'Justice for Julia': Was the chief's daughter silenced by the State?

National
By Amos Kiarie | Aug 06, 2025

Grieving family members of Julia Wangui Kariuki gather at her home in Likii village, Nanyuki, as they prepare for her burial.
[Amos Kiarie, Standard]

A chilling quiet swept over Matanya area in Laikipia East as the casket of Julia Wangui Kariuki, a 30-year-old mother of two, was lowered into the soil of her ancestral home.

Mourners braved the cold wind in Kibubung’i village — a once-quiet settlement now transformed into a symbol of grief — where Julia, the daughter of a respected local chief, was laid to rest nearly a month after she allegedly died in hospital following a mysterious and still-contested stint in police custody.

Her white coffin, adorned with roses, sat at the centre of the compound as friends, neighbours, and rights activists gathered in hundreds. There were no sirens, no government officials, and no justice. Just silence — and sorrow.

Susan Kirigo Rienye, grandmother to the late Julia Wangui Kariuki, delivered an emotional and defiant speech that stirred mourners and reignited calls for justice. As chants of “Justice for Julie!” echoed through the crowd, Susan stood tall — her grief wrapped in courage and resolve.

“I am now the newest Gen Z in Laikipia,” she declared, her voice thick with emotion.

“If the young people are fighting for justice, then I will fight with them," she added.

Susan did not hold back in blaming the state for her granddaughter’s death, accusing the Kenya Kwanza administration of orchestrating a cover-up and unleashing a wave of intimidation against grieving families.

“This government, led by President William Ruto, is behind the death of my granddaughter, and now they are lying about what killed her,” she said.

She claimed that since the tragedy, government officials and state agents had been harassing her and other family members in an attempt to silence them.

“Since that night, they’ve been intimidating me. But I will not be silenced. I’m ready to be arrested, even ready to be shot in the leg — as the president has ordered, but this government must know—Julie will be the last to die. We won’t allow them to kill another," she said.

Susan called on all parents who have lost children in recent protests and police crackdowns to unite and resist state violence.

“Let us come out in large numbers. Let us make this regime fall to its knees. They must pay for what they’ve done,” she said.

She accused the entire system — from law enforcement to State House — of deception and bloodshed.

“We were told to bring an independent pathologist to represent our family and help us find the truth about what killed Julie, but to our shock, the person we trusted — who stood there during the postmortem — turned out to be a government pathologist,” she said.

“I watched my granddaughter slip through our fingers. We were there. We tried to save her. But the police and the doctors treated us like criminals. She did not have to die. They made her wait while she was in pain. They knew she was slipping,” she added.

Julia was not a stranger to public service. Her father, Chief Martin Kariuki, had served the Nturukuma Location for years — a pillar of local administration known for his fairness and accessibility, neighbours said.

His daughter, raised in a family of law-abiding, civic-minded individuals, was expected to follow the same path of service and dignity. Instead, her name has become a symbol of a broken system — one where even those connected to authority are not spared when the state turns violent.

Julia was arrested during the Saba Saba protests in early July in Nanyuki town. Family and eyewitnesses say she was unarmed and nonviolent — swept up by police after she went to collect a house key from her father’s office around 6 p.m.

After failing to raise a Sh50,000 bond, she was remanded to Nanyuki Women’s Prison. Within hours, the family received calls that Julia had been admitted to the Nanyuki Referral Hospital.

Her relatives rushed to the hospital to intervene, even offering to pay for a private ambulance, but they were met with delays from the hospital management.

“She was dying, and they wouldn’t let us help. Everyone was reluctant to assist,” her grandmother recalled.

The official autopsy claimed she died from a ruptured cerebral blood vessel. Her family, however, rejects that explanation, insisting Julia had no prior medical conditions.

During the tribute session, Julia’s two children stood side by side, each barely tall enough to reach the microphone.

“She made us laugh. She hugged us every night. She told us stories,” said the eldest.

“She was the best mom in the world,” the younger child added — then broke into tears.

The crowd stood in heavy silence as Julia’s father, Chief Martin Kariuki Rienye, approached the podium. Dressed in black and escorted by his wife, his voice trembled, and for a moment, it seemed the weight of grief might crush him entirely.

“I still can’t believe my daughter is gone. Julia was my firstborn. Seeing her lying in a casket — this is a pain no parent should ever carry,” he said, struggling to speak.

The veteran administrator opened up about the silent torment he had endured since the tragedy. He confessed to crying in private for days, hiding his sorrow from the public and trying to remain strong. But now, he said, the pain was too much — and the silence could no longer continue.

“Let Julia be the last. Let no other parent go through what I’m going through. She didn’t die of any sickness. She was healthy, full of life — and now she’s gone, just like that,” he said.

Chief Kariuki, a government officer himself, made a powerful and unexpected appeal to the very institution he serves.

“I work for the government. But today, I am begging the same government — please, let no other child be taken like this. Let no more blood be spilled.”

He acknowledged the risk of speaking out, aware that his position as a chief could make him a target. Still, his voice grew firmer with each sentence.

“If they want to come for me and my family because I’m speaking, let them come. But I cannot keep quiet anymore. Not after losing Julia,” he said.

Julia's aunt, Wanjiru, took the microphone with fury masked in grief.

“To all of you watching this, especially the Gen Z who have been in the streets — register as voters. This is how we fight back. This is how we stop burying our children," she said

Among those who shared their heartbreak was Darwin Wangechi, who had been detained alongside Julia. He vividly recalled their final moments together inside the prison cell, just before her condition reportedly deteriorated.

In a show of solidarity, Wiper Party leader Kalonzo Musyoka made a phone call to the grieving family during the memorial, pledging his full support in their legal journey. He assured them that they would not walk the road to justice alone.

“I want to promise the family that I will stand with them. Whatever legal support they need, we shall offer it until justice for Julia is fully achieved,” he said.

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