Security concerns dominated a community meeting in Malindi this week, where residents, business owners and visitors gathered to question police about crime trends, beach safety and the everyday realities of law enforcement in the coastal town. 

One of the clearest themes to emerge was that victims of crime often hesitate to identify suspects. The fear is simple and not entirely irrational: If the suspect is released on bail, what stops them from returning to “discuss the matter further” with the person who reported them?

Community members spoke openly about their lack of confidence in the legal system’s ability to protect them from retaliation, and the possibility of being re-victimised once suspects return to the neighbourhood. 

The police acknowledged this concern but pointed out, quite correctly, that the right to bail is protected by law and cannot simply be switched off like a faulty security light.

Officers also noted that one of their biggest frustrations is that many crimes never make it into the official books at all. They often hear about incidents through social media, local gossip or the ever-reliable “someone said someone knows someone who was robbed”.

Unfortunately, none of these sources counts as admissible evidence in court. Without formal complaints, investigations struggle to begin, let alone succeed. The result is a classic Catch-22. Victims hesitate to report because they lack faith in the system, and the system struggles to improve because too few cases are formally reported.

Another point raised at the meeting was that violent crime can leave victims deeply traumatised. In cases involving exploitation or personal relationships, victims may also fear shame, blame or social exclusion from their communities. This observation struck a personal chord for me.

I was reminded of an incident in Nairobi back in the 1990s, when a European friend working for a UN agency found himself the victim of theft and intimidation by his Kenyan partner. He feared going to the police, worried the matter might not be taken seriously, or worse, that he might become the one under scrutiny. 

When he sought advice from his country’s ambassador, a man not exactly unfamiliar with such social dynamics, the guidance he received was brief and memorable: leave the country immediately and forget the whole unpleasant business. Not exactly what one might call a victim-support framework.

Sadly, his experience was not unique. Studies suggest that most victims never report crimes at all. A 2025 report by the International Justice Mission found that roughly 63 per cent of victims stay silent, largely because they fear retaliation from suspects or their associates.

Improving this situation will require more than urging people to “be brave”. It calls for stronger collaboration between police and victim-support organisations, and better public awareness of the help already available.

Kenya does, in fact, have a range of support services, from government programmes to non-profits focused on gender-based violence, trafficking and legal aid. Resources include the 24-hour National GBV Helpline (1195), legal protection under the Victim Protection Act, and assistance from organisations such as the Coalition on Violence Against Women and HAART Kenya. Many victims simply don’t know these services exist.

While we are thinking about modern solutions, perhaps it is time to ask an obvious question: Must suspect identification still feel like a scene from a 1970s detective drama? Traditional in-person line-ups may once have been the gold standard, but technology has moved on. 

Video evidence has been used in policing globally since the late 20th century, and Kenya now prides itself in being a digitally connected society with widespread smartphone use, expanding 4G and 5G coverage, and a thriving tech sector. So why not use that digital muscle to make identification less stressful for victims?

Standardised short video recordings of suspects could be used in controlled digital line-ups. After all, if TikTok, Instagram Reels and YouTube Shorts can persuade millions of people to watch strangers dance in their kitchens, surely the same format can help someone recognise a thief.

Technology alone won’t solve the deeper issues of fear and trust, but it might help nudge the system in the right direction. If nothing else, it would be nice to see Kenya’s much-celebrated digital revolution put to work somewhere beyond mobile betting apps and food delivery.