When Judgment Comes from the Street: The Mob Killing of a Police Officer in Makindye and the Fragile Trust Between Community and Law
Kampala, Uganda
In Salaama Parish, Makindye Division, the afternoon sun is sharp and heavy, the kind that makes shadows feel like shelter. Children kick a ball made from tied plastic bags. Women sell roasted maize by the roadside. Everything looks ordinary — until you ask what happened here last week.
People lower their voices.
Eyes shift.
The air tightens.
It was here that Rashid Engola, a police officer, was beaten by a mob after allegations — still unverified — that he had snatched a mobile phone from a resident. He later died from his injuries.
A uniformed officer.
Killed by the very community he served — or, perhaps, patrolled.
The truth depends on who you ask.
The Moment the Rumor Sparked
No one can say for certain who spoke first, or whether the accusation was true. In Kampala, phone theft is common enough that suspicion alone can ignite anger like petrol on open flame.
One witness, a shopkeeper who watched from behind a locked door, recounts:
“Someone shouted, ‘Thief!’ That is all. Just the word. Then people moved. People didn’t ask questions.”
In cities where institutions feel distant, rumor can become verdict.
And verdict can become violence.
Fast.
Very fast.
The Crowd that Became a Weapon
Mob justice is not new in Kampala.
It is not new in Africa.
It is not new in places where people feel the law is slow, unreachable, or corruptible.
But it is always a tragedy — for the victim, and for the community that becomes executioner.
Some in the crowd recognized the officer.
Some tried to stop the assault.
But fear, anger, and moral certainty are powerful accelerants.
When the officer fell, no one reached to lift him.
It is hard to say whether that was cruelty — or shock.
Who Was Rashid Engola?
At the police station where Engola worked, his colleagues speak of him softly.
They describe him as:
Quiet
Disciplined
A man who rarely raised his voice
“He had a family,” says one fellow officer.
“He had children who will now grow up knowing their father died in the place he was sent to protect.”
The officer looks away.
“This job will break you if you stay long enough.”
The Community’s Wound
In Salaama today, there are two griefs happening at once:
The grief of a family who lost a father and husband.
The grief of a community forced to confront what it has done.
Some residents insist:
“If he stole, he was not a real police officer. A real police officer protects us.”
Others say:
“We should have stopped. Even if he was guilty — we should have stopped.”
And some — quietly, privately — fear the consequences.
Mob justice does not end with the moment of violence.
It echoes — in the investigations, the arrests, the blame, the mistrust.
Why Mob Justice Happens
To understand the killing is not to excuse it.
But to ignore the conditions that enable it is to invite repetition.
Mob justice thrives where:
Police response is slow
Courts are overloaded
Crime feels constant
People feel alone in their safety
Trust in institutions has worn thin
In these spaces, the street becomes the judge, the anger becomes the sentence, and the moment becomes irreversible.
Kampala is a city where many people have stories like:
“I called police, but they never came.” “When they arrested the thief, he was out in two days.” “The people who hurt us walk among us.”
When the system feels distant, violence feels immediate.
But violence doesn’t build justice — it erodes it.
Police Response and the Future
Kampala Metropolitan Police have opened a full investigation.
Arrests are expected.
The officer’s death has already become a caution to both sides.
Inside police barracks, there is anger.
Inside Salaama, there is fear.
Both sides feel threatened.
Both sides feel wronged.
Both sides feel vulnerable.
This is what broken trust looks like.
What Must Happen Now
Rebuilding trust is slow.
Painfully slow.
But it starts with:
Transparent investigations
Public acknowledgment of grievance — not denial
Community policing forums held in the neighborhoods, not offices
Accountability for crime — including police misconduct when it exists
Investment in local mediation and conflict response systems
Kampala does not need more fear.
It needs connection — between citizen and officer, between authority and vulnerability.
The alternative is a future where everyone is armed with suspicion, and the next spark becomes another fire.
The Final Image
At the spot where Engola fell, someone has placed a small stone.
Not a monument.
Not a memorial.
Just a marker that says:
What happened here cannot be undone. But it must not be forgotten.
“If he was guilty, we should have still spared him. We killed one of our own.” — Resident, Salaama Parish
A police officer was killed in a mob attack in Makindye after phone-snatching allegations. This long-form feature examines the conditions that drive mob justice and the broken trust between communities and police in Kampala.
