Then they sat down on the makeshift bed in his grass-thatched mud-walled room on the border between Uganda and Kenya.

It was the most deserted place he thought he had hidden from the authorities.

‘Stand up, let’s go outside. The government has decided to kill you. We will make it look like a shoot-out between you and me”, shouted the policeman.

He was wearing khaki clothes from top to bottom. He even had a khaki safari boots.

He appeared more like a tourist than a murderer.

But his eyes betrayed him.

He had dark look.

His soul was absent.

“How much did they pay you?,” Ramula shot back without flinching. He had resigned to fate long ago.

“Why do you want to know?”, the policeman asked.

“You know how hard it was to find me!”


“So I hope you have not wasted your time for peanuts,” Ramula replied.

The air was heavy with moisture as they went outside.

‘Let me confess something, I have multiple people logged into my account. I was recording our conversation’.

“What?,” the policeman shouted.

Ogwosh killer police

“No, don’t worry, they are not my relatives, so no strings attached. It is just how the gang functioned”.

“So? I will still shoot you in the head, it is an order from the corporate chief”,

“There will be headlines and no one even you will come out of it alive”

“So what are your suggestions?”

‘Good, I know how to disappear. Let’s agree to part ways, my social media accounts won’t be updated anymore. I will cross into this country and never be heard from ever again”.

“How can I trust you”.

“You don’t”

Ramula said this as he started running toward a main road that connected the two countries.

He was areful not to use the main border post.

He knew the smugglers and would join their gang in the evening.

He had enough money to bribe them.

Ogwosh,  didn’t make an effort to follow him.

He removed his radio and said, ‘Now’.

He then shot two bullets at a nearby tree and replied on his radio, ‘done’.

By the time he was done, Ramula had disappeared.