π—§π—›π—˜ 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗔𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗔 π—˜π—¦π—–π—”π—£π—˜π—— π——π—œπ—¬π—”β€™π—¦ 𝗧π—₯𝗔𝗣 π—œπ—‘ π—˜π—‘π—¨π—šπ—¨.

π—§π—›π—˜ 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗔𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗛𝗔 π—˜π—¦π—–π—”π—£π—˜π—— π——π—œπ—¬π—”β€™π—¦ 𝗧π—₯𝗔𝗣 π—œπ—‘ π—˜π—‘π—¨π—šπ—¨.

If General Sani Abacha had boarded that plane to Enugu, Nigeria’s history would have been rewritten. I know this because I was thereβ€”standing unknowingly in the middle of a plot that could have toppled a Head of State.

It was the 9th of December, 1997. I was Chief Security Officer to General Oladipo Diya, the Chief of General Staff and second-in-command to Abacha. On that morning, I thought it would be just another day of briefings, meetings, and routine security checks. I was wrong.

The plan, as I would later discover, was as simple as it was dangerous: lure Abacha to Enugu for the Army Training Conference, seize him once he arrived, and force him to resign. My boss and some of his colleagues believed it was the perfect opportunity to strike.

That morning, Abacha left the Villa for the airport. His advance party was already in Enugu, the conference was set, and the trap was ready. But thenβ€”something unexpected happened. Without explanation, Abacha turned back. One U-turn. No Enugu. No conference. No abduction. He returned quietly to the Villa, and everything changed.

Not long after, General Diya called me. His voice was calm, almost too calm.
β€œInform me once the C-in-C arrives in Enugu,” he said.
I replied innocently, β€œSir, the man has returned to the Villa.”

The look on his face told me more than his words ever could. Something was wrong.

We waited, thinking Abacha might still resume the journey. But he never left Abuja.

That evening, the unusual began. Around 3 or 4pm, General Ishaya Bamaiyi, the Chief of Army Staff, walked into Diya’s office. He was supposed to be in Enugu, yet here he was, in Abuja. After he left, my boss instructed me to call General Adisa. At that time, Adisa and General Olarenwaju had been stripped of their ministerial positions.

When I phoned Adisa, I could hear the unease in his voice. β€œIs there danger?” he asked cautiously.
β€œNo, there isn’t,” I assured him.
Minutes later, he arrived, dressed in plain clothes. He went straight into Diya’s office. I wasn’t privy to their discussion, but the tension in the air was thick enough to cut.

The next morning, Diya pulled me aside. His voice was low, deliberate.
β€œIf Oga had traveled yesterday, he would have been arrested, and there would have been a change of government.”

My heart froze. β€œBy who?” I asked, still struggling to believe what I was hearing.

β€œThe GOCs and myself,” he replied casually, as though it were nothing more than a change of duty roster.

That was the moment it hit me. I wasn’t just Diya’s security aide anymore. I was standing in the shadows of a coup attempt I never signed up for.

Abacha’s last-minute decision to turn back had saved him from abduction in Enugu. With that single move, he not only escaped Diya’s trap but also crushed the coup before it ever began.

Major Seun Fadipe. (Rtd) #CSO to General Oladipupo Diya

Prince Tunde Aiyekooto

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