Mistaken Identity, Mob Justice, and Nigeria’s War on LGBTQ Families
A brutal case of mistaken identity in southeastern Nigeria has once again exposed the dangers of living in a society where sexual orientation can be a death sentence, not just for LGBTQ individuals, but also for their families.
On Saturday, May 24, 2025, Mr. Felix Onuibere, a resident of Aba, drove to his ancestral village of Obuohia, Ibere to evacuate his ailing mother for medical treatment. Instead, he became the target of a violent mob attack. Eyewitnesses said vigilantes, sanctioned by local authorities, surrounded his metallic gray Toyota RAV4 as he arrived in the village. They dragged him from the vehicle, beat him mercilessly, and set his car ablaze.
Felix survived, but sustained severe injuries. His assailants believed they were punishing his elder brother, Mr. Sunny Onuibere, who had earlier been banished from the community for defending his gay son. “Sunny is a wanted man here,” a community insider said, speaking on condition of anonymity for fear of reprisal. “He defended his son’s homosexuality and refused to perform the cleansing rituals demanded by the council. The vigilantes saw the Toyota and assumed it was Sunny returning. That was all they needed.” Felix was unavailable for an interview at press time.
The Onuibere family’s ordeal began in April 2021, when Sunny’s teenage son was discovered in a same-sex relationship. The matter, which could have remained private, escalated into communal punishment. The traditional council ordered rituals to “cleanse” the family, but Sunny refused, choosing instead to stand firmly by his son. In late 2023, the family was formally banished from Obuohia Ibere. Their troubles did not end with the expulsion. In August 2023, Sunny’s son was beaten in Lagos. By December, the family faced imminent arrest under Nigeria’s anti-LGBTQ laws. Fearing imprisonment and mob violence, they fled the country and are currently seeking refugee protection in North America.
Felix, who remained in Nigeria, became an unintended victim of the community’s anger. His attack underscores a disturbing pattern of indifference, as police authorities have made no arrests despite clear evidence of assault and arson, insisting they have not received a formal complaint. Human rights observers say this reflects a wider problem of complicity between traditional councils and law enforcement, where persecuting LGBTQ persons or those associated with them, is treated as a civic duty rather than a crime.
The Onuibere family’s plight is a reminder of a broader crisis in Nigeria, where mob justice and state neglect strip citizens of their most basic rights, safety, dignity, and freedom from persecution. Families are punished collectively, lives are destroyed in both villages and cities, and, as Felix’s case demonstrates, even mistaken identity can carry the weight of a death sentence.
What is at stake goes beyond the safety of one family. It raises questions about Nigeria’s human rights credibility in the eyes of the international community. No country that professes adherence to international norms can justify laws and practices that criminalize love, silence victims, and reward perpetrators with immunity.
The charred remains of Felix’s car and the scars on his body stand as grim testimony. They are a warning that until Nigeria confronts violence sanctioned in its villages and tolerated in its cities, more families will continue to live in fear, flee their homes, or seek safety abroad, like the Onuibere family, now in exile.
