Before dawn on 15 January 1966, Lagos was already changing course. Soldiers were moving under sealed orders, senior figures were being seized, and violence was spreading through carefully chosen locations. By morning, Nigeria’s political and military balance had been shattered.
Lieutenant Colonel Abogo Largema, Commanding Officer of the 4th Battalion, was among those who did not survive the night. Normally stationed in Ibadan, he was in Lagos at the time and lodged at Ikoyi Hotel. His death did not come in open confrontation or combat. It came quietly, in a hotel corridor, through deception.
A decision made in the dark
As the night advanced, Major Emmanuel Ifeajuna moved with a small group of soldiers through Lagos. Although Largema had not been part of his original assignment, Ifeajuna decided to go to Ikoyi Hotel with the clear intention of killing him.
By the time they arrived, the city was still asleep. The hour was between 03.30 and 04.00. The hotel was quiet, staffed by a single receptionist, its corridors empty and dimly lit.
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Inside Ikoyi Hotel
At the reception desk, Ifeajuna announced that he had an urgent message for Lieutenant Colonel Largema in Room 115 and demanded access to the room. When told that a master key was not available, he ordered the receptionist to lead the way upstairs and made it clear that refusal would have fatal consequences.
Under threat, the receptionist complied.
The corridor setup
The plan relied on the layout of the hotel. Guest rooms did not have telephones. Calls were taken at fixed receivers set into alcoves along the corridors. The alcove serving Room 115 was only a few steps from the door.
On the first floor, the receptionist knocked and told Largema that he was wanted on the telephone.
Largema opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. He was wearing pyjamas and had just been woken from sleep. Expecting nothing more than a routine interruption, he walked towards the telephone alcove.
The ambush by the lifts
As Largema moved forward, two armed soldiers slipped into position. They stood in a recessed corner near the lifts, hidden from direct view.
The receiver was already off the hook.
The moment Largema lifted it, gunfire erupted. Sub machine guns fired at close range. He collapsed in the corridor and died where he fell, only a few steps from his room.
The killing was swift and controlled. There was no warning, no exchange of words, and no chance to retreat.
Removing the body
Once the shooting ended, the soldiers moved quickly. They went downstairs and called for assistance. Together, they carried Largema’s body down the stairs and out to a waiting Mercedes. Another soldier was brought from the car to help load the body into the boot.
Within minutes, the party left the hotel, disappearing into the night streets of Lagos.
From Ikoyi to the Abeokuta road
The events at Ikoyi Hotel were not the end of the night’s violence. After leaving the hotel, Ifeajuna returned briefly to the Federal Guards Officers’ Mess, where he learnt that senior army leadership was mobilising resistance.
Later, while moving through the city, Second Lieutenant Godfrey Ezedigbo was dropped at Yaba Military Hospital after being wounded.
As dawn approached, Ifeajuna and his party drove onto the Lagos to Abeokuta road. During that journey, the Prime Minister was taken from the vehicle and killed. His body was left in the bush beyond Otta.
Largema’s body, carried from Ikoyi Hotel hours earlier, was later placed near the same location. Two deaths, carried out separately, were joined on the same stretch of road before the sun rose.
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A killing that still echoes
The Ikoyi Hotel killing stands apart because of where and how it happened. There was no battlefield, no clash of units, no warning shot. A hotel corridor became the setting for execution. A telephone call became the weapon that drew the victim out. A civilian was forced into the role of messenger under threat of death.
Largema’s final moments were shaped by trust in routine and respect for authority. That trust was exploited. The corridor outside Room 115 became part of Nigeria’s history not because it was dramatic, but because it was ordinary, and because violence entered it without resistance.
Author’s Note
History often focuses on speeches and power shifts, but it is shaped just as much by quiet betrayals in ordinary places. The Ikoyi Hotel killing shows how quickly authority can be twisted into a trap, and how a single knock on a door can change a nation’s course forever.
References
Police Special Branch, Military Rebellion of 15 January 1966.
A. H. M. Kirk Greene, Crisis and Conflict in Nigeria, A Documentary Sourcebook 1966 to 1969.
Max Siollun, Oil, Politics and Violence in Nigeria, The Military Coup Culture 1966 to 1976
