Imagine standing in a hospital corridor, dressed in a white coat, surrounded by the smell of antiseptics and the quiet cries of patients and suddenly coming face to face with the very people who ruined your life.
The same men who kidnapped you.
The same men who murdered your blood brother.
The same men who collected over ₦50 million from your family before setting you free.
This is not a scene from a movie.
This is real life.
The man on the left is Doctor Abul Babatunde. Earlier this year in January, he and his younger brother, Tayi, a newly graduated medical doctor full of dreams and hope, were abducted by two ruthless criminals.
They were dragged deep into the bush like animals, held hostage, tortured, and treated as though their lives meant nothing.
Then tragedy struck.
While in captivity, Tayi attempted to escape. In that desperate moment of fear and survival, the kidnappers raised their gun and shot him straight in the head.
He fell instantly dead before he could even scream.
As if killing him was not enough, they dumped his lifeless body into a river and disappeared into the wilderness, leaving behind nothing but grief, pain, and unanswered tears.
Doctor Abul survived, but not because they showed mercy.
His family paid the price—₦50 million naira—just to have him returned alive.
And after that, the killers vanished into the bush, believing they were untouchable.
They thought they were safe.
They thought no one could trace them.
They thought their crime would be buried forever.
But fate had other plans.
Few days ago those same two men stormed into Edo State University Teaching Hospital, not as criminals… but as desperate fathers.
Their children were sick.
Their eyes were filled with panic.
Their voices trembled with fear.
For the first time in a long time, they were helpless.
They didn’t come with guns this time.
They came begging for life.
They rushed to the doctor on duty, pleading, shaking, and desperate for help.
And then the world turned upside down.
Because the doctor standing before them was Doctor Abul Babatunde.
The same man they kidnapped.
The same man they tortured.
The same man whose brother they murdered.
The same man whose family they extorted.
They didn’t recognize him at first—after all, he had worn a blindfold in the bush.
But Abul recognized them.
He recognized their faces.
He recognized their voices.
He recognized the monsters hiding behind their “concerned father” masks.
And in that moment, the hospital became more than a place of healing…
It became a courtroom of destiny.
The men stood there begging him to save their children—children they didn’t want to lose—while Abul stood frozen, staring at them, remembering the brother they stole from him.
Imagine it…
They killed his brother in January…
only to beg him in February to save their own blood.
But Abul did not explode.
He did not shout.
He did not attack them.
He swallowed the rage burning in his chest and calmly told them:
“Sit down… I will attend to you shortly.”
They believed they had escaped justice again.
But Abul wasn’t buying time for treatment.
He was buying time for karma.
Immediately, he contacted the police.
And within moments, officers stormed into the hospital.
The same men who walked in hoping for a miracle… were dragged out in handcuffs.
They came searching for healing…
but found judgment.
They came seeking life…
but met the consequences of death.
And as they were taken away, the truth became clear:
Karma doesn’t always come immediately… but it never forgets an address. 😳🙌🔥
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