By Isiaka Mustapha, CEO/Editor-In-Chief, People’s Security Monitor

Bello Turji Kachalla has, for over half a decade, been one of the most wanted and feared men in Nigeria. His name has become synonymous with large-scale banditry, mass abductions, extortion, and violent raids on villages across the North-West. From Zamfara to Sokoto, Katsina to Kebbi, his armed network has terrorised communities, displacing thousands, killing scores, and ransoming hundreds of hostages for millions of naira. Security agencies have linked him to coordinated attacks on security convoys, the slaughter of residents in Anka and Bukkuyum LGAs, and numerous assaults on highways and farmlands. By some community leader estimates, his activities and those of his allied gangs have contributed to the displacement of over 200,000 people in the North-West since 2020 and to ransom payments exceeding ₦500 million in cash and goods in the last three years alone.

Against this backdrop, the Nigerian military under the leadership of General Christopher Musa, Chief of Defence Staff (CDS), has repeatedly assured citizens that Turji’s capture or neutralisation was imminent. These assurances have not been occasional, off-the-cuff remarks; they have been deliberate, high-profile commitments delivered in official settings. On January 16, 2025, during a Defence Media Operations briefing in Abuja, Musa stated unequivocally that Turji “will be brought to justice soon” and that “operations are closing in on him.” In February 2025, during an operational visit to Zamfara State, he emphasised that security forces “know his location and movements” and were “determined to end his reign of terror.” In April 2025, speaking before the National Assembly’s security committee, Musa reassured legislators and the Nigerian public that Turji’s arrest was “a matter of time.” By June 2025, Defence Headquarters announced the killing or capture of over 20 of Turji’s lieutenants in targeted strikes. In July 2025, during a press conference in Kaduna, Musa declared that Turji’s operational capacity had been “reduced to a fraction.” On August 5, 2025, the Defence Information Directorate claimed that operations had “cut off his escape routes,” and just four days later, Musa revealed that Turji had “indicated willingness to surrender” a revelation that fuelled a heated national debate over whether negotiations might replace an outright arrest.

Yet, in mid-August 2025, the reality confronting Nigerians is starkly different. Turji has re-emerged in fresh videos, confirming the release of 32 hostages between August 8 and 11 in Zamfara State, and openly discussing ongoing talks with local mediators aimed at halting attacks. These developments are not those of a man on the verge of capture; rather, they suggest a fugitive confident enough to negotiate on his own terms and present himself publicly without fear of immediate arrest.

It is within this climate that a potent rumour has gained momentum that Turji was, at some point in recent months, actually captured by security forces but subsequently released at the request of “influential Nigerians.” No reputable national news outlet, no named official, and no verifiable document has confirmed this claim. Still, it has spread rapidly across social media platforms, amplified by politically charged commentary and the precedent of past instances where insurgent leaders have benefited from elite intervention or opaque peace deals. In Nigeria’s history of counter-insurgency, there have been cases where political actors, traditional rulers, or clerics have intervened in security operations to broker temporary truces or facilitate “soft landings” for armed groups. Such arrangements often justified as pragmatic moves to reduce violence have, in some instances, provided notorious figures with breathing space, safe passage, or even informal immunity from prosecution. While that background makes the rumour plausible in the eyes of many Nigerians, plausibility is not proof. Without categorical public denial or documentary evidence, the perception that elites may be shielding Turji will continue to harden in the public imagination.

Turji’s continued elusiveness is not solely a product of rumour or conspiracy. There are operational realities that make him a difficult target. His main areas of operation are embedded in the vast and often inaccessible forest reserves of Zamfara, Sokoto, and Katsina States terrain interlaced with riverine channels, rocky outcrops, and unpaved routes extending into Niger Republic. These zones are poorly governed, sparsely policed, and notoriously difficult for large-scale troop deployments to dominate. Turji’s organisation is decentralised, instead of a single static camp, he relies on mobile units, embedded informants, coerced civilian collaborators, and shifting safe havens. This makes pinpoint strikes less effective, as neutralising one cell rarely cripples the wider network.

Public records confirm that the military has achieved notable operational successes against his network. Over the past year, at least 14 senior field commanders loyal to Turji have been killed in air and ground assaults, while more than 40 operatives have been captured alive. Several of his weapons caches have been destroyed, and fuel supply lines into his territory have been intermittently cut. These blows have likely degraded his operational reach, yet they have not neutralised his ability to regroup, coordinate, or threaten vulnerable communities.

The role of negotiation in his current strategy is complex. A publicised willingness to surrender can serve as a tactical tool buying time to reorganise, test the sincerity of government interlocutors, or probe for political concessions. Unless tightly controlled and underpinned by clear legal frameworks, such engagements risk transforming into de facto immunity arrangements. Nigerian law does not allow blanket amnesty for crimes of terrorism, mass murder, or kidnapping without legislative action. Therefore, any process that results in Turji’s “soft exit” from the battlefield without arrest and prosecution would raise profound legal and moral questions.

It is important to acknowledge that General Musa’s tenure has brought visible changes in the military’s posture. His frequent visits to frontline operations have been credited with boosting troop morale. His insistence on regular press briefings has improved public access to operational updates, at least in broad terms. Under his leadership, targeted strikes have disrupted key elements of Turji’s network, even if the ultimate target remains free. These are marks of professional commitment and a genuine operational push.

But Nigerians are measuring success not in partial gains, but in decisive outcomes. The capture or confirmed neutralisation of Bello Turji is the yardstick by which Musa’s campaign will be judged in the eyes of those who live daily with the consequences of Turji’s violence. Every promise that his capture is imminent, followed by his reappearance in videos or his release of hostages on his own timetable, risks eroding public trust in both the message and the messenger. Against the background of the rumour that he was caught and freed through elite intervention, the stakes are even higher.

The question, therefore, is no longer a mere matter of curiosity or military pride; it is a test of national credibility. Where is Bello Turji? Until the Musa-led military can answer that question with verifiable evidence whether in the form of arrest photographs, court appearances, or confirmed battlefield neutralisation speculation will thrive, rumours will fester, and the gap between official assurances and public perception will only widen.