Shina Rambo. The name alone was enough to send chills down the spine of anyone who lived in the South-West of Nigeria in the 1990s. He was not just a criminal—he was a legend of terror, a man whose exploits stretched beyond the borders of Nigeria into places like the Benin Republic. His name was whispered in fear, his deeds spoken of in hushed tones. Banks, highways, police stations—nowhere was safe when Shina Rambo was on the prowl.

Born in 1958 to a military man from Abeokuta, Ogun State, and a mother from Sabongida-Ora, Edo State, his upbringing was anything but ordinary. His father, a rogue soldier, used his position to amass wealth through illegal means. He would return home with wads of blood-stained foreign currency, counting his loot while drinking and smoking with his friends. A young Shina watched, absorbing it all, his father’s criminal ways seeping into him like water into dry ground.

By the time he was seven, he had unknowingly been initiated into a life of crime. His father, in a twisted form of parenting, often dismantled and reassembled firearms in front of him, treating them like a normal household activity. One day, young Shina entered his father’s room and found a disassembled gun. Curiosity took over, and with little effort, he put the weapon back together. When his father returned and saw the loaded gun in his son’s hands, he was livid. Fearful that his son was now a threat, he attempted to kill him—first with a gunshot that narrowly missed and later with a machete while he slept. The machete struck his leg, leaving a scar that would serve as a lifelong reminder of the moment he was truly born into the underworld.

From that point, there was no turning back. Shina Rambo dove headfirst into a world of crime, determined to be the best, the most feared, the most invincible. He sought out spiritual fortification, undertaking dark rituals that would make most men’s stomachs turn. He pounded the bodies of newborn babies in a mortar, ate cooked human tongues, and spent days living in an Iroko tree to gain supernatural protection. He visited the infamous “River of Life” in Ogoja, Cross River State, a place where politicians and wealthy elites went for power. There, he received more occultic abilities—he could change his form at will, making it impossible for the police to catch him. His spiritual wife, an entity that appeared as an Alhaja, became his constant companion. She could drive any car at supernatural speed, making police chases futile.

He became the nightmare of law enforcement. His operations were executed in broad daylight with military precision. Dressed like an action movie character, with bullet belts draped across his massive 6’5” frame, he was an unstoppable force. He robbed banks, hijacked luxury cars, and stormed police stations, killing every officer in sight. He once led a convoy of 40 stolen exotic cars from Lagos to Cotonou without being stopped. No bullet could harm him, no trap could catch him. He was invincible.

With his immense wealth and power, he had access to everything—but there was one rule he followed strictly: he could only sleep with his wife. Despite his notoriety, he never touched another woman. He would entertain them, drink, smoke, and do drugs with them, but he never crossed the line. It was one of the reasons the police never caught him. His wife was his anchor, the only person who could keep him grounded. But in a cruel twist of fate, he lost her and their three children in one tragic police raid. That day, something in him died. His thirst for blood and wealth suddenly felt meaningless. His world collapsed.

It was during this period of despair that an evangelist found him. A man once drenched in blood, who had offered his own mother to dark forces, now sat and listened to the words of salvation. It seemed impossible, but the walls he had built around his heart began to crumble. For the first time in his life, he felt something other than power and rage—he felt remorse. Shina Rambo, the terror of the 90s, became Matthew Oluwanifemi, a man of God. He turned away from crime, embracing a life of preaching and repentance.

Today, he tells his story as a warning. He no longer speaks with pride of his past exploits but with deep regret. He looks at his aged mother and weeps, knowing that his sins cannot be undone. But he believes in redemption. He believes that if a monster like him could find salvation, then anyone can.