A fake agency operated inside the president's own office for two years.
In Abuja, a man conjured a government agency from nothing — forged signatures, rented offices, hired staff, and secured nearly a million dollars in public funds before anyone in power noticed he existed. The episode, now under formal investigation ordered by President Tinubu, is less a story about one fraudster than about the quiet vulnerabilities that allow fiction to pass as governance. When forged documents can travel far enough through official hands to appear in a national budget, the question is no longer only who deceived the state, but how thoroughly the state was prepared to be deceived.
- A man with no legal mandate operated a fictitious presidential agency inside Nigeria's Federal Secretariat for nearly two years, complete with staff, bank accounts, and a 1.3 billion naira budget line.
- Forensic analysis confirmed the founding letter — bearing the chief of staff's signature — was forged, exposing a chain of institutional failures that allowed the deception to compound unchecked.
- The alleged perpetrator has vanished, claiming innocence and accusing senior officials of bribery, while police pursue him on charges of forgery and impersonation alongside two co-defendants.
- President Tinubu has tasked the anti-corruption commission with a 30-day investigation targeting not only the crime itself but the procedural gaps that gave a phantom agency the appearance of legitimacy.
- Civil society groups and opposition figures are demanding independent oversight, warning that the scandal raises deeper questions about what else may be hiding in plain sight within federal institutions.
For nearly two years, a man named Adeniyi Adeyemi Matthew operated inside Nigeria's government as though he belonged there. He called his outfit the Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council, claimed it existed to attract foreign investment, and furnished it with all the trappings of legitimacy: an office in the Federal Secretariat, bank accounts, three employees, and eventually a line in the 2026 national budget worth roughly $950,000. The presidency had no idea any of it existed.
The agency's founding document — a letter bearing the signature of President Tinubu's chief of staff, Femi Gbajabiamila — was a forgery. Police forensic analysis confirmed it. What investigators must now untangle is not merely the act of forgery, but the long chain of approvals, signatures, and institutional handoffs that allowed a fabricated body to accumulate real resources without triggering a single alarm.
Before disappearing, Adeyemi told local media he was innocent, claiming the council had been lawfully created in 2024 and alleging that senior officials had demanded bribes and later tried to seize control of its funds. The presidency denied this entirely. A manhunt is underway, and two additional defendants have been charged in Federal High Court in Abuja.
The government's official position is that no public funds were actually disbursed — that the agency never held an operational account with the Central Bank of Nigeria. Yet the fact that it secured office space in a high-security compound, opened commercial bank accounts, and was written into national law remains deeply uncomfortable. President Tinubu has ordered the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission to report within 30 days — examining not only the fraud itself, but the institutional weaknesses that made it possible and how the presidency can be better shielded against impersonation going forward.
For civil society groups, opposition politicians, and senior lawyers now calling for independent oversight, the scandal cuts to something larger: if a fictitious agency could flourish this visibly inside the president's own administrative orbit, the question of what else might be hiding in plain sight within Nigeria's federal institutions is one the investigation cannot afford to leave unanswered.
A man walked into Nigeria's government complex in Abuja, presented himself as the director general of an agency that did not exist, and somehow convinced the machinery of state to fund it. For roughly two years, Adeniyi Adeyemi Matthew operated what he called the Presidential Foreign Intervention Promotion Council—an outfit designed, he said, to attract foreign investment to Nigeria. He had office space in the Federal Secretariat, the sprawling compound that houses much of the country's ministerial apparatus. He opened bank accounts. He hired three staff members. He even secured a line item in the 2026 national budget: 1.3 billion naira, roughly $950,000.
None of it was real. Or rather, it was real enough to move money and occupy space, but it had no legal foundation. The letter supposedly authorizing the council's creation—signed by the president's chief of staff, Femi Gbajabiamila—was forged. Police forensic analysis confirmed it. The presidency had no knowledge the agency existed.
President Bola Tinubu ordered an investigation on Tuesday, directing the Independent Corrupt Practices and Other Related Offences Commission to examine not just the forgery itself, but the institutional gaps that made it possible. How does a fictitious body acquire the trappings of legitimacy? How do forged documents pass through enough hands to secure funding, office space, and a place in the national budget without triggering alarm? These are the questions now facing investigators, who have 30 days to report back.
Adeyemi, before disappearing, told local media he was innocent. He claimed the council had been lawfully established in 2024 and accused senior government officials of demanding bribes during his appointment process, then attempting to seize control of the council's funds. The presidency flatly denied this. Police launched a manhunt for Adeyemi on charges of forgery, impersonation, and related offences. Two other defendants were also charged in Federal High Court in Abuja. The three staff members were questioned.
What makes the case particularly awkward for the government is the gap between appearance and reality. The Accountant-General's Office insists the council never had an operational account with the Central Bank of Nigeria and received no public funds or salaries. Yet the agency somehow appeared legitimate enough to secure office space in one of Nigeria's most secure government compounds, to open bank accounts, and to be written into law. The investigation will need to trace how each of these things happened—who approved the office lease, which bank officers processed the account applications, which officials signed off on the budget allocation.
Tinubu's directive to investigators goes beyond the immediate crime. He has asked them to identify weaknesses in government procedures that were exploited, to examine the role of any public officer or financial institution that may have facilitated the scheme, and to assess how the presidency itself can be better protected against impersonation and forgery. The statement emphasized that the integrity of federal institutions must be defended. All persons found culpable, it said, would face the full weight of applicable law.
The scandal has drawn sharp attention from civil society groups, opposition politicians, and senior lawyers, all demanding independent oversight of the investigation. For a government already navigating questions about institutional capacity and corruption, the revelation that a fake agency could operate inside the president's own office—complete with budget allocation and bank accounts—raises uncomfortable questions about how much else might be hidden in plain sight.
Notable Quotes
Adeyemi claimed the council was lawfully established and accused senior government officials of demanding bribes and attempting to seize control of the council's funds— Adeniyi Adeyemi Matthew, via local media
The integrity of the presidency and federal institutions must be protected against impersonation, forgery, abuse of official identity and the exploitation of weaknesses in the public service— President Bola Tinubu
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
How does something like this even happen? How does a forged letter get you into the Federal Secretariat?
That's the question everyone's asking now. You need credentials, you need paperwork that looks official. If you have a letter on presidential letterhead—even a forged one—and you know the right people to approach, or you approach them with enough confidence, the machinery starts moving. A lease gets approved. A bank sees the documentation and opens an account.
But someone had to verify the signature. The chief of staff's signature.
In theory, yes. In practice, there are a lot of documents moving through government every day. If you're not the person whose signature it is, you might not know it's been forged until someone checks forensically. And by then, the agency exists on paper.
Did he actually get money?
That's contested. The Accountant-General says no operational account was ever funded. But he got office space. He hired people. Something moved. The investigation will have to trace exactly what.
What happens to the three staff members?
They were questioned by police. Whether they knew the agency was fake, or whether they were hired in good faith, we don't know yet. That's part of what the 30-day investigation will examine.
And Adeyemi?
He's in hiding. He says he's innocent, that the council was real, that officials tried to extort him. The presidency says he forged documents and impersonated a government official. One of them is lying, and the investigation will try to establish which.