The 18-seater Toyota Hiace bus screeched to a halt. stopping just a few inches before the gun-wielding police officer.
The burning smell of a burnt clutch hit the air as the driver switched gears and wiped the sweat off his brow.
The deep creases on the face of the burly officer and his flared nostrils made even more sinister by the pointing gun barrel was all the warning the driver needed to be cooperative.
Some passengers hissed and slapped their palms together. A baby let out a wail, he had been suckling happily before the abrupt stop had forced his mother to withdraw her breast.
“Officer, wetin happen na?” The driver asked in a thick Ijaw accent.