What happened, Your Excellency?

By Dr. Egbo Paul

There are moments in a nation’s history when silence becomes too loud to ignore, when voices expected to speak suddenly begin to whisper or deny what they once boldly proclaimed.

Nigeria is living through such a moment, and nowhere is this tension more evident than in the tragedy unfolding in Benue State.

In one of my previous reflections, I raised a simple but sincere question: Where is Pastor Tunde Bakare?
For more than two decades, I admired his fearlessness, his courage to confront power without compromise, his ability to stand tall like a prophetic watchman over a troubled nation.

His boldness, reason, and passion once ignited many hearts, mine included.

But today, a heavier question overshadows that one.

A question that stings with a mix of heartbreak, bewilderment, and spiritual concern.

A question that reaches beyond political analysis into the realm of Scripture and conscience.

It is a question directed to the sitting Governor of Benue State, a man who, before becoming a political figure, carried the sacred ordination of a priest:

Your Excellency, Rev. Fr. Hyacinth Alia… What happened?

Benue State has suffered in ways words struggle to capture. Community after community has been attacked. Families displaced.

Farmlands seized. Entire villages wiped out in patterns too organized, too repeated, too targeted to be dismissed as “conflict.” Former Governor Samuel Ortom did not mince words; he called it what many international observers, human rights bodies, and survivors themselves have called it: genocide and land-grabbing.

But shockingly, Your Excellency stood before microphones and denied what your people have bled for years, trying to explain. The denial was not merely political; it was moral, spiritual, and deeply personal to thousands who still mourn their dead.

And suddenly, Psalm 55:12–14 returned with prophetic clarity:

“If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it…
But it was you, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship as we walked together to the house of God.”

David cried not because an enemy rose against him but because a friend betrayed him.

Not because a stranger failed him, but because someone with whom he shared sacred spaces suddenly changed.

This is why your words, Your Excellency, wound more deeply than ordinary political statements.

You are not a leader who emerged from the trenches of political power.
You are a Reverend Father—one trained to: Defend the poor, strengthen the weak, comfort the afflicted, speak truth to power, and stand as a moral compass in the midst of national confusion.

You were trained to be light in darkness, salt in decay, a shepherd among wolves, a voice for the voiceless—not an echo of political convenience.

So, like David, I ask again:

What happened?

What happened to the priestly boldness?
What happened to the moral clarity expected of a spiritual father?

What happened to the courage that should flow naturally from the pulpit to the public square?

What happened to the prophetic responsibility to defend the flock, not deny their suffering?

What happened to the truth your predecessor spoke so plainly?

This question is not an attack—it is a lament.

It is not condemnation—it is confusion mixed with spiritual pain.

It is not hatred—it is heartbreak.
Because when a man of God becomes hesitant in the face of injustice, something deeper is wrong.

Your Excellency, the cries of widows, orphans, burned communities, funeral processions, and displaced families cannot be dismissed with a sentence.

Their pain is real. Their tears are loud. Their stories are documented. Their graves cannot be denied.

Political pressure may bend many men,
but a priest should stand differently.
A priest is not shaped by polls,
but by Scripture.

Not controlled by political tides,
but anchored in truth.
Not afraid of consequences,
but conscious of eternal accountability.

And so, with humility but with firm conviction, I ask—for the sake of your oath, your calling, and your people:

Sir, please… what happened?

Why does your voice sound different?
What shifted in your convictions?
What quieted the courage expected of your office?

What diluted the truth you once represented?

What dimmed the prophetic fire?

Benue people do not need political poetry.

They do not need rehearsed statements.
They do not need diplomatic ambiguity.
They need a leader who sees clearly, speaks truthfully, and stands courageously.

A leader who remembers that leadership is not merely an office, it is a burden of truth.

And priesthood is not merely a title,
it is a sacred assignment.

David’s cry remains relevant today because betrayal from an enemy is tolerable, but betrayal from a friend—a companion, a spiritual father—cuts deep.

Your Excellency, the nation is watching.
History is recording.
Posterity will judge.

And the people of Benue, the oppressed, the displaced, the wounded—are still waiting for the truth they deserve, the courage they expected, and the leadership they hoped for.

Until then, the question continues to echo:

Rev. Father… what happened?

egbo4christ@gmail.com