Friends, let me relate to you a story that's fresher than morning dew. In recent hours, the esteemed officials of Nigeria's Economic and Financial Crimes Commission—or EFCC, as folks call them—came calling at the ritzy neighborhood of Lekki with the determination of Mississippi floodwaters.

I reckon, among the unlucky individuals was one Wole DSB Afolabi, who carries the artistic name of Wole DSB. Ain't that a predicament for a purveyor of tunes to find himself caught in the unforgiving clutches of the law?

The surprise visit—executed with the precision of a master carpenter—captured a total of thirty-eight alleged cyber criminals. They were gathered up like autumn leaves in October.

Spread out before the cameras were the fruits of their alleged misdeeds: bottles of codeine syrup, tools of the digital trade, and other contraband that would make a preacher turn pale.

It strikes me that these internet swindlers, as they're commonly called, have a special fondness for the luxurious items in life—similar to how a riverboat gambler might flaunt his good fortune.

The EFCC chairman, in addressing this notable catch, emphasized that the operation forms part of their continuing efforts to rid Nigeria of the scourge of internet fraud. That's mighty righteous, though I reckon as many new swindlers emerge as lilies after a spring rain.

Our friend Wole DSB now faces weighty allegations that could place him in a less melodious environment for quite some time.

Imagine that not long ago he might have been composing melodies, and today he's composing statements for investigators. Fortune has a manner of shifting like river currents.

If this account stand as a lesson to others? I reckon it might, though human nature being what it is, there'll always be those who think they're smarter than the law.

And so, as this tale continues in the courts, we common folks can only look on and ponder at the strange journeys that lead a man of music to exchange his stage for a jailhouse bunk.