s order.

This is a deep conflict of interest. Asking the AG to approve the garnishing of a fellow executive agency’s account is like asking one hand to voluntarily chop off the other. This administrative wall creates a political sanctuary where bad behaviour is tacitly endorsed and protected from financial accountability. The court’s authority is reduced from a potent order to a mere recommendation, subject to the political will of the office responsible for protecting the government’s interests. The victim is dragged into a separate, non-judicial fight, a political battle for consent, that they are almost certain to lose.

Restoring Trust Through Financial Discipline

Since the law was made in 1955, we would assume that the colonial rationale for Section 84 protecting the government’s coffers from being depleted by litigation no longer holds water in a modern democracy. Our constitutional democracy is founded on the principle of accountability, and that accountability must extend to the public purse when public officers violate fundamental rights. Protecting the government’s account to the detriment of citizens’ fundamental rights is an inversion of justice.

The simplest, most impactful reform is the complete excision of Section 84 from the Sheriffs and Civil Process Act. When a court orders a judgment payment for a rights violation, that payment should be automatic and mandatory, just as it is for any private corporation. When the police budget begins to bleed funds due to the repeated misconduct of its officers, the institution will finally be compelled to enforce internal discipline, ensuring that officers who commit these egregious acts are not merely transferred but are actually held responsible. Only then will the rule of law be truly respected, and the judgment delivered to the traumatised citizen cease to be a worthless certificate and become the restorative justice it was meant to be.