Remembering Dotun Oladipo: A Good Man Taken Too Soon

Why does sudden death seem to take good people, like Dotun, while leaving the wicked behind? Dotun was a dedicated journalist, a gentleman, and a friend. Meanwhile, bandit leaders and terrorists continue to cause suffering for innocent Nigerians.

> On Tuesday, 25 August, I chatted with Dotun Oladipo, a respected journalist, former president of the Guild of Corporate Online Publishers (GOCOP), and publisher of The Eagle Online. I sent him a report about the political rivalry in Katsina State. It was about the struggle between Governor Dikko Radda and Tinubu’s adviser, Ibrahim Masari, which led to the arrest of the governor's security aides. I wanted him to publish it on his platform.

> In his usual straightforward and professional style, Dotun asked me to send it to his Gmail address instead of the Yahoo account I had used before. I did as he asked. Within minutes, he published the article. A few hours later, he featured it as the main story in his WhatsApp news broadcast.

> That was Dotun for you: no red tape, no excuses, no endless promises. If something was newsworthy, he acted fast.

> The next day, while getting ready for an event, my son Gidado called me.

> “Dotun Oladipo is trending everywhere,” he said.

> I smiled. When good people trend, you hope it is for good reasons, an appointment, an award, or another achievement.

> Then he finished the sentence.

> “They say he is dead.”

> “What? What!” I shouted.

> It hit me like a bolt of lightning. I quickly thought back to our last chat. I checked our messages. I looked at the article he had just published. All this had happened less than twenty-four hours ago. How could someone who just fulfilled a professional request suddenly be the subject of an obituary?

> Reports say Dotun died at 56 after suddenly falling ill in his office in Lagos. Colleagues said he seemed fine earlier in the day and even went to the gym before continuing with his routine. He reportedly fell ill at work and sought medical help, but he did not make it. Some reports suggested a heart attack, but the exact medical cause is for professionals to determine.

> But in that moment of sadness, my mind fought against the harsh reality of death.

> Why does sudden death seem to take the good people, like Dotun, who had just worked out for his health? Why would it take a dedicated journalist, a gentleman, and a friend while letting bandit leaders and terrorists roam free?

> Why do those who strive for peace and stability leave without warning, while those who threaten peace seem to survive countless violent events?

> These are questions no one can answer. Death does not follow our ideas of fairness or justice.

> I knew Dotun for many years. Our friendship grew during Nigeria’s toughest security times when the Forum of Spokespersons of Security and Response Agencies (FOSSRA) was led by Major General Chris Olukolade and supported by the Office of the National Security Adviser under Colonel Sambo Dasuki (Rtd). This was when PRNigeria became important in security reporting and crisis communication.

> Those were hard years. Boko Haram was always in the news. Security agencies were under great pressure, and public trust was constantly shaken by mixed reports and propaganda. The link between security agencies and the media was crucial. Journalists had to balance the public’s need to know with the duty to not compromise operations. Security agencies had to understand that journalists were not enemies just because they asked tough questions.

> Dotun knew that balance well. He believed in journalism but also understood national duty.

> Our relationship continued long after that time. Up to the article he published just hours before he died, which he promoted as the main story in his final WhatsApp news broadcast, Dotun was consistently reliable. Whenever I sent him something newsworthy, he got back to me quickly. Sometimes it was just professional; other times, it showed the quiet support colleagues give each other without making a big deal out of it.

> Dotun’s career covered nearly thirty years in major Nigerian newsrooms, Nigerian Tribune, Nigerian Compass, The Sun, and PUNCH, where he was Politics Editor, before starting The Eagle Online. He made a big impact on digital journalism. There was a time when online journalism in Nigeria was seen as the wild younger sibling of traditional media, linked with sensationalism and poor standards.

> People like Dotun helped change that view. Through The Eagle Online and his leadership in GOCOP, he was part of a generation of publishers who showed that online journalism could be quick without being careless, competitive without losing ethics, and independent while respecting professional standards.

> He understood something that is still true today: the platform may change, but the basics of journalism should not. Holding leaders accountable does not mean neglecting responsibility to the nation. Dotun was a bridge between traditional newsrooms and the digital space that now shapes journalism.

> Beyond his work, I remember him as a true Nigerian, a reliable colleague, a gentleman who valued friendship and support, and a publisher who could take an article and publish it within minutes if he thought it was worthwhile.

> As I mourn Dotun Oladipo, I also think about how vulnerable journalists are. We rush to meet deadlines, handle breaking news, answer calls at odd times, travel unexpectedly, and deal with pressures that audiences often don’t see. We cover everyone else's crises while sometimes ignoring our own health.

> Dotun’s passing should remind media professionals, and all of us, that we need to pay attention to our health, even with deadlines and duties pressing us.

> At 56, we were the same age, and by human standards, he left too soon. But life is really measured not by how long we stay, but by what we leave in the hearts and minds of others.

> My brother Dotun, I still struggle to match our last chat with the obituary that came next. Yesterday, you were the publisher receiving my article; today, you are the subject of one. The deadline has come for a story none of us wanted to write.

> Good night, Dotun Oladipo. With tears, I send this last message to your favorite email, [[email protected]](https://www.premiumtimesng.com/cdn-cgi/l/email-protection).