An embittered Army Colonel, twice denied promotion, allegedly orchestrated a sophisticated cross-service coup plot against President Tinubu’s government, recruiting disaffected officers with cash incentives and assigning them to survey critical installations before security agencies dismantled the network weeks before its planned October 25, 2025 execution.
The Architect of Ambition: Inside Nigeria’s Foiled Coup Plot
In the shadowy world of military conspiracies, personal grievance has always been a dangerous catalyst. Nigeria’s latest brush with political instability reveals a chilling truth: sometimes the greatest threats to democracy come not from ideological revolutionaries, but from bitter men nursing wounded pride.
At the heart of an alleged plot to overthrow President Bola Tinubu’s government stands an Army Colonel whose name remains withheld by authorities, but whose profile has emerged as that of a man consumed by professional disappointment. Twice failed in promotion examinations, this senior officer allegedly transformed his personal frustration into a weapon aimed at the very heart of Nigeria’s constitutional order.
According to an interim investigation report sighted by The Punch, this Colonel didn’t just complain about his stalled career—he weaponized it. Security sources say he “harnessed these grievances to recruit like-minded officers,” openly lamenting his stagnation and expressing the need to “change government.” What began as professional disappointment metastasized into something far more dangerous: a coordinated conspiracy spanning the Army, Navy, and Air Force.
The Colonel’s alleged methodology reveals a man who understood the power of shared resentment. He didn’t need to convince officers with grand ideological visions or promises of a better Nigeria. Instead, he offered something more immediate: cash and camaraderie in discontent. Investigators traced financial inducements ranging from N2 million to N5 million distributed to principal actors, transforming grievance into actionable conspiracy.
But this was no amateur hour. The interim report describes a plot that had moved beyond “casual dissent” into the early stages of operational planning. Officers were allegedly assigned to conduct covert surveillance of Nigeria’s most sensitive installations—the Presidential Villa, the Armed Forces Complex, Niger Barracks in Abuja, and international airports in both Abuja and Lagos. They mapped access routes, studied routines, identified vulnerabilities.
The Colonel’s recruitment network displayed an almost corporate efficiency. He drew officers from across the services, creating a cross-functional team that investigators warn made the threat particularly elevated. The conspiracy involved officers up to the rank of Brigadier-General, suggesting the Colonel possessed both persuasive skills and access to Nigeria’s military elite.
When security agencies raided his residence in Lokogoma, Apo, they uncovered what prosecutors will likely characterize as the smoking gun: “very sensitive documents” detailing assigned roles and identifying how “key national dignitaries” were to be handled during the operation. A search of his vehicle revealed charms and anti-government materials, painting a portrait of a man who had descended from professional soldier to desperate conspirator.
The report states that “multiple testimonies implicate Col (name withheld) as the coordinator of the conspiracy. He has been identified so far as the source of funding, recruitment, and motivation, openly lamenting his stagnation in promotion and expressing the need to ‘change government.'”
What makes this case particularly sobering is its technological sophistication. The plotters allegedly used encrypted messaging platforms including WhatsApp and Zangi to coordinate activities, demonstrating an awareness of modern surveillance capabilities. They infiltrated the Presidential Villa, allegedly compromising staff of construction giant Julius Berger to obtain security information. This wasn’t a clumsy barracks revolt—it was a methodically planned operation.
The alleged execution date of October 25, 2025, was reportedly chosen with lethal intent. According to investigators, President Tinubu, Vice President Kashim Shettima, ministers, service chiefs, and other notable government officials were “marked for elimination.” The threat, as the interim report concluded, was “clear and immediate,” with potential “grave implications for national stability.”
Yet for all his planning, the Colonel made a critical error: he underestimated Nigeria’s intelligence apparatus. One of his key recruits, Lt. Col. S. Bappah, became a critical witness, “cooperating fully” and providing details on funding flows, recruitment methods, and communication channels. In the world of conspiracies, trust is the first casualty, and the Colonel’s network unraveled from within.
Now, as investigators widen their probe to include civilian financiers and possible political linkages—including the name of a former minister that surfaced during intelligence reviews—the Colonel awaits military justice. Sixteen officers are in custody, facing court-martial for their alleged roles in what security officials describe as a “well-funded, coordinated threat.”
The irony is inescapable: a man who felt overlooked and undervalued by the military system has now guaranteed himself a permanent place in Nigeria’s history—not as a successful officer or reformer, but as the alleged architect of a failed coup, a cautionary tale about ambition curdled into treason.
In the end, the Colonel’s greatest failure wasn’t his promotion exams. It was his catastrophic miscalculation that personal grievance justified national betrayal, that wounded pride was worth the blood of a nation’s leaders. Nigeria escaped catastrophe not because the plot lacked sophistication, but because vigilance prevailed over vengeance.