On April 24, the life of an adopted girl-child was cut short in the most brutal and avoidable way in the Igando area of Lagos. Faith, 12, who should have been nurtured, protected, and given the chance to dream, instead died at the hands of those who were meant to be her guardians.
Adopted at the age of 10, she entered what should have been a safe home. What she found instead was cruelty. Faith’s brutal minders have given child adoption a bad name.
The accounts of her final months are deeply disturbing. Faith was reportedly overburdened with chores and errands, treated like a slave, rather than a daughter. She was beaten frequently and severely.
Eventually, the sustained physical assaults took their toll. She fell ill. Even then, she was denied care. No effort was made to treat her worsening condition until it was far too late.
When she finally died, her adoptive parents rushed her to the hospital, where she was declared dead on arrival. This is reprehensible.
Faith did not deserve to die that way. Her life, like every child’s, carried promise and potential. She deserved care, education, laughter, and protection.
She deserved a future. Instead, she departed most horribly, failed by her adopters, the systems meant to safeguard her, and a society that did not intervene in time.
Faith’s ordeal risks casting a long shadow over adoption as a whole. Adoption is supposed to be a pathway to hope, especially for children whose biological parents are deceased or unable to care for them.
It is also designed to bring succour to those who are unable to have children. But when stories like this emerge, they instil fear. Who would willingly entrust children to strangers if such horrors are possible? Faith’s death may discourage many from considering adoption at all.
The very system designed to protect vulnerable children and bring joy to needy couples could be undermined by the actions of a few who abuse it. That is the tragedy within the tragedy: one child’s suffering could slam the adoption door shut for many.
This is why justice must be swift, decisive, and visible. The couple responsible for Faith’s death has been arrested. They must face the maximum punishment under the law as a necessary deterrent.
Justice must not only be done, it must be seen to be done. Anything less may send the wrong signal: that the abuse of children, even to the point of death, can go with a slap on the wrist.
It is sheer wickedness and utterly reprehensible to maltreat a defenceless minor. It is an even greater evil to persist in that cruelty until it results in death. Such acts must be confronted with the full force of the law. Society owes that much to Faith, and to every child who depends on adults for survival.
Yet, Faith’s case is not isolated. Across Nigeria, reports of child abuse continue to surface with alarming regularity. The forms of torture inflicted on minors are often extreme. Some children have been starved as punishment, others slashed with blades or burned with hot irons. There are even accounts of pepper being forced into their private parts. This is inhuman.
In November 2022, Margaret Joshua, 11, was found in an uncompleted building in Jos, Plateau State. She was unable to walk, talk, or even eat due to the severity of her injuries. The wounds were the result of repeated beatings by her guardian.
Margaret was rushed to the hospital by a public-spirited woman, but like Faith, she did not survive. She died at the hospital, another victim of unchecked cruelty.
These are not just stories; they are warnings. They point to a systemic failure to protect the most vulnerable members of society. They demand urgent action and justice.
Globally, adoption systems are structured to minimise such risks. In the United Kingdom, prospective adoptive parents undergo rigorous assessments, including detailed background checks, home studies, and continuous monitoring even after the adoption is finalised. The goal is not merely to place a child in a home, but to ensure that the home remains safe over time.
Similarly, in the United States, adoption processes involve multiple layers of scrutiny. Social workers evaluate prospective parents extensively, and post-adoption supervision is often mandatory.
The system is designed to detect and address potential risks early. The court and law enforcement also weigh in.
In Ghana, adoption is also tightly regulated. Court approvals, social welfare investigations, and mandatory checks are integral parts of the process. These measures aim to safeguard the child’s best interests at every stage.
Lagos is not without similar frameworks. Adoption procedures in the state are, on paper, stringent. They include legal requirements, screening processes, and official oversight intended to ensure that only qualified individuals are approved to adopt.
What appears to be lacking, however, is enforcement.
Laws and procedures are only as effective as their implementation. Without consistent monitoring and accountability, even the most robust systems can fail.
Safeguarding must go beyond the initial approval. It must include regular follow-ups, accessible reporting mechanisms, and swift intervention when signs of abuse emerge.
Civil society organisations have a critical role to play. They must not allow Faith’s case to fade into obscurity. They should track it diligently, ensuring that justice is pursued to its logical conclusion.
Advocacy groups, child protection agencies, and the media must keep the spotlight on this case, not for sensationalism, but for accountability and reform.
The community also has an equally vital role to play. In many African cultures, there is a long-standing belief that raising a child is a collective responsibility. Parenting is not confined to biological or adoptive parents alone; it is a shared duty. Neighbours, therefore, must not shirk their responsibility.
Reports indicate that those living around Faith’s home were aware of the abuse she endured. They heard the cries. They saw the signs. Yet, intervention either did not happen or was insufficient. This silence is costly. It can be the difference between life and death.
If you see something, say something. If you suspect a child is being abused, act. Report it to authorities, alert community leaders, or involve organisations equipped to respond. Silence enables abuse; action can stop it.
Faith’s death must mark a turning point. It must galvanise action—legal, institutional, and societal. The systems meant to protect children must be strengthened and enforced.
Communities must embrace their role as protectors. And those who harm children must face consequences that reflect the gravity of their actions.
The couple who adopted Faith only to subject her to suffering and ultimate death must face the music. Their punishment must serve as a clear warning: society will not tolerate cruelty against children.
Faith’s fate must be the last of its kind.
No other child should endure what Faith endured. No other life should be extinguished in such a cruel and senseless manner. Adoption must not become a source of fear; it must remain a beacon of hope.
To achieve this, justice must be done. Safeguards must be enforced. And society must refuse to look away.
Faith deserved better. So do the children who come after her. Adoption need not be given a bad name.
The Punch
