The ‘10-Hectare-for-254-Hectare Mistake’ That Sparked the Mother of All Defamation Wars Between Dele Farotimi and Chief Afe Babalola [ Ope Banwo, Founder of Naija Lives Matter is an Attorney and public Affais Commentator]

At the center of the escalating legal battle between Chief Afe Babalola and Dele Farotimi lies a perplexing issue that raises earnest questions about judicial integrity: how did the Nigerian Supreme Court—the nation’s final arbiter of justice—make an error as glaring as writing “10 hectares” instead of “254 hectares” in its judgment? This is not the type of mistake that can be brushed aside as a minor oversight. The implications are far-reaching, both for public trust in the judiciary and the massive financial stakes involved.

Did the Supreme Court Really Make a Genuine Mistake?

The claimed clerical error by the supreme court in its 2014 amended ruling originates from the Supreme Court’s 2013 judgment it gave in the case of Major Gbadamosi vs. Oba Akintoye (2013 LLJR-SC In this case, the supreme court had awarded 10 hectares to the Eletu family. However, nearly a year later, in 2014,  the court revised its decision, after a motion was filed by Chief Afe Babalola’s Law Firm, under the so-called Slip Rule, and now claimed that the correct figure they meant to state should have been 254 hectares.

This bizarre turn of events has become one of the central grievances in Dele Farotimi’s critique of the judiciary, as expressed in his controversial book. And for good reason—it is difficult to understand how such a monumental “mistake” could occur in the first place.

I took the time to review the FULL 2013 judgment, found and reported here for anyone to read too : https://www.lawglobalhub.com/major-muritala-gbadamosi-rtd-ors-v-h-r-h-oba-tijani-adetunji-akinloye-ors-2013-lljr-sc/ and what I found was troubling. I noted during my reading of the judgement that The Supreme Court, in its 2013 ruling, referenced “10 hectares” several times—on Page 11, Page 16, and Page 17—as the portion of land due to the Eletu family after it had analyzed the different stages the original sale of 254 went from sale, to acquisition by Lagos state; to lawsuit by Ojomu family to void the acquisition; to judgement in favor of Ojomu family; to challenge by Eletu family; to compromise of the judgement and different compensations given by Lagos state to acquire back some of the land etc.

While the court acknowledged at the beginning of its judgment that 254 hectares was originally sold to the Eletu family in 1973, it can also be deduced from its judgment that the subsequent legal battles, government acquisitions, and settlements left only 10 hectares as the land remaining for the family. The court’s analysis in its judgment repeatedly emphasized this ‘10 hectares’, even converting it to 24.7 acres in one instance. This was not a one-off slip. The term “10 hectares” was consistently used in the judgment to describe the land awarded to the Eletu family. How, then, can it now be claimed that the justices meant to write “254 hectares” all along?

Yes, I read the judgement in full. The supreme court clearly stated in at least 3 different places that the portion now due to the Gbadamosi Eletu family is now 10 hectares (which it also described in words as 24.7 acres)

Here are 3 very specific references in the judgement where the supreme court was clear it meant to give judgement of ‘10 hectares’ to the Eletu family, not the ‘254 hectares’ it later claimed it intended after Chief Afe Babalola Law Firm has filed a motion asking it to reverse itself in 2014

1. Page 11 of the lawglobalhub.com report of the case:  “Any negotiation embarked upon between the respondents and the Lagos State Government which led to the excision of some portions of the acquired land would be vested in the party whose interest was subsisting. And following the terms of agreement reached between the appellants and the Lagos State Government on 20th May 1996 which became the judgment of the Court in Suit No. M/779/93 (Exhibit C3), the Excision Notice of June 23, 1994, should vest the 10 hectares (approximately 24.17 acres) reclaimed land in Osapa Village in the appellants.” – JSC KUMAI BAYANG AKA’AHS PAGE 11 of the Report in the Supreme Court decision of 213

2. page 16 of same judgement report: “ “The settlement agreement reached between the appellants and the Lagos State Government reduced the entitlement of the appellants from 18.05 Hectares to 10 Hectares.” – PAGE 16 [JSC KUMAI BAYANG AKA’AHS]

3. Page 17 (last paragraph)- Again the supreme court referred to “10 Hectares” at the end of its analysis “The appellants are entitled to the statutory right of occupancy over 10 Hectares (which is approximately 24.l7acres) of the reclaimed land in Osapa Village which has been excised and assigned to them, a sketch plan of which was attached and marked ‘SCHEDULE 1’ to the terms of settlement dated 20th May, 1996andd made the judgment of the Court in Suit No. M/779/93” PAGE 17 (Per JSC KUMAI BAYANG AKA’AHS]

A Mistake That Doesn’t Add Up?

Mistakes happen, but this one stretches credulity. Writing “10 hectares” instead of “254 hectares” is not a simple clerical slip like transposing digits. The two numbers are vastly different in scale and significance. For context, 10 hectares is a fraction of the original land, while 254 hectares represents the entirety of what was sold in 1973.

Even more worrisome to me is the fact that the Slip Rule correction came eight months later, after the involvement of Chief Afe Babalola’s chambers. Why did it take so long for this “error” to be discovered and corrected? And why wasn’t it flagged by the affected parties or their lawyers immediately after the judgment was delivered? Why didn’t the other 4 lawyers in the case flag it and inform the judge reading the lead judgement of the error? Did the other supreme court judges who concurred in the ’10 hectare’ case not read the lead judgement before concurring

In my one thinking, and with profound respect to the justices of the supreme court who make this mistake, to claim of a slip in writing ‘10’ when you meant ‘01’; or claiming you wanted to write 100 when you wrote ‘10’ is easy to understand, but claiming a ‘clerical’ mistake for writing 10 when you meant ‘254’ is very strange to me.

A slip is when you missed a step while coming down 10 stairs, but you can’t jump 244 stairs and then claimed you ‘slipped’. That would be seen by any objective listener as not adding up to a slip

The original judgment left no ambiguity. The court analyzed the complex history of the land disputes, government acquisitions, and settlements in detail, and its conclusion was clear: 10 hectares was the portion remaining for the Eletu family. Without me accusing anyone of anything, lest I may be carted to jail in God knows where, the idea that all five justices of the supreme court, along with their clerks, missed this glaring “error” in multiple references in the lead judgement, is, frankly, hard to believe. Unless of course there are more facts of which I am not aware.

Was the Slip Rule Properly Applied?

The Supreme Court’s reliance on the Slip Rule to correct the alleged error adds another layer of controversy. For context, the Slip Rule is typically used to correct minor typographical errors or unintended omissions in judgments. However, revising a decision from 10 hectares to 254 hectares is no minor correction. It fundamentally alters the outcome of the case, with billions—if not trillions—of naira at stake.

This raises a critical question: was the Slip Rule abused in this case? The original judgment consistently referred to 10 hectares as the remaining portion of land, and there was no indication that the court intended to award 254 hectares. The basis for the revision appears flimsy at best, and deeply suspicious at worst.

Why This Does Not Pass The Smell Test In My Considered Opinion:

The timeline and circumstances of this case only add to the suspicion. The so-called “error” was corrected long after the original judgment, following the intervention of Chief Afe Babalola’s chambers. If you were on the losing end of this correction, would you not question the genuineness of the “clerical error” coming 8 months after the fact and after you have started trying to execute the judgement? And you don’t have to be officially in the case as an attorney or even a litigant to scratch your head at this about turn.

Also, the supreme court is supposed to be a final court of judgement and the court that ends all litigations. As Justice Amina of the Supreme Court forcefully reinforced in another case where it was asked to review its own judgement, and which incidentally involved the same Chief Afe Babalola’s chambers, it should not be an easy thing to ask it to reverse itself. To make sure the point sank home, JSC Amina Aguiy had fined Chief Afe Babalola, and his co-counsels the sum of N30Million for their audacity in asking the judge to reverse itself in the Bayelsa Election case.

Sure, minor clerical errors may be okay, but I doubt anyone thinking about it would agree that writing ’10 hectares’ 3 times in a judgment. instead of ‘254 hectares’ as later claimed, is a ‘simple clerical error’… an error that makes a difference of 100s of Billions of Naira (If not trillions).

The Stakes: More Than Just Land

The financial implications of this “mistake” are staggering. Prime Lekki land is among the most valuable real estate in Nigeria. 10 hectares might have been worth ₦500 million at the time, but 254 hectares would run into billions, possibly trillions. This is not the kind of mistake one can dismiss lightly.

For those on the losing end, it is only natural to feel aggrieved and suspect foul play. Even if no fraud occurred, the sequence of events and the extraordinary nature of the correction invite skepticism.

Dele Farotimi’s Allegations: Reasonable or Reckless?

Given the circumstances, is it truly unreasonable for someone like Dele Farotimi to suspect corruption? While he may not have direct evidence of collusion, the inconsistencies and unusual actions in this case provide ample grounds for suspicion.

This is not to say that Farotimi’s conclusions are necessarily correct. But criminalizing his allegations through defamation charges—rather than addressing them in a civil court—only serves to deepen the public’s distrust in the judiciary.

A Wake-Up Call for Reform

This case is about more than just land or defamation. It exposes cracks in Nigeria’s judicial system that demand urgent attention. The Supreme Court’s role as the final arbiter of justice is meant to inspire confidence, not controversy. If such monumental “mistakes” can occur at the highest level, what hope is there for justice at the lower courts?

As this saga unfolds, one thing is clear: the judiciary’s credibility is on trial. Whether intentional or not, the “10-hectare-for-254-hectare mistake” has become a symbol of the challenges facing Nigeria’s legal system—and a reminder of the need for accountability and transparency.