Who Kîlled Our Parents? EPISODE 1

Adanna and Nkem Okoro had always been their parents’ pride and joy. The Okoro family was a close-knit one, with Mr. Okoro’s strict discipline balanced by Mrs. Okoro’s warmth and humor. Their small home in Lagos was always filled with laughter, love, and dreams.

That fateful evening, everything seemed normal. Mrs. Okoro had cooked a delicious dinner—jollof rice, grilled chicken, and salad. The family gathered around the dining table, their faces glowing with happiness.

“Adanna,” their father began, pointing his fork at her, “you’ll make a great lawyer one day. You’ve got your old man’s stubbornness!”

Adanna laughed. “That’s because you taught me to stand up for what’s right, Papa.”

“And you, Nkem,” their mother teased, “when will we stop finding fabric scraps all over the house?”

“Mama!” Nkem giggled. “One day, I’ll be designing dresses for the First Lady. You’ll see!”

The evening felt perfect—until it wasn’t.

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Hours later, screams shattered the quiet night. Nkem ran into Adanna’s room, her face pale and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Adanna! Mama and Papa are sick!”

The sisters rushed to their parents’ room to find a horrifying scene. Their father was on the floor, clutching his stomach and groaning in pain. Their mother lay on the bed, vomiting uncontrollably.

“Mama! Papa!” Adanna shouted, kneeling beside them. “What’s happening?”

Mrs. Okoro tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak whisper. “The food…”

Adanna’s heart raced. She grabbed her phone and called for an ambulance while Nkem cried uncontrollably.

“Stay with us!” Adanna pleaded, holding her father’s hand. “Help is on the way!”

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At the hospital, the news came swiftly and cruelly. The doctor approached the sisters with a grave expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Your parents didn’t survive. Their symptoms point to acute poisoning.”

Adanna froze, her mind struggling to process the words. Nkem collapsed onto the floor, wailing.

“Poisoning?” Adanna whispered, her voice trembling. “How is that possible?”

The doctor hesitated. “An autopsy would confirm the cause of death, but…”

Before he could finish, their uncle, Chief Okechukwu, stormed into the room. His presence was commanding, but there was a coldness in his eyes.

“There will be no autopsy,” he declared firmly.

Adanna turned to him, her grief replaced by anger. “Uncle, we need answers! Someone poisoned our parents!”

“You will do no such thing,” Chief Okechukwu snapped. “This is a family matter. Let the dead rest in peace.”

Nkem, still sobbing, looked up. “But Uncle, why would anyone want to hurt Mama and Papa?”

Chief Okechukwu’s expression darkened. “Enough questions. Focus on mourning your parents. Leave the rest to me.”

---

Back at home, the sisters sat in silence, their grief giving way to suspicion.

“Adanna,” Nkem whispered, her voice shaky, “what if Uncle doesn’t want an autopsy because he knows something?”

Adanna’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust him. But we need proof.”

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The next day, while cleaning their parents’ room, Adanna found a hidden envelope tucked inside her father’s favorite book. Inside were legal documents and a note in her father’s handwriting:

“If anything happens to me, trust no one. Protect each other.”

Adanna showed the note to Nkem, who gasped. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” Adanna said, her voice steady with determination. “But we’re going to find out. We owe it to Mama and Papa.”

Nkem wiped her tears and nodded. “Together.”

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That night, as they prepared for bed, they heard muffled voices outside their window. Peeking through the curtains, they saw Chief Okechukwu talking to two men in dark suits.

“They’re getting too curious,” he said in a low voice. “If they keep digging, it’ll ruin everything.”

Adanna and Nkem exchanged a terrified look. Their uncle wasn’t just refusing an autopsy—he was hiding something dangerous.

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