‘Just Write’—The Trap That Turns Cooperation Into Evidence
The Weapon Called “Statement”
The Statement Myth Nigerians Keep Falling For
ACROSS Nigeria, few phrases have done more quiet legal damage than: “Just write your statement.” It is delivered casually, often by investigators who sound reassuring, almost conversational. Yet beneath the calm tone is a machinery of criminal procedure that treats written words not as explanations, but as prosecutorial assets.
A police statement is not an administrative formality. It is not a narration for closure. It is not a personal diary entry to express emotion. In law, it is a deposition, an investigative record, and potentially, a confessional document—even when no confession was intended.
In multiple high-profile and grassroots cases reviewed by legal analysts, defence lawyers repeatedly identify the same pattern: suspects walk into stations assuming cooperation guarantees freedom, only to discover that freedom depends not on intent, but precision, caution, and rights-awareness—skills most civilians do not possess.
The Legal Doctrine That Governs Statements
Once a statement is written and signed, three presumptions immediately attach to it under Nigerian criminal jurisprudence and evidence practice:
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Voluntariness: The law assumes the suspect was not forced.
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Comprehension: The suspect understood the content.
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Intentionality: Every sentence reflects the suspect’s meaning.
Unless successfully challenged through strict proof, these presumptions endure. This is why courts have repeatedly held that a signed deposition enjoys higher evidentiary credibility than later oral disclaimers. Judges interpret statements not through sympathy, but statutory frameworks and precedents.
In essence: the pen becomes a witness, and the witness rarely forgets.
How Innocence Gets Eroded in Ink
Police statements have historically become ruinous not because suspects lie, but because they write like ordinary citizens—not like defendants whose words will be litigated.
Three common self-incrimination pathways emerge:
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Over-Explanation: Suspects, hoping to sound innocent, provide unsolicited narratives. Prosecutors later extract fragments from these expansions and frame them as admissions.
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Stress Writing: Statements drafted while fatigued or panicked often contain structural weaknesses, incoherence, or ambiguous concessions.
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Inconsistency: Subsequent clarifications that deviate slightly from the original text are interpreted not as human error, but as credibility fractures.
Many convictions and prolonged detentions have leaned on these vulnerabilities, reinforcing a central reality: innocence is not proven by eagerness, but by legal strategy.
Constitutional Safeguards vs. Investigative Practice
Section 35 of the 1999 Constitution protects liberty, while Section 36 guarantees fair hearing. Embedded within these is the derivative right to silence, reinforced by the principle against compelled self-incrimination.
However, while the Constitution grants these rights, police procedure tests whether suspects know to activate them. Silence is permitted, but not encouraged. Legal counsel is allowed, but not provided by default. Time to reflect exists, but pressure to conclude often overrides reflection.
The imbalance is not malicious—it is structural. Investigators collect evidence; defendants must protect themselves. When defendants assume both roles simultaneously, they often fail at the latter.
The Editorial Verdict
Until Nigeria embeds mandatory legal representation at the point of police interrogation for serious allegations, public legal education must stress this truth relentlessly: A statement is not a favour. A statement is a file. A file is a future.
