THE AGENCY – CHARACTER BACKSTORY 

A thoughtful portrait of the journeys that shaped our characters in The Agency; honest, human, and deeply defining.

Dale “Bámídélé” Da Silva 

Dale was five years old when tragedy struck. Born to a Nigerian father and a Portuguese mother in Lagos, he enjoyed the comfort of a stable middle-class upbringing. On a fateful afternoon, his father, Babáfẹ́mi Theophilus Da Silva, and his sister, Morẹ́nikẹ́, travelled to a neighbouring state to retrieve the remains of their father, Dale’s grandad. On their way home, they were involved in a fatal accident that claimed their lives and those of several others. 

As a child, Dale had little understanding of what happened; he only remembered the constant tears of his mother and grandmother. After the tragedy, his mother, Francisca, moved into his paternal grandmother’s home so both women could grieve together. Fortunately, the Da Silvas all lived on the same street, so Dale had always been close to his grandparents and found some familiarity in their presence. 

But Francisca struggled with widowhood in Nigeria. Feeling overwhelmed, she quietly made plans, unbeknownst to her mother-in-law—to leave the country with her son. She relocated to the United States, where she rebuilt her life, working as a fund manager on Wall Street before eventually remarrying. 

Dale, however, did not adapt as easily. His relationship with his stepfather was fraught, especially as the man occasionally became physically abusive toward Francisca. His poor influence exposed her to unhealthy habits like smoking and excessive drinking—which only deepened the sense of instability in the home. Dale received little attention from his overworked mother, and his struggles worsened. His one emotional lifeline was the bond he maintained with his grandmother, whom he deeply missed. 

As he grew older, he grappled with unbridled anger, often getting into trouble at school. The tension at home escalated to the point where, as a teenager, he exchanged blows with his stepfather. Tired of the chaos and desperate for distance, he enlisted in the Navy immediately after earning his high-school diploma. Dale excelled through the ranks and eventually became a Captain. 

During his service, he met Jackie Madison at a popular bar in New York. They dated for over a year before marrying, and their union produced three children, two girls and a boy. In that period, Dale also lost his mother to cancer. 

As a Navy SEAL, he was frequently deployed outside the United States and rarely home. One Thanksgiving, he returned unexpectedly to surprise Jackie, only to find her with another man. As a seasoned officer, he had learned to master his emotions, but nothing prepared him for what happened next. In the chaos of the confrontation, as he was walking away, the man in his bed giggled which made Dale fly into a rage. A brawl ensued and the man fell and struck his head on the edge of a stool. He died instantly. 

Dale was charged, found guilty of manslaughter, and sentenced to ten years in prison. Overwhelmed with shame, he cut off all communication with his grandmother. While incarcerated, he hired a private investigator to conduct DNA tests on his children. The results revealed that only the youngest, his son, was biologically his. 

When he became eligible for early release due to good conduct and his service to the country, Jackie obtained a restraining order preventing him from seeing the children. By the time he stepped out of prison at age fifty, Dale faced an uncertain future. He now had to decide whether to remain in New York and attempt to rebuild his life or return to Nigeria to reconnect with the grandmother who fortunately was alive and well. 

Ọládùnjoyè Cole  

Ládùn is the only child of Dérójú Cole, a serial entrepreneur who spared no expense to give her daughter the best life she could afford. She attended top-tier schools and later graduated from a prestigious private university; a financial stretch for Dérójú, but one she embraced wholeheartedly to ensure her daughter’s success. 

Despite the comfort around her, Ládùn carried questions her mother could never answer. She knew nothing about her father, what he looked like or what led to his death. Dissatisfied with the vague explanations she received, she eventually stopped asking, but the silence left a wound. The void made her introspective, preferring solitude and quietly studying people’s habits. Being around friends who constantly spoke about their fathers only deepened her sense of absence. 

She dreaded school days tied to family discussions, projects like the family tree or celebrations such as Father’s Day. On one occasion, her mother relented and allowed her skip school entirely to avoid the event. Still, Dérójú’s steady encouragement helped her regain balance, often reminding her to appreciate what she had, as many children had even less. 

Academically, Ládùn was exceptional, consistently earning straight A’s. By graduation, opportunities poured in from financial institutions to oil and gas firms and IT companies. Yet none of these appealed to her. She was drawn to brand management; a space where her creative, observant nature could thrive. She loved understanding why people made certain choices and how brands shaped behaviour. So despite more lucrative offers, she chose to join a fast-growing creative agency. 

And from the very beginning, she excelled. 

Juliana “Máàmí” Da Silva 

Juliana had built a fulfilling life, married, with two grown children and a grandchild. It was a stark contrast to the turbulence of her childhood. 

She was the love child of Chief Williams, SAN, one of the country’s foremost legal minds. When his wife discovered the affair and the existence of Juliana, her mother, Chief’s secretary, acted swiftly to protect her. With no influence, wealth, or security of her own, she moved Juliana from one relative to another to keep her away from the chaos surrounding her birth. 

Those years were harsh. Juliana endured neglect, loneliness, malnourishment, and emotional abuse. She was routinely treated as unpaid labour; first to wake, last to sleep, buried in chores while other children played. Whenever her mother visited, she recognised her daughter was not being properly cared for, but taking her home was too risky, and she lacked the means to support her. So the cycle continued: another relative, another house, the same hardship. Most years, Juliana didn’t even know where she would spend Christmas. 

Yet she refused to be defined by her circumstances. She found solace in her faith, regularly attending services at the local Aládúrà church, where she learned resilience. She pursued education with fierce determination, borrowing books, teaching herself, and asking teachers countless questions. Her curiosity endeared her to several educators who took her under their wing. Books became her escape and her armour; she asked her mother for them every time she wrote home. 

Education, she believed, was the ladder she needed to climb out of the life she had been handed. 

During this journey, she met a young primary school teacher in her village. They became inseparable, kindred spirits bound by humility and ambition. Their friendship grew into love, and eventually marriage. Together, they moved to Lagos in search of opportunities. He joined the state civil service, while Juliana pursued trading. Their union produced two children, Ọbáfẹ́mi and Morẹ́nikẹ́. 

Years later, Juliana learned of the vast inheritance her estranged father had left for her. She wanted nothing to do with it or with the man she never knew. But her husband urged her to claim it for the family’s future. Even with this newfound wealth, they continued to live modestly, choosing simplicity over extravagance. 

Decades passed. Her children were in their late forties when tragedy struck. Babáfẹ́mi, her husband, who had retired from the civil service and begun lecturing at a state university in his state of origin slumped and died while in office. As Obafemi and Morẹ́nikẹ́ travelled to retrieve his remains, disaster struck again: both siblings were killed in a ghastly accident. 

Juliana was left with only her daughter-in-law and young grandson. Then, without warning, her daughter-in-law fled abroad with the child, cutting all communication. Juliana received no explanation, no forwarding address, just silence. 

Now elderly and alone, she lives with a single, aching question: 
Will she ever see her grandson again? 

Elizabeth “MD” Benson  

Elizabeth, fondly called “MD,” was the youngest of five children and the only girl, a position that made her the undisputed favourite of her father, an architect, while her mother stayed home to raise the family. Growing up with four older brothers turned her into a natural tomboy: resilient, assertive, and confident. These traits would later become the bedrock of her leadership style. 

She excelled academically and consistently held leadership roles from primary school through university; positions she initially disliked but took on at her father’s insistence. Over time, she embraced leadership as second nature. Yet beneath her admiration for her father lay a quiet resentment. She disliked how dependent her mother was on him and how that dependence shaped their marriage. Determined never to be in such a position, MD vowed to be independent, self-sufficient, and fiercely competitive. 

After university, she joined one of Lagos’ foremost advertising franchises, Baggio & Baggio. There, she encountered a formidable rival James whose competition with her dramatically boosted the agency’s performance. The agency’s franchisees, Adétọ́lá Oni and Lánre Lawson, titans in the industry, welcomed the rivalry, as it drove growth and sharpened both talents. By her late twenties, Elizabeth married her longtime boyfriend. 

Years of hard work later, after helping expand Baggio & Baggio’s footprint across key states, Elizabeth decided it was time to build something of her own. Her vision was to explore experiential marketing, an emerging niche her mentors weren’t willing to invest in, as traditional advertising remained extremely profitable. The only obstacle was funding. To launch the kind of agency she envisioned, she needed a setup that reflected scale and professionalism. 

Her husband stepped in, providing the capital she required and an executive role. With her mentors’ blessing, and with a few junior executives allowed to follow her, she founded The Blue Agency. Those were lean years; experiential marketing was still new, and many prospects were unconvinced. But through persistence, sharp strategy, and her husband’s network, she secured her first set of indigenous and international clients. Her team delivered brilliantly, marking the beginning of The Blue Agency’s rise. 

Then came the blow that changed everything: she discovered her husband’s infidelity. The fallout was brutal, custody battles, disputes over business rights, and fractured alliances. But MD emerged resolute. She cut ties with every associate connected to her ex-husband, rebuilt her operations, and tightened her circle. 

Her priorities crystallised into two pillars: The Blue Agency’s continued dominance, and her children. Everything else became secondary.