When Habil Onyango Oloo, a soft-spoken but dogged reporter for People Daily, filed his latest investigative piece on September 12, 2025, he knew he was walking into dangerous territory. The story, which exposed a scheme of fraudulent county job appointments allegedly orchestrated within the Homa Bay County Government, hit the streets like a thunderclap.
Two days later, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Oloo was abducted near Lake Front, roughed up by men he insists were acting on orders, and told to “apologize or face worse.”
On Tuesday, the plot thickened when Beatrice Mercy Akugo, Homa Bay County’s Human Resource Manager, was arraigned at the Homa Bay Law Courts on charges of assaulting and injuring Oloo. Before Chief Magistrate Jacinta Orwa, she pleaded not guilty and was released on a Ksh 30,000 bond or Ksh 20,000 cash bail. The case will be mentioned again on September 30, 2025.
But behind the sterile language of charge sheets lies a searing story of power, corruption, and the perilous cost of truth-telling in Kenya’s counties.
The Journalist Who Wouldn’t Blink
Oloo is not a household name like some Nairobi-based muckrakers. But in Homa Bay, he is feared by corrupt officials and loved by ordinary citizens. Known for his persistence, he had spent months interviewing whistleblowers, county clerks, and job seekers who had been duped by fake appointment letters.
His exposé detailed how desperate graduates were allegedly lured into parting with money in exchange for employment letters — some printed on official stationery — only to later discover they were worthless. The damning piece named names, including a female HR officer, believed to be Akugo, as having links to the racket.
By Saturday evening, Oloo was already receiving threatening calls. By Sunday, he was nursing injuries inflicted by men who demanded he recant the story.
“They told me to write an apology immediately, to say the lady was innocent. I told them journalism doesn’t work like that,” Oloo recounted to fellow reporters after his release. “Then the blows began.”
The County HR in the Dock
Beatrice Mercy Akugo cuts the image of a polished professional. With over a decade in county service, she has handled sensitive staffing files and reportedly has the ear of senior county bosses. But to her critics, she epitomizes the shadowy power wielded by HR offices across devolved units.
“She knows who gets a job, who doesn’t, and at what price. That office is a goldmine for anyone willing to bend the rules,” a senior county officer told this paper, requesting anonymity for fear of reprisal.
In court, Akugo appeared calm, flanked by lawyers who argued she was being victimized. But the optics were unmistakable: a senior county insider answering to charges that touch directly on the safety of the Fourth Estate.
The Pattern: Journalists Under Siege
Oloo’s case is not isolated. In August, another journalist in the county was kidnapped after reporting on procurement malpractices. Across Kenya, from Migori to Kakamega, Kisumu to Isiolo, reporters probing county corruption speak of harassment, surveillance, and physical violence.
“The devolved units have turned into mini-empires where whistleblowers and journalists are fair game,” said Tom Adero, chair of the Homa Bay Journalists’ Association. “They steal in billions, yet they want to crush anyone who dares to speak up. Oloo is lucky to be alive.”
The Media Council of Kenya has repeatedly flagged Homa Bay among the “high-risk counties” for journalists, citing intolerance by political elites and weaponization of local goons.
The Deeper Rot: County Capture
Analysts argue that what is unfolding in Homa Bay represents a textbook case of county capture — where elected leaders and senior bureaucrats manipulate devolved systems for private gain.
Three patterns emerge:
1. Jobs for Sale – Employment in county governments has become a black market commodity. Bribes allegedly determine who enters the payroll.
2. Impunity through Violence – Instead of addressing allegations, county bosses deploy intimidation to bury uncomfortable truths.
3. Judiciary as Referee – Courts are increasingly being tested on whether they can pierce county shields and hold officials accountable.
“This is not about one HR officer. It is about a system designed to profit a few and silence the many,” noted Dr. Evelyn Otieno, a governance scholar at Maseno University.
The Stakes in Court
September 30 will be more than just a mention date. It will be a referendum on whether justice can withstand county muscle.
If Akugo is convicted, it could embolden other journalists to report without fear, setting a precedent that county officials are not untouchable. If the case collapses, it may reinforce the grim reality that in Kenya’s counties, truth has a price — and journalists pay it in blood.
The Human Cost
Oloo, for now, remains undeterred, though visibly shaken. He walks with a slight limp and bears scars from the beating. Yet, he continues to file stories, insisting that “journalism must never bow to goons.”
“Today it is me. Tomorrow it could be someone else. If we stop writing, who will expose what is happening in our counties?” he asked, his voice heavy but firm.
In the meantime, ordinary Homa Bay residents whisper about the unfolding scandal with both fear and fascination. For many, it confirms what they have long suspected — that county jobs are sold, not earned, and those who resist the racket are silenced.
The Oloo-Akugo saga is not merely a courtroom drama. It is a litmus test for devolution, democracy, and the Constitution’s promise of free media.
Homa Bay has become a mirror reflecting Kenya’s uneasy dance between power and accountability. Whether the gavel of justice will fall on the side of truth — or bend to the weight of corruption — remains the story the nation now watches.
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