Friends, let me relate to you a narrative that's more current than tomorrow's newspaper. In recent hours, the esteemed operatives of Nigeria's Economic and Financial Crimes Commission—or EFCC, as the common man says—came calling at the fancy neighborhood of Lekki quicker than a hiccup.

I reckon, among the unfortunate souls was one Wole DSB Afolabi, who carries the artistic name of Wole DSB. What a peculiar circumstance for a fellow who strums and hums to find himself tangled in the long arms of the law?

The raid—carried out with the precision of a Swiss watchmaker—netted a total of thirty-eight alleged cyber criminals. I've seen catfish caught in nets with more dignity.

Spread out before the world were the evidence of their purported misdeeds: illicit pharmaceuticals, electronic gadgets, and other forbidden goods that would make a church deacon blush.

I've noticed that these internet swindlers, as they're commonly called, have a peculiar attachment for the finer things in life—not unlike how a riverboat gambler might flaunt his prosperity.

The EFCC head, in commenting on this notable catch, emphasized that the raid forms part of their ongoing crusade to purify Nigeria of the plague of digital deception. That's mighty righteous, though I suspect as many new fraudsters emerge as mosquitoes in a swamp.

The unfortunate artist Wole DSB now must answer to serious charges that could place him in a venue with poor acoustics for many a moon.

Consider that not long ago he might have been crafting tunes, and now he's facing a hostile audience. Fortune has a manner of taking unexpected turns.

Should this tale serve as a warning to would-be criminals? Perhaps so, though folks being as they are, some will always exist who reckon they're smarter than the law.

Therefore, as this drama develops in the courts, we ordinary citizens can only observe and contemplate at the curious paths that take a melodious spirit to trade his studio for a defendant's stand.