Key points

• Five years on, EndSARS victims still await justice.

• Panels found rights violations, but implementation stalled.

• Families continue to demand accountability and reform.

Five years ago, Nigerian streets trembled with the chants of angry, hopeful youth. Their message was simple: stop the police brutality, stop the killings, end SARS.

From Lagos to Abuja, from Benin to Jos, the #EndSARS protests became a nationwide outcry against decades of abuse and impunity by the police unit known as the Special Anti-Robbery Squad.

The protests began online but spilled quickly into the streets. Thousands of young Nigerians, many who had never joined a demonstration before, found themselves united by shared trauma and a demand for dignity.

For two weeks in October 2020, the air was filled with songs, banners, and a rare sense of collective power.

SARS had long been feared. What began in the 1990s as a tactical police squad turned into a symbol of extortion, torture, and extrajudicial killings.

Young men with laptops or dreadlocks were often stopped, harassed, and sometimes never returned home.

Over time, frustration turned into resistance. The hashtag became a movement.

When a video of an alleged SARS killing in Delta State went viral in early October 2020, it ignited years of bottled anger.

Within days, streets filled up. Crowds marched peacefully, holding Nigerian flags and demanding reform.

Leaderless but powerful

The #EndSARS protests were unique. They had no central leadership, no political figure at the forefront, yet coordination was remarkable.

Artists and influencers used their platforms to amplify the movement. Falz, Runtown, and Mr. Macaroni joined protesters on the ground.

DJ Switch streamed live from Lekki Toll Gate, capturing events that would later define the nation’s conscience.

Behind the scenes, volunteers kept things running. Lawyers offered pro bono services for those arrested. Medics treated the injured.

The Feminist Coalition raised funds, provided bail money, and fed protesters. It was civic organisation at its most organic.

That spirit, however, was met with violence and fear. The climax came on October 20, 2020, at Lekki Toll Gate.

When lights went off and soldiers opened fire, Nigeria watched in disbelief.

The footage DJ Switch streamed that night drew global attention. It also forced her into exile after receiving threats.

The Lekki shooting became the symbol of state power clashing with youthful defiance. What followed was chaos — vandalised police stations, torched buses, and broken dreams.

Panels, promises, and paralysis

After the protests, the government promised accountability. President Muhammadu Buhari announced the disbandment of SARS and directed every state to establish judicial panels of inquiry. Over 29 states complied.

They collected thousands of petitions from victims and families who came forward to share their stories.

In Lagos, the Judicial Panel on Restitution heard testimonies that painted a grim picture. Victims described shootings, beatings, and lost loved ones.

In its final report, the panel concluded that soldiers killed unarmed protesters at Lekki Toll Gate and called the incident a massacre.

It recommended prosecution of the officers involved and compensation for victims.

Other panels across Nigeria reported similar findings: torture, extortion, and widespread abuse by police.

They proposed reforms, compensation, and in some cases, public apologies.

But years later, implementation remains slow. Some victims received partial payments. Many others got nothing.

Several police officers indicted in reports are still in service. The promised reforms in community policing and accountability mechanisms are barely visible.

International observers weighed in too. The ECOWAS Court of Justice ruled in 2024 that Nigeria violated protesters’ rights during the Lekki shooting and ordered compensation.

But like many domestic judgments, the ruling hasn’t been enforced.

Why justice remains elusive

For many human rights lawyers, the failure isn’t in the findings but in the follow-through.

Kunle Edun, SAN, a former Welfare Secretary of the Nigerian Bar Association, called the government’s silence a “disregard for human life and rule of law.”

He said, “The courts awarded damages to victims, yet the government ignored them. Disrespect for judgments is an invitation to anarchy.”

Evan Ufeli, Executive Director of Cadrell Advocacy Centre, blamed institutional cover-ups and weak political will.

“Panels make findings, but there’s no independent process to turn them into prosecutions. Without political will and reform, justice will remain on paper,” he said.

Human rights lawyer Deji Adeyanju added that impunity within the system was the biggest obstacle.

“Implementation of panel reports depends on political will and budgets, both of which are lacking,” he said.

Amanda Demechi-Asagba, who served on the Lagos Judicial Panel, insisted that victims deserve more than words. “They deserve restitution, not rhetoric,” she said.

For Ayo Ademiluyi, counsel to some Lekki victims, the political environment itself blocks justice.

“No victim can get real justice under the same political class that enabled the injustice of 2020,” he said.

Open wounds and fading hope

Many of the families who lost loved ones at Lekki or during the protests still wait for closure.

Some never received autopsy results or compensation. Others were harassed for speaking out.

While SARS was formally dissolved, its legacy continues under different names. Complaints of police brutality persist.

Young people remain wary of checkpoints, fearing encounters with officers who now operate under new acronyms.

Attempts to mark EndSARS anniversaries have been met with arrests and intimidation. Candlelight vigils are dispersed.

Artists who speak out risk blacklisting. It feels, to many, like history is being erased in real time.

In some states, panel reports have never been made public. Without transparency, victims doubt that the government ever intended full accountability.

Lessons and unfinished struggle

Five years on, #EndSARS remains both a painful memory and a symbol of civic courage.

It showed that Nigerians, especially the youth, could unite around a cause that cut across ethnicity and religion.

It forced conversations about justice, policing, and governance into the mainstream.

But it also exposed how fragile reform is without accountability. Until recommendations are implemented and perpetrators are held to account, the protests’ legacy will remain one of unfinished justice.

Professor Chidi Odinkalu once described the movement as “the most powerful civic moment since independence.”

Yet, as the fifth anniversary passes, that power feels suspended — waiting for a government willing to act on its promises.

The chants of 2020 — Soro Soke — still echo across Nigeria. Whether the nation responds with justice or silence will determine how history remembers this chapter.