When someone is shot and rushed to the hospital, every second is critical to prevent the loss of life. But in Nigeria, time too often seems to stop, not because of distance or traffic, but because hospital doors are shut to such gunshot victims. They are turned away, left to bleed on the pavements or in waiting rooms while hospital attendants demand police report or an advance deposit. It is not just a moral failure; it is a violation of the law.
In 2017, the Nigerian government enacted the Compulsory Treatment and Care for Victims of Gunshots Act, designed to end these needless deaths. The law makes it obligatory that every hospital, public or private, must provide immediate and adequate treatment to any person with a gunshot wound, whether or not a police report or payment has been made. It was meant to place human life above bureaucracy, and compassion above caution. Yet, eight years on, compliance remains dangerously low.
Hospitals, by this Act, are prohibited from requesting deposits before treatment. Medical personnel must attend to the victim immediately, while notifying the police within two hours. The police, in turn, must not harass victims or obstruct their treatment. Investigations are to commence only after medical clearance is granted. The intent is to ensure that in Nigeria, no person dies because paperwork stood in the way.
Failure to comply carries serious penalties, although the cash fine has become too small to serve as deterrent because of the low value of the Naira. But by the provision, hospitals risk a ₦100,000 fine, while any medical personnel directly involved may face six months in prison or an additional fine. The law also holds police officers accountable if they obstruct care or delay investigations. In essence, both institutions – healthcare and law enforcement – are legally bound to protect life first and investigate later.
Despite this framework, enforcement has been weak. In October 2023, the Inspector-General of Police issued a nationwide directive reaffirming the law’s validity and urging all police commands to enforce it without hesitation. Officers were reminded to educate their personnel and the public about compliance. But even with these pronouncements, fear persists within emergency wards. Many hospitals still refuse victims, citing institutional policy or fear of legal entanglement. In some cases, administrators insist on old protocols that require police clearance before treatment – an illegal and deadly practice.
This reluctance continues to claim lives. It also erodes public trust in the health system. Emergency care should never be a privilege; it is a fundamental human right. Across Nigeria, victims of road accidents, strokes, and heart attacks face similar hurdles. Too often, patients are denied treatment until a deposit is made. This practice desecrates the ethical foundation of medicine. The first duty of any health professional is to save life, not to demand proof of payment.
Emergency medicine rests on the principle of treat first, ask questions later. A victim of a car accident, a pregnant woman in labour, a man slumped from cardiac arrest, none should be subjected to financial interrogation before care. Yet in many Nigerian hospitals, the first question asked of an unconscious patient is “Who will pay?” It is tragic, and it is unlawful.
The Gunshot Act provides not just a legal shield but a moral one. However, for it to be effective, awareness and enforcement must go hand in hand. For the law to work, it must live in the consciousness of both citizens and institutions. Health professionals need to understand that saving lives is not a favour but a legal and moral duty. Hospital administrators must urgently review internal policies that contradict the Act, removing barriers that criminalise compassion. Offenders, whether individuals or institutions, should be prosecuted to set a strong precedent. Citizens, too, must know their rights. When someone is shot, the first stop should be the nearest hospital, not the nearest police station. Nigerians must learn to demand treatment first and report violations later, because every second lost could mean a life gone.
Hospitals must retrain their staff to understand the law. Medical associations must educate their members on compliance. Police officers must be held accountable when they intimidate or obstruct care. Above all, citizens must be informed of their rights and empowered to report violations.
Technology can support this change. Digital monitoring of emergency responses, public hotlines for reporting non-compliance, and hospital audits could help track enforcement. Just as importantly, hospitals should establish dedicated emergency response units capable of handling trauma cases swiftly and without bureaucratic delay.
The law’s reach must also extend beyond gunshot wounds. The principle of compulsory emergency treatment should cover all life-threatening cases. The Nigerian Medical Association and the Federal Ministry of Health should push for broader emergency care legislation that reflects this moral imperative. No citizen should die because help was withheld on procedural grounds.
Nigeria’s Compulsory Treatment and Care for Victims of Gunshots Act is not merely a law but a statement of national values. It asserts that no Nigerian should die because of hesitation, paperwork, or poverty. For it to fulfil its purpose, hospitals must act, the police must protect, and citizens must insist. When someone is bleeding, the clock should not stop. It should move swiftly toward saving life, not losing it.
