Mama Ngozi, was more than a fabric seller with a quick tongue. She had eyes like a hawk. One day in Onitsha’s boisterous main market, she noticed sneaky boys eyeing crates amid the clamor of yams and used shoes. Whispers of a smuggling ring hiding stolen electronics in garri sacks fueled her suspicions. So, Mama Ngozi decided to investigate this herself. One evening, heart pounding, she trailed a shady trader to a dark warehouse. There, she uncovered crates of stolen radios and overheard talk of a vast criminal network, even catching Baba Kole’s name. Her discovery set Onitsha ablaze, with kids reenacting her bold chase and families buzzing over her courage.

More than Mama Ngozi’s adventure, it was the pulse of crime itself that kept tongues wagging. Beneath the market’s bustle, a deeper scheme had been brewing, unnoticed until her sharp eyes caught it. Whispers of shady deals turned into solid evidence, shaking Onitsha awake and hooking you into the electric thrill of Nigeria’s crime-soaked tales. This raw energy, born from stories like Mama Ngozi’s, finds its echo in Nollywood’s crime dramas. That’s the pull of Nollywood’s crime dramas. They dig into suspicion, betrayal, and stubborn hope for justice that hum in every Nigerian’s heart.

Roots in the 1990s: Gritty Beginnings

Nollywood’s crime dramas began in the early 1990s, with Living in Bondage (1992) laying a foundation. Though not a pure crime drama, its tale of rituals and betrayal hinted at the genre’s potential to probe societal ills. By 2000, Issakaba emerged, a raw depiction of vigilante justice against armed robbery, reflecting Nigeria’s lawlessness. These early films were not polished. They were visceral, blending crime with moral and supernatural threads to grip audiences. Yet, by the mid-2000s, the industry pivoted to romantic comedies and family sagas, sidelining crime narratives.

The genre’s pulse weakened, save for outliers like A Place in the Stars (2014), which tackled counterfeit drug trafficking with rare ambition.

The Resurgence: A New Nollywood

Around 2015, a shift began. Gbomo Gbomo Express marked a return to crime themes, but it was King of Boys (2018), directed by Kemi Adetiba, that ignited the resurgence. Grossing over 300 million Naira, it followed Alhaja Eniola Salami’s rise from obscurity to crime lord, navigating Lagos’ corrupt political underbelly. The film’s success was no fluke. It tapped into a hunger for stories that mirrored Nigeria’s realities—63% of the population lived below the poverty line in 2022, per World Bank data, and corruption scandals dominated public discourse.

Directors like Jade Osiberu, and Ramsey Nouah joined Adetiba, crafting narratives that refused to shy away from Nigeria’s wounds. Osiberu’s Sugar Rush (2019) tackled money laundering with sharp wit. Nouah’s Living in Bondage: Breaking Free (2019) revisited the occult-driven greed of its 1992 predecessor, updating it with modern cultism and ambition.

Series like Blood Sisters (2022), directed by Biyi Bandele and Kenneth Gyang, explored the criminal underworld through family dynamics, showcasing the genre’s expansion. By 2021, Nollywood’s market size hit $6.4 billion, with crime dramas leading the charge, amplified by streaming platforms like Netflix and Prime that brought these gritty tales to global audiences.

A Cycle of Corruption: The Grass-to-Grace Narrative

Nollywood crime dramas resonate because they reflect a society where corruption is not an anomaly but a cycle. Leaders’ greed, as Transparency International’s 2021 Corruption Perceptions Index (ranking Nigeria 149 out of 180) shows, perpetuates poverty, pushing ordinary Nigerians to desperate acts. This is the heart of the genre’s appeal: the “grass-to-grace” arc, where characters rise from nothing through crime, only to face its costs.

King of Boys embodies this. Eniola Salami’s ascent through crime and politics is not just a story; it is Nigerian story, where power is often bought with moral compromise. Living in Bondage: Breaking Free (2019), directed by Ramsey Nouah, also explores this theme, as Nnamdi Okeke’s ambition leads him to make morally questionable decisions, mirroring the societal pressures that drive many to seek wealth at any cost.

Similarly, To Kill a Monkey (2025), also by Adetiba, follows Efemini, a programmer turned cybercriminal, driven by poverty’s chokehold. Released on Netflix on July 18, 2025, the series captures the allure and peril of “yahoo-yahoo” (internet/cybercrime fraud), a path 70% of Nigerian youth in a 2023 Africa Polling Institute study linked to economic hardship.

Unlike earlier Nollywood films that often centered spirituality and rituals as the narrative core, To Kill a Monkey sidesteps these clichés by focusing on modern cybercrime and systemic pressures. While it includes a scene where boys swear loyalty to Oboz in a ritual, this serves as a plot device to highlight group dynamics and power structures, not the story’s heart. Instead, the series dwells on Efemini’s moral descent and the societal conditions—unemployment, inequality—that fuel his choices, offering a grounded critique over supernatural spectacle. These narratives reflect Nigeria’s struggle with systemic entrapment.

Shanty Town (2023), created by Xavier Ighorodje and Chichi Nworah, takes it to Lagos’ slums, where courtesans fight to escape a kingpin’s grip, their struggle a microcosm of systemic entrapment.

These films dissect crime. To Kill a Monkey is a cautionary tale, its layered storytelling praised for avoiding Nollywood’s ritualistic clichés. Shanty Town earns acclaim for its performances. Both, like King of Boys, gesture at insight.

Socio-Political Reflections

The genre’s strength lies in its socio-political lens. Poverty breeds crime, as seen in Gangs of Lagos, where urban violence thrives in neglected communities. Corruption links crime to politics in 4th Republic (2019), sparking debates on reform. Òlòtūré (2019), directed by Kenneth Gyang, brings to light the horrors of human trafficking, using cinéma vérité techniques to immerse viewers in the reality faced by many Nigerians.

4th Republic (2019), by Ishaya Bako, weaves a tale of political intrigue and corruption, illustrating how crime permeates every level of society. Gangs of Lagos (2023), directed by Jade Osiberu, portrays urban poverty and violence, highlighting neglected communities, though its cultural depictions sparked controversy. Weak law enforcement and drug abuse, central to The Trade, Swallow, and Shanty Town, underscore systemic failures. These films demand accountability, forcing viewers to confront Nigeria’s realities.

Yet, they walk a fine line. While they critique, they risk normalizing crime, especially for youth in a country with high crime rates. A 2025 survey found 58.8% of viewers believe Nollywood effectively highlights socio-political issues, but 24.3% question whether it encourages critical reflection or merely sensationalizes.

Audience Connection: Relatable, Yet Divisive

Nigerians watch these dramas because they see themselves, their struggles, their anger, their resilience. King of Boys entered the “Nolly Hall of Fame” for its cultural weight, while Brotherhood (2022) and King of Thieves (2022) each grossed over 300 million Naira, proving commercial pull. On Reddit (e.g., r/Nigeria), fans praise the genre’s raw energy, but diaspora viewers often critique its realism, citing exaggerated portrayals. The thrill of drug cartels, kidnaps, and scams in Crime and Justice or Blood Sisters captivates, but the fear of glamorizing crime lingers.

What They Intend, What They Achieve

Nollywood crime dramas aim to entertain and provoke, to hold a mirror and a megaphone. They intend to expose corruption, poverty, and systemic decay while offering catharsis through stories of survival. King of Boys achieves this, its narrative tight and resonant. To Kill a Monkey aspires to warn against cybercrime but stumbles with pacing. Shanty Town seeks emotional depth but leans on familiar tropes. The genre promises insight but sometimes delivers drama over substance.

Yet, their impact is undeniable. They spark conversations, challenge complacency, and reflect a nation wrestling with its soul. As of today, Nollywood crime dramas remain a vital force, not because they are perfect, but because they dare to speak.