The name Fikirini Jacobs has been on the lips of many Kenyans lately, but not for the reasons he would have hoped.
The recent killing of youth mobiliser Cecil Ouma has added another dark chapter to Fikirini’s story. On June 30, 2026, the 28-year-old was fatally shot inside Fikirini’s official vehicle along Park Road in Nairobi, shortly after a government youth forum that the PS had chaired.
According to reports, Ouma had mobilised youths for the event and was given KSh 10,000 for their transport, but the group rejected the amount. When he returned to the vehicle to clarify, a confrontation erupted and he was shot multiple times before being thrown from the moving car.
One of Fikirini’s bodyguards has been detained and firearms seized for examination, while the PS has expressed condolences. But for a man whose car and security detail were directly involved in yet another young person’s death, the pattern is becoming impossible to ignore.
Fikirini is the Principal Secretary for Youth Affairs and the Creative Economy, a position of significant influence. He is a man who rose through the ranks, partly because of the support of friends who believed in him. One of those friends was Albert Ojwang’, a 31-year-old teacher and blogger whose life was brutally cut short in June 2025.
The connection between the two men is not a matter of rumour; it is documented from their days at Pwani University, where Fikirini was a student leader and Albert was one of his most dedicated campaigners.
Yet, in the wake of Albert’s shocking murder, Fikirini has said nothing. Not a single word of condemnation, not a call for an independent inquiry, not even a public expression of grief for the man who helped him ascend to power.
This silence is heavy and it speaks volumes about the state of loyalty among the country’s elite.
The facts surrounding Albert’s death are deeply disturbing. He was arrested on June 7, 2025, after posting critical comments online about a DIG Eliud Lagat.
Instead of being processed through the normal legal channels, he was driven from his home in Migori to Nairobi, a journey of about 350 kilometres. By the morning of June 8, he was dead. The initial police report claimed that he had committed suicide by banging his head against a cell wall.
However, an independent autopsy conducted later told a completely different story. The examination revealed severe head injuries, neck compression, and multiple bruises across his body, all consistent with a violent assault.
The post-mortem report left no doubt that Albert was beaten to death. This was not a suicide; it was a murder carried out by the very people who were supposed to protect him.
The public outcry was immediate and intense, leading to protests across the country.
In those chaotic days of grief and anger, Fikirini Jacobs finally spoke, but his words were not directed at seeking justice for his fallen friend.
Instead, he addressed the youth who were taking to the streets to demand accountability. He urged them to preserve the nation first, asking them to put the country’s interests ahead of their righteous anger.
His statement was a plea for calm and order, which on the surface sounds responsible. But many Kenyans quickly noticed what he did not say. He did not condemn the police officers who killed Albert.
He did not ask for th involved to be arrested and charged. He did not acknowledge the pain of Albert’s family, a young widow and a child now left without a father.
His message was entirely directed at protecting the stability of the government he serves, not at defending the memory of the friend who had once trusted him with his political future.
This is where the betrayal becomes evident. Fikirini’s political career was built on the backs of people like Albert.
During their university days, Albert was not just a casual friend; he was a key figure in the Luo Students Association and a prominent campaigner who helped Fikirini win the student presidential elections.
They were allies, if not brothers, navigating the rough waters of campus politics together.
Albert vouched for Fikirini’s leadership, mobilized students to vote for him, and celebrated his victory. That history creates a bond of obligation.
When a friend who helped you reach the top is brutally murdered by the state, the least you can do is speak up. You do not need to resign from your position, but you should use your voice to demand transparency.
Fikirini, however, did the opposite. He chose to protect his career over honouring his friend.
It is difficult to escape the conclusion that Fikirini has been busy with other things. While the nation mourned and Albert’s family struggled to make sense of their loss, the Principal Secretary seemed preoccupied with his own survival.
He is a member of the government, and speaking out against the police would be politically inconvenient.
There is a saying that in Kenya, “power is sweet, and once you taste it, you are willing to sacrifice almost anything to keep it”.
Fikirini appears to be following that logic. He is eating in government, enjoying the fruits of his office, and ensuring that his political trajectory remains smooth.
But this comfort comes at a price. He has traded his integrity for a seat at the table. The cost is his credibility, especially among the young people he is supposed to represent and lead.
You cannot claim to be a youth leader when you are silent on the killing of a young person. You cannot ask young people to be peaceful when you refuse to stand up against the violence that targets them.
Fikirini’s actions, or rather his inaction, sends a chilling message to every young Kenyan. It says that if you support your friends, help them succeed, and then find yourself in trouble, you should not expect them to return the favour.
It tells the youth that loyalty is a one-way street, and that those in power will only look out for themselves.
This is a dangerous lesson to teach a generation that is already disillusioned with the political class.
The silence of Fikirini Jacobs is not just a personal failing. It is a public betrayal that confirms the worst fears about our leaders. They will eat with you, laugh with you, and ask for your vote, but when the guns are aimed at you, they will disappear.
Albert Ojwang’ is gone, but his blood still cries out for justice. And Fikirini, who once walked beside him, has chosen to walk away.
He may have kept his job, but he has lost something far more valuable. He has lost his honour, and the Kenyan people have taken note.
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