Kenya’s kidnappings have raised fears of a return to the dark ages.

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Barbara Platt Usher, Maureen Nukuri and David Wafula

BBC News Nairobi

Gerald Karicha frowned slightly as his mother kissed him after Billy Mwangi was released from prison after being kidnapped. Gerald Karicha

Billy Mwangi, seen here with his mother after his release from prison, spoke candidly about the abduction.

The disappearance of more than 80 government critics in the past six months has sparked widespread civil disobedience in Kenya.

A judge has warned senior security officials of contempt of court if they do not appear for the third time in connection with an alleged series of recent kidnappings.

The case is linked to the disappearance registered by Kenya’s National Human Rights Commission last June against a proposed tax increase.

So far, at least 24 have been reported missing.

Police and the government do not deny cracking down on protesters and illegally detaining them, but the country has a history of state-sponsored kidnappings, and some Kenyans fear a return to the dark past.

Inspector General of Police Douglas Khanja and Director of Criminal Investigation Directorate Mohammed Amin have been ordered to produce seven social media influencers who disappeared in December in court.

The five suddenly appeared at various locations across the country in early January.

Mr Kanja’s lawyers asked the court for more time to record his statement and submit a report.

Billy Mwangi is one of the five. The 24-year-old was threatened by the men who allegedly abducted him 75 km (46 miles) from his hometown of Embu in central Kenya.

Billy’s father, Gerald Mwangi Karicha, told the BBC that his son was badly hurt.

“The kid didn’t share much,” he said. “When it came to what I was talking about, he looked like he wasn’t his usual self, but rather shocked.”

Billy, a college student who has been criticizing the government on social media In the year On December 21, 2024, he disappeared from a barber shop in Embu.

According to witnesses, the hooded men arrived in a Toyota Fielder and a double-cabin pickup, put them inside one of the vehicles and sped away.

Within hours, the family’s worst fears began to emerge.

“Most weekends, we’re watching football together. His club is Chelsea, mine is Arsenal,” Gerald said.

The night he went missing, he called Billy to talk about a football game, but the boy’s phone went dead.

When the barber shop owner told him about the abduction, he set off a frantic search.

Billy’s mother was devastated when she heard the news and the weeks that followed were heartbreaking for the family.

As soon as he was found, Billy was taken to the hospital for a routine check-up. His family said they were still recovering from the injuries, but the release was somewhat of a relief.

Like many who have been kidnapped, Billy has kept quiet about his ordeal, perhaps out of fear.

Aslam Longton in a blue shirt and Jameel Longton in a white shirt with a dot pattern while standing on a dirt road in Kitengela town and talking. A silver car appears behind them.

The Longton brothers – Aslam (L) and Jamil (R) – were held for 32 days. Aslam told the BBC he was regularly beaten during the abductions.

Jameel and Aslam Longton have remained silent since their release from 32 days in prison in September.

The brothers were warned they would be killed if they went to the media, Jamil said.

Three months later, a government official declared their case as lawful detention.

The siblings took this as proof that a government agency was responsible for their plight and found the courage to speak out.

“The Kenyan constitution is very clear,” Jameel said. “You must be arrested and appear in court within 24 hours. It was our 32nd day and we were not given a lawyer anywhere.

“We are not allowed to see our family or communicate with our family. So this is not a detention, but an abduction.”

The brothers told the BBC that Aslam had helped organize protests against tax increases in the town of Kitingela, near the capital, Nairobi, and had been warned by security forces to stop.

One day in August, the two were dragged into their home’s car, handcuffed, locked in small, dark rooms and taken to an undisclosed location.

Aslam said he was regularly beaten, and his tormentor demanded to know who was funding the protests.

“I was so scared,” he says. “When the door opens, that man comes with a fiber cable and a steel rod.

“I was afraid that he was going to beat me or finish me – there were only two options, he was going to beat me or kill me.”

Jamil describes the militants as being able to track their mobile phones and have the confidence to take them out in broad daylight and with the level of flexibility that human rights organizations have achieved in many cases.

This does not mean that they are official security personnel, said the government spokesperson, Isaac Mwaura, who denied that the state was behind the abductions.

“Organized security can be part of organized crime,” he told the BBC.

“It could also be for political reasons…our political detractors are really offended by this. They run along just to score political points.”

Mr Muwara declined to comment. The case of Minister of State Justin MuturiIt is one of the worst allegations against Kenya’s security agencies.

Muturi said his son was picked up by the National Intelligence Service (NIS) and released after a direct appeal to President William Ruto.

“That is a matter of investigation, because that is his side of the story,” Mr Muwara said. But what is the opposite story of the National Intelligence Service?

“I want to make it clear that the President of the Republic of Kenya, the Head of Government, did not take any action against him because he is a man who believes in the rule of law.”

In fact, Ruto has publicly vowed to end the crackdown, forced to respond to public anger and the threat of Western allies.

Many are concerned that the systematic killing of anti-government activists is reminiscent of similar tactics under the dictatorial leadership of Daniel Arap Moi in the 1980s and 1990s.

Reuters A Kenyan protestors hold up yellow handwritten posters calling for the release of kidnapped people. Several - a young woman in a blue collared shirt and a brown patterned V-neck dress, a necklace, a blue and white collar, and a close-up of sunglasses on her forehead - raise their fists.  Reuters

Public anger over the crackdown on government critics is growing.

Journalist and activist Gitobu Imanyara, who campaigned for multi-party politics in the early 1990s, was arrested and beaten by the Moi government. There is no doubt that the “Moi playbook” is now in effect.

But times have changed, he says. Constitutional reforms have introduced more accountability mechanisms and “there is a large section of Kenyan society that is not intimidated”.

“The democratic space is too wide for the government to exclude dissenting voices,” he told the BBC.

Plus, with social media, “word spreads instantly,” he said.

“We can’t be censored like we were censored back then when we could use a landline.”

Reports of disappearances have been decreasing in recent weeks.

But despite a police investigation, no one has been charged, let alone found guilty, of committing the crime.

Several advocacy groups have petitioned the Attorney General to refer abduction cases to the International Criminal Court (ICC).

As for the missing families, the nightmare continues.

“We are very worried, very distressed,” said Stacey Mutua, sister of Steve Mbisi, one of the seven who disappeared in December.

“We hope they will release him. (Most) of the abductors have been released but he is still not missing. We are praying that he will be found.”

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