Netflix’s To Kill A Monkey has sparked a wave of intense conversation and controversy, centering on its complex lead, Efemini Edewor, played with gripping nuance by William Benson.
The crime thriller, directed by Kemi Adetiba, dives deep into Nigeria’s criminal underbelly, and Efemini’s role in this world has divided viewers. Is he a victim of circumstance or a man who knowingly chose a dark path? Is he a hero derailed by hardship or a hypocrite masking greed with nobility?
Much of this debate is by design. Efemini isn’t portrayed as a traditional hero or outright villain. Instead, the series offers him up as a morally ambiguous figure, one whose decisions invite us to wrestle with uncomfortable truths about poverty, desperation, masculinity, and morality in a broken society. It’s this gray area that keeps audiences talking, and it’s precisely what makes the question of blame, of who Efemini really is, so contentious.
This report argues that Efemini Edewor is a tragic and layered character shaped by suffocating societal pressures and his own deteriorating moral compass. While his flaws are glaring, the avalanche of blame he receives often overlooks the web of systemic dysfunction and other complicit players surrounding him. To Kill A Monkey isn’t just a story about crime; it’s a haunting reflection of what happens when a society fails its people.
Efemini Edewor: A man already at the edge
Efemini is introduced not just as poor, but as suffocating under the weight of his circumstances. A first-class graduate working as a low-paid waiter in Egbeda, Lagos, he’s trying to support his pregnant wife, Nosa (Stella Damasus), who’s expecting triplets. When one of the babies dies due to being severely underweight, Efemini weeps, not just from grief, but from a grim sense of relief. One less mouth to feed. It\’s a chilling moment of vulnerability that hints at a man crushed by the enormity of responsibility and failure.
His quiet realization that he now understands his own father’s poverty-driven coldness, reveals the cyclical nature of generational trauma. This isn’t just about money. It’s about the psychological erosion that comes with being constantly powerless in the face of suffering.
The pressure to \’provide\’ and what it costs
Efemini’s turn to crime isn’t immediate. When Oboz (Bucci Franklin), a notorious cybercrime kingpin, offers him a chance to join his operation, Efemini initially declines. “I don’t have the liver for it,” he says. But reality doesn’t care for virtue. The combination of sexual harassment at work, abuse within his household, and the physical starvation of his children breaks him.
Eventually, he returns, not as a foot soldier, but as a strategist, proposing the use of artificial intelligence in a new and terrifyingly sophisticated fraud scheme. “Efe didn’t wake up wanting to defraud people,” the narrator reminds us. “Life pushed him there, one painful moment at a time.”
The show positions his descent into crime not as a conscious rebellion against morality, but as a last resort in a system with no safety nets. In this way, To Kill A Monkey asks us to reconsider what we mean when we say someone had a “choice.”
Too much suffering, not enough nuance?
Still, the series arguably overplays Efemini’s suffering. From the unsympathetic boss to the abusive mother-in-law, the early episodes are saturated with scenes meant to showcase how low he’s fallen. Ironically, this heavy-handedness may alienate viewers. Rather than generating empathy, it risks painting Efemini as melodramatic, making him less relatable, not more.
From victim to architect
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The most pivotal shift in Efemini’s story comes when he proposes a game-changing AI scam, one that involves stealing people’s likeness to defraud their loved ones. The show fast-forwards four years, and suddenly, Efemini’s family is wealthy and comfortable.
But we don’t get to see how he got there. This storytelling choice, skipping over the build-up of his criminal empire, robs viewers of witnessing his moral descent in real time. It’s a missed opportunity that makes his later selfishness and poor decisions feel abrupt rather than earned.
Was it still about family or was it about greed?
Once he has money, Efemini’s choices stop making sense if viewed only through the lens of necessity. It is important to note that he promised his wife they’d stop once they had enough to start a business. But he got greedy and didn’t stop.
What began as a desperate attempt to feed his family slowly morphs into an appetite for power and wealth. And that transition, while believable, feels less impactful because we never saw it unfold step by step. As a result, many viewers see his later actions not as survival, but as betrayal.
A hypocrite in love and loyalty
Efemini’s moral slide isn’t just professional, it’s deeply personal. He cheats on his wife, Nosa with Amanda Sparkles (Sunshine Rosman), then reacts violently when she begins to move on. Amanda Sparkles, as it turns out, is a traitor working against him. The personal and professional collide, and Efemini is undone not just by external threats, but by his own contradictions. His hypocrisy is a red thread that runs through his downfall.
The blame game: why everyone points at Efemini
Critics and fans alike haven’t been kind. Efemini is called a “crybaby,” “spineless,” “useless,” and “a terrible decision-maker.” Many zero in on his betrayal of Oboz, arguing that Efemini turned on the man who gave him a chance.
From Oboz’s view, Efemini disrespected the very system that saved him. Despite being let go alive, despite knowing the risks, Efemini \”didn\’t declare his income\” and exploded in front of Oboz’s men and family. Even his wife’s eventual infidelity, to some, seems like a reaction to Efemini’s growing distance and moral compromise. But is he solely to blame?
Shared guilt: The others who pulled strings
Oboz: The dark king with his own code
Oboz, played masterfully by Bucci Franklin, is no saint. He’s a violent, egotistical crime lord who traffics humans. And yet, somehow viewers sympathize with him. He took care of his people. He trusted Efemini. He built something. His tragic flaw isn’t just brutality, it’s being a misunderstood king who rules without respect. Still, when pushed, he shows his true face, nearly killing Efemini at his child’s birthday party, sleeping with Efemini\’s daughter. If Efemini is guilty of betrayal, Oboz is guilty of monstrous cruelty.
Nosa: Not just a victim
Nosa, played by Stella Damasus, starts off as the archetypal long-suffering wife. But her eventual affair with the doctor complicates things. Some viewers call her “insensitive” and “the real villain.” But her decisions, like Efemini’s, are born of exhaustion and erosion. She’s left to pick up the pieces of a family slowly consumed by her husband’s choices. Her betrayal doesn’t excuse Efemini, but it does spread the blame.
Inspector Mo: The system’s broken mirror
Inspector Mo (Bimbo Akintola) is deeply flawed. Haunted by personal loss, she chases the Monkey gang like it’s therapy. But she’s also blind, missing obvious red flags, including a mole in her own team. Her shortcomings highlight the deep institutional rot that lets criminals thrive. The very system meant to deliver justice is compromised from within.
The Teacher: Pure evil, pure pressure
Then there’s The Teacher (Chidi Mokeme), a villain so sadistic he eats people. He’s the personification of evil. When he threatens Efemini’s family, the stakes shift. Suddenly, Efemini’s actions feel less like choices and more like desperate reactions. It\’s no longer just about morality. It’s about survival.
The bigger picture: A rotten system
To Kill A Monkey is ultimately a mirror held up to Nigeria’s fractured moral landscape. Internet fraud. Institutional decay. Intergenerational poverty. The series doesn’t just point fingers, it asks hard questions. How do you stay clean in a filthy system? How far would you go to protect your own?
The idea of “killing a monkey”, of destroying your own innocence, becomes a central metaphor. Whether it’s Efemini, Oboz, Mo, or Nosa, everyone eventually crosses a line. Everyone makes compromises. In this world, survival and morality are often at odds.
Conclusion: No heroes, only people
Efemini Edewor is not the villain of To Kill A Monkey. He’s not the hero either. He’s a product of a broken world, a man trying, failing, to protect his family while slowly losing his way. His downfall isn’t just about greed or weakness. It’s about what happens when a society fails to offer real choices.
Kemi Adetiba’s To Kill A Monkey is bold, messy, and necessary. It blurs lines between good and evil, forcing viewers to sit in discomfort. It’s a story about what it means to survive and what it costs. And in doing so, it elevates Nollywood storytelling to a daring new level.
In the end, the series isn’t asking us to excuse Efemini. It’s asking us to look at ourselves, and the systems we live in, and ask: in his shoes, would we have done better?
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