By Cecilia Ibru
Among the banks present, Oceanic Bank was the first to face the Board. With all the Board Members seated and the CBN Governor presiding as Chairman, he made a brief statement and then handed me a letter. To my shock, the letter declared that Oceanic Bank should cease operations immediately. Stunned, I questioned his authority to take such a drastic measure without prior warning, which was contrary to normal banking practice. As I spoke, I noticed the grim expressions on the faces of the Board Members. Some of them subtly urged me to take the letter and leave, fearing that I might be arrested on the spot. I took the letter and left the meeting.
As I was returning to my office at Oceanic Bank, a staff member called me in a panic. He informed me that military personnel had surrounded my office and warned me not to return, as news was spreading that I had been declared a “wanted person.” The situation was so bewildering that I did not know what to do. Instead of heading to my office, I drove straight home.
When I arrived, I found my residence filled with sympathisers. My husband, thankfully, was in the United States receiving medical treatment at the time. Various dignitaries visited me, each offering different pieces of advice. Some urged me to flee to Lomé that same night to escape Nigeria, warning that the CBN Governor and his allies from King’s College would relentlessly pursue me until I was arrested and imprisoned indefinitely, with little hope of release.
I kept asking myself, “What have I done wrong?” but I was repeatedly told that it was not about what I had done — the CBN Governor was prepared to fabricate charges against me. Still, I refused to become a fugitive. I reminded them that I was responsible for 27,000 employees at Oceanic Bank. My visitors begged me to seek refuge, either in Lagos or outside the country. My children were devastated, unsure of what to do.
After hiding in different places for more than ten days, I decided to surrender to the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission (EFCC) as advised by my lawyer. I was assured that I would not be detained due to my deteriorating health and that the EFCC would only take my statement before allowing me to seek medical attention. But the reality was entirely different.
I was detained for over a month. There was always one excuse or another to keep me there — one more statement to make, one more document to sign. This continued endlessly until formal charges were filed against me. I pleaded not guilty to all the baseless allegations. The next step was for my lawyers to secure my bail.
The bail struggle
The conditions for my bail were unusually stringent: at least two senators of the Nigerian Federation had to stand as sureties before I could be released. The then Governor of Delta State, Dr. Emmanuel Uduaghan, intervened by sending Federal Representatives of Delta State origin to act as sureties. Additionally, Chief E.K. Clark, Chief Fred Brume, and my brother-in-law, a former Governor and Senator, Olorogun Felix Ibru, stepped in to secure my bail.
Once I was finally released from EFCC custody, I went straight to Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH) for a medical check-up. The doctors conducted a series of tests, and my heart condition raised serious concerns. I was referred to a cardiologist, a female doctor who made me feel at ease.
Meanwhile, my children and family were pressuring me to accept a plea bargain as a way to put an end to the ongoing ordeal. I resisted fiercely, determined to fight for my innocence. However, I was soon threatened with rearrest and fresh charges, which, I was warned, would be even worse than before.
Reluctantly, I agreed on one condition: I needed clearance from my cardiologist, Professor Ajulochukwu of LUTH. She performed a thorough examination and gave me the green light to proceed. With that assurance, I travelled to Abuja with my youngest daughter to finalise the plea bargain.
We arrived safely, but about twenty minutes from the airport, I began experiencing strange pains on the left side of my chest, radiating down my left arm. At first, I ignored it, but as we approached Abuja, the pain intensified. My daughter became worried and urged me to call my doctor.
We reached Professor Ajulochukwu, who, after listening to my symptoms, urgently advised me to return to Lagos immediately. I followed her instructions. Upon my return, I went straight to her office, where she conducted preliminary tests and directed me for further cardiac examinations.
Within two hours, the medical team called her with alarming results. She initially appeared calm but, upon reading the second set of results, her demeanour changed drastically. She called for assistance from her colleagues. When we pressed her to explain, she hesitated before finally revealing the diagnosis: “heartbrokenness.”
The professor immediately placed me on emergency treatment with Cleazine medication. Since the hospital pharmacy had ran out of supply, they had to source the drug from nearby pharmacies. I had to receive injections every three hours to prevent clotting in my heart and avoid an imminent heart attack.
I was then referred to First Cardiology Hospital under the care of Dr Lawson, an American-trained cardiologist. After five days of intensive treatment, he referred me to Reddington Hospital on Victoria Island. My heart was now beating irregularly, and the doctors were deeply concerned
From hospital to prison
Despite my fragile condition, Reddington Hospital came under immense pressure from the CBN Governor’s allies to discharge me. My legal team pleaded for more time, but suddenly, I was summoned to court to face the charges against me.
My doctors and lawyers pleaded with the court for an extension, which was denied. Left with no choice, my lawyers advised me to plead guilty to one or two charges so that I could return to the hospital for treatment. However, the CBN Governor’s legal team insisted that I be sent to Kirikiri Prison.
When we arrived at Kirikiri Maximum Security Prison, a group of officers surrounded our vehicle, ready to ensure my immediate incarceration. But I refused to leave the car. The more they pressured me, the harder I resisted.
One of the officers informed me that they would call their Oga patapata — the senior prison officer — to force me out of the car. At that moment, reality hit me hard. Never in my life had I imagined myself in such a situation. I sat in that car, overwhelmed, asking myself:
“What have I done to deserve such cruel treatment?”
I thank God that I had the privilege of running a successful bank — one that became a force to be reckoned with in Nigeria’s financial sector. Oceanic Bank was one of the top banks in the country, striving to be number one. We were actively involved in the Nigerian Public-Private Programme, supporting initiatives that encouraged private companies to acquire government enterprises through the Bureau of Public Enterprises (BPE).
Oceanic Bank played a key role in the privatisation of several government companies, including the National Fertiliser Company of Nigeria (NAFCON) in Port Harcourt. Another major project we funded was ECONET, Nigeria’s second mobile telecommunications company, coming after MTN. We were also instrumental in financing the Murtala Muhammed Airport Terminal 2 (MM2). These were massive projects that required significant financial backing, and we were proud to be the bank that supported them.
Through these investments, we built a strong portfolio of holding credits, which we later sold to other banks seeking quality assets. First Bank, for instance, acquired credits trom Oceanic Bank, including those related to Airtel, NAFCON, and MM2. Given all we had achieved, I could never have imagined that one day, my name would be dragged through the mud, leading to my incarceration in one of the most notorious prisons in the world.
Beyond large-scale projects, Oceanic Bank was also steadfast in its resolve to empowering small and medium enterprises (SMEs). We provided credit facilities to retailers and micro-businesses (MSMEs), ensuring that financial support reached the grassroots. We also introduced housing and car loan schemes for our employees, enabling them to access these essential assets with little or no down payment.
These efforts were in line with the challenge set by President Olusegun Obasanjo, who urged the banking sector to help grow Nigeria’s middle class. A nation without a strong middle class cannot experience meaningful development — quality education, healthcare, infrastructure and economic growth all depend on it.
The post Cecilia Ibru: From hospital to prison appeared first on Vanguard News.
