A woman identifying herself as the former wife of the King of Ubiaja in Edo State has gone public with allegations that the monarch removed their children from her care and left them in the village with his mother, while he himself stays in Benin City. In an emotional video posted to Facebook, the woman, Ese Jane Edojawene, said school had resumed for the term but that her children were not attending. “Let me talk to my children,” she said. “I want to see my children. I want to know how they are faring.”
Edojawene also alleged that the monarch has bullied and oppressed her because of his financial position, saying, “I know he has money. He has been bullying me. He has been oppressing me.” She became visibly distressed while speaking, saying, “I am depressed.” Her video followed earlier public allegations from her of past domestic violence, bullying and verbal abuse during the marriage, though none of these claims have been independently confirmed, and the King of Ubiaja has not publicly responded. Reactions online have been divided, with some social media users siding with Edojawene and questioning why a father would separate children from their mother, and others expressing skepticism about parts of her account, including her claim that the monarch is based in Benin City rather than Ubiaja itself.
When Nigerian Public Figures Have Fought Custody and Abuse Battles in Public Before (Similar Cases That Played Out in the Media)
This is not the first time a Nigerian public figure’s family dispute has spilled into public view this way. Television host Frank Edoho faced public domestic violence and infidelity allegations from his ex-wife earlier in 2026, and eventually broke his silence to deny the claims, saying the matter was before the courts and that his children did not deserve to carry that burden. That case shows a pattern that recurs across these disputes: allegations aired publicly first, followed by a formal denial, with the underlying legal questions ultimately left for a court to settle rather than social media.
Nigerian traditional rulers themselves have not been exempt from public domestic disputes either, and some cases have ended far more seriously than a custody dispute. The former wife of a deposed traditional ruler in Ondo State, the Deji of Akure, died some years after surviving a brutal domestic violence episode that shocked the country and ultimately led the state government to depose him. That case is a reminder that allegations involving a monarch’s household are not merely private family matters; when substantiated, they have prompted state intervention against the monarchy itself.
There is also precedent for the specific allegation Edojawene is making, that a father removed children from their mother’s care. In 2016, reports circulated that a Yoruba traditional ruler had left his wife and two sons behind in Canada and returned to Nigeria with a new partner, a case that, like this one, was aired first through public allegation rather than a court record. Cases like these tend to follow a familiar arc: one parent takes the dispute to social media, the public reacts strongly before either side has been heard in full, and the underlying facts often remain contested for a long time afterward.
Why Fathers in Nigeria Can Often Take Children Without a Court Order (The Legal and Cultural Roots of the Dispute)
Part of what makes a case like this possible is a real gap between Nigeria’s written law and the customary norms many communities still follow in practice. Formally, Nigerian child custody law is governed by the Matrimonial Causes Act and, in states that have adopted it, the Child Rights Act, both of which state plainly that a child’s welfare and best interest must be the primary consideration in any custody decision, regardless of which parent is involved. Until a court actually makes a custody order, however, both parents are generally treated as having equal rights to their children, which means either parent can lawfully take a child to stay somewhere else without needing the other parent’s permission first.
Custom complicates the picture further. Research into Nigerian customary courts has found that many communities still operate on the older principle that a legitimate child “belongs” to the father’s lineage, meaning that when a marriage ends, custody defaults to the father’s side of the family regardless of who raised the child day to day. Nigerian case law has pushed back against this in principle. In the case of Okwueze v Okwueze, the courts held that even under customary law, a father’s presumed right to custody will not be enforced where doing so would harm the child’s welfare, but that legal correction does not automatically change what actually happens on the ground before a case ever reaches a judge.
What This Means for the Children at the Center of the Dispute, and for Nigerian Custody Norms More Broadly (Individual and National Effects)
For the children themselves, whatever the full truth of the allegations turns out to be, the immediate and most concrete claim, that they are reportedly not attending school despite the term having resumed, is a serious one on its own, separate from the custody question. Interrupted schooling during a custody dispute is a recognised harm to a child’s development regardless of which parent is ultimately found to be at fault, and Nigerian custody law explicitly treats a child’s education as one of the key factors in determining their welfare.
Beyond this individual case, disputes like this one shape public understanding of what mothers can realistically expect when a marriage to an influential or wealthy man ends. When a case like this goes viral without a court record to anchor it, the public is left weighing one parent’s account against silence from the other, which can distort how much the presumption of good faith should apply to either side. It also puts pressure on the perception of Nigeria’s traditional institutions, since a monarch is expected to be a moral authority in his community, and allegations of abandoning children or bullying an ex-wife sit uneasily against that role, whether or not they are ultimately proven true.
What a Fair Resolution Would Actually Require (Possible Paths Forward)
The clearest path forward, and the one Nigerian law is actually built around, is a formal custody proceeding rather than a public standoff. Under Section 7(1) of the Matrimonial Causes Act, a court is required to treat the interest of the children as the paramount consideration in any dispute over their custody, and either parent can apply for an order that legally settles where the children live and how much access the other parent gets. Once such an order exists, it becomes enforceable, meaning a parent who denies agreed access or removes a child in violation of the order can face legal consequences, something that is not currently the case here since no formal custody arrangement appears to have been established.
In the meantime, if Edojawene’s allegations about interrupted schooling are accurate, that specific harm to the children’s education could potentially be addressed even before a full custody dispute is resolved, since Nigerian courts have the power to grant interim custody or access orders specifically to protect a child’s immediate welfare while a fuller case proceeds. Whatever else is contested here, the children’s continued schooling should not need to wait on the outcome of the rest of the dispute.
A Child’s Wellbeing Should Never Be the Instrument of an Adult Argument
We think a mother pleading publicly just to speak to her own children is a sign that something in this situation has already gone badly wrong, whatever the full context eventually turns out to be. No parent should have to resort to a viral video to get access to their child, and the fact that this has become necessary, if her account is accurate, says something troubling about how quickly custody disputes involving powerful men can leave the other parent with few real options.
At the same time, we think it is important to say plainly that none of these allegations have yet been tested or confirmed, and the King of Ubiaja has not spoken publicly. A story built from one emotional video deserves both public sympathy for a mother’s distress and real caution about drawing firm conclusions before the other side has had a chance to respond.
What this case really needs is not more public pressure, but a court willing to move quickly, precisely because a child’s schooling and a parent’s access to their own children should never be left to wait on whichever side can generate more public sympathy. We hope both parties pursue that route, and we hope, whatever the outcome, that the children themselves are shielded from as much of this public dispute as possible.
Published by Ejoh Caleb
