-An Exclusive Investigative Report of Igbofacts
In April 2025, thousands of young Nigerians sat for what should have been a defining moment in their academic lives—the Unified Tertiary Matriculation Examination (UTME). But for nearly 380,000 of them, mostly from Lagos and the South-East, that moment collapsed into chaos. JAMB, the regulatory body overseeing tertiary admissions, blamed a technical glitch.
But a deeper investigation reveals a troubling pattern: a high concentration of these so-called “technical failures” occurred in Igbo-dominated areas. Is it all just a coincidence—or are we looking at a calculated act of sabotage?
The Numbers Do Not Lie
- 379,997 affected candidates
- 157 CBT Centres involved in the glitch
- 92 Centres in the South-East
- 65 Centres in Lagos
- 206,000+ Candidates affected in Lagos alone
- 173,000+ Candidates from the South-East
The density of failure zones corresponds almost precisely with Igbo-dense communities. Ajah. Ijede. Alaba. Aba. Owerri. Onitsha. Enugu. Coincidence?
JAMB Registrar, Prof. Ishaq Oloyede, fought tears as he publicly apologized. “We failed these children,” he said. His humanity is not in question. His sincerity may even be genuine. But is an apology enough?
This is not just a question of hardware malfunction. It is a question of oversight. Accountability. Leadership. Why were the failures concentrated in historically marginalized areas? What checks failed to trigger alarms before the results were released? And more damningly—who profited from this chaos?
Mrs. Gloria Chinyere Anyaegbu, the South-East Zonal Director of JAMB, finds herself in the eye of the storm. As an Igbo woman, her presence in this position should have been symbolic of inclusiveness. Instead, she appears to be the convenient face to absorb the backlash. But it is critical to ask: Was Gloria informed in advance of server failures? Did she report concerns that were buried? Is she now being used as a shield?
Compare that to Mr. Biliaminu Akinola Shittu, the Lagos Zonal Director. His zone had the highest number of affected candidates—yet his name has scarcely surfaced in public discourse.
Tech insiders familiar with the JAMB CBT framework report that server failures of this scale usually come with flags—warnings that can be pre-emptively addressed. Yet the glitches were not reported until after the exams concluded. One whistleblower (who asked to remain anonymous) revealed that “updates to server firmware in certain centres were deliberately withheld despite repeated emails from technicians.”
If proven, this is not failure. It is sabotage.
This is not the first time the Igbo student demographic has been placed under suspicion. In 2013, 2016, and again in 2022, mass cancellations of UTME results from South-East zones were announced, usually on the vague basis of “suspicion of malpractice.” No public investigations. No transparency. Just cancellation.
This history now intersects with the present, and it stinks of a dangerous tradition.
The death of 19-year-old Faith Opesusi, who committed suicide after receiving a drastically low score due to this glitch, is the human cost of administrative failure. Faith was not Igbo—but her death unites us in mourning. She is the symbol of what happens when the system loses its soul.
We must demand:
- An Independent Judicial Panel of Inquiry into the UTME 2025 failures
- Suspension and investigation of all zonal directors involved, pending outcome
- Public release of server logs and maintenance records of the affected 157 CBT centres
- Official compensation to all affected candidates
- Institutional reforms to decentralize JAMB’s tech oversight and prevent ethnic concentration of CBT failures
This is more than an exam scandal. It is a national wound. When a system sabotages its youth, particularly from regions already bleeding from political exclusion, it is not merely failing—it is collapsing into a betrayal of its foundational promise. The Igbos will not—and should not—remain silent.
Because when the future glitches, justice must reboot.
