As the country reels from the shock of yet another brutal killing, this time that of Albert Ojwang, allegedly at the hands of police officers, I turn my gaze once again to a worrying pattern of violence perpetrated by those sworn to protect life.
Ojwang’s death is not just tragic. It is grotesque.
The young teacher was reportedly removed from the warmth and safety of his home, his parents, wife, and child left behind, only to be transported hundreds of kilometres from his jurisdiction and beaten to death in what appears to be a calculated and cold-blooded execution.
His suspected killers? Police officers. The very men who should have safeguarded his rights and protected his dignity. If the post-mortem results are to be believed, and they show no signs consistent with suicide, then this was nothing short of murder, carried out under the cover of uniform.
The brutality mirrors another dark moment in Kenya’s recent history, the August 2, 2021 deaths of the Kianjokoma brothers, Benson Njiru and Emmanuel Mutura. Just like Ojwang, they were arrested, disappeared under police custody, and returned to the public as lifeless bodies accompanied by a hastily written script.
According to police, the Kianjokoma brothers “jumped” from a moving police vehicle and “plunged” head-first to their deaths. A claim that defied logic, public decency, and basic physics. In Ojwang’s case, authorities alleged that he had thrown himself head-first into a concrete wall at Nairobi’s Central Police Station.
A similarly implausible narrative. Both cases reek of state-sponsored fabrications, feeble attempts at damage control from a force drowning in blood and impunity.
These so-called explanations insult the intelligence of Kenyans. Even a nursery school child would question them. And so did the public.
The backlash on social media following Ojwang’s death was swift, fierce, and justified, forcing the National Police Service into hurried damage limitation mode. But even their updated narrative failed to convince.
For Kianjokoma , we are glad that the suspected officers were put behind bars after online frenzy by Kenyans , we hope the same will apply to the Nairobi suspects to at least bring justice to the family. These are not isolated case.
It is part of a disturbing continuum. Kenya is still reeling from the trauma of the 2016 murders of human rights lawyer Willie Kimani, his client Josphat Mwenda, and their taxi driver Joseph Muiruri. The three were abducted by police officers and later found dumped in a river, tortured, brutalised, lifeless.
Justice eventually caught up with their killers, officers Fredrick Leliman, Sylvia Wanjiku, Stephen Cheburet, and civilian police informer Joseph Ngugi, who now serve long prison sentences. But justice delayed is justice denied, and no jail term will ever restore the lives they took or the trust they shattered.
It begs the question: do Kenyan police ever learn?
How is it that, despite the high-profile convictions, despite the glare of international attention, and despite the Constitution’s explicit protections under Article 49, police officers continue to abduct, torture, and murder with apparent impunity?
Is it ignorance? Is it arrogance? Or is it simply the culture of a broken institution where badges embolden instead of restrain?
When Kenyans demand reform, they’re not asking for miracles. They want basic legal procedures enforced: that anyone arrested is informed of the reason, presented before a court within 24 hours, and not subjected to torture or inhuman treatment. These are rights guaranteed by law and the Constitution.
More fundamentally, Kenyans ask if the police understand that life is sacred. No person in uniform has authority to extinguish a life, especially inside a police station.
It is said that the measure of a civilised society is how it treats its most vulnerable. If that is true, then what do these murders say about us? Let us not wait for another viral hashtag, another hashtagged name etched in blood, before we act.
We pray for a day when the Kenyan police will uphold the sanctity of life—not violate it. Until then, we must keep asking uncomfortable questions. Because no jail term, no matter how long, can ever bring back the dead.