Tears and Tramadol: 50-Year-Old Woman Bags One-Year Jail Term for Drug Trafficking in Lagos

A 50-year-old woman, Halima Abdulahi, has been sentenced to one year imprisonment by the Federal High Court in Lagos for unlawfully possessing and attempting to traffic Tramadol, a banned substance controlled under Nigerian law. The sentencing, which took place on Thursday, October 23, 2025, was delivered by Justice Ibrahim Kala, who found Abdulahi guilty after she admitted to the charge filed against her by the National Drug Law Enforcement Agency (NDLEA).

The case, which drew attention for both its straightforward nature and the emotional plea of the defendant, highlights once again the growing scourge of drug trafficking across Nigeria’s borders and the increasing involvement of ordinary citizens in the dangerous trade. According to court documents, Abdulahi was apprehended by NDLEA officers on October 2, 2025, at the ECOWAS border post in Seme, Lagos State, with 50 packets of Tramadol weighing 4.6 kilograms. The drugs were estimated to be worth about ₦400,000, a sum that prosecutors described as “measly compared to the cost of her freedom.”

During her arraignment, NDLEA prosecutor, Mr. Chibuzor Ohanyere, presented the facts of the case before the court and tendered several exhibits, including the seized Tramadol packets and Abdulahi’s written statement, as evidence. He told the court that the suspect was caught during a routine search of vehicles crossing the border and that she had attempted to conceal the drugs in a false compartment of her luggage.

When the charge was read to her, Abdulahi pleaded guilty immediately, a move that appeared to have been influenced by her legal counsel’s advice to cooperate fully with the authorities. Ohanyere subsequently urged the court to convict her based on her plea and the overwhelming evidence presented. “The law is clear on this matter. Once an accused person admits to the offence and the facts are corroborated by credible evidence, conviction should follow,” he told the court.

Justice Kala, after listening to both sides, found Abdulahi guilty as charged. However, the sentencing phase of the trial took an emotional turn as her lawyer, Mrs. Vivian Ekwegh, made a heartfelt plea for leniency. She described her client as a first-time offender who had no prior criminal record and who had shown deep remorse for her actions. Ekwegh argued that her client was misled by ignorance, believing that Tramadol was simply a stronger version of Paracetamol — a claim that sparked murmurs among those present in the courtroom.

“My Lord, this woman is a mother and a trader who has never been in trouble with the law. She acted out of ignorance, not malice. She thought the drugs were just painkillers. She has learned her lesson and saved the court’s time by pleading guilty at the earliest opportunity. I plead for mercy,” Ekwegh said.

Justice Kala, in his judgment, balanced the need for deterrence with the importance of compassion. He acknowledged that drug trafficking remains a serious national problem that fuels addiction and insecurity across the country. However, he also noted that Abdulahi’s cooperation and remorse warranted some leniency. “While ignorance of the law is no excuse, the court takes into account the defendant’s age, first-offender status, and her admission of guilt,” the judge stated.

He then sentenced her to one year imprisonment with an option of a ₦500,000 fine. In addition, Justice Kala ordered that Abdulahi must also perform 30 days of community service as part of her sentence. The order of community service, he said, would serve as a lesson and an opportunity for her to “repay society in a constructive way.”

The ruling underscores the judiciary’s increasingly balanced approach to minor drug offences — combining punishment with correction. Legal observers say this reflects a shift from purely punitive sentencing to a more rehabilitative model, especially for first-time offenders.

For Halima Abdulahi, however, the sentence was met with quiet tears. As the judgment was read, she covered her face with a white scarf, whispering prayers under her breath. Sources present in the courtroom said she wept silently while being led away by warders. One NDLEA official later described her as “cooperative but broken,” adding that her story is becoming increasingly common. “Many of these people don’t even know the seriousness of what they are carrying. They are promised small money, and before they know it, their lives are changed forever,” the officer said.

Tramadol, a synthetic opioid, has become one of the most trafficked drugs in Nigeria in recent years, often smuggled in from India and other parts of Asia. Though it is legally prescribed in low doses for pain relief, the high-dose variants such as those seized from Abdulahi are banned under Nigerian law because of their addictive properties and their association with widespread abuse, particularly among young people and commercial drivers.

In many parts of the country, Tramadol is used as a stimulant and sold illegally under different brand names, fueling addiction, mental health problems, and violent behavior. The NDLEA has repeatedly warned that Tramadol abuse poses one of the greatest threats to Nigeria’s youth population, with thousands of arrests made annually for trafficking and possession.

The agency’s crackdown has intensified over the last few years, with several arrests made at airports, border posts, and major transport hubs. Yet, despite these efforts, smuggling persists, often driven by poverty, ignorance, and the lure of quick money. Legal experts argue that while enforcement is essential, public education and rehabilitation are equally crucial to curbing the menace.

Abdulahi’s case may seem small compared to the large-scale traffickers who move tons of narcotics across borders, but it represents the human face of a much bigger crisis — one that blurs the line between criminal intent and economic desperation. Her lawyer’s claim that she mistook Tramadol for Paracetamol might sound naïve, but it speaks to the lack of awareness that leaves many Nigerians vulnerable to exploitation by drug cartels.

As she begins her one-year jail term — or possibly pays the ₦500,000 fine to avoid it — her story serves as both a warning and a plea. A warning to others who may be tempted by the promise of quick profit, and a plea for more public enlightenment on drug laws and their devastating consequences.

By the time court proceedings ended, the courtroom had mostly emptied, leaving behind only the faint sound of Abdulahi’s slippers echoing across the corridor as she was led away. For her, the price of ignorance has been high — a year behind bars, a heavy fine, and a public record that will follow her for life.

And for the rest of Nigeria, the story is yet another reminder that behind every statistic on drug trafficking lies a human story — one of struggle, poor choices, and, sometimes, redemption.