Five years ago, streets across Nigeria shook with the chants of restless youths, their placards raised against police brutality and their voices echoing in unison: “EndSARS, End impunity!” From Lagos to Abuja, from Port Harcourt to Jos, young Nigerians confronted a system they believed had failed to protect them.
Today (October 20) as the 5th anniversary of the #EndSARS protests is marked, the movement remains both a milestone in civic awakening and a bitter reminder of how justice can be delayed, denied, or distorted.
This special report revisits the forces that birthed the protests, the faces that defined them, the sites scarred by violence, the judgments handed down by panels and courts and the long wait for justice by victims and their families.
The sparks
The story of #EndSARS is the story of accumulated frustration. For decades, the Special Anti-Robbery Squad, SARS, originally created in the 1990s to combat violent crime, had become synonymous with abuse. Instead of protecting citizens, SARS operatives were accused of turning Nigerian streets into hunting grounds.
Their methods were crude and notorious: young men stopped for having dreadlocks, wearing earrings, or carrying laptops; phones were seized and combed for ‘evidence’; wallets emptied at gunpoint; parents forced to pay to release their children. Worse, allegations of torture, extrajudicial killings, and enforced disappearances piled up with chilling regularity.
By 2020, these stories had reached a tipping point. Social media became the courtroom where the people presented their evidence — pictures of battered victims, videos of raids, and testimonies of humiliation. The final straw came in early October 2020, when a viral video allegedly showed SARS operatives killing a young man in Delta State. Within hours, hashtags calling for the abolition of SARS trended worldwide.
What began online spilled into the streets. In Lagos, Abuja, Ibadan, Benin City, and across Nigeria, thousands rallied in unprecedented numbers. It was not just about SARS; it was about dignity, accountability, and the right to live without fear of those meant to protect.
A leaderless revolution
EndSARS was famously described as a leaderless protest. There was no central committee, no political figure issuing directives. Yet, it produced visible faces and voices who rallied the masses.
Segun Awosanya, popularly known as Segalink, had long been a critic of police brutality and became an early reference point. Celebrities such as Falz (Folarin Falana), comedian and activist Mr. Macaroni (Debo Adedayo), and Runtown not only spoke but marched with protesters, lending star power to the streets. Others like Davido, Tiwa Savage, and Burna Boy used music and platforms to amplify the struggle.
Perhaps the most iconic was DJ Switch (Obianuju Udeh), who live-streamed the events of October 20, 2020, at Lekki Toll Gate to over 150,000 viewers on Instagram. Her footage, showing chaos as soldiers opened fire, turned her into an international whistleblower. But the fame came with threats, forcing her into exile.
Grassroots organisers — lawyers offering pro bono services, medics treating wounded protesters, and women coordinating the feminist coalition that funded logistics — kept the movement alive.
Five years later, their trajectories diverge. Some remain vocal in advocacy; others have returned to private lives. But the collective memory they built continues to animate debates about human rights and governance in Nigeria.
Monuments scarred
No place symbolises #EndSARS more than the Lekki Toll Gate in Lagos. Once a bustling point of economic activity, it became ground zero of the protests. Protesters camped there, singing the national anthem under the flag and holding candlelight vigils for slain compatriots.
On October 20, 2020, the toll gate turned into a scene of blood and controversy. Lights went off, CCTV footage mysteriously failed, and soldiers opened fire. What followed has since been called the Lekki massacre by victims and “a disputed shooting” by authorities.
The toll gate itself suffered vandalism, its facilities damaged in the aftermath. Attempts to rebuild and reopen it sparked outrage, with activists arguing that commercial resumption without justice amounted to an erasure of memory. Several times, youths gathered there to lay wreaths, paint murals, or hold memorial concerts, only to be dispersed by security forces.
Elsewhere, police stations were razed in Lagos, Oyo, Anambra, and Edo. Public transport buses were torched. Government buildings, warehouses, and even private businesses suffered attacks, some hijacked by hoodlums exploiting the chaos. Rebuilding efforts have been uneven: some police stations reconstructed, others abandoned; some warehouses repaired, others left in ruins. The scars remain visible in many communities as daily reminders of a society still searching for closure.
Quest for justice
In response to the outcry, the Federal Government directed all states to set up judicial panels of inquiry into SARS abuses and protest-related violence. Over 29 states established panels, receiving thousands of petitions.
The Lagos State Judicial Panel of Inquiry on Restitution was the most prominent. After months of hearings, it concluded that soldiers shot and killed unarmed protesters at Lekki Toll Gate. The panel listed names of victims, recommended compensation, and urged prosecution of erring officers. Its report described the incident as a “massacre.”
Other state panels echoed similar findings: systematic abuse by SARS, gross violations of rights, and the urgent need for reform. They recommended monetary compensation, medical support, and, in some cases, public apologies.
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