The man who stole Amara’s identity had her signature before he had her phone number.
He had found it on a PDF she had uploaded to a job portal.
An offer letter from a previous employer.
She had uploaded it as proof of experience.
She had not thought about her signature.
She had never thought about her signature.
None of us think about our signatures.
We think about our passwords. Our PINs. Our OTPs.
But in Nigeria, where paper and biometric identity still intersect, your signature is a key.
Guard it
340 names in a database labelled “Stock.”
Not victims.
Not people.
Stock.
That is what your identity is worth to the people who trade in it.
A unit of inventory.
Waiting to be deployed.
The only thing standing between your name and that folder is knowledge — knowing what they want, knowing how they take it, knowing what to do when they succeed.
Legalnaija was built for this.
Not just for lawyers.
For every Nigerian who deserves to know their rights before they need them.
Emeka Eze fixed his ceiling fan three months after Amara’s case closed.
He had meant to do it for two years.
He stood on a chair and tightened the bolt and it stopped wobbling.
He sat back at his desk and opened the next file.
A retired teacher in Kaduna.
A loan in her name.
A property she had never seen.
A signature that was hers but wasn’t.
He put on his reading glasses.
He began.