The recent events surrounding the death of Albert Ojwang have taken a sharp and unexpected turn.
The State, which has often been criticized for its slow and opaque handling of sensitive cases, has suddenly adopted a posture of remarkable openness. We are now seeing the release of CCTV footage and a flurry of details that were previously withheld.
While this newfound transparency might appear to be a welcome development for those seeking justice, it raises more questions than it provides answers.
In the world of high-stakes investigations, especially those involving powerful individuals, a sudden rush of information is rarely a sign of complete honesty. Instead, it often signals a strategic shift. When the State becomes this open, this quickly, one must wonder if they are preparing a narrative.
The most common tactic in such situations is to offer up a smaller, more expendable figure to take the blame. This “small fish” is sacrificed to draw public attention and absorb the outrage, all while the real architect of the tragedy the person who actually gave the orders remains comfortably in the shadows, protected from scrutiny.
This suspicion is fueled by the reports that have emerged, including those covered by The Star.
The information suggests that Albert Ojwang was not just held at the Central Police Station. He was removed and taken to a location in Karura. It is there that the story takes a darker, more sinister turn. He was reportedly brought before a senior police official.
It was during this meeting that the alleged torture occurred, an event so brutal that it caused him to collapse, reportedly creating panic among those present.
The crucial question, the one that the current “honesty” fails to address, is simply this: who gave the order for this removal?
The new information being released now seems to connect some dots. It shows the aftermath, the final, tragic chapter of the story.
The release of CCTV and other details may give the public the impression that the full truth is being laid bare. However, we must be careful not to be distracted by this display of openness.
The danger is that the State is showing us the conclusion of the story while carefully steering our attention away from its origin. They are showing us the final destination, but they are not showing us who was at the wheel.
So, we must follow the lead of commentators like Nyakundi and ask the hard, uncomfortable questions that are not being answered. This sudden honesty is a signal. It is a signal to look not at what is being presented, but at what is being hidden. It is a signal to ask: who are they preparing to blame?
The person who carried out the act is one thing, but who was the person who gave the command? Who was the senior official waiting in Karura?
And why was Albert taken there in the first place?
Whenever the State shows you something and tells you a story, you must not only look at the picture they have painted. You must also look at the empty spaces. The gaps in the narrative. The silence on the most critical points. This is not about being cynical; it is about being vigilant. Justice for Albert Ojwang does not stop at finding out how he died.
It demands an answer to the fundamental question of who is responsible for ordering the chain of events that led to his death. Until that question is answered, this sudden honesty appears less like a commitment to justice and more like a carefully managed cover-up.
