Unizik Reacts Following the Death of Diabetic Law Student at University Medical Centre

The sudden death of Miss Isabella Chioma Ajana, a 100-level law student at the Nnamdi Azikiwe University (Unizik), has sparked grief, outrage, and renewed debate about the state of medical care in Nigerian universities. Isabella, described by classmates as bright, kind, and deeply passionate about her legal studies, passed away on July 9, 2025 — just three days after being admitted to the institution’s medical centre following diabetic complications.

Her death has quickly transcended the boundaries of campus grief to become a flashpoint for national conversations about healthcare in educational institutions, medical negligence, and the responsibility of universities to safeguard their students.

According to available accounts, Isabella developed sudden health complications on July 6 and was rushed by friends to the Unizik Medical Centre. Witnesses claim that she was in severe distress upon arrival and required urgent intervention.

The university’s statement insists that she was “promptly attended to by qualified personnel” and that “all necessary emergency procedures were carried out.” However, despite three days of treatment, her condition deteriorated until her untimely death on July 9.

For many students, however, this official version of events did little to dispel suspicions of negligence. Rumors spread across campus, amplified by social media, alleging that Isabella was left unattended for long periods and that crucial drugs were unavailable at the centre.

Within hours of the news breaking, students flooded platforms like X (formerly Twitter), Facebook, and WhatsApp groups with emotional tributes and bitter accusations.

YOU MAY READ

Unizik Law Student D+es After Hostel Reportedly Denies Her Access to Ins¥lin

One law student wrote:

“Isabella didn’t die because of her condition. She died because the medical centre is ill-equipped and unserious. If this could happen to her, it could happen to any of us.”

Another added:

“We pay all these medical fees every semester, yet when we need proper care, we are abandoned. Isabella’s death must not be swept under the rug.”

Student union leaders have since intensified calls for an independent investigation, arguing that the university’s internal review cannot be trusted.

In its statement, Unizik management expressed deep condolences to Isabella’s family and colleagues but strongly denied allegations of negligence. The school maintained that the medical centre had acted responsibly and that Isabella’s underlying diabetic complications were the decisive factor.

“We wish to categorically state that our medical personnel acted with urgency and professionalism. Miss Ajana’s unfortunate death was due to the severity of her condition, despite the best efforts of our staff,” the statement read.

The university also urged the public to respect the privacy of the family and discouraged the spread of “false information” that could inflame the situation further.

While the tragedy is deeply personal for Isabella’s loved ones, it has also opened broader debates about student healthcare across Nigeria. Many universities are grappling with underfunded, understaffed, and poorly equipped medical facilities that are often unfit to handle serious emergencies.

In several institutions, medical centres function more like basic first aid posts than hospitals, with limited diagnostic equipment, shortages of drugs, and long delays in referrals to external hospitals.

Ajana’s death is only the latest in a long list of similar tragedies. In 2022, a student at the University of Benin died after allegedly being denied urgent care. In 2023, students at the University of Ibadan staged protests after accusing their health centre of negligence in another death case.

Most Nigerian universities charge students compulsory medical fees as part of tuition. At Unizik, as in many others, the fee is meant to guarantee access to basic healthcare within campus. But students often complain that despite these payments, they are forced to buy drugs outside or are referred to external hospitals at critical moments.

This raises questions about accountability in the use of these funds. If universities collect medical fees from tens of thousands of students annually, why are their medical centres so poorly equipped?

While policy debates continue, Isabella’s family is left in deep mourning. Sources close to the family described her as their “shining star” and someone who had “a bright future in law.” Her death has left not just a personal void but also a painful symbol of institutional failures.

The family has reportedly remained silent publicly, but student groups have organized vigils in her memory, demanding that her death not be in vain.

The question now is whether Isabella’s death will serve as a wake-up call for Nigerian universities or whether it will fade into the long list of unaddressed tragedies.

For Unizik, the credibility of its internal review is on the line. If student suspicions are not adequately addressed, trust between the institution and its community will remain badly damaged.

For Nigeria as a whole, the case reopens urgent debates about how little value is often placed on student welfare — a reality that undermines the very essence of education.

Miss Isabella Chioma Ajana’s passing is not just the story of a young woman whose dreams were cut short by illness and institutional failure. It is a mirror reflecting the fragile state of healthcare in Nigerian universities and the urgent need for systemic reform.

Unless decisive steps are taken, her story risks becoming just another statistic in a country where preventable deaths too often go unaddressed.

Her death, however tragic, may yet serve as a catalyst — a rallying point for students, parents, and policymakers to insist that the health and lives of young people deserve far greater protection than they currently receive.