Fejiro Oliver: Press Freedom in Crisis Amid Cybercrime Allegations

Nigerian Police Wanted Notice for Fejiro Oliver Sparks Press Freedom Storm

A wanted notice for Fejiro Oliver has transformed a cyberstalking allegation into a larger battle over press freedom, raising fresh fears that Nigeria’s cybercrime laws are being weaponised against investigative journalism.

Atlantic Post

August 8, 2026

3–5 minutes

Cybercrimes Act, cyberstalking, Fejiro Oliver, Investigative Journalism, Nigeria Police, Press Freedom

The reported declaration of Secret Reporters publisher Tega Samson Oghenedoro, better known as Fejiro Oliver, as wanted over alleged cyberstalking and defamatory Facebook posts has escalated into one of the sharpest press-freedom rows in Nigeria this year.

Online copies of a Special Police Gazette Bulletin have circulated alongside earlier July reports that the Nigeria Police Force National Cybercrime Centre had already summoned him over allegations of espionage, cyberstalking and computer-related offences.

The developing story has now become less about one journalist alone and more about whether cybercrime laws are being stretched beyond their original purpose.

According to reports from The Guardian, Media Rights Agenda and the Committee to Protect Journalists, the police summons was dated July 5, 2026, and directed Oghenedoro to report to the cybercrime centre on July 8 for questioning.

The police allegedly accused him of leaking government information to foreign governments, a claim that Oghenedoro and his lawyer rejected.

Media Rights Agenda said the invitation was issued by the Deputy Director (Operations) at the National Cybercrime Centre, while The Guardian reported that the case also involved Stanley Ugagbe, a reporter with Secret Reporters.

Oghenedoro has framed the matter as a direct assault on journalism. In comments reported by The Guardian, he said the law was being used to “frustrate journalists”, while his earlier public reaction on X portrayed the episode as an attempt to brand him a spy for doing editorial work. He insisted that his “only offence” was investigative journalism and said Secret Reporters was being punished for publishing underreported stories and exclusives.

The core of his argument is simple: if a report is disputed, it should be answered in law and fact, not by criminalising the reporter.

The wider case has gathered steam because it also involves Stanley Ugagbe, who was detained, later released on bail, and then charged alongside Oghenedoro. CPJ and ICIR report that the police filed a six-count charge and that court documents listed Oghenedoro as being at large.

The allegations arise from Secret Reporters’ publications about Central Bank of Nigeria deputy governor Emem Usoro, including claims relating to her asset declarations, overseas property holdings and personal conduct. The law cited in the proceedings is the Cybercrimes (Prohibition, Prevention, etc.) Act, 2015, as amended in 2024.

Ugagbe’s treatment has become central to the outrage. CPJ said he was seized in Abuja on July 1, held without charge, and later remanded for two months pending trial. The group quoted its Africa director, Angela Quintal, who said authorities should “drop the charges” against Ugagbe and Oghenedoro if they are serious about democratic principles.

That intervention matters because it places the case inside a larger continental concern: journalists are increasingly finding themselves prosecuted under cybercrime, defamation and digital-speech laws when they publish critical reporting about powerful figures.

Rights groups in Nigeria have also sharpened the criticism. HURIWA called the reported actions a “dangerous descent into the criminalisation of investigative journalism” and warned that branding journalists as spies would create a chilling effect on the media.

The Abuja Council of the Nigeria Union of Journalists, meanwhile, condemned Ugagbe’s disappearance and detention, saying no official reason had been given and no clear information had been provided on his whereabouts.

Together, those reactions suggest that the Fejiro Oliver case is no longer being read as an isolated police matter; it is being treated as a barometer of press freedom under pressure.

The latest wanted notice, if treated as authentic and enforced, adds another layer of severity. Earlier reports already showed that Oghenedoro had faced trouble in 2025 over social-media posts critical of Delta State officials, and current coverage suggests the dispute has now widened from a state-level battle into a federal-level confrontation over online reporting, surveillance and the limits of lawful dissent.

That history matters because it shows a pattern: every new legal move is being interpreted by media defenders as part of a longer campaign to intimidate an investigative newsroom that has repeatedly published uncomfortable allegations about public office holders.

What makes this moment especially combustible is the symbolism. A wanted bulletin, allegations of espionage, cyberstalking claims, and a journalist outside the country all create a combustible mix that can easily damage trust in institutions if the evidence is not clearly and transparently tested in court. For now, the public record shows an active legal and police confrontation, strong denials from the publisher, and mounting concern from press-freedom advocates that the Cybercrimes Act is being used not simply to police abuse, but to punish scrutiny.

If the authorities want the story to quieten down, the fastest route is not more drama; it is clarity, due process and publicly defensible evidence.