No better opening to begin this piece than Harold Coffin’s quote: ‘’Envy is the art of counting the other fellow’s blessings instead of your own.’’
I was heartbroken when I heard the news. Though I may not have known him personally, my instincts tell me that somewhere in the course of this work—this demanding, nomadic life of journalism—we must have crossed paths in the last year. In this profession, it is not uncommon to meet new colleagues in the field: those on industrial training, corps members serving their year, or staff freshly posted from other states. One of them might have been Tony.
The life of a promising young man, Tony Agbakoba, was cruelly cut short barely a month after completing his National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) programme in Delta State. A recent corps member who served with the Nigerian Television Authority (NTA), Asaba, under my senior colleague, Odiaka Odekpe, Tony, was allegedly murdered by his own friends in what police suspect to be a case of jealousy-fuelled homicide.
Tony’s story was one of promise. Having just secured employment with First City Monument Bank (FCMB)—an opportunity many graduates wait years, even decades, to attain—he stood on the threshold of a bright future. On the day his killers lured him out, he was at his family home in Onitsha, washing clothes and preparing for the new chapter of his life. He left with excitement, never to return. Hours later, his family received the devastating news of his death.
Reports suggest he was strangled. The friends who rushed him to a hospital claimed he was in an accident, but the attending doctor grew suspicious. There were no bruises, no injuries typical of a road mishap—only the protruding tongue of a man robbed of breath. The police were alerted. One suspect was arrested, while the others fled. The motive, by all accounts, was envy.
Envy—a poison that corrodes the human soul—snatched away Tony’s tomorrow. And it makes one wonder: what kind of friends did he keep? Were they cultists? Did he bind himself to them by oath? Or was it simply jealousy, that insidious vice that can make a man rejoice at another’s downfall rather than their success?
This tragedy exposes the depths of the human heart. That his so-called friends could not see doors opening for them through Tony’s fortune is the greatest irony. Instead of celebrating him, they conspired against him. Instead of lifting him, they cut him down. Oh! The knife of betrayal cuts deeper than a knife of steel.
Shouldn’t we still be surprised even when we know that Judas betrayed Jesus? Even among siblings, we have heard stories of deep animosity and jealousy that surprise even the Devil. What about Brutus? A sage once asked God to protect him, not from his enemies, but from evil friends.
But even as Tony’s death paints a grim picture of betrayal, it should not erase the bright side of friendship. I have seen friends stand tall for each other. I have seen friends open doors, not shut them. I have lived it. Personally, I count myself blessed to have true friends—friends who have pulled me out of tight corners, even in the dead of night. Ifeanyi, Jumai, Ebi, Evelyn, Henry, Kase, Kingdom, Rita, Chibuike, Ajayi, Martins, and many more—you are the proof that friendship can still mean loyalty, trust, and sacrifice.
I remember that cold September night when my daughter was born. The prevailing circumstances were such that they knocked me off my feet. But my friends were there to not let me fall. They stood in the gap, refusing to leave even when the nights wielded their most vicious weapon: cold.
Truly, a real friend, according to Walter Winchell, walks in when the rest of the world walks out. I still remember that night at the Asaba Specialist Hospital when my mother said to me ‘’Indeed, you have great friends’’ I didn’t take such remarks to heart at the time, maybe I might have casually dismissed the possession of a rare gift. Yet, Tony’s story led me to deeper retrospection.
Of course, I am mortal too. And I must admit my vulnerability. So, I ask God for the enablement to be a true friend; one who will always honour the code. For in the end, it is the friendships that we enjoy today that build the memories that we cherish will cherish tomorrow.
Tony’s story is a cautionary tale: that not every smile is genuine, and not every hand extended is meant to lift. Yet, it is also a reminder to cherish the good ones among us. In a world where envy festers in silence, genuine friendship is nothing short of a miracle.
As we mourn Tony, let us also reflect. On the fragility of trust. On the corrosive danger of jealousy. And on the urgent need to build a society where young people see hope in shared progress, not in the downfall of others.
May his soul rest in peace, Amen!
