Tinubu’s Pardon of Maryam Sanda: Between Law, Mercy, and Public Emotion

By khadiza Hassan Dahiru, Maiduguri

The recent announcement that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu granted presidential pardon to a number of inmates, including Maryam Sanda, has generated strong public reactions across the country. While some Nigerians interpret the decision as a show of compassion, others see it as an act that undermines justice and reopens old wounds surrounding one of Nigeria’s most talked-about murder cases.

Maryam Sanda was convicted for the killing of her husband, Bilyamin Bello, in a case that drew national attention and sparked intense debate about gender, crime, and justice. Her inclusion on the presidential clemency list naturally provoked fresh controversy. Yet beyond the public anger and emotional responses lies a question of law that deserves calm reflection: does the President actually have the constitutional power to pardon her?

Under Section 175 of the 1999 Constitution of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (as amended), the President possesses what is called the prerogative of mercy. This power allows the President to pardon, commute, or remit the punishment of any person convicted of a federal offence.

The law empowers the President to grant a free or conditional pardon, delay or suspend punishment, substitute a lighter sentence, or cancel part or all of a penalty. However, this authority is not exercised in isolation. The Constitution clearly states that such powers must be used only after consulting the Council of State, a body composed of former Presidents, State Governors, the Chief Justice of Nigeria, and other top national leaders. This ensures that mercy is dispensed through due process, not mere sentiment.

In practical terms, presidential pardons usually pass through the Advisory Committee on the Prerogative of Mercy, which screens applications and forwards recommendations to the Attorney-General of the Federation and the Minister of Interior before reaching the President. If these steps were followed in Maryam Sanda’s case, as reports from the Presidency suggest, then the action is legally valid and covered by the Constitution.

A major question that many Nigerians continue to ask is whether the decision can be challenged. Legally speaking, a presidential pardon cannot be overturned simply because it is unpopular. The courts may only interfere if there is clear evidence that constitutional procedure was ignored, such as failure to consult the Council of State or granting clemency before a conviction was secured.

The judiciary has reinforced this position in several cases, including Fawehinmi v. President of the Federal Republic of Nigeria (2007) and Attorney-General v. Abubakar (2007).

In those judgments, the courts affirmed that while the President’s powers are subject to the Constitution, the courts have no authority to review the wisdom or fairness of a duly granted pardon.

Even so, legality does not automatically silence moral and social questions. To many Nigerians, pardoning a person convicted of such a serious offence seems to undermine the principle of accountability.

Others, however, argue that mercy itself is part of justice — a reminder that the law can punish and forgive at the same time. The real issue is not the existence of mercy, but its fairness and timing. When forgiveness appears selective, the public begins to lose confidence in the justice system.

From a purely constitutional point of view, President Tinubu acted within his lawful rights under Section 175 of the Constitution.

The decision may be emotionally divisive, but it remains legally sound. What the situation exposes, however, is the delicate balance between justice and compassion — between punishment and forgiveness — in a democratic society.

The President’s power to pardon is a tool of state mercy, but one that must always be exercised with fairness and moral sensitivity.

In the end, the debate over Maryam Sanda’s release is not really about whether the President could pardon her; the Constitution says he can.

The deeper question is whether he should have done so, considering the weight of the crime and the emotions still tied to it. That is a matter of conscience, leadership, and public trust — issues that go beyond the pages of law books and touch the heart of justice itself.

Khadiza Hassan Dahiru, writes from Kashim Ibrahim university Borno state, Department of Social and management science, can be reach via 0802 067 0880 or khadyspecialist@gmail.com.