kemi adetiba's to kill a monkey is a gripping tale of broken systems, betrayal, and the ultimate price of survival
- Emmanuel Umahi
- 6 days ago
- 3 min read
Updated: 5 days ago

After a four-year hiatus, Kemi Adetiba storms back into the Nollywood scene with To Kill A Monkey — and it’s not just a return, it’s a reckoning. Told across eight tautly woven episodes, this series isn’t just entertaining; it’s a soul punch wrapped in cybercrime, suspense, and brutal Nigerian realism.
From the very first episode, To Kill A Monkey doesn’t let up. The pacing is relentless, yet never rushed. Every moment, every silence, and every betrayal feels earned. With stellar acting, sharp dialogue, and plot twists you won’t see coming, the series proves Nollywood can be both deeply introspective and binge-worthy.
A Familiar Face, A Different Monster
At the heart of this story is Efemini — a downtrodden restaurant worker played with haunting precision by William Benson. Efemini is the Nigerian everyman in survival mode. Life has chewed him up: he loses his mother, his job, a child (he’s a father to triplets), and even his dignity. He is robbed, abused, and mocked — all in a single episode. It’s a spiral many Nigerians know too well.
Enter Oboz (Bucci Franklin), an old university acquaintance turned cybercrime kingpin who recruits Efe into a syndicate that hides behind monkey masks. Armed with AI skills and nothing left to lose, Efe transforms from a desperate man into the orchestrator of one of Nigeria’s most complex digital fraud networks. But every rise has a fall.
Caught in the Crossfire
On the flip side is Mo Ogunlesi (played by the ever-commanding Bimbo Akintola), a top officer at the Nigerian Cybercrime Commission. She’s grieving the loss of her family but channels that grief into her pursuit of justice. Her mission leads her straight into the chaos of the “Monkey Case,” where Efe’s genius meets her obsession. The resulting cat-and-mouse game keeps you guessing till the final minute.
Twists, Betrayals, and Brutal Honesty
If there's one thing To Kill A Monkey does brilliantly, it’s suspense. Betrayals hit like stray bullets. Efe’s side chick? She’s a plant. His wife Nosa (Stella Damasus)? Sleeping with their doctor. Even Oboz doesn’t see Efe’s quiet betrayal coming. And Mo Ogunlesi? Her trusted colleague is on Efe’s payroll. The betrayals aren’t just shocking — they feel dangerously close to home.
Music That Speaks
The music is more than background noise — it’s a character in itself. From melancholic strings to pulsating beats, the score amplifies every scene. It echoes the emotional tension in the room and the storm brewing inside each character. Fans of Kunle Afolayan’s musical storytelling will feel right at home here.
A Story That Cuts Deep
Still, the series isn’t perfect. Its tension-heavy dialogue leaves little room for the plot to breathe. A few scenes could’ve used more quiet. But that’s a small price to pay for a story that dares to ask: Is integrity truly a choice when survival is at stake?
To Kill A Monkey doesn’t glorify crime, but it doesn’t preach either. It shows you how people like Efe get here — not out of greed, but out of need. It holds up a mirror to a society that punishes the poor for trying to survive while rewarding the systems that fail them.
Final Verdict
In the end, To Kill A Monkey is more than a cybercrime thriller — it’s a hard look at what desperation can do to the human spirit. It’s a story about broken men in a broken system, trying to put together a life with whatever they have left. It’s gritty. It’s real. And it cements Kemi Adetiba’s return as one of the boldest voices in Nollywood storytelling.
Nollywood isn’t just evolving — it’s roaring.
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