I Came Back From America to Have My Own Father Arrested
If you had told me five years ago that I would one day fly from America to Nigeria because I wanted my own father arrested, I would have called you crazy.
My father was the one person I trusted without asking questions.
I was living in America, working hard and sending money home because I wanted to build something for myself in Nigeria. I didn't want to spend my entire life abroad and have nothing to show for it back home.
So I decided to invest in property.
I told my father, "Daddy, I want to buy land in Lagos and Port Harcourt. I want to start building gradually. Please help me supervise everything."
He was excited.
"Don't worry, my son. Your money is safe with me. I am your father."
Those words gave me peace.
I started sending money.
Sometimes thousands of dollars at a time.
I would call him and say, "Daddy, this one is for the land in Lagos."
Another time, "Daddy, this is for Port Harcourt."
Another payment would come.
"Daddy, please keep this one. I want to start the foundation when I come."
Over time, I sent him almost **₦150 million**.
One hundred and fifty million naira.
Money I had sweated for in America.
Money I had saved dollar by dollar.
Money I could have used to enjoy my life, but I chose to invest it in Nigeria because I trusted my father.
I thought my father was helping me build my future.
I had no idea he was building other people's futures with my money.
The first thing that started bothering me was how difficult it was to get proper documentation for the properties.
Every time I asked, my father had an excuse.
"Don't worry, I'm handling it."
"These things take time."
"Do you think I will steal your money?"
That last question always made me feel guilty.
So I stopped asking.
Until one day, I came home and decided to investigate everything myself.
That was when my entire world turned upside down.
Out of almost ₦150 million I had sent my father, the only land he had actually bought in my name was one piece of land in our village worth about **₦5 million**.
Five million.
I stared at the documents for what felt like an eternity.
"Where is the rest of the money?"
My father couldn't give me a proper answer.
I started digging.
And that was when I discovered where my money had gone.
My father had been building houses.
Not my houses.
Houses for himself.
Houses for my uncles.
Houses for his brothers.
Houses for my own siblings.
With my money.
The money I had sent him to buy land in Lagos and Port Harcourt had been turned into family projects I never authorized.
I remember sitting down after I discovered everything and just staring at the wall.
I couldn't even cry..
I kept thinking about all those nights I worked overtime.
All the times I told myself, "Don't spend this money. Send it home. Daddy will help you invest it."
I trusted him because he was my father.
Meanwhile, he was apparently distributing my hard-earned money among his children and brothers.
When I confronted him, he didn't even behave like someone who had destroyed my financial plans.
He said something that shocked me.
"My son, everything I did was for the family."
I looked at him.
"Daddy, which family?"
He said, "Your brothers are your family. Your uncles are your family. We are one family."
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
I laughed because I didn't know whether to cry or scream.
"So I sent you money to build my future, and you used it to build houses for everybody else?"
He became angry.
"Are you saying I did something wrong?"
"Yes, Daddy. You did."
That was when the family meetings started.
One uncle called me.
"Don't disgrace your father."
Another said, "This is a family matter."
My siblings begged me.
"Please don't take Daddy to court."
Someone even told me, "You have money in America. You can make another one."
That sentence broke me.
Because apparently, because I had worked hard enough to earn money in America, my money had become family money.
Nobody asked how long it took me to make it.
Nobody asked how many sacrifices I made.
Nobody asked what I had planned for my life.
They only wanted me to forgive.
I eventually hired a lawyer.
And when my father heard that I was considering legal action, he was shocked.
"You want to arrest your own father?"
I looked at him and said,
"I never wanted to arrest my father. I wanted my father to protect my money."
That is the painful part.
I wasn't trying to punish him because I hated him.
I wanted accountability.
I wanted him to understand that being my father didn't give him permission to take what belonged to me.
But the more I thought about it, the more difficult the decision became.
This is Nigeria.
We grow up being told, *"You don't take your parents to court."*
You are told to respect your elders.
You are told that family is everything.
You are told that whatever happens, you settle things at home.
But what happens when the person who defrauds you is the person who gave birth to you?
What happens when it is your mother?
Your father?
Your brother?
Your sister?
Do you still report them?
Do you take them to court?
Do you have them arrested?
Or do you swallow the pain because they are family?
Because honestly, I don't know if I have the heart to lock up my own father.
I can fight a stranger in court.
I can take a business partner to court.
But my own father?
The man whose name I carried proudly as a child?
The man I trusted with almost ₦150 million?
I don't know.
Maybe this is where my Nigerian upbringing is fighting with the man I have become.
But one thing I know for sure.
Family should not be a license to destroy someone else's future.
And I still have one question.
If your father, mother or direct sibling defrauded you of millions of naira, would you have the courage to report them and let the law take its course?
Or would you forgive them simply because they are family?
©️ Princess Janet
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