They are faceless, feared and, to some, folk heroes.
Known by names like Saigon Punisher James, Hessy Wa Dandora, Hessy Wa Kayole, Deno Adez, Baba Mateli, Eden Blacksir, Silver Stone, Shista Shish and many more, these shadowy figures have carved a reputation in Nairobi’s crime-ridden estates.
Operating on the thin line between justice and lawlessness, the masked vigilantes run active Facebook pages where they post chilling warnings to suspected criminals.
Their threats are rarely idle. Some end with photos of lifeless bodies sprawled on dusty roads, crude weapons by their side, guns, pangas, knives, proof, the vigilantes claim, of their “mission accomplished.”
On Saigon Punisher James’s profile photo, a grim slogan greets visitors, “Forgiving a violent gangster is left to God… But fixing their appointment with Him is my responsibility.”
The network, bound more by notoriety than hierarchy, tags each other proudly in posts, flaunting a brotherhood that straddles fear and fascination.
Their social media posts are brutal, direct and public. Suspected gang members are identified, their photos displayed, and warnings issued. Some are given ultimatums to abandon their criminal activities. Others are condemned outright.
The vigilantes also go after rogue officers.
In one post, Saigon Punisher James lashed out, “How do you feel ukiwekelea mtu kesi hakuna just because you’re an officer? Knowingly that person is innocent? Endelea, your days are numbered too, unabeba laana hadi ya generation 2080.”
Recently, after the death of an infamous Central Kenya politician, residents openly celebrated, citing years of oppression under his reign.
Saigon Punisher James weighed in, posting a scathing exposé of the man’s alleged criminal empire — complete with names of his associates, past arrests, and unproven claims of black magic.
“He was the real mafia and a gang leader, he had his own empire, and for such reason he was untouchable,” he wrote.
The post ended with a mocking laugh: “Story of another day majamaa… wezi endeleeni tuu lakini ipo siku.”
The vigilantes openly admit they operate mercilessly. Their justification is simple: if suspects live, they may return to terrorise communities, intimidate witnesses, and escape through a judicial system the vigilantes dismiss as corrupt and easily bought.
Their activities echo cases now playing out in Kenya’s courts.
Five police officers who once served alongside former Pangani officer Ahmed Rashid, accused of killing two youths in Eastleigh in 2017, testified before Judge Diana Kavedza at the Kibera Law Courts yesterday.
The officers, members of the Special Police Unit for Intelligence and Vigilance (SPIV), insisted they never saw Rashid shoot the two young men, said to belong to the Gaza gang.
Corporal Wilfred Omboga told the court he was on patrol that night. Called to Eastleigh the following day, he found crowds gathered, the road barricaded. Armed with an AK-47 and a pistol, Omboga said he fired four shots into the air to disperse the mob.
“When the road was cleared, we found two youths lying on the ground, already gunned down,” he testified.
He maintained he did not see Rashid pull the trigger.
Another witness, Robert Rono, admitted carrying a firearm without returning it to the armoury, but dismissed it as routine. While acknowledging Rashid as his senior, he denied any involvement in the killings.
The prosecution has lined up more than 50 witnesses. Ten have testified so far. The case continues.
For residents weary of carjackings, muggings and gang killings, Nairobi’s vigilantes are defenders, ruthless men who succeed where police and courts have failed.
For others, they are little more than masked executioners, operating outside the law and celebrating death online.
As the trial of Rashid continues, the shadow of Nairobi’s vigilante justice looms large, fed by the same frustrations that gave rise to Saigon Punisher and his fraternity of crimebusters.