Stolen at Birth? A Nigerian Mother’s Fight to Reclaim Her Alleged Missing Twin Son Sparks Outrage

 

A chilling case of alleged child theft at a private maternity clinic in Abuja has gripped the nation after a Cross River couple raised the alarm that one of their twin babies, believed to have died during birth, was secretly taken by the doctor who handled the delivery.

Mrs. Eunice Bright Ekwok, a 32-year-old expectant mother, had registered for antenatal care at Divine Rain Maternity Clinic, located in Sauka, Abuja, with the joy of knowing she was carrying twins. That joy, however, quickly turned into a nightmare that has dragged on for nearly three years, leaving emotional and legal scars in its wake.

During her initial scan in April 2021, Mrs. Ekwok was elated when the attending doctor, Timothy Zeje, informed her she was pregnant with twins. When she requested a copy of the scan result, Dr. Zeje denied her request, citing hospital policy that forbids giving patients physical copies of scans. Only her hospital file, he insisted, could hold the record.

Her husband, Bartholomew Bright Ekwok, 34, was skeptical upon hearing the news. He asked to see the scan for confirmation, but with no evidence to present, Mrs. Ekwok had to reiterate the hospital’s explanation. Although tempted to confront the hospital himself, Mr. Ekwok yielded to his wife’s pleas not to cause trouble. The couple turned to prayer and focused on preparing for their twins.

With each antenatal checkup, Mrs. Ekwok’s excitement remained unshaken. She often expressed her joy to Dr. Zeje, unaware that her trust in him would later fuel her deepest regret. During one of her visits, the doctor casually mentioned that his wife was also pregnant, supposedly around the same time as Mrs. Ekwok.

Her due date arrived, and she underwent a cesarean section—unconscious during the procedure. Neither her husband nor any relatives were allowed into the operating room, leaving her completely at the mercy of Dr. Zeje and the nursing staff.

When she regained consciousness, she was handed only one baby. Confused and distressed, she asked to see the second child. The response was chilling: the baby, she was told, had “scattered” during birth and could not be shown to her. No bones, no remains—nothing.

“They told me my baby died and scattered,” she recalled tearfully. “I asked where the pieces were. They couldn’t explain. Instead, they scolded me, asking why I wasn’t thankful for the one that survived, since we were poor and could barely take care of a single child.”

That moment marked the beginning of a tormenting journey for the Ekwoks. When Mrs. Ekwok returned to the clinic for post-operative care and requested to see her medical file, she was told it had been burnt. Yet, she noticed other patient files stacked in the office. Upon asking where the ashes were from the supposed file burning, she was directed to the back of the building—but there was nothing there.

Almost two years later, a twist of fate occurred. While at AMAC General Hospital in Besan for a routine immunization, Mrs. Ekwok encountered the wife of Dr. Zeje. To her shock, the baby in the doctor’s wife’s arms looked identical to her own child—same dreadlocks, same facial structure, even similar legs.

The resemblance was too striking to dismiss. When she asked the doctor’s wife to remove the baby’s cap due to the heat, her heart sank further. The physical similarities were uncanny. She stood in silence, piecing together a grim possibility: her supposedly dead twin might have been alive all along—and in the arms of the very woman whose husband delivered her children.

Rather than cause a public scene, she chose a subtler route. With her husband’s support, she devised a plan to gain access to the doctor's home, pretending to sell clothing due to financial hardship. Her visits became frequent as she tried to observe the child more closely, still suspecting he was her missing son.

This attempt to uncover the truth did not come without consequences. The couple faced police harassment, were detained multiple times, dragged to court, and even jailed. Accused of attempting to steal a child, the Ekwoks maintained their innocence and begged authorities to conduct a DNA test to resolve the matter once and for all. Their request has allegedly been ignored, influenced by the doctor’s social and professional standing.

Despite the trauma and humiliation, the Ekwoks remain resolute. “We only want a DNA test. That will settle everything,” Mrs. Ekwok stated.

The accused doctor has declined to comment, citing that the case is in court and under police investigation. He directed inquiries to the Force Intelligence Department in Abuja.

The Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) said it had not been officially notified of the matter. When contacted, Dr. Bature Mannir, spokesperson for the Abuja chapter, said he had just become aware of the case and promised to look into it.

Civil society groups have taken up the cause. Think Cross River, a regional advocacy group, has vowed to fight for justice. Papa Dom Cklamz Enamhe, the group’s founder, condemned what he described as the "intimidation of the poor by the powerful."

“No Cross River child will be stolen and hidden under the guise of poverty. The governor is aware, the senators are aware, and we will get that child back,” Enamhe stated passionately. “A DNA test is not too much to ask.”

As the legal and moral battle intensifies, questions remain about accountability in the medical system, especially in private clinics operating with minimal oversight. The Ekwoks’ plea is simple yet powerful: let science speak. Let a DNA test decide what years of anguish have failed to resolve.

Will the truth eventually come out—or will power and privilege silence another voice in Nigeria's justice system?