Kampala woke up to a horror this month when news broke of four toddlers killed at a daycare centre in Ggaba. The suspect, Christopher Okello, was arrested, but the questions that followed were heavier than the handcuffs: Was he in his right mind? Could this tragedy have been prevented? And who in Uganda is trained to answer those questions for court?
The answer points to a gap most Ugandans have never heard of: forensic psychiatry.
So, what exactly is forensic psychiatry?
Think of it as the bridge where medicine meets the law. A general psychiatrist treats patients in hospitals. A forensic psychiatrist steps into police stations, prisons, and courtrooms. Their job is to assess whether a person accused of a crime was mentally sound when the offence happened, and whether they are fit to stand trial today.
They don’t defend criminals. They don’t hand out get-out-of-jail cards. They give judges and prosecutors expert, scientific answers to three tough questions: Did mental illness influence the crime? Can the accused understand the court process? What is the risk of them offending again?
In countries with established systems, forensic psychiatrists work inside secure hospital wards. These are not ordinary wards. They are specially designed facilities that can safely treat high-risk patients who are too ill for prison but too dangerous for a general hospital. The staff are trained in both psychiatry and security. The goal is treatment first, public safety always.
Why does this matter for Uganda right now?
First, our criminal justice system is flying blind on mental health. When a shocking crime happens — a child is hurt, a family is attacked — police and courts need to know if illness played a role. Without forensic experts, that assessment either doesn’t happen, or it falls on doctors who aren’t trained for legal standards. The result is confusion. Cases stall. Families wait years for closure.
Second, we have no dedicated secure forensic ward anywhere in the country. Today, a suspect with severe mental illness has two options: Luzira Prison, which is not a hospital, or a general psychiatric ward, which is not built for security. Neither option protects the patient, the staff, or the public properly. It also means people who need treatment end up in cells, and prisons become warehouses for illness instead of centers of justice.
Third, the Ggaba tragedy showed us the human cost. When the system can’t quickly and credibly assess mental state, public anger fills the gap. Rumours spread. Trust in both justice and medicine erodes. A forensic service would not have stopped that crime, but it would give the nation a clear, professional path to understand it and respond to it.
The issue has now reached Parliament
On Wednesday, 08 April 2026, Nakku went to the Health Committee. She told the MPs that Uganda needs to hire forensic psychiatrists fast. She said the country is struggling with hard mental health cases in court, and there are no experts to handle them. Her message was simple: without these doctors, justice and treatment will both keep failing.
What would change if Uganda invested in forensic psychiatry?
The courts would get faster, clearer psychiatric reports. This helps judges decide if someone needs a hospital order instead of a prison sentence. It separates those who are ill from those who are simply dangerous. That’s not sympathy — that’s accuracy.
The police would have somewhere safe to take suspects who are visibly disturbed at arrest. Right now, officers are forced to choose between charging someone who can’t follow proceedings, or releasing them because there’s no secure medical option. A forensic ward solves that dilemma.
Most importantly, the country would start treating mental illness in the criminal justice system as a health problem with legal implications, not just a legal problem with no health answers.
Building this capacity doesn’t mean flying doctors from overseas. It means training our own psychiatrists in forensic skills, gazetting one secure ward at the national referral level, and writing clear protocols between the Ministry of Health, Justice, and Internal Affairs. Other African countries have done it on modest budgets because they started small and focused.
The conversation is uncomfortable, but necessary. Justice without mental health expertise is incomplete. Healthcare without a forensic arm cannot protect the public. The Ggaba case forced the question into the open. The next step is to answer it with policy, training, and brick and mortar.
Uganda doesn’t need forensic psychiatry because other countries have it. We need it because our own headlines are now demanding it.
