By Paulyn Owhievbie Ugbodaga.
The tragic death of Somtochukwu Christelle Maduagwu, the vibrant young Arise News anchor, has once again exposed a grave fault line in Nigeria’s healthcare system: the reluctance to treat emergency cases involving gunshot wounds without first demanding identification or police clearance.
According to reports, Somtochukwu was shot during a robbery in Abuja and rushed to a hospital. Instead of immediate care, hospital staff allegedly insisted on some form of identification before attending to her. She died before help could come. Sadly, her case is not an isolated one. Over the years, countless Nigerians have lost their lives at hospital gates while clerks demanded deposits, police reports, or identification documents.
This practice is not only inhumane – it is unlawful. Section 20 of the National Health Act (2014) is unambiguous: “A health care provider, health worker or health establishment shall not refuse a person emergency medical treatment for any reason.” Yet in practice, hospitals continue to flout this law, unchecked and unpunished.
In the United States, the Emergency Medical Treatment and Labour Act (EMTALA) makes it a federal crime for hospitals to turn away anyone in need of emergency care – even victims of shootings. Treatment and stabilization must come first; police notification follows after.
In the United Kingdom, the National Health Service (NHS) follows the same principle. Doctors are required to report firearm injuries to the police, but clinical duty is clear: save life first, ask questions later. Canada and other developed nations follow similar protocols.
The difference could not be starker. Where other countries put life first, Nigeria often does the reverse – demanding paperwork, police involvement, or money before care. In trauma cases such as gunshot wounds, minutes can mean the difference between life and death.
Why does this happen?
• Fear of police harassment: Many hospitals dread being accused of aiding criminals if they treat gunshot wounds without clearance.
• Financial caution: Hospitals, especially private ones, want deposits before deploying scarce resources.
• Weak enforcement: The National Health Act exists but is not enforced. No hospital has faced serious sanctions for denying emergency care.
The result is a cruel inversion of priorities: paperwork and caution take precedence over human life.
Somtochukwu’s death must be a turning point. Nigeria must:
• Enforce the National Health Act with strict sanctions for hospitals that deny emergency treatment.
• Protect doctors and hospitals legally when they treat gunshot victims without police clearance.
• Issue clear national protocols: treat first, report later.
• Educate the public: Nigerians must know they have the right to emergency treatment.
This is not just about law; it is about humanity. Every doctor takes an oath to save life. Every government’s first duty is to protect citizens.
Somtochukwu’s story is a tragedy, but it should also be a rallying cry. We cannot continue to lose bright young lives because hospitals are afraid to do their duty or because bureaucracy is allowed to stand between life and care.
If the U.S., UK, and other countries can save lives by putting treatment first, Nigeria can – and must – do the same. To do otherwise is to condemn more innocent citizens to needless deaths.
