How Speaking Freely Feels Criminal and Thinking Critically Could Cost Your Life in Kenya

Nairobi, June 12 – Albert Ojwang, a teacher and blogger, is the latest victim of extrajudicial killing in Kenya. He was arrested on the afternoon of Friday, June 6. By Sunday morning, he was dead. An autopsy revealed he died from head injuries, a compressed neck, and severe bruising across his body. Pathologists dismissed the police-peddled theory that Ojwang had sustained head injuries by “hitting his head against a cell wall” and was found “unconscious in his cell.” Their report confirmed what many feared – he had been tortured and strangled to death.

His case raises even more disturbing questions. After his arrest in Homa Bay County, Ojwang was not logged into the occurrence book at the Nairobi Central Police Station until 29 hours later. The road trip from Homa Bay to Nairobi takes less than seven hours. So where was he during all that missing time? And what happened to him before his name was officially recorded?

Somewhere during those unaccounted 29 hours, a healthy 31-year-old father of one was tortured and killed. The Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) has confirmed that CCTV footage at Nairobi Central Police Station was tampered with, deepening fears of a deliberate cover-up.  Investigators are now turning to phone records, call logs, and witness accounts to fill the gaps. The Inspector General of Police said Ojwang called his family minutes before he was booked into the station at 21:35hours. There are conflicting statements from the Inspector General, the Directorate of Criminal Investigations, and IPOA about when Ojwang was booked and when he was taken to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead on arrival. What happened to him between his arrest in Homa Bay and his entry in the Occurrence Book remains a dark mystery, one that Kenyans urgently need answers to.

The same officers suspected of torturing him to death are now part of the team investigating the case. So far, there are no answers. No accountability. Just another life cut short. Another voice silenced, even as calls for the resignation of top police officers grow louder across the country.

However Ojwang’s death is not unique. It fits into a growing and terrifying pattern in Kenya. More and more, people are being punished for thinking critically and speaking their minds. Dissent has become dangerous. The state is no longer simply ignoring dissent but is actively attacking it.

Just hours before Ojwang’s death, another Kenyan, Rose Njeri Tunguru, a software engineer, was arrested. Pushed into activism by circumstance, not choice, Rose is now one of many caught in the state’s widening crackdown. Her only crime was that she built a digital platform that allowed citizens to give feedback on the controversial 2025 Finance Bill. That was enough to get her arrested.

Authorities accused her of “disrupting parliamentary email systems”. The charge is vague and has no real law backing. She was arrested on May 30, just before Madaraka Day. That timing was no accident. It is now common for police to arrest people just before public holidays or weekends. That way, they can be held for days without access to family or lawyers.

Njeri was kept incommunicado for more than 88 hours. She had to surrender her devices and passwords. Even when the Law Society of Kenya intervened, she was denied bail. No charges were formally filed. No explanation was given. Her arrest sent a clear message that even innovation, or even writing codes, can be criminal if it threatens the status quo.

Kenya is going through an intense and frightening crackdown on free speech. Activists, bloggers, and even ordinary citizens are being abducted, tortured, or killed for speaking up. The very government that rose to power on promise of freedom and openness now mirrors some of the most repressive regimes on the continent.

The Gen Z protests in mid-2024 changed everything. Young people had come together to protest economic injustice and demand accountability from the government. But the state responded with overwhelming brutality.

Across the country, people started to disappear. Protesters were taken from buses and homes, sometimes in broad daylight, by men in masks and in unmarked vehicles. Later, their bodies would be found, dumped in dams or left by roadsides. Others came back from detention broken, carrying the scars of torture.

These are not stories from the past. They are still happening right now. The abductions, the beatings, the murders are all continuing. Each incident sends a chilling message. No one is safe. Not the calm. Not the quiet. Not even the hopeful.

Speaking out, organizing, or simply sharing a critical post online can still result in arrest, disappearance, or death. The streets that once echoed with Gen Z’s defiant chants are now subdued, and patrolled by plainclothes enforcers and watched through surveillance cameras. Phones are being closely monitored, and people can be tracked down with chilling precision, whether they are at home, in the market, or on the run. The regime is not just going after protesters but is going even after the very idea of protest itself. Its aim is clear – to erase an entire generation’s voice before it can rise again.

The government is also using laws to silence people. The Computer Misuse and Cybercrimes Act is now being used to arrest people for spreading what the state deems “false information”. The Public Order Act is used to stop protests and justify police brutality. These laws, once meant to protect the public, are now used to crush it.

Police officers, who are supposed to protect citizens, have become tools of political repression. No one has been held accountable for the growing list of extrajudicial killings. Torture in custody is no longer a rumor. It is now a chilling reality. Arbitrary arrests are now a common way to scare critics into silence.

While some demand police reforms, many political leaders have moved in the opposite direction, praising police excesses and encouraging brutal crackdowns. Others have responded to mounting criticism with hostility, treating public outrage as a threat rather than a call for justice.

Interior CS Kipchumba Murkomen vowed to crack down on users who “misuse” online platforms to insult leaders, warning that sharing images like politicians in coffins will not be tolerated. Meanwhile, Prime CS Musalia Mudavadi issued a veiled threat masked as advice, cautioning youth that online posts could jeopardize opportunities like student visas, referencing U.S. policies to justify tighter scrutiny. Though framed as fatherly guidance, these remarks reflect an ongoing attempt to intimidate critics and stifle dissent under the guise of maintaining order.

This trend should terrify every Kenyan. The state’s message is now unmistakably clear: do not think, do not speak, do not resist. Critical thought has become dangerous. Even private expressions of disagreement can make you a target. This is no longer just about activists or bloggers but about every Kenyan who values freedom. If a teacher can be killed in custody, if a coder can arrested for building an app, then who is safe?

The silence from the international community has been disappointing. Western nations, which are quick to condemn abuse elsewhere, have said little about what is happening in Kenya. It seems trade deals and diplomacy now matter more than human rights.

These killings, abductions, and arrests are not random acts. They are a deliberate strategy to eliminate opposition before the 2027 election. If left unchecked, Kenya risks descending back into the dark days of the Moi regime, when opposition was met with torture, exile, or death.

Albert Ojwang and Rose Njeri are not just victims. They are warnings. Who will be next? If we do not speak now, we may soon find that speaking at all is no longer allowed.