The Sharon Otieno case has entered a stage that is often overlooked when criminal trials dominate public attention: what justice means to the family after a court has determined guilt. On July 23, 2026, the High Court convicted former Migori Governor Okoth Obado, Michael Juma Oyamo and Caspal Ojwang Obiero over Sharon Otieno’s murder. As the court moves toward sentencing, Sharon’s parents have asked to be heard directly, requested a Dholuo interpreter and presented a position that complicates the conventional assumption that victims’ families always seek the harshest possible punishment.
The family’s position illustrates a central feature of victim-centred justice: accountability and the needs of survivors are related, but they are not identical. Sharon’s parents have spoken about reconciliation and asked the court to consider a non-custodial sentence for Obado, while earlier submissions from the family highlighted the financial and emotional consequences of Sharon’s death, including the burden of caring for her children. The court must consider those views within the legal framework governing sentencing; the family does not decide the punishment.
The case does not end with a conviction
For the public, a criminal conviction can appear to provide a clear endpoint. For a victim’s family, it rarely does.
Sharon was killed in September 2018. Her parents have spent years attending proceedings and living with the consequences of her death. The criminal process established questions of responsibility, but it cannot restore Sharon to her family or undo the practical consequences of losing her.
That distinction is particularly important because Sharon left children behind. In submissions reported before the sentencing hearing, the family described the continuing financial pressure of caring for the children, Sharon’s siblings and her ageing parents. They also reported substantial expenses associated with the court process and funeral.
The case therefore exposes a gap that can exist between criminal justice and lived justice. A criminal court can determine guilt and impose a sentence. It cannot by itself repair every economic, psychological, familial and social consequence of a killing.
Kenya’s legal framework recognises this broader dimension. The Victim Protection Act, enacted to give effect to Article 50(9) of the Constitution, establishes protections and participation rights for victims of crime and abuse of power.
What victims’ families are entitled to expect
Victim participation is not the same as control over a prosecution.
The criminal case is ordinarily brought by the State, meaning that the prosecution does not become the private property of the victim’s family. That distinction protects the integrity of criminal proceedings: punishment cannot simply be negotiated between an accused person and a victim’s relatives.
But this does not mean families should be passive observers.
Kenya’s Victim Protection Act provides a framework for participation, protection and support. Its significance is that the victim is recognised as more than a source of evidence for the prosecution. The family’s interests and circumstances can become relevant to decisions made during the proceedings, particularly at sentencing.
The events of September 16, 2026, offered a particularly tangible example. Sharon’s parents wanted to address the High Court personally but told the court they did not understand English. Their lawyer requested a Dholuo interpreter, and Justice Cecilia Githua temporarily adjourned proceedings to facilitate their participation.
That detail is easy to overlook, but it illustrates an important principle: participation is meaningful only when people can actually understand and communicate within the justice system.
The family’s request for leniency changes the usual narrative
Public discussion of serious crimes often assumes that victims’ families will demand the maximum punishment.
Sharon’s parents have taken a different position regarding Obado.
During sentencing proceedings, they asked the court to consider reconciliation and a non-custodial sentence. Their position has been reported alongside accounts of a reconciliation process involving Obado’s family.
That request should not be interpreted as erasing the seriousness of Sharon’s death or as determining what the court must do.
It instead demonstrates why victims’ families should not be reduced to a single expected emotional response. Grief, forgiveness, economic need, family relationships, religious or cultural considerations and views about punishment can coexist in complicated ways.
A justice system that gives victims a voice must therefore be capable of hearing views that do not fit a simple punitive narrative.
At the same time, the State retains responsibility for enforcing criminal law. The prosecution has opposed a non-custodial sentence and argued that the court should take account of the circumstances of the offence and the public trust attached to Obado’s position at the time.
The resulting tension is legitimate: the family’s preferred outcome and the State’s position on punishment do not necessarily have to be the same.
Why compensation matters alongside punishment
One of the strongest lessons from the case is that sentencing cannot address every consequence of a killing.
Sharon’s family previously told the court that they had incurred about Sh1.2 million attending court proceedings and approximately Sh3.5 million in funeral expenses. They also described selling a one-acre piece of land and a cow to meet financial pressures.
Those figures matter because they demonstrate how the effects of violent crime can extend beyond the immediate loss of life.
A family may lose a daughter, mother or sibling while simultaneously taking on new financial responsibilities. Children can lose a parent and require long-term care. Elderly parents can lose both emotional support and economic assistance.
Punishment addresses the offender’s criminal responsibility. Compensation and other forms of victim support address a different question: how can the justice system help people who remain alive deal with the consequences of the crime?
The two should not be treated as substitutes.
The burden of an eight-year legal process
The length of the Sharon Otieno proceedings is another part of the story.
The killing occurred in 2018, while the convictions came in July 2026. The trial involved extensive evidence and numerous witnesses before the court eventually reached its determination.
There is an obvious danger in measuring justice purely by elapsed time. A rushed criminal proceeding can undermine the rights of an accused person and produce an unreliable outcome. Due process requires courts to examine evidence carefully.
But delay has a human cost.
For a bereaved family, every adjournment can mean another journey to court, another expense and another period of uncertainty. Witnesses must repeatedly engage with painful events. Children grow older while the legal process continues. The public moves on even though the family cannot simply move past the loss.
The appropriate institutional objective is therefore not speed at any cost. It is timely justice without sacrificing fairness.
What sentencing can and cannot achieve
The next major step is the sentencing decision, scheduled for November 27, 2026. The court is considering mitigation, the prosecution’s submissions and the representations of Sharon’s family before determining the appropriate penalties.
Kenyan sentencing jurisprudence recognises that punishment requires consideration of aggravating and mitigating circumstances rather than treating every case as identical. The Supreme Court’s jurisprudence following Francis Karioko Muruatetu v Republic requires courts, in applicable murder sentencing, to consider circumstances surrounding the offence and the offender as well as its consequences, including the impact on victims and their families.
But whatever sentence is eventually imposed, it cannot be described as complete restoration.
No prison term can return Sharon to her children. No fine can restore the family relationship that was lost. No judgment can remove the years the family spent waiting for the criminal process to conclude.
That is not a failure of the court. It is a limitation inherent in criminal justice.
Victims should not disappear from the story after judgment
The wider lesson from the Sharon Otieno case is that justice systems can become overly focused on the accused.
That focus has an important justification. A person facing criminal charges risks imprisonment and other serious consequences, so procedural safeguards are essential. But protecting defendants’ rights should not mean treating victims and their families as peripheral to the process.
The Victim Protection Act represents an attempt to address that imbalance by formally recognising victims’ rights, participation and protection.
The practical question is whether those rights are consistently meaningful.
Meaningful participation requires more than allowing someone to sit in a courtroom. It can involve understandable information, interpretation where necessary, protection from intimidation, opportunities to communicate the impact of an offence and access to appropriate support.
The request by Sharon’s parents for a Dholuo interpreter is a small but revealing example. A formal right to address the court means little if a participant cannot communicate effectively.
Beyond one family, a broader measure of justice
The Sharon Otieno case also offers a useful way of thinking about public accountability beyond the individual accused.
When a high-profile criminal case ends, attention normally turns to the sentence and then moves elsewhere. But the longer-term measure of a justice system is also whether the people left behind can rebuild their lives with meaningful institutional support.
That includes children who lose parents, families who incur costs because of criminal proceedings, witnesses who endure prolonged participation and communities affected by violent crime.
It also requires resisting two opposite impulses: reducing victims to symbols of tragedy, or reducing them to witnesses whose relevance ends when they finish testifying.
Sharon’s parents’ experience demonstrates why neither is sufficient.
The unresolved question: what remains for the family?
The most important question after the conviction is therefore not only what punishment the court will impose. It is what happens to Sharon’s family once the courtroom finally becomes quiet.
The family’s reported financial difficulties, the needs of Sharon’s children and the emotional consequences of the killing will not disappear with sentencing. A probation assessment presented to the court reportedly recognised that no sentence could restore Sharon’s life or erase the family’s pain, while pointing to interventions that could help stabilise the family and protect the children’s future.
That is where the case reaches beyond Obado.
A justice system worthy of public confidence must determine guilt fairly, protect the rights of accused persons and impose lawful punishment. But it must also recognise that **justice for victims’ families is not measured only by the length of an offender’s sentence. It is also measured by whether families are heard, protected, supported and given a realistic chance to rebuild what violence took from them.**