They arrived in unmarked cars with faces concealed behind masks. In broad daylight, without a word, they would snatch young Kenyans off the streets, from their estates or homes, and vanish with them. What followed were hours of terror, confusion, and desperate pleas for survival.

The Standard report that these individuals were not criminals or rebels hiding in Nairobi’s dark alleys — they were ordinary citizens, mostly Gen Z protesters, expressing dissent against the government.

But behind the thin veneer of the alleged law enforcement, a darker, more sinister operation was unfolding — one that preyed not only on the bodies but also on the wallets of these individuals.

Between September and October, we interviewed 32 victims of extrajudicial abductions and forced arrests, alongside three police officers, who revealed horrifying experiences within the force.

Chilling accounts have emerged of how rogue officers from specialised units, including the Directorate of Criminal Investigations (DCI) and the National Intelligence Service (NIS), have turned abduction into a profitable racket, using the law as a tool for extortion rather than justice.

In the wake of the June to August countrywide protests, largely sparked by opposition to the then government’s proposed Finance Bill 2024, which aimed to raise taxes, many Kenyans voiced frustration as they were already struggling to make ends meet.

Anger had been simmering for months, fuelled by the soaring cost of living, compounded by the looting of public funds and rampant corruption.

Victims, aged between 24 and 27, both men and women, recounted harrowing experiences of being abducted in unmarked vehicles, held incommunicado, and coerced into paying bribes for their release.

Some reappeared days later, tortured and traumatised, with stories of terrifying ordeals. Others were found dead, strangled, or riddled with gunshot wounds.

Victims, survivors, and police officers who spoke to us revealed that behind these abductions and disappearances is a shadowy force within the police’s special units, operating in the grey area between law enforcement and organised crime.

“These were no ordinary arrests; they are meticulously planned abductions aimed at intimidating the protest movement, instilling fear while lining the pockets of those carrying them out,” said a police officer in confidence.

The officers we spoke to confirmed the existence of rogue members within their ranks who they said were exploiting the government’s intolerance of dissent to operate outside the law, arresting and extorting money from abductees or those in their custody.

“I believe most of these officers are simply taking advantage of the prevailing situation. Abductions have instilled a great deal of fear in people,” another officer added.

Specialised units

A DCI officer, also speaking anonymously, shared that although officers are increasingly hesitant to join specialised units, known as “crack units”—especially after the Special Service Unit’s disbandment in October 2022 and subsequent legal actions against its members.

“There are now two specialised operations units — one at DCI headquarters and another within the NIS in Nairobi,” he said.

He explained that while orders may come from top levels, including from the State House, this isn’t always stated directly when assigning duties by their seniors.

All the victims and survivors’ accounts were chillingly similar. They spoke of being grabbed without warning by people in masks, dragged into unmarked cars with fake plates, and whisked away as people watched helplessly in fear.

“I had just arrived in town as we gathered to start our protest when they [police officers] pulled up beside me,” said 24-year-old Benson, a university student who participated in the June 25 protests.

“Before I could even process what was happening, they shoved me into the backseat of a vehicle. There were no badges, no uniforms — just men in masks brandishing pistols with cold threatening eyes.”

Once inside these vehicles, the horror deepened. Victims described being subjected to gruelling interrogations about who was leading protests and funding them. But these weren’t the actions of officers seeking truth.

Instead, the alleged officers used fear as leverage, deliberately prolonging the ordeal to wear down their abductees emotionally.

‘‘They kept asking who was paying us to be on the streets, but I could tell they didn’t care about the answers. They just wanted us to break,” said Martin, another victim of abduction on June 25.

Hours dragged

And break, many of them did, but not in the way the officers hoped. As the hours dragged on, and abductees began to feel increasingly helpless, the true intent of their abductors became clear.

‘‘At some point, after being driven around the city and later taken to an abandoned building where many other protesters were being held, some visibly beaten, one of the officers manning the place said without blushing, ‘‘You know, there’s a way out of this,’” recounted Benson.

“That’s when he told us to show them our M-Pesa balance or call family members for money. Another officer said if we didn’t have enough cash, they would disappear us forever.”

Some family members, gripped by fear for the lives of their loved ones, would often wire large sums of money in the hope of securing their sons’ and daughters’ release.

“My son called and said that he had been arrested for participating in an illegal protest and that police were demanding Sh10,000 for his freedom,” said one tearful parent.

“We had to borrow from friends and neighbours. We were just scared he wouldn’t come back.”

Peter, a victim from Baba Dogo in Mathare, described how the police had taken his phone number and warned him they were monitoring his communications.

“If I said anything, they would come for me. They know where I live,” he recalled, pointing to visible scars from beatings as evidence of his ordeal.

Kenneth, 24, recounted his own harrowing experience after the June 25 protest: “I was heading home with friends when an unmarked car pulled up near Jogoo Road. Four men jumped out and chased us. My friends managed to escape, but I was caught. They threw me into a police van and drove me to what I believe was around the Industrial area. They interrogated me about who had organised the protests and then began discussing money. I felt completely helpless at one of the construction sites as they threatened to make me disappear forever if I didn’t cooperate. So, I cooperated by giving them Sh2,000, which was meant for my sick mother’s medicine the next day.”

Tom, 27, from Nairobi, described his abduction: “They picked me up off the street and threw me into a car. We drove around, picking up other protesters, and then were taken to a place that wasn’t a police station. I still don’t know where we ended up. They locked us inside, and one by one, we were taken out for ‘questioning.’ They asked about my friends and who was funding us to protest. They threatened me with violence if I didn’t hand over cash.”

Unknown location

A 25-year-old woman from Kahawa shared a similar ordeal: “We were peacefully protesting when I was suddenly shoved into a car. They took me to an unknown location and interrogated me, asking why a ‘beautiful young girl like me’ was on the streets. They even made me show my M-Pesa transactions to determine who was funding us. I was terrified for my life. Eventually, they forced me to call my family for money while they stood over me, insisting they would keep me if I didn’t cooperate. I feared for the worst, especially since they were all men,” she explained. She eventually gave Sh5,000 for her release.

The abductions didn’t just occur in Nairobi. A man in Mombasa recounted his experience: “They grabbed me near Mombasa’s postal office and said they had been looking for me as one of the organisers of the Gen Z protest, which wasn’t true. I was terrified, thinking I would never see my family again. They made me withdraw Sh3,500 from my M-Pesa, then drove for hours, picking up and dropping off other people. Eventually, they abandoned me on the road to Mtwapa and warned me of serious consequences if I returned to the streets.”

In Kisumu, Ochieng and his friend were forcibly taken into an unmarked vehicle, where they were threatened and extorted.

Ochieng was forced to withdraw Sh2,000 from M-pesa.

In Nakuru, victims described being extorted for amounts ranging from Sh2,000 to Sh6,000.

Human Rights Watch’s latest report states that nearly all detainees said police denied them food and water, and families were asked to pay between Sh3,000 and Sh10,000 Kin bribes for their release.

Human Rights Watch officials interviewed 75 people from Mathare, Kibera, Rongai, Mukuru Kwa Njenga, and Githurai neighbourhoods, including former abductees, witnesses, journalists, parliamentary staff, relatives of the missing, protesters, human rights activists, and police officers.

According to Kenya National Commission on Human Rights (KNCHR) reports, at least 71 people were abducted, 60 others killed, 601 injured, and 1,376 were arrested in connection with the protests.

National Assembly

However, during a session at the National Assembly on September 26, the then Interior Minister Kithure Kindiki stated that only 42 people had been killed, 132 were missing, and 1,208 had been arrested. At least 26 people are still missing, according to KNCHR.

“We went to Kamukunji Police Station to report our missing son, but nothing has been done,” shared a father, recounting the harrowing ordeal of his son’s unexplained disappearance. “They told us there’s no record of our son’s arrest.”

Law Society of Kenya president Faith Odhiambo echoed these concerns, describing them as an “irredeemable level of impunity” within security services.

“Our security agencies act as if they are above the law, insulated by Executive support and with little fear of reprisal,” she stated.

She said LSK will push for the Director of Public Prosecutions to bring criminal charges against those culpable, including private prosecutions if necessary.

After taking office in October 2022, President Ruto vowed to end abductions and extrajudicial killings—a promise he marked by disbanding the Special Service Unit (SSU), claiming it had become “killers instead of protectors of ordinary Kenyans.”

Ruto, in justifying the disbandment of SSU, revealed in January 2023 that more than 200 bodies had been found abandoned in rivers and forests across Kenya, including 30 from River Yala in Siaya County and 17 in Garissa. Disturbingly, reports even alleged citizens had been “captured and slaughtered in a container at Industrial Area Police Station,” a horror Ruto decried as “unspeakable.”

In 2019, former DCI chief George Kinoti disbanded the feared Flying Squad, opting instead for a modernised, elite team— the Sting Squad Headquarters —based in Nairobi. At the same time, the Special Crime Prevention Unit was downsized to the now-defunct SSU. Today, undercover officers from these units continue to operate in plain clothes and unmarked vehicles, often fake foreign plates, which makes their role distinct but their accountability even murkier.