TD On the 9th of July, 2026, I attended the Federal High Court No. 5 in Abuja for a matter of real consequence.
What I encountered was not the measured, dignified atmosphere one expects in a court of law, but a scene of acute congestion that undermined both comfort and decorum.
Twenty-eight matters were listed for the day.
More than seventy people, litigants, counsel, witnesses, court staff and members of the public, were packed into a room only slightly larger than a standard living room.
There were not enough seats. The ventilation was poor. The air grew heavy as the morning wore on.
The presiding judge sat within arm’s reach of counsel and parties alike.
Conversations overlapped, bodies pressed together, and the constant movement made concentration difficult. It was, quite simply, an environment unfit for the serious business of dispensing justice.
Excuses were offered about ongoing renovation and refurbishment work across the court complex.
While such projects are necessary, one cannot help but believe there must be better alternatives than subjecting judges, lawyers, litigants and the public to these unacceptable conditions in the interim.
I often wonder what is wrong with us as a people that we tolerate such basic failures in institutions so central to our democracy.
One cannot help but ask: what quality of justice can be expected in such conditions?
The constitutional right to a fair hearing under Section 36 of the 1999 Constitution (as amended) is not satisfied by the mere opportunity to appear.
It contemplates a setting in which parties can present their cases without undue distraction, where advocates can address the court clearly, and where the judge can deliberate with the necessary composure.
When the physical conditions themselves work against these essentials, the right to a fair hearing begins to ring hollow.
The health implications are equally troubling.
In an era when public health authorities remain alert to the risks of infectious diseases, including the Ebola virus disease which has surfaced in parts of the continent, forcing dozens of people into a poorly ventilated, overcrowded space for hours on end creates an unnecessary and avoidable hazard.
Many litigants travel long distances, often with elderly relatives or young children. Some already live with underlying conditions.
They should not have to weigh the pursuit of justice against the risk of illness.
If I were the presiding judge, I would find it impossible to conduct proceedings comfortably or effectively in such an atmosphere.
The judge, like everyone else in the room, is entitled to an environment that supports clear thinking and maintains the solemnity of the judicial process.
No judicial officer should be expected to work under conditions that compromise both personal well-being and professional standards.
This experience is not unique to Court 5 in Abuja.
Across the country, in Federal High Courts, State High Courts and even many magistrate courts, similar scenes play out daily.
Court lists are routinely overloaded.
Infrastructure is often inadequate, insufficient courtrooms, broken furniture, erratic power supply, and poor maintenance.
The result is a recurring cycle: matters are called, parties wait for hours, cases are stood down or adjourned for lack of time, and litigants return another day, sometimes after travelling considerable distances, only to face the same ordeal.
The root of much of this disorder lies in case management.
Listing twenty-eight or more matters for a single court session without staggered times, without realistic time estimates, and without firm control over adjournments is a practice that guarantees congestion.
Modern case management, electronic cause listing with allocated time slots, pre-trial conferences that narrow issues, active judicial oversight of timelines, and the sensible use of alternative dispute resolution, exists in our rules of court and in statutes such as the Administration of Criminal Justice Act, 2015.
Yet consistent, system-wide implementation remains elusive.
This is purely an administrative issue.
Get the right people, pay them well, equip them with the necessary tools and authority, and these problems can be resolved.
The consequences are not merely logistical.
When litigants are herded into cramped, uncomfortable spaces, the dignity of the judicial process is diminished in their eyes.
When lawyers struggle to confer with clients or follow proceedings amid noise and movement, the quality of advocacy suffers.
When judges must work in conditions that would be unacceptable in most professional offices, public confidence in the institution inevitably erodes.
Justice delayed is one problem; justice administered in undignified and unhealthy conditions is another, equally serious.
Reform is both necessary and achievable.
The immediate steps are straightforward: introduce properly staggered cause lists with realistic time allocations; enforce appearance times more strictly; and make greater use of virtual hearings for non-contentious or procedural matters, building on the lessons learned during the COVID-19 period.
In the short to medium term, there must be sustained investment in court infrastructure, additional courtrooms, improved ventilation and seating, reliable power, and proper sanitation.
Over the longer term, a deliberate expansion of judicial capacity, supported by modern case management technology and properly trained administrative staff, is essential.
The judiciary remains the last hope of the common man and the ultimate guardian of constitutional rights.
That role cannot be fully discharged when the very spaces in which justice is sought and delivered work against order, health, dignity and efficiency.
The conditions I witnessed on 9th July 2026 are a symptom of deeper systemic shortcomings in case management and infrastructure.
They deserve urgent attention from the leadership of the judiciary, the National Judicial Council, and all who are concerned with the integrity of our justice system.
The temple of justice should not resemble a crowded waiting room.
It should reflect the gravity and nobility of the task it performs.
We can, and must, do better.
Charles Ude, Esq.; Lawyer & Author; Charlesude2014@gmail.com, Abuja, FCT.
