CHAPTER ONE

The news on every television station had been the same for almost two weeks. The public was in awe, gripped by fear and suspicion. No one seemed to trust anyone anymore. Everyone thought the other was behind the murders. Husbands guarded their wives and children jealously. Mothers no longer trusted their neighbours enough to exchange even a few words with their children.

The fear of the unknown became most evident once the sun began its hurried descent. It was so thick that, if one tried hard enough, it could almost be felt—almost touched. The wave of fear was so strong that the humble residents of the vast Bulenga Estate in Mukono began taking extreme measures.

German Shepherds were released as early as 5 p.m., a breed most residents suddenly seemed interested in owning. Doors were locked with metallic chains and heavy padlocks. There was no official curfew from the local police, yet by 8 p.m. everyone was indoors. Those who could afford it hired armed security personnel to guard their homes. Murder had returned to Bulenga Estate—the seventh killing of its kind.

The only time residents felt safe was when the afternoon sun blazed overhead. That was when children were allowed out of their suffocating gates, escorted by adults to stroll or buy small trinkets from nearby shops. In just three months, the trust that had taken years to build within the community had been completely shattered.

This particular death shook the estate to its core. Values once taken for granted—trust, faithfulness, and security—had been stripped away by the gruesome murders. Some said a serial killer, or killers, were on the loose. The difference this time was chilling: the victim was male. Until now, only women aged between twenty-four and forty had been targeted.

Most of the women were mothers and wives with prestigious jobs or successful businesses—pillars of the Bulenga community. Their heads had been severed, their eyeballs carefully removed. Everything else, including valuables, was left behind. According to the coroner, the eyes were removed after decapitation—a small mercy, one might argue. The women had been drugged before their heads were chopped off with what was believed to be a sharp machete. The precision suggested expertise, perhaps a butcher or someone accustomed to using such tools. Police believed the women were killed elsewhere and their bodies dumped at the trading centre—a message to the community.

Then, on a cold July morning, another murder occurred.

This time, it was different.

The police spokesperson in Mukono assured the public that investigations were underway and urged calm, patience, and cooperation. But fear had already taken root.

The victim was a thirty-eight-year-old man of dark chocolate complexion, six foot two, broad-shouldered. He was found face down in a pool of blood, dressed only in black slacks. Unlike the previous victims, his eyes were intact—wide open, frozen in terror. His body was badly battered, as though beaten relentlessly. Part of his skull was crushed, his brain oozing from its place. He had been stabbed in the abdomen with what the coroner believed to be a sword.

Death had occurred approximately three hours earlier. Most of his bones were broken, and his internal organs severely damaged. It looked like a mob killing. Even the coroner—a sixty-year-old man with over twenty years of experience—was shaken by the brutality sweeping Bulenga Estate.

The weapon was not left at the scene.

Documents recovered from his house identified him as Elvis Odong, Head of IT at The Daily Tribunal, a prominent national newspaper. He also owned an internet café in Mukono town’s trading centre. His home sat among six houses on a small flat, a place where everyone knew everyone.

And now, everyone was afraid.