Man is not who he is, but what he hides. Many a manβs reputation wouldnβt know his character if they met on the street.
Joined July 2025
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πΊπΈUS Based Nigerian Pharmacistβs 18-Year Marriage Ends in Blood-Soaked Bedroom: Jury Convicts Him of Murdering Wife After She Tried to Leave
Olufemi Oladapo Ademoye (also referred to as Femi; 56 years old at the time of the events and trial) was a pharmacist in Tampa, Florida. He owned Crown Pharmacy on Waters Avenue and was active in the Nigerian professional community, serving as vice president of the Nigerian Association of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Scientists in America (NAPPSA). Juliet Toyin (or Oluwatoyin) Ademoye (approximately 53) ran the familyβs African Eateries restaurant and catering business on the same street; Olufemi often joined her there after closing the pharmacy. Before moving to the United States, she had worked as a secondary-school teacher at a Federal Government College in Nigeria.
The couple had been married for about 18 years and lived in a duplex at 8615 Villa Largo Drive in north Tampa. They had a teenage son (referred to as Seun or Sean), who was roughly 16β17 years old in 2010 and was out of town at the time of the incident. They were described as prominent members of the Nigerian-American community in the Tampa area. Neighbors later noted that Olufemi had a reputation for a temper, including confrontations with the neighborhood association.
The night of June 16, 2010:
According to prosecutors, on the night of June 16, 2010, Olufemi discovered emails showing that Juliet was planning to leave him. She had been confiding in another man living in Nigeria about her unhappy marriage. In one email she sent a photograph of their teenage son with the message: βThis is a photo of your son Seun.β
Enraged, Olufemi called a relative, who advised him to spend the night in a hotel and cool off. He said he would do so, but first wanted to stop briefly at home to collect his passport and some money. Instead, he stayed. The couple argued for hours. Their son was not home.
WHY I K!LLED MY WIFE:
The sad story behind the Hassan Adeyemoβs Florida tragedy.
In 1998, a 21 year old Nigerian soldier named Hassan Adeyemo from Ibadan met and fell in love with an 18 year-old beautiful Hausa girl from Bauchi called Sarah. It was love at first sight.
They got married in 1999 and God blessed them with a beautiful daughter in 2000. After her, they had two other daughters and one boy, making 4 kids. Hassan loved his wife so much and told her not to work because of stress. He was providing everything she ever wanted for her and the kidsβ¦
In 2014, Hassan wanted a better life for his family, so with his wifeβs agreement, he decided to send them to the U.S. Sarah and the kids entered the United States in 2014.
Before they got there, Hassan already arranged a rented house and a car for them. Sarah wasnβt working, Hassan was sending big money to them for upkeep from Nigeria every month. Despite the distance, Hassan bonded with his wife and kids. Everyone was happy.
In 2017, Hassan, who had missed his family so much, decided to relocate to America and stay with them.
Before Hassan got to America, Sarah had started hair braiding just to keep herself busy when the kids were in school. Everyone loved her and the way she braided beautiful styles. Gradually, she became a household name in Orlando, Florida. Ladies flooded her to do their hair.
The unfortunate victims of the tragedy What she was doing for fun became something big overnight. Hassan entered the US, and things were going smoothly. Hassan who was a big man in Nigeria, left everything and came to America to start all over with menial jobs. He had no papers yet, so he was doing jobs that paid him peanuts.
God blessed them with a baby boy in 2018, making their children a total of 5. Sarah was making at least 1,000 a day with the help of her daughters who she had trained. She was very fast and efficient in braiding. With this income, she was able to support the family with all expenses because Hassanβs income couldnβt meet up with the expenses/bills.
Hassan got his papers and started Uber and delivery jobs. He worked from day to night and started contributing his quota to the family, but his contributions was like change to his wife Sarah, was making. In effect, Sarah became the breadwinner of the house.
Issues started because Sarah was always complaining that Hassan couldnβt afford her lifestyle. She became the childrenβs favorite because she gave them everything they asked for, while their dad could not meet up. Sarah entered the house whenever she wished. She became the boss, always calling Hassan lazy and useless, while Hassan always appealed to her for peace to reign.
Hassan, a gentleman didnβt like trouble in any form. Sarah and the children formed their own group in the house, and abandoned their dad to always sort himself out. Sarah stopped cooking for him.
Hassan became depressed and was always begging friends and family members to help talk to his wife. Hassan was always crying like a baby, saying Sarah made him feel less of a man in the house. His friends encouraged him to persevere and ignore whatever she did.
In January 2022, Sarah announced to Hassan that she had bought a house. They moved into the new house, and she continued to treat him very badly. She disrespected him so much, βLeave my house if you cannot obey me, you irresponsible man,β she would often say.
She locked him out in the cold so many times and threw his things out. The children were on their motherβs side because she was the provider. Hassan became very depressed, and started having suicidal thoughts. He told his friends how life is unfair, and that he would kill himself. They advised him to leave the marriage because it was obvious that his wife was no longer in love with him, but he kept on asking, βWhere will I start from? I love my wife. A woman I have invested all my life in. The only woman I ever loved. What did I do to deserve this from her?β
The Voyage, by Professor Moyo Okediji, a professor of Art History at the University of Texas, Houston , United States of America πΊπΈ
About 30 years ago, I slept at the Murtala Muhammed Airport for four days.
No, I was not a homeless vagabond.
I had bought the Nigeria Airways ticket to fly to the United States for a one-year sabbatical leave.
But when I arrived at the airport, I realized that my ticket was not honored, though I had bought it legitimately.
Whenever a plane was about to leave Lagos for New York, the NA officials posted a manifest list, and my name was not there.
They would ask me to wait for the next list.
This drama of βYour name is not yet listed, wait for the next manifest listβ continued for four days.
I couldnβt leave the airport and return home because I lived in Ile Ife, and had bid my people goodbye for one year. They all expected I would be in NY already.
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Nigerian Immigrant and U.S. CitizenπΊπΈ Micheal Shoots his Wife, A Nurse, 7 times, Outside Minnesota Nursing Home, Claims She Told Him Their Child Wasnβt His
Michael Collins Iheme, a Nigerian immigrant and U.S. citizen, born on September 22, 1957, and Anthonia Eberechi Iheme(age 28 at death), also Nigerian, married in 2003. It was Ihemeβs third marriage. He later said he had been reluctant to marry Anthonia because of their age difference and his suspicion that she wanted U.S. permanent residency.
The couple had two children, a son born in 2005 and a daughter born in 2006. After they moved to the United States, Anthonia became a legal permanent resident in April 2006. They separated in August 2007, and Iheme filed for divorce the following month. At the time of the shooting, they were disputing custody of their children.
The Voyage, by Professor Moyo Okediji, a professor of Art History at the University of Texas, Houston , United States of America πΊπΈ
About 30 years ago, I slept at the Murtala Muhammed Airport for four days.
No, I was not a homeless vagabond.
I had bought the Nigeria Airways ticket to fly to the United States for a one-year sabbatical leave.
But when I arrived at the airport, I realized that my ticket was not honored, though I had bought it legitimately.
Whenever a plane was about to leave Lagos for New York, the NA officials posted a manifest list, and my name was not there.
They would ask me to wait for the next list.
This drama of βYour name is not yet listed, wait for the next manifest listβ continued for four days.
I couldnβt leave the airport and return home because I lived in Ile Ife, and had bid my people goodbye for one year. They all expected I would be in NY already.
The Voyage, by Professor Moyo Okediji, a professor of Art History at the University of Texas, Houston , United States of America πΊπΈ
About 30 years ago, I slept at the Murtala Muhammed Airport for four days.
No, I was not a homeless vagabond.
I had bought the Nigeria Airways ticket to fly to the United States for a one-year sabbatical leave.
But when I arrived at the airport, I realized that my ticket was not honored, though I had bought it legitimately.
Whenever a plane was about to leave Lagos for New York, the NA officials posted a manifest list, and my name was not there.
They would ask me to wait for the next list.
This drama of βYour name is not yet listed, wait for the next manifest listβ continued for four days.
I couldnβt leave the airport and return home because I lived in Ile Ife, and had bid my people goodbye for one year. They all expected I would be in NY already.
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The Voyage, by Professor Moyo Okediji, a professor of Art History at the University of Texas, Houston , United States of America πΊπΈ
About 30 years ago, I slept at the Murtala Muhammed Airport for four days.
No, I was not a homeless vagabond.
I had bought the Nigeria Airways ticket to fly to the United States for a one-year sabbatical leave.
But when I arrived at the airport, I realized that my ticket was not honored, though I had bought it legitimately.
Whenever a plane was about to leave Lagos for New York, the NA officials posted a manifest list, and my name was not there.
They would ask me to wait for the next list.
This drama of βYour name is not yet listed, wait for the next manifest listβ continued for four days.
I couldnβt leave the airport and return home because I lived in Ile Ife, and had bid my people goodbye for one year. They all expected I would be in NY already.
I was therefore forced to sleep by the door of the NA office at the airport, waiting for the release of the manifest list with my name on it.
I was not alone. There were hundreds of stranded passengers like me thereβmen, women, young, old, tall, short, thin fatβall sorts of people.
The Murtala Mohamed Airport was different then than what we have now.
There were no security officers. People drifted in and out in their hundreds. It was rowdy. There was no order of any sort. Food hawkers milled among the crowd of the stranded passengers like me, selling hot dogs, sandwiches, puff-puff, moin-moin, gala, meat pie, hamburgers, even rice and dodo.
People hawked sodas such as Cocacola, Fanta, Sprite and malt drinks.
The interior of the airport was packed like the Oyingbo market. There were also pickpockets and other fraudsters pulling fast tricks on unsuspecting victims.
β¨I was hesitant to buy anything. I had changed all my naira to dollars at the rate of one dollar to three naira. But if I wanted to change my dollar back to naira, I could only collect one naira for my dollar at the airport, which would be a loss.
I was desperate when I got hungry. But someone was willing to give me two naira for a dollar, so I changed two dollars. I bought some moin-moin and coke.
The guys who helped me to change my money said I had no hope of traveling unless I was willing to bribe someone.
I was adamant. I wasnβt going to bribe anybody. It was my right to fly out, after all, I had paid for my ticket.
By day four, I lost hope of traveling out. I used my handbag as my pillow and reclined on the floor, to take a nap.
The young woman who slept a couple of feet away from me was also napping, snoring loudly. I asked her earlier, and she said she had been there for almost a week. She said she was ready at that point to accept the offer of a Nigeria Airways official who wanted sex in exchange for helping her to get on the manifest list.
For how long I had been asleep I couldnβt tell, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes. It was Segun Odegbami, the famous international soccer star, who played for the Green Eagles. I thought I was dreaming. I had met him through a friend, Tunde Fagbenle, and we had shared drinks at Fagbenleβs house in Lagos a couple of times.
I couldnβt refer to him as my friend, and I didnβt even know he would recognize me or remember my name.
I was a fat nobody next to a big star like him, someone for whom Ebenezer Obey had waxed an album, with the chorus, βIt is a gooooal, Odegbami,β a bestselling song throughout Nigeria.
When I opened my eyes and it was him, I wanted to close my eyes back, thinking I was just dreaming.
But he spoke to me. βMoyo, what are you doing on the floor here?β
I quickly sat up, wiped my eyes, and smile at him. I narrated my story.
He shook his head, and said with a sigh, βThatβs Nigeria Airways for you. I came to see someone off to London, and as I was leaving I happened to see you.β
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βNa so we see am o,β I told him.
βWhere is your ticket?β
I dipped my hand inside the pocket of my agbada, made out of new Ankara textiles. It had double as my daywear and my pajamas for four days. I retrieved the ticket and gave it to him.
He said, βExcuse me for a minute. Let me go and talk with them.β
Then he went inside the Nigeria Airways office, and within minutes he was back, with two young men.
βMoyo, are you ready to go now,β Odegbemi said, βbecause a flight is leaving in about fifteen minutes.β
I didnβt need to say yes. My eyes said it all.
The two young men picked up my luggage.
Odegbami gave me a hug and wished me bon voyage.
The two young men led the way with my luggageβjust a suitcase and my hand luggage.
They took me to the back of the airport, and there was a Peugeot 505 waiting for us.
They loaded my luggage in the boot and drove me down the tarmac to the huge aircraft about half a mile away.
From a persona non grata, I instantly transformed into a VIP, driven on the tarmac like a departing president.
Nobody checked my luggage for any contraband. Everything was loaded directly on the plane and I was given the luggage tags.
I walked to my seat and sank into it. I couldnβt help but notice that the plane was less than half full.
There were empty seats everywhere when the plane took off. Yet, there were scores of people waiting at the airport, denied their right to fly, after paying their fares.
I remembered the poor woman snoring next to me on the floor at the airport.
Tears began to fall from my eyes.
βIf they ever see me again in that godforsaken country,β I swore silently, βthey should cut off my head.β
Professor Moyo Okediji
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Prior to Lindsay Clancy, there was Andrea Yates, she was worse. Itβs interesting how the world moves on real quick from abomination like this.
Andrea Yates was a nurse in Texas at the time she drowned her five children (ages 7 years to 6 months) ONE by ONE in a bathtub after her husband left for work. A jury first convicted her of capital murder; that conviction was overturned, and a 2006 retrial found her not guilty
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Ladies and Gentlemen the Beautiful Queen and her Kingπππ₯ #Sarkified
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When Drake said in his lyrics, βBuilt like Samson, I got strength they canβt explain. They can all come together, still canβt match my game.β
And when Kendrick Lamar said in his lyrics, βTen toes in the streets, no security in sight. I fear no man, I was built for the fight.β
Now we can see whoβs really about it and whoβs just talking.
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My brother in law sent this to me because I asked him to send a picture of a drink
What is he trying to do?
I should report him to his brother
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Chris Brown Twitter/IG story
βI tried to handle this off socials. She wasnβt trying to hear nothing reasonable. Yβall can see the messages for yourselves. $7k a month is βtoo smallβ to her. She wants $30k. Thatβs the conversation she wanted to have.β
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I really can't stand people who waste food for content π
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It seems if a white woman with a white husband somehow gives birth to a black kid, she will automatically have a black eye π
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There had been rumours going around for years about some of the younger male teachers getting involved with female students. It was something students talked about, but nobody ever seemed to have any actual proof. Some of the teachers eventually left the school and were never really spoken about again, while others stayed and continued teaching like nothing had happened.
Then, while my class was away on our senior trip, we heard that the music teacher had been arrested. At first, it was shocking, but things got even worse the following year when two more teachers were arrested.
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Official on the scale and ready to put on a masterclass in the PFL cage. You already know Patrick Habirora doesn't miss! ππͺ
