By Nyakang’o O’Nyamota
On June 10th, 2025, Albert Ojwang—a teacher, father, and outspoken blogger—was arrested in Nairobi for allegedly “defaming” Deputy Inspector General Eliud Kipkoech Lagat on social media. Two days later, he was dead.
The police claim he hanged himself in custody with his jacket. But a postmortem revealed a far darker truth: blunt trauma to the head, neck compression, and injuries consistent with torture.
Albert’s death did not occur in a vacuum. It mirrors a pattern of extrajudicial killings, enforced disappearances, and state-sponsored intimidation—a grim reality for anyone who dares speak truth to power in Kenya today.
The Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) quickly announced it had launched an investigation into Ojwang’s death. But for many Kenyans, those words rang hollow.
Since its creation in 2011, IPOA has investigated thousands of complaints—many with extensive evidence—yet very few have led to prosecutions, let alone convictions. Victims’ families grow older waiting for justice that never comes. Civil society groups increasingly view IPOA as an institution designed more for optics than outcomes.
In Ojwang’s case, IPOA identified five officers involved, but public confidence in its ability—or will—to secure justice is thin. The authority’s sluggish responses to previous cases, like the killings of Baby Pendo, Yassin Moyo, and the dozens who died during COVID-19 lockdown crackdowns, only deepen public distrust.
Albert Ojwang’s death has sparked something bigger—a reawakening, especially among Gen Z Kenyans. With TikTok, Twitter (X), and Instagram as their arsenal, the country’s youth are tearing down the walls of propaganda with hard evidence, timelines, CCTV footage, and voice recordings.
They are not protesting politics alone—they are protesting a future being robbed from them.
This is the same generation that led mass demonstrations against the 2024 Finance Bill. The same generation that filled the streets when taxes on bread, sanitary pads, and fuel rose while government officials bought new SUVs. And it is the same generation now asking: Why does this government have money to “empower” the elderly every weekend, but not to pay doctors, buy medicine, or fix our roads?
One Script, Many Victims: A Pattern of State Violence
From Kware dumpsite bodies to police station “suicides” to people disappearing after criticizing local officials—this is not chaos. It’s choreography.
Every death follows the same tragic script: arrest (often illegal), torture or death in custody, a fabricated narrative, a slow, silent cover-up—and no justice.
Kenyans have seen this before. Under different regimes. With different uniforms. But always with the same outcome.
Inspector General Kanja and DCI boss Amin Mohamed appeared before the Senate and media with familiar lines: “We’re investigating.” “Let the law take its course.”
But the Mbagathi Hospital CCTV footage reportedly contradicts their timelines. Reports indicate tampered evidence, broken chain-of-custody protocols, and deliberate obstruction. Their failure to address these inconsistencies—and the apparent conflict of interest involving Deputy IG Lagat, the very officer Albert allegedly “defamed”—only deepens the suspicion of a state cover-up.
The Deafening Silence of President Ruto
President William Ruto, a man known for tweeting about every church harambee and youth program, has remained chillingly silent on Ojwang’s death. It’s not just silence—it’s complicity.
His infamous campaign phrase “Nitawasafirisha” (I will ship you far away) once sounded like political banter. Now it sounds more like a death threat. Under his watch, dissent is criminalized, protest is met with teargas, and police brutality is rewarded with promotions—not consequences.
Even Deputy IG Lagat, Ruto’s long-time ally and the subject of Ojwang’s posts, has not publicly addressed the matter—despite growing calls for him to be investigated or at least step aside during the probe.
It is perhaps the greatest irony of all: the government gives out envelopes and wheelbarrows to the elderly every weekend in the name of “empowerment,” while burying the youth during the week.
How does a government claim it has no funds for teachers’ salaries, medical supplies in public hospitals, road maintenance, and SHA support—yet always has money for “empowerment weekends,” PR events, and military-grade crowd-control gear?
Empowering the old while killing the young is not a strategy—it’s a national suicide note.
A Nation on Trial: The Verdict Is Ours to Write
Albert Ojwang’s death may soon join a growing archive of “unsolved” state murders. But Gen Z—and many more—have made it clear: we will not forget.
We are watching IPOA. We are documenting every lie from IG Kanja. We are timestamping every contradiction from the DCI. And we are recording every silence from President Ruto.
This regime may kill truth-tellers. But it cannot kill the truth. And as a nation, we must now decide whether to continue watching injustice unfold—or rise, with the courage that Albert showed in his final words.
They may silence our voices, but never our vision.