June 2024 marked a turning point for Kenya’s youth activism. Frustrated by rising unemployment, rampant corruption, and a government that seemed indifferent to their struggles, thousands of young Kenyans, primarily from Generation Z, flooded the streets in a coordinated, nationwide movement demanding change.

But what began as peaceful protests quickly escalated into a violent crackdown. In Mombasa’s sub-counties of Mvita and Kisauni, youth-led demonstrations turned tragic as police forces responded with excessive force, leaving behind a trail of devastation, shattered families, and unanswered questions.

A year later, families still struggle with grief, while justice remains elusive.

Among the casualties of police brutality was 21-year-old Emmanuel Giggs Tata, a promising second-year computer science student at Meru University.

His father, Paul Tata, still grapples with the painful memory of his son’s final moments.

“It was a normal day,” Paul recalls, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I knew there would be protests, and Emmanuel told me he wanted to participate. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he told me that this isn’t about us, the old folks. I agreed, as long as we stayed in touch throughout the day.”

Inhaled too much tear gas

Emmanuel left home with a group of friends: five boys and two girls. Hours later, at around 4 PM, Paul felt an inexplicable urge to call his son. Just before he could, his phone rang, but it wasn’t Emmanuel on the line. One of his friends delivered devastating news; Emmanuel had collapsed after inhaling excessive tear gas.

By the time Paul got to Alfarouq Hospital, where Emmanuel had been rushed to, his son was dead. He had been pronounced dead on arrival.

The police had fired teargas canisters into the crowd, and the toxic fumes had filled his lungs, leading to his tragic death.

The family’s search for justice has led them nowhere. The Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) continuously deflects responsibility, insisting that the case is with the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions (ODPP).

The only tangible support they’ve received has come from civil societies, which have been at the forefront of human rights advocacy in Kenya.

A similar tragedy befell Joash Ombati, a 30-year-old father of two. His uncle, James Oming’o, remembers the day his nephew disappeared.

“We had just come back from a funeral upcountry. Joash arrived that morning and decided to join the protest. But he never returned. His phone was off. Three days later, on a Friday, we were informed his body was at Coast General Hospital. And that was it.” James says.

The impact of Joash’s death reverberates beyond his immediate family. His young wife, unable to financially support their children alone, left them with her mother and moved to Saudi Arabia in search of work. His parents remain deeply depressed, unable to come to terms with his sudden, unjust death.

According to the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR), more than 60 people were killed between June and July 2024, during the Anti-Finance Bill protests.

The commission’s report, published in November 2024, shows that 610 cases of injuries were recorded and the injuries were sustained in the course of demonstrations as they ranged from deep fractures, bullet wounds, soft tissue injuries and inhalation of tear gas.

During that period from June to November, 74 cases of enforced disappearances were recorded, and 26 were still missing at the time of publishing that report.

However, latest reports from the Commission show that out of the 78 people who have been abducted in the last year, only nine are still missing, while the rest were found either dead or alive.

According to Zipporah Marigi, a community monitor and Human Rights Defender, the protests were never meant to be chaotic, as there were meticulous plans to have a peaceful procession.

“My experience, both as a participant and a monitor, is that the protesters were highly organised and peaceful. Their intention was clear—express their frustrations, then go back home. But the police were deployed in a way that made it clear that excessive force would be used,” she explains.

Gangs infiltrated the protests

Hours into the protest, tear gas filled the streets, live bullets were fired, and gangs, allegedly paid to infiltrate the demonstration, began instigating violence.

Zipporah’s team even recovered bullet cartridges, proving that police had fired on unarmed civilians in an event that was supposed to be a peaceful exercise of democracy.

Despite the public outcry and demands for justice following the deaths and injuries sustained during the Gen Z protests, few individuals have been held accountable.

Reports from the Independent Policing Oversight Authority (IPOA) show that only two cases have been successfully investigated and prosecuted, while only four files have been forwarded to the Office of the Director of Public Prosecution (ODPP).

According to human rights defender Mathias Shipeta, systemic barriers within the state have severely hindered investigations and prosecutions.

Police enjoy protection

At the heart of the issue is institutional protection that many perpetrators, particularly within law enforcement, enjoy from their superiors. This hierarchy ensures that officers involved in human rights violations are rarely scrutinised, as any attempt to hold them accountable threatens the stability of the power structures that govern them.

As a result, individuals implicated in these killings continue to operate without fear of legal consequences.

“Many people have not been charged because they are enjoying protection from their bosses and somehow the state agencies that are supposed to investigate police brutality cases have been crippled. IPOA is overwhelmed and under-budgeted such that it cannot execute its mandate, especially on such high-profile cases. There is no political goodwill by the state in helping the process,” he says.

Handling high-profile cases requires extensive resources, including forensic investigations, witness protection, and legal procedures, which are difficult to execute with limited budgets and manpower.

The sheer volume of complaints lodged against law enforcement has further stretched IPOA beyond its capacity, making meaningful investigations and prosecutions a slow and arduous process.

A recent report by Avocats Sans Frontières (ASF) documented more than 80 human rights violations that were committed between March and August 2024, painting a harrowing picture of state-sanctioned violence.

The findings, based on fieldwork conducted by 10 community-based human rights monitors, exposed alarming trends in police abuse: arbitrary arrests, torture, threats, and extrajudicial killings.

The most affected areas were Mvita (21 cases), Kisauni (18 cases), and Nyali (13 cases), which were the epicentres of unchecked brutality.

Even historically quieter neighbourhoods like Likoni and Changamwe saw young men targeted under the guise of counterterrorism surveillance.

Need for policy change

ASF warns that such unchecked violations create deep resentment and widen the divide between the state and its citizens. In suppressing peaceful dissent, the government risks radicalising young people who feel increasingly alienated.

While male protesters were disproportionately targeted, female human rights defenders faced a different kind of abuse: harassment, intimidation, and violence that often went undocumented.

ASF’s East Africa Programs Coordinator Jim India underscores the urgent need for reforms, especially on how the security apparatus handles demonstrations in Kenya.

“We urge Kenyan authorities to ensure that peaceful assembly is fully respected and protected. The police must adhere to international human rights standards, ensuring the safety of all protestors. At the same time, we remind demonstrators to uphold the law and maintain the peaceful nature of their protests,” he says.

A year has passed, yet the wounds remain fresh. The families of Emmanuel Tata, Joash Ombati, and many others still wait for answers, justice for their sons, brothers, fathers, and friends who were taken too soon.