Remembering Rockson A. Igelige: A Passionate Advocate for Creators

Rockson A. Igelige, Esq

Everyone who met Rockson knew how passionate he was about intellectual property rights and entertainment law. Long before these areas of law became popular, even among lawyers in Nigeria, he had gone to the University of Westminster in the UK and got a Master’s in this field. His enthusiasm was almost contagious. Soon we were discussing how to spread awareness of IPR beyond the courtroom. He even dreamed up a non-governmental organisation for this purpose. He was the driving force behind Friends of the Creator (Artistic) Foundation, the first Nigerian NGO accredited by the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO), where he served as founding Executive Director and I was the chairman of the board of trustees.

On Friday morning, 21 August, I switched my phone back on and it started ringing. It was a call from a childhood friend of Rockson’s, bringing terrible news. “Rockson is dead!” he said, trying to hold back tears. He apologized for delivering such bad news. Knowing the caller well, I couldn't entertain any false hope. I pulled the phone from my ear and stared at the screen, wishing I hadn't turned it back on.

I usually switch off my phone at night. Nothing is so urgent that it can't wait until morning. There was life before phones, before the pressure of mobile phones. For a moment, I wished phones had never been invented. As my caller cried and shared his grief, mine began to surface too, looking for something to hold on to. I remembered a poem I read over twenty years ago. I understood the dread that the late English poet, Ted Hughes, felt in his poem, “Do Not Pick Up the Telephone.” He said that “Death invented the phone,” and described it as an altar of death. After listing the evils of the telephone, he ended with a warning: “Do not pick up the detonator of the telephone.” That Friday morning, it wasn't as dramatic, but I turned to Hughes for something to grasp amid this tragedy.

“Rockson dead? How? I spoke with him just four days ago. I was waiting for his call about our meeting in Port Harcourt…” I learned the details of his death. He died in his bedroom, apparently from a heart attack. He had risen to plug in his phone or unplug it, the charger still in his hand. But how he met his end didn’t matter now. My caller apologized again for the news and we hung up, left to grieve separately or together with others who would call us. Grief, like happiness, needs to be shared.

Rockson was like the younger brother I never had. He looked up to me, pushed back against me, and then made peace with me. It couldn’t be otherwise, as he was strong-willed. Growing up in a large polygamous family taught him the need to stand up for himself, to be heard, even if he stood alone. He was comfortable being different from the crowd. I had to consider this whenever we disagreed, like siblings do. This same trait made him a loyal ally. You could not ask for a more reliable partner.

When family matters called me back to Nigeria from my teaching job in the US, Rockson's enthusiasm made it happen quickly. A year later, when I wanted to enter politics, he was right there with me. He had served as a local government councilor and was a member of the Peoples Democratic Party. But he was ready to work with me in the All Progressives Congress to unseat the long-time representative of the Isoko Federal constituency, who had done little for us.

To him, electing the right person was more important than party loyalty, especially for our oil-and-gas-producing community, often overlooked by the nation. He fully supported my joining APC, sure I wouldn’t get the PDP ticket. He became my adviser and campaign manager before the party primaries began. Of course, he faced accusations of disloyalty. Still, he stood firm, promising to explain the anti-party activities to his accusers whenever needed.

Rockson Igelige, Ogaga Ifowodo and two other Remedium Law partners.

Since 2015, we had been working together in a loose legal partnership. It included a law school mate of his from Delta State University, a retired Assistant Inspector-General of Police who was like an uncle to us, a Lagos-based lawyer who also reported on legal matters, and me. We started when we took on the case of Omenuwoma Okson Dovie, a musician known as Baba 2010, to enforce his copyright against MTN. They had used four of his songs as caller tunes without permission.

I learned my first lesson about politics during the party primary stage. An unknown opponent with money appeared. Even after being arrested by the Economic and Financial Crimes Commission days before the election, he managed to get out just in time. It was a spectacle to see him arrive at the election venue. Unsurprisingly, he won the ticket. I returned to my teaching job in the US but soon got a call from the local party leader asking me to come back. The primary winner had vanished!

The plan of my opponent was simple: sponsor a puppet, fund him to get the ticket, then disappear for an easy fourth term. Rockson had seen this coming, but I thought it was too ridiculous to work. There was some consolation, though. A year and a half later, I was appointed as Delta State representative on the board of the Niger Delta Development Commission. I made Rockson my special assistant.

Though the board, like others before it, was dissolved early, I had two full years to work closely with him. I saw him show the honesty and public spirit I already knew he had. He had no desire for material things. We shared a passion for addressing the issues of the Niger Delta. But in Nigeria, dreams often die or get stifled. The sudden end of the NDDC board left him disillusioned with politics. He decided to leave that world and focus solely on legal practice.

Since 2015, we had been working together in a loose legal partnership. It included a law school mate of his from Delta State University, a retired Assistant Inspector-General of Police who was like an uncle to us, a Lagos-based lawyer who also reported on legal matters, and me. We started when we took on the case of Omenuwoma Okson Dovie, a musician known as Baba 2010, to enforce his copyright against MTN. They had used four of his songs as caller tunes without permission. The case was settled without going to trial, but our partnership successfully took on another copyright violation suit against MTN and a record label, which went all the way to trial and judgment.

We also settled a suit against a publisher for unauthorized use of a young playwright’s work. Another case against a TV station for broadcasting a cooking show without permission was settled just before the trial ended. A further suit, this time against The Sun newspaper for publishing a young woman’s photograph without permission, went to trial and we won the case. Our successful collaboration in these areas led us to formally establish Remedium Law Partners.

Everyone who met Rockson knew how passionate he was about intellectual property rights and entertainment law. Long before these areas became popular among Nigerian lawyers, he had gone to the University of Westminster in the UK and got a Master’s in the field. His enthusiasm was infectious, leading us to discuss how to promote IPR outside the courtroom. He even started a non-governmental organization for this purpose. He was the force behind Friends of the Creator (Artistic) Foundation, the first Nigerian NGO accredited by the World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO), with him as the founding Executive Director and me as the chairman of the board of trustees.

In January this year, he secured a judgment for Veno Marioghae-Mbanefo against Airtel for copyright infringement of her popular song, “Nigeria Go Survive.” It was a fitting reward for his determination. I was just a sounding board during the case. I believed the defendants would appeal, even just over the damages amount. He hoped they would appeal, as IPR is a new and complicated field. There are not many court decisions to help clear up confusion in the high courts.

Having stepped away from politics, he was eager to make his mark. But I still had to figure out a few things about my return from the US, including where to settle. He was mainly in Oleh, while Warri was just a temporary stop for me. I had to choose between Lagos and Abuja for personal and professional reasons. While I thought about it, he focused on building his own legal brand for recognition in the IPR area, using talks, articles, online platforms, and conferences to create awareness.

In January this year, he secured a judgment for Veno Marioghae-Mbanefo against Airtel for copyright infringement of her popular song, “Nigeria Go Survive.” It was a fitting reward for his determination. I was just a sounding board during the case. I believed the defendants would appeal, even just over the damages amount. He hoped they would appeal, as IPR is a new and complicated field. There are not many court decisions to help clear up confusion in the high courts. Sadly, death has now robbed the most passionate advocate of IPR in Nigeria of the final rewards of his hard work!

Space and time won’t allow me to say more about this remarkable man. Was Rockson perfect? Definitely not! But even in his flaws, he showed his great qualities. I can attest to that. In 2015, he was a tireless supporter of my political ambitions. But in 2022, he changed when I accepted to run for the vacant seat in the Delta State House of Assembly. For reasons I won’t go into, one of which was completely unfounded, he strongly opposed me, even teaming up with a younger man to campaign against me.

That man later confessed to me the reasons for his actions, but I didn’t need that. I had forgiven both of them even before I had the chance to ask why. I don’t hold grudges. I don’t want the burden of malice on my life. I believe in letting go before death. Except for two cases: I know I will never forgive the false-star General Sani Abacha, may God roast his soul, if he had any, or another false-star general for whom it is still too early to offer forgiveness. It was easy to overlook my younger brother’s faults because if we value independence, we must also accept that the mind won’t always be right.

But I do have a regret. Shortly after the Marioghae-Mbanefo v Airtel judgment, Rockson came to Abuja, which I saw partly as a victory celebration. I met him at Transcorp Hilton, where he had just had lunch with an old friend. He wanted us to see a DELSU alumnus who is now a Senior Advocate of Nigeria. When I noticed how tight his jacket was and how he breathed heavily getting into my car, I realized he had been neglecting his health. I wanted to bring it up, but I had nagged him too often. I held back. I didn’t want to ruin the joy of a potential landmark court victory. I thought I would have another chance to talk about it. Sadly, life often teaches us that there may not be another time. I wish I had pressed the issue, regardless of decorum. Maybe he would have taken better care of himself. But maybe the way he died doesn’t matter; perhaps his time was simply up. Maybe…

Adieu, Rockson. You will be missed.