KHALID: Another week, another young life snuffed out by trigger-happy police

Once again, Kenyans are facing the devastating news of a young life cut short by those entrusted to protect it. Once again, a family is plunged into unimaginable grief. Once again, the blood of a teenager stains our streets and once again, the silence and excuses from those in power ring louder than justice.

In the early hours of Sunday, January 11, 2026, 19-year-old Shukri Adan was shot and killed at point-blank range by a police officer. Nineteen – barely beginning his life.

According to witnesses, Shukri and two other young men were on their way to the mosque for morning prayers. Their journey was abruptly interrupted when the car they were in was involved in a minor accident with a matatu. What should have been a routine, civil exchange escalated into a scuffle. Police officers arrived at the scene, not to de-escalate, not to mediate, but to assert brute force. Moments later, Shukri was dead.

Let us pause and sit with that reality. A teenager, heading to pray. A minor traffic incident. Police presence. A gun fired. A life ended.

This is not an isolated tragedy. It is part of a disturbing and well-documented pattern—the continued killing of teenagers and young people by Kenyan police officers. Just a few days ago, Kenyans woke up on the first day of 2026 with the shocking news of a 14-year-old, Dennis Ringa, brutally and mercilessly shot and killed by a rogue police officer.

Dennis was celebrating the new year with his friends. Little did he know that he would be alive for only an hour or so of that year. A police bullet shattered his life. Now he is no more. Even before Dennis has been buried, police are at it again. Shattering the life of Shukri – yet another teenager.

It is now painfully evident that there are trigger-happy officers roaming our streets, men and women who show utter contempt for the sanctity of human life. For them, the gun is the first response, not the last resort.

One is forced to ask: what does the right to life mean in Kenya today? Article 26 of the Constitution of Kenya guarantees every person the right to life. Yet, judging by police conduct, this right appears optional—bestowed at the discretion of an officer’s mood, prejudice or impatience. For too many Kenyans, especially the young, the poor and the marginalised, the constitution offers no shield against a police bullet.

The postmortem report of Shukri Adan confirmed that he was hit by two bullets. One that went through the tip of his left shoulder and the second one, the fatal one, went through his left ear and exited at the back of his head – dismembering the scalp and ending his life on the spot. Witnesses confirmed that the shots were fired at point-blank range.

These killings happen with chilling impunity. Officers shoot, kill and walk away without fear of consequences. They know the script. They know that internal investigations will go nowhere, that evidence will be “insufficient”, that witnesses will be intimidated or ignored. They know that instead of accountability, they are more likely to be commended, congratulated or quietly transferred. The system is designed not to protect citizens, but to protect itself.

The result is a complete erosion of trust. Kenyans are now forced to despise and detest the very police officers who are supposed to be their saviours and protectors. Fear has replaced confidence. Suspicion has replaced cooperation. When a police vehicle appears, it no longer brings reassurance; it brings anxiety. For many families, especially those with teenage children, every encounter with the police carries the terrifying possibility of a body bag.

This is an extremely dangerous place for any society to be. When people lose faith in law enforcement, when justice feels permanently out of reach, anger festers. Grief turns into rage. Silence turns into resentment. History has shown us, time and again, that when citizens are pushed to the wall and stripped of dignity, the consequences can be explosive.

This is not a threat; it is a warning. If the situation continues unchecked, the risk of chaos grows and when that day comes, the responsibility will lie squarely with the security authorities who refused to act when they had the chance.

The crisis of extrajudicial killings in Kenya must be addressed urgently. Not tomorrow. Not after another funeral. Now. This means independent investigations, real prosecutions and meaningful consequences for officers who abuse their power. It means political leaders finding the courage to confront a broken policing culture instead of defending it. It means affirming, in action and not just words, that every Kenyan life matters.

Shukri Adan should be alive today. His family should be planning his future, not mourning his death. We owe it to him, to Dennis Ringa and to every other young person whose life has been stolen, to demand better. Justice delayed is justice denied, and Kenya cannot afford to keep burying its children while pretending everything is fine.

Chief executive officer, VOCAL Africa