The cameras were already rolling when the mood in the studio shifted. It was Sunday, March 22, 2026, inside the Lagos studio of Talk-to-B, a modest but influential YouTube platform where stories are told, truths are tested, and sometimes, reputations are reshaped. Across from host Biola Adebayo sat a man whose name still stirs unease in many Nigerian homes, Olanrewaju James Omiyinka, popularly known as Baba Ijesa, an Ile-Ife-born Nollywood actor and producer.
He did not begin with defiance. He began with tears. Most times, when the tears were about to fall from his cheeks, he bent his head and covered his face with his hands for a while, as a man who believes it is taboo for a man to shed tears in public, no matter how bad and emotional the situation is. The tears fell slowly at first, then freely, tracing the lines of a face marked by years of public scrutiny and imprisonment. When he finally spoke, his voice carried both weight and fragility: “I am not a pedophile. I am not a rapist.” In that moment, a case many believed had been settled reopened, this time, not in a courtroom, but in the volatile arena of public opinion. It was quite clear that his mind drifted several times during the media chat, as he repeatedly asked the interviewer to repeat her questions, and she obliged each time.
Years earlier, Baba Ijesa’s downfall had unfolded with disturbing clarity. A visit to the home of fellow actress Princess Damilola Adekoya, known in the entertainment industry as Princess, turned into a defining moment. A video, brief, raw, and widely circulated, captured him in what many considered an unmistakable act of misconduct with an alleged young girl of 14 years old. The images were difficult to ignore: an adult man, a minor, and behaviour that sparked immediate outrage.
Confrontation followed swiftly. Voices rose. Accusations flew. In the footage that later spread across social media and became a running story for mainstream and online news media, Baba Ijesa was seen seated on the floor, pleading, appealing not to the law, but to emotion, to shared history, to mercy. Visibly, he was horrifically scared of trending on the media for the wrong and embarrassing reason.
But the tide had already turned. His appeal was futile, as his captor, Princess, had resolved to publicly shame him, showing no regard for their friendship. With prominent voices like Iyabo Ojo and Adetoun Onajobi, amplifying calls for accountability, the matter moved from private confrontation to public prosecution. By July 14, 2022, the Lagos State High Court delivered its verdict: guilty on multiple counts of sexual assault and indecent treatment of a child. A 16-year sentence was handed down, though structured to run concurrently for five years. For many, it was justice served. For others, it was the beginning of a lingering doubt.
Even behind bars, Baba Ijesa’s story refused to settle. Outside the prison walls, Nigerians split into uneasy camps. On one side, with the likes of Ruqoyyah Omolola Fasakin, popularly known as Mewolaka, Esther Tokunbo Aboderin, popularly known as Estabod, Theatre Arts and Motion Pictures Practitioners Association of Nigeria (TAMPAN), Lizzy Anjorin, Zeemama Alalubarika, Nkechi Blessing, and Tonto Dike, insisted the conviction was necessary, a signal that society would no longer tolerate abuse, especially against minors. The other questioned the process, the evidence, and the motivations of those involved. Among the loudest voices of dissent were Yomi Fabiyi, Actor Adedeji Aderemi, and Bukky Black, who persistently argued that the actor had been framed. To his supporters, the case exposed cracks in Nigeria’s justice system, bias, influence, and the dangerous weight of public sentiment. To critics, such claims were distractions from a painful truth.
When Baba Ijesa walked free on November 14, 2025, he did not retreat into silence. Instead, he returned with a narrative. Through music, “Eniwaye Daran”, and now through interviews, he began reconstructing his story. In his telling, the incident that led to his conviction was not what it seemed. It was, he claimed, a staged skit about child abuse, misunderstood, misrepresented, and ultimately weaponised against him. He spoke of betrayal. Of trust broken. Of colleagues who, he alleged, turned against him. And then he spoke of innocence.
If Baba Ijesa sought to be heard, the Talk-to-B interview ensured that he was. But it also ensured something else: backlash. Among the attackers is Precious Ajirioghene Adugbo, popularly known as Aunty Adugbo. The reaction was swift and unforgiving. Social media became a battleground once again. Old accusations resurfaced. New voices emerged. Some women publicly recounted alleged past encounters, painting a picture that contradicted his claims of innocence. For many, the court had already spoken, and that should have been the end. Among those who belong to this school of thought is Actress Ashabi Olorisha, who accused Baba Ijesa an attempt to sexually molest her in her Maryland home, when she hosted him. She claimed in a video that Baba Ijesa attempted such in the house Estabod took him to in London. While the likes of Oba Aro were comfortable with the interview, Barrister Abiodun ( a UK-based lawyer), Segun Arole, and Tunde Fitila argue that Baba Ijesa should have focused on moving forward rather than dissipating energy on needless attempts to prove his innocence. But for others, the interview raised an uncomfortable question: Can a man convicted by the courts still plead his case before the public?
Unexpectedly, the storm expanded to include the interviewer herself. Biola Adebayo, known for her empathetic style, found herself at the centre of criticism. Why, many asked, why did she offer her a platform to a convicted man without securing an apology or challenging him more forcefully? Accusations flew. Under pressure, she removed the interview and issued a public apology. Yet, in her defense, she maintained a simple position: Her role was to ask questions, not to dictate answers. It was a stance that, like everything else in this saga, divided opinion. The likes of Omoba Olufemi Orofemi condemned Biola for deleting the video. Lizzy Anjorin is so enraged to the extent of coming on social media to attack Abiola, demanding the removal of Iyabo ‘s video from the Talk-to-B platform. on her page. Besides Biola, Baba Ijesa had also granted an interview to Yinka Ayefele, among others, with the same thematic preoccupation.
Beyond the personalities and the drama lies a deeper unease. This is no longer just about Baba Ijesa. It is about trust, trust in the justice system, in public narratives, in the media, and even in memory itself. Can truth evolve after judgment? Should public platforms amplify controversial voices? And what happens when justice, once delivered, is no longer universally believed? These are questions without easy answers.
In the end, Baba Ijesa’s tears did more than express emotion; they reopened a national conversation that refuses to end. For some, he remains a symbol of accountability. For others, a possible victim of a flawed system. For many, something in between, a story too complex to fit neatly into guilt or innocence. What is certain, however, is this: Nigeria is still listening -. Still arguing – Still deciding. And perhaps, still searching – for the truth.
