From Saving Brains To Death Row; How Ksh 2000 Second-Hand Phone Destroyed Top KNH Neurosurgeon

Dr. Clement Munyao Katiku, once a senior neurosurgeon at Kenyatta National Hospital, where he spent years operating on the most delicate parts of the human brain—saving lives one careful incision at a time.

He graduated with his MBChB from the University of Nairobi in 1980, earned a Master’s in Human Medicine and Pathology there in 1987, and went on to complete a Master’s in Forensic Medicine in Scotland in 1991. His hands were trusted in the operating theatre. His mind was sharp.

But one ordinary day, around 2005, everything changed because of a simple, everyday choice thousands of Kenyans make without a second thought: he bought a second-hand mobile phone.

It was affordable, nothing fancy—just a functional handset he picked up from a mortuary attendant he knew at KNH. He bought it for his daughter, a student at Moi University at the time. It was only for Kshs 2,000.

She needed it for school, for staying in touch. He handed it over without suspicion. Later, she passed it to her boyfriend. That was it. A chain of innocent hands that would destroy his life.

What he didn’t know—what no one could have imagined—was that the phone had a dark history. It once belonged to Moses Gituma, a senior official at the Central Bank of Kenya and brother to the then-Commissioner of Police, Mathew Iteere.

Moses had been brutally robbed and murdered. His killers took his belongings, including that phone, which somehow made its way through the underground market until it landed with the mortuary attendant who sold it to him.

Police were tracking the stolen device as part of their investigation into the murder. When they traced it, they arrested his daughter’s boyfriend. He pointed to her. She, in turn, led them to him in Nairobi.

He cooperated fully. He told the detectives exactly what happened: “I bought this phone second-hand from someone I trusted at the hospital. I had no idea it was stolen, let alone connected to a killing.” He spoke the truth calmly, expecting reason to prevail.

It didn’t. They charged him with the murder of Moses Gituma. The chain ended on him, Hadi wa Leo, sijui mbona. He told them about mortician but that didn’t matter.

The prosecution’s case rested heavily on the phone—its possession, the chain leading back to him. There were no eyewitnesses tying him to the crime scene. No fingerprints on any weapon. No confession.

Yet in the eyes of the law, “ukipatikana na evidence, ni wewe.” Circumstantial proof was enough. In 2009, the court convicted him and sentenced him to 30 years.

He appealed, believing justice would correct the error. Instead, the appeal backfired—the sentence was enhanced to death. Later, like many others on death row, it was commuted to life imprisonment.

That was over 20 years ago. He has been in Kamiti Maximum Security Prison ever since, serving time for a crime he maintains he had nothing to do with. The mortuary attendant who sold him the phone was never charged.

In Kamiti, he hasn’t wasted away. He trained as a paralegal and helps fellow inmates with their legal papers, fighting for their rights. He still practices medicine informally—attending to sick prisoners, treating wounds, saving lives even behind walls.

Do you believe Dr Clement Munyao Katiku should be freed after 20 years in Kamiti over a Ksh 2000 second-hand phone?

https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1He67rtCqu/

Unique_Updates feedback-opera-news-app@opera.com