A COURT IN THE PUBLIC EYE: What the Okello Onyum case revealed about justice in Uganda

COMMENT | GYAGENDA SEMAKULA ZIKUSOOKA SSAJJABBI | As a critic of Uganda’s criminal justice system, the recently concluded proceedings in the Okello Onyum matter, presided over by Alice Komuhangi Khaukha, present a compelling case study at the intersection of criminal adjudication, judicial temperament, and public confidence in the administration of justice. The decision to hold a mobile High Court session in Ggaba was more than a logistical choice—it was a statement. It signalled that justice does not belong to marble buildings alone. It belongs to the people.

Convened as an expedited mobile court, the trial did more than determine criminal liability. It brought the machinery of justice into full public view, collapsing the traditional distance between the Bench and the ordinary citizen. It will be remembered not only for its tragic facts but also for the way it reshaped public engagement with the justice system. Ugandans watched a High Court criminal trial unfold in their own community—raw, unfiltered, and unshielded by the walls of the judiciary’s traditional chambers.

It is important to state this with precision. The Okello Onyum proceedings were not Uganda’s first “open court”. Rooted in the 1995 Constitution, open justice applies to civil and criminal cases alike. In law and structure, access has never been denied. Yet what stood out here wasn’t access itself but how boldly it unfolded. Holding a High Court session right in the heart of a village, fast-tracked and fully seen – turned legal theory into something people could touch, hear, and feel. For many Ugandans, this was not merely a trial. It was their first direct encounter with how justice is performed, contested, and resolved.

Justice Khaukha, while presiding over the Ggaba mobile court, exhibited composure that balanced empathy with firmness. Observers noted her attentiveness to detail, her insistence on clarity from witnesses, and her refusal to be swayed by the emotional weight of the case. Her ruling, delivered with measured solemnity, reflected a judge who had fully internalized the gravity of the crime. She described the murders as falling within the “rarest of the rare” category, a legal threshold reserved for the most heinous offenses. What stood out most was her professional restraint. She neither sensationalized the tragedy nor minimized its horror. She allowed the evidence to speak, and when it did, she responded with the full weight of the law.

Khaukha’s demeanor was not cosmetic. It was integral to the legitimacy of proceedings. She demonstrated a controlled, methodical approach that underscored procedural discipline. She maintained firm command of the courtroom, insisted on clarity from counsel, and anchored her rulings in discernible legal reasoning. She exhibited control without intimidation, ensuring that advocacy remained robust but orderly. She adhered to procedural fidelity, ensuring commitment to evidentiary standards and due process, even under the pressure of an expedited timeline. In a mobile court environment, where perception can easily eclipse substance, such discipline is not optional. It is essential. For a judge whose earlier career in the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions (ODPP) often placed her in adversarial encounters, this moment revealed a jurist who has grown into her robe.

The judiciary’s decision to fast-track the proceedings raises an enduring question within criminal justice: can speed coexist with fairness? In this instance, the court’s conduct suggests that it can, provided that expedition is structured and not reactionary. The proceedings reflected a deliberate effort to avoid the common pitfalls of rushed justice. Counsel were heard, evidentiary thresholds were respected, and judicial reasoning remained intact. Delayed justice erodes confidence, but hurried justice risks distortion. The Okello Onyum trial demonstrated a narrow but critical path between the two.

Perhaps the most significant legacy of this case lies in its unintended educational function. By opening its processes to the public in such an immediate way, the court demystified legal procedure. The public was able to see, in practical terms, that the burden of proof rests squarely on the prosecution, that defense counsel plays a constitutional role, not a disruptive one, and that judicial decisions emerge from structured reasoning, not impulse or public sentiment. In a society where legal processes are often misunderstood and mistrusted, this kind of exposure is invaluable. It recalibrates public understanding from speculation to substance.

Courts are often perceived as distant, impersonal institutions. Yet, they are animated by individuals bound by duty, constrained by law, and observed by the public. The Okello Onyum proceedings revealed not only the structure of justice but also its human dimension.

Justice Khaukha’s stewardship of this case suggests a jurist aware of that dual reality. Firm in authority, but conscious of scrutiny. Grounded in law, yet operating in a space where public trust must continually be earned.

It would be incomplete to examine Justice Khaukha’s role without acknowledging her earlier service at the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions (ODPP), where institutional loyalty often demands vigorous defense of prosecutorial decisions.

My own past engagement with her during the 2012 campaign surrounding death row convict Patrick Lwanga Zizinga was marked by tension. We found ourselves on opposite sides of a heated national conversation. She, as a senior state attorney, defended the ODPP with vigor. I, as an investigative journalist and advocate for a wrongfully convicted individual, pressed for the reopening of a case I believed had miscarried justice. It was construed as character assassination and defamation of her personality. At the time, our positions appeared adversarial. In retrospect, they were principled, not personal. She was doing her job; I was doing mine. She responded as a custodian of institutional integrity.

This reflection is therefore not only analytical but also personal in its acknowledgement that past disagreements were not rooted in animus but in the differing obligations we each carried. In her current judicial capacity, her conduct in the Okello Onyum proceedings reflects a jurist attentive to both law and responsibility.

Justice Komuhangi Khaukha, I write this piece with a sense of closure and appreciation. Watching your stewardship of the Okello trial, I saw a judge who has grown in depth, balance, and judicial temperament. It is important to say this publicly: I respect the work you did in this case.

In bringing the court to the people, the judiciary did more than conclude a case. It offered a rare, unfiltered view of justice in motion.

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The writer is a journalist, lawyer and church minister.

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