Chapter 4

It was not actually an easy task to find concrete information about Vitamin and how to nail him. But, thank God, I was a journalist, so I put my profession judiciously into practice. I have in the past instigated various investigations against corrupt powerful men and women in the country and helped revealed and exposed other series of secret and damaging information that became the catalyst that brought down several corrupt public officials and rouge politicians across the country. This, including other private criminals who had committed heinous crimes and thought they had covered their trenches. But working with other journalists and activists we were able to open their can of worms and exposed their criminal ass to the public. And my experience so far had taught me that patience and hope had always played a great part in unmasking these criminals. So, I deployed these two important elements on Vitamin as well.
I used my connection in the police, SSS, DSS, including the army and Civil Defense and other private organizations to get information on the celebrated businessman and his gang. I combed most of the media outlets in the city and nearby states to source for vital information and links on anyone that goes by the name James Agindinbi, alias Vitamin. I checked and cross-checked both old and new newspapers, magazines and other available source of printed or recorded information. But, I realized that he was a clever businessman, or whatever he was. He practically stayed away from the internet and its social media frenzy. There was no profile about him on Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Whatsapp or the other popular streaming social media platforms.
Then I went to the courts. I connected with my old friends at some of the courts around and dig for information about past and present cases and convictions. It was not easy but the search finally paid off one afternoon from one of my contacts in a faraway state. I was eager and sweating as I open the brown envelope he sent to me. I tore it open and read the typed words carefully. My heart beat faster as I stared dumbly at the black and white photograph on the page. Although it was an old photograph, but at the same time it was unmistakable the picture of James Agindinbi, alias Vitamin with his name spell out boldly. I noted with excitement what seem like a tribal name among his profile, including his maiden name and village. It was an old criminal case record about a case of theft and robbery. I lit a cigarette and excitedly nourished my soul with a wide smile. I got him! I exclaimed to myself and casually made all the necessary plans and arrangement on how to expose him to the world.

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As a Journalist I knew from day one that I was in a dangerous profession. But somebody must be bold to do what need to be done. Again, the occupation has it adventurous side, and I love adventure. However, the most important element that drew me to the profession was the noble act of seeing injustice, reporting it and fighting it with dignity. I have always hated bullies and their cheap complex, and also cherish fighting against maltreatment. I hate to see a housemaid dehumanized and equally love to take on step mothers or fathers who molest and oppress their half children. My soul always feels tickle whenever I had the opportunity to take on a powerful man or woman who selfishly used their position to oppress their subordinates or others below them. I hate it when I see a ‘big’ man suppressed a ‘small’ man. I hate any form of arrogance and class segregation and discrimination likewise.
To me, the only way to fight these myopic maladies was to become a Journalist and luckily I became one and have never regretted it ever since. The profession had brought me across various threats and seclusion in the course of doing my job, but none so far has been more brutal than the one from Vitamin and his gang. Although I was not officially on assignment, but all the same my rights and dignity as a free and law abiding citizen I felt had been violated by a human being with one head, two hands and two legs like me, and I was not going to sit down, take it as it is and allow him to go free. I had in the course of my job fought other peoples battles and this time it was a battle that has to do with myself, my dignity and personality and in God I trust, with a conscience believe that He always manage affairs with justice.
So, I made up my mind and made my way to the Calabash on a Saturday, about two weeks later, dressed in a blue jean, a white long sleeve shirt and a knotted slim tie. I felt confident with my dress, feeling smart and bold in my black suede shoes, although it was a weekend, I wanted to look conspicuous among the crowd. I breezed into the large bar around 5:30pm as noted from my new Swatch plastic watch, my other expensive watch long stolen by Vitamin’s thugs on the night they brushed me. It was a full house I noted silently and made my way to the tall stools by the bar. It was a space that gave me ample view to study the setting. I was lucky to find an empty stool; the last occupier had just left after buying a drink from the masculine barman who gaped at me as I jumped into the empty seat and grinned at him.

‘Hello, Bobo, remember me?’ I asked casually and take in the atmosphere. I noticed his astonishment as he gaped speechlessly at my bruised face.

The bar was lively and busy as usual on weekend and I noted some familiar faces from my last visit. I noticed their surprised look as they gaped at me and I gave them a smile, allowing them a peek at my two missing front teeth. I equally noted the astonished faces of those who assisted Vitamin in battering my frame the last time, including the two ladies who had both been part of the pounding and battering. I grinned at them, but they both wore a frown and looked away. I stared thoughtfully at them and then finally noted the familiar faces of new men and women among the crowd. I was the only one in the setting that knew their true mission at the Calabash that evening.

The music of Davido ‘Gobe’ rant the air as few couples dance sweetly across the bar, while others nodded their high heads in harmony to the beat. But my main prey was yet to show face. I noted and nodded my head equally to the music.

‘Yes, what do you want?’ I heard the barman barked at me from his isolated position behind the counter.

I stared miserably at him and then grinned cynical. ‘Drink, cold, chilled drink,’ I responded.

‘I thought the boss told you not to show your face here again?’ He demanded and ignored my request.

I fain ignorance and stared quizzically at his hard angry face. Just then, my big prey sauntered into the bar glamorously dressed in a white designer native shirt with trouser to match and by his side was his beautiful woman, radiantly dressed in a black silky dress. I watched him swaggered into the setting with an arrogant sway like a tyrannical king with an illusion he was above all and sundry. I noted as some of the crowd suddenly suspended their activities and the sycophancy and homage paying took over.
The most surprising figure among his hanger-on on this particular evening was no other person than the Divisional Police Officer. It actually took me time to spot and recognized him. Dressed in a blue Jean, a stripe T-shirt and canvas and a black taxi driver cap, he was lost in the crowd, but I recognized his cat eyes and massive shaped head. He lined up behind Vitamin as the pompous man proudly acknowledges the greetings and homage being showered on him by his large crowd of sycophants. He must have noticed that I was the only one inside the bar still sitting confidently on my stool with an I-don’t- care attitude at his personality. He suddenly turned towards my direction and stared surprisingly at me. This action drew the attention of his mistress who also stared towards my direction and instantly recognized me. Our eyes met and she devilishly gave me her seductive smile once again.