In May 2018, a chilling crime shattered the relative calm of student life around Olabisi Onabanjo University (OOU), exposing a dark undercurrent of envy, cultism, and ruthless ambition.
At the heart of the tragedy was Muritala Babatunde, widely known as “Muri Ete,” a university dropout who would later confess to orchestrating the brutal killing of Oriade Adebisi—popularly called “Oh Dollar”—and his teenage girlfriend, Juliana Eke Imaga.
Oriade, a 300-level Computer Science student, was known among his peers as a young man with money and influence. Juliana, just 18, was a Law student with her future ahead of her. On May 28, 2018, the couple disappeared after being lured to a junction in Oru-Ijebu, unaware they were walking into a carefully planned trap.
According to Babatunde’s confession, the motive was as disturbing as the act itself. Consumed by envy and driven by greed, he claimed Oriade had refused to share proceeds from alleged internet fraud and was instead supporting a rival cult group. In Babatunde’s world, that was betrayal—and it demanded a violent response.
What followed was an execution carried out with calculated cruelty. The couple was abducted at gunpoint and transported to a secluded bush along the Ijebu-Ode–Ibadan expressway. There, rather than risk the noise of gunfire, Babatunde admitted to using wooden planks to crush their heads—an act he believed would also frustrate forensic investigations.
But it was his justification for Juliana’s death that would haunt many long after the crime. She had no involvement in any dispute, no role in the alleged conflicts. Yet, in a statement that shocked investigators, Babatunde said he killed her simply to eliminate any witness. He claimed he would have done the same even if she were his own mother or sister—anything, he said, to prevent information from reaching the police.
While Babatunde openly linked himself to the Aiye Confraternity, also known as the Black Axe, his family painted a very different picture. They denied his involvement in cultism, describing him instead as a hardworking young man engaged in cryptocurrency trading and automobile brokerage.
Juliana’s death, however, quickly became symbolic of something larger. Remembered as a bright and innocent student, she was widely described as a “collateral victim” of a senseless and violent subculture. Her killing sparked protests among OOU students, igniting conversations about insecurity, cultism, and the hidden dangers within university communities.
Years later, the case continues to serve as a grim cautionary tale—one often cited in warnings to young people about the risks of associating with individuals entangled in criminal networks, regardless of their apparent wealth or influence.
As of early 2026, however, a troubling uncertainty remains. Despite the gravity of the crime and the public attention it drew, there is no clear official record confirming a final judicial outcome for Muritala Babatunde—leaving lingering questions about justice, accountability, and closure.
In the end, what endures most is not just the brutality of the act, but the lives it cut short—and the stark reminder of how quickly admiration can turn into envy, and envy into irreversible tragedy.