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Baba Ijesha’s Newborn Baby and His Redemption Arc

Why Baba Ijesha's New Baby is Not His Redemption Why Baba Ijesha's New Baby is Not His Redemption
Why Baba Ijesha's New Baby is Not His Redemption. Credit: Instagram/ceoluminee

Very few events in life command as much goodwill as the birth of a child. Children enter the world innocent of history and untouched by the mistakes, crimes and failures of their parents. That was why the recent announcement by actor James Omiyinka, better known as Baba Ijesha, that he had welcomed a child with a fashion designer should ordinarily have attracted no more than warm wishes. 

Instead, it triggered a nuclear blast of criticism across social media and entertainment circles. Predictably, the backlash has been interpreted by some as evidence that Nigerians are unforgiving and unwilling to allow a former convict rebuild his life. Others saw it as another example of the excesses of social media outrage. Both explanations are inadequate because they misunderstand the nature of the public’s objection.

The criticism directed at Baba Ijesha is not fundamentally about the child or about the fact that he has found companionship post-prison. I bet that most people would agree that a man who has completed his sentence has every right to resume his life, pursue happiness and build a family. The issue is not whether he should be free, as the judiciary settled that question when he completed the custodial sentence imposed upon him. The issue is whether he has done enough to persuade the public that he understands why he lost its trust in the first place.

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This is an important distinction because public trust and legal punishment operate in different realms. A prison sentence satisfies the demands of the criminal justice system, but does not automatically restore reputation. It also does not compel admiration or oblige members of the public to pretend that nothing happened. In every society, there are people who leave prison and gradually rebuild their standing through visible demonstrations of remorse, humility and personal growth. There are also those who emerge from prison determined to re-litigate their convictions, portray themselves primarily as victims and demand acceptance without first addressing the concerns that caused their fall.

Baba Ijesha and CEO Luminee
Baba Ijesha and CEO Luminee. Credit: Instagram/ceoluminee

 Fairly or unfairly, many Nigerians believe Baba Ijesha belongs in the latter category. The perception has been shaped largely by his conduct since regaining his freedom. Following his release, he granted interviews that attracted significant public attention. The controversy was not that he agreed to speak publicly. Former prisoners are entitled to tell their stories. What troubled his critics was the impression that he remained more interested in disputing the basis of his conviction than in reflecting on the conduct that led to it.

 The recurring complaint from the public was not that he had spoken, but that he appeared unwilling to acknowledge wrongdoing. Across many platforms, especially television programmes and online discussions, the same question kept resurfacing. Where was the remorse? Where was the acceptance of responsibility? Where was the evidence that the experience had produced meaningful self-examination?

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The interview conducted by actress Biola Adebayo became a particularly revealing moment in this regard. The backlash that followed was so intense that Adebayo eventually apologised to viewers who felt offended by the interview. Significantly, the criticism was not directed at the mere act of interviewing Baba Ijesha. Public figures with troubled pasts are interviewed every day. What angered many people was the perception that the platform had become an opportunity to minimise, deny or explain away responsibility rather than confront it.

 The public reaction suggested that many Nigerians were not looking for punishment, but accountability and they did not believe they had seen it. The role played by some of Baba Ijesha’s supporters has reinforced this perception. Throughout the legal proceedings and after his release, a considerable amount of energy was devoted to arguments that he had been treated unfairly, that the allegations against him were exaggerated or that he was entirely innocent. Campaigns emerged questioning the legitimacy of the case and portraying him as the victim of a miscarriage of justice. Supporters are entitled to advance such arguments, but the effect was to create a public conversation centred almost entirely on exoneration rather than accountability.

 The emphasis was placed on why he should be viewed sympathetically, not on why the public should believe that he had learned from the events that brought him to prison. This is the context within which the reaction to the birth announcement should be understood. Many of those criticising Baba Ijesha are not objecting to the fact that he has become a father again. Nor are they arguing that he should remain permanently excluded from society. Their objection is that a new baby does not answer the questions that have lingered since his release. Fatherhood or a new relationship is not accountability. Neither is public sympathy nor passage of time. 

The issue that continues to trouble many is whether there has been any meaningful acknowledgment of wrongdoing or any visible effort to rebuild trust through humility and contrition. Nigerians are generally receptive to redemption stories. The country is filled with testimonies of people who have overcome addiction, criminality, failure and personal disgrace. Religious culture has conditioned many citizens to believe in the possibility of transformation. What Nigerians are less willing to embrace is a redemption story in which the protagonist appears determined to revisit the verdict, deny wrongdoing and reclaim public affection without first demonstrating accountability.

 Redemption, in the public imagination, is not simply a matter of serving a sentence and re-appearing with a new narrative. It requires evidence that the individual understands why public trust was lost and has taken steps to earn it back. For this reason, the public’s resistance to Baba Ijesha’s attempted return to celebrity status should not be dismissed as cruelty or lack of forgiveness. It is better understood as a reflection of the growing importance Nigerians attach to accountability, particularly in cases involving children. 

The question many are asking is not whether he deserves his freedom. He already has it. The question is whether he has done enough to deserve renewed admiration. Those are not the same thing. Freedom is granted by law. Respect is granted by society. The first can be restored by completing a prison sentence. The second usually requires something more difficult, notably an honest reckoning with the past.

Until the public is persuaded that such a reckoning has occurred, every attempt to restore Baba Ijesha to his former place in public affection is likely to encounter resistance. Not because people are incapable of forgiveness, but because forgiveness and trust are not identical concepts. One may be offered freely. The other must be earned.

ALSO READ: ‘It Was All a Setup’ — the New Claims and Drama Surrounding Baba Ijesha

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