Keeping Up With The Discourse : Is the Kenya Police Service Devoid of Humanity?

The tragic death of Albert Ojwang, a 31-year-old teacher and social media influencer from Voi, has ignited a firestorm of grief, outrage, and questions across Kenya. On June 7, 2025, Ojwang was arrested at his family home in Kakot, Homa Bay, for allegedly posting “defamatory” content about Deputy Inspector General (DIG) of Police Eliud Lagat on X. Less than 24 hours later, he was dead in a cell at Nairobi’s Central Police Station, with the official narrative claiming he took his own life by banging his head against a wall.

Albert Ojwang was more than a statistic. He was a Kiswahili and Religious Studies teacher, a father to a two-month-old child, and a son to Meshack Opiyo, who raised him through backbreaking work in a quarry. Known for his bold political commentary on X, Ojwang was a voice for many young Kenyans frustrated with systemic issues like corruption and inequality. His arrest, however, stemmed from a post that allegedly tarnished DIG Lagat’s reputation—a post so minor that it was reportedly taken down before his apprehension and may not even have been authored by him.

The circumstances of his arrest are as troubling as they are perplexing. Plainclothes DCI officers stormed his family’s home in Homa Bay while he ate lunch with his wife, mother, child, and brother. Without clear explanation, they handcuffed him, drove him 350 kilometers to Nairobi’s Central Police Station, and failed to book him in the Occurrence Book (OB)—a violation of basic procedure. By Sunday morning, June 8, 2025, Ojwang was dead, his body bearing signs of severe trauma: a deformed head, blood oozing from his nose, and scratches suggesting he was dragged. The police claim he committed suicide, but the story doesn’t add up.

Gaps in the Suicide Narrative

The official account—that Ojwang killed himself by hitting his head against a cell wall—crumbles under scrutiny. First, an audio recording obtained by the Nation reveals Ojwang speaking calmly to a friend from custody, showing no signs of distress or suicidal intent. Second, inmates reportedly heard screams from his cell, contradicting the idea of a quiet, self-inflicted death. Third, the physical state of his body—swollen, bruised, and bloodied—suggests far more than a head injury from a wall. Why was his family denied access to the cell? Where is the CCTV footage that could clarify what happened? And why was a man arrested for a minor social media post isolated “like a terrorist,” as his father, Meshack, put it, in a Nairobi cell far from home?

The lack of transparency fuels suspicion. The National Police Service (NPS) claims the case is documented under OB number 09/8/06/2025, yet reports conflict on whether Ojwang died at the station or at Mbagathi Hospital. The absence of a booking record in Homa Bay or Nairobi raises red flags about due process. If this was truly a suicide, why the secrecy? Why the rush to transfer him across counties for a non-violent offense? These gaps point to a deeper issue: a system that seems more intent on covering its tracks than delivering truth.

A Heavy-Handed Response to a Tweet

Perhaps the most infuriating aspect of this tragedy is the disproportionate response to Ojwang’s alleged offense. A single post on X, described as “defamatory” by DIG Lagat, triggered a chain of events that ended in a man’s death. In a country where freedom of expression is enshrined in the Constitution, the arrest of a citizen for a remotely slanderous comment—without evidence of incitement or immediate harm—reeks of authoritarian overreach. Why was Ojwang not summoned to a local station for questioning? Why was he whisked away to Nairobi, bypassing standard protocols? And why did a senior official like DIG Lagat personally lodge a complaint over a social media post, mobilizing the full might of the DCI against a teacher?

This incident fits a disturbing pattern. The Kenya Kwanza administration has gone after social media activists, particularly those criticizing policies like the Finance Bill or exposing government excesses. Ojwang’s death comes amid a wave of arrests targeting vocal Gen Z influencers, who have used platforms like X to amplify calls for accountability. Former Deputy President Rigathi Gachagua has accused DIG Lagat of running Central and Kamukunji Police Stations as “torture chambers” outside Inspector General Douglas Kanja’s oversight. Senator Boni Khalwale likened the incident to the killing of Steve Biko in apartheid South Africa, warning of a slide into “political darkness.” Is this what Kenya has come to—silencing dissent with deadly force?

A Nation’s Outrage

Kenyans have not stayed silent. The hashtag #JusticeForAlbertOjwang has trended on X, with users demanding transparency and accountability. Protests erupted along Ngong Road near Nairobi Funeral Home, with activists chanting for President Ruto’s resignation and DIG Lagat’s suspension. Civil society groups like Amnesty Kenya and Haki Africa have labeled the death “suspicious,” calling for urgent investigations by the Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) and Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR). The Law Society of Kenya’s Faith Odhiambo rejected the police’s narrative, pointing to clear signs of foul play. At Pwani University, opposition leaders like Kalonzo Musyoka and Eugene Wamalwa honored Ojwang with a moment of silence, emphasizing that justice must be seen to be done.

Meshack Opiyo’s heartbreaking testimony has only amplified the outrage. “I raised him through hardship,” he said, describing how officers stormed his home and took his only child. “They told me he’s dead, but how? His body was swollen, blood everywhere.” His words resonate with a nation tired of unexplained deaths in custody, from the abductions during the 2024 Finance Bill protests to the countless others swept under the rug.

The Kenya Police Service is tasked with protecting citizens, not punishing them for their opinions. Yet, Ojwang’s case suggests a force more concerned with shielding the powerful than upholding justice. The heavy-handed arrest, the opaque detention process, and the implausible suicide narrative point to a system that prioritizes control over compassion. When a teacher’s life is snuffed out over a tweet, when a father’s pleas for answers are met with silence, and when a nation’s cries for justice are dismissed with interdictions of junior officers, one must ask: Where is the humanity?

The NPS’s claim of an impartial IPOA investigation is a start, but it’s not enough. Kenyans deserve access to CCTV footage, a transparent post-mortem, and accountability for every officer involved, from the DCI team in Homa Bay to DIG Lagat himself. The government must also address the broader issue of targeting social media voices. If a single post can lead to a man’s death, what does that say about the state of free speech in Kenya? What does it say about a police service that seems to operate with impunity?

A Call for Justice

Albert Ojwang’s death is not just a tragedy; it’s a wake-up call. It’s a reminder that the fight for accountability, transparency, and humanity in our institutions is far from over. As we mourn a teacher, a father, and a voice for the voiceless, we must demand answers. We must demand reforms. And we must demand a police service that serves the people, not one that silences them.

The Kenya Police Service is tasked with protecting citizens, not punishing them for their opinions. Yet, Ojwang’s case suggests a force more concerned with shielding the powerful than upholding justice. The heavy-handed arrest, the opaque detention process, and the implausible suicide narrative point to a system that prioritizes control over compassion. When a teacher’s life is snuffed out over a tweet, when a father’s pleas for answers are met with silence, and when a nation’s cries for justice are dismissed with interdictions of junior officers, one must ask: Where is the humanity?

The NPS’s claim of an impartial IPOA investigation is a start, but it’s not enough. Kenyans deserve access to CCTV footage, a transparent post-mortem, and accountability for every officer involved, from the DCI team in Homa Bay to DIG Lagat himself. The government must also address the broader issue of targeting social media voices. If a single post can lead to a man’s death, what does that say about the state of free speech in Kenya? What does it say about a police service that seems to operate with impunity?

Albert Ojwang’s death is not just a tragedy; it’s a wake-up call. It’s a reminder that the fight for accountability, transparency, and humanity in our institutions is far from over. As we mourn a teacher, a father, and a voice for the voiceless, we must demand answers. We must demand reforms. And we must demand a police service that serves the people, not one that silences them.

Written by Otieno Arudo