Meet JSC commissioner who saved a six-year-old girl from marriage over accidental killing

By  Moraa Obiria

Senior Gender Journalist

What you need to know:

• Commissioner Jacqueline Ingutiah reflects on her journey from legal advocacy in Turkana to championing women’s rights, judicial accountability and access to justice in Kenya.
• From challenging discriminatory succession laws to supporting survivors of domestic violence, she explains why institutions must work together to deliver justice and protect women’s rights.

At 12, Jacqueline Ingutiah watched her father and members of their church visit camps housing people displaced by the 1992 post-election violence, delivering food and blankets to those in need. She did not fully understand what was happening, but she could see that people were suffering. The experience would become an early encounter with the human rights concerns that would shape her career.

In high school, she challenged bullying and injustice, writing memoranda to the principal even when doing so landed her in trouble. The school community called her “Chief Justice”. She would later study law, work with marginalised communities in Turkana, represent women seeking justice and challenge laws that discriminated against women and children.

Today, Jacqueline is a commissioner of the Judicial Service Commission (JSC), having been elected by members of the Law Society of Kenya as their female representative in March 2022. She chairs the JSC Committee on the Administration of Justice, becoming the first non-judge to hold the position, according to her account.

She also serves as the Western Region Coordinator at the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights, working across communities and institutions to address human rights violations. In this interview, she reflects on the experiences that shaped her, the challenges of securing justice for women, the responsibility of leadership, and why she believes institutions must do more than occupy space.

How did your early legal work shape your understanding of access to justice?

After law school at Moi University, I went to Lodwar and worked with the Catholic Justice and Peace Commission. That was where I experienced human rights violations associated with marginalisation across different sectors.

Access to justice was a major concern. There was only one court with one judicial officer, and people across Turkana County had to travel miles and miles to access justice. Land was communally owned, and widows and single women could be denied access to justice and the right to own land and property.

Healthcare was also a big issue. Hospitals were not well stocked. I remember being sick and going to a public hospital for a check-up, only to find that they did not have basic malaria medication.

I was able to see firsthand the violations associated with marginalisation when the government is far removed from its citizens. I am happy that when I visit Lodwar now, I see what the counties have done to improve people's lives. We are not there yet, but I am happy with the progress.

You later joined the Federation of Women Lawyers in Kenya (Fida-Kenya). What drew you to that work?

I joined Fida-Kenya as an intern before working in a law firm in Kisumu for about three years. I did normal litigation work, going to court, preparing briefs and advising clients on different issues. But I could still feel that this was not my space.

Even in the law firm, I enjoyed handling family matters and cases that resonated with the community. That is when I joined Fida-Kenya as a legal officer in its Kisumu regional office. We covered several areas, from Turkana to Narok, supporting quite a number of counties.

I would go to court, provide legal advice and engage government agencies on the need to protect and promote women's rights. I also attended international and regional conferences to speak about Kenya's obligations to respect women's rights.

Through strategic litigation, we challenged provisions of the Law of Succession Act that discriminated against women, including provisions relating to the loss of a woman's life interest and property rights when she remarried after her husband's death.

I also worked on a case challenging the requirement that women obtain the consent of a child's father before his name could appear on the birth certificate of a child born outside marriage. We successfully challenged that provision, and the court agreed with us. We obtained remedies for women in matters involving succession, land and child custody.

Beyond the courts, how did you help women who could not access formal justice?

We realised that many women were not accessing the mainstream justice system. They would go to elders to resolve their disputes.

Long before the Judiciary began its alternative justice system, Fida-Kenya had started a programme of engaging elders. We trained them to understand women's rights, the importance of including women in leadership and alternative dispute resolution, and the law itself.

It was important to work with the structures that communities already used, while ensuring that women's rights were understood and protected.

What was one of the most difficult experiences you had while representing women?

There are women who come to you with a legal problem but also have other psychosocial needs. They may want you to make a decision for them about whether they should leave a relationship or stay in it. As an advocate, that is not something you can do for them.

Sometimes you obtain court orders, but you cannot implement them. I remember a case in Kisii where we obtained orders for a widow to recover her land. Her in-laws told her, in effect, that she had the title but should see whether she could actually access the land. There is also the difficulty of women being unwilling to testify against their spouses or in-laws. You have to recognise the courage it takes for a woman to say she is ready to defend herself and her rights.

One experience that has stayed with me involved a woman who was a victim of domestic violence. I advised her to try to leave the home or visit her parents or relatives, but she insisted on returning to her husband. That evening, he poured hot oil on her face and body, leaving her with severe burns. I felt that I should have done more.

You have also worked at Advocates for International Development. What did that experience involve?

It is a UK-based organisation that provides pro bono legal services to development agencies around the world. The organisation came to Kenya to encourage leading law firms to support development agencies through pro bono work. It also encouraged law firms, including in their advisory work to clients, to promote responsible business practices.

My work has been about using legal expertise to support development and encouraging institutions to recognise their responsibilities.

What does your current work at the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights involve?

I work as a regional coordinator based at the Kisumu regional office, covering 11 counties across South Rift, the entire Nyanza region and parts of Western Kenya. The human rights concerns differ across these areas. We monitor compliance with human rights standards and advise governments on the need to protect and promote human rights. I also go to court on behalf of victims of human rights violations and participate in community forums.

One day you may find me in a baraza; the next, in a boardroom discussing human rights. One case of particular interest was the Baby Pendo matter. During the 2017 post-election violence, a young child lost her life, despite not even understanding what elections were about.

The Commission, the Law Society of Kenya and other partners participated in the public inquest. The court established that police officers were persons of interest, and the Director of Public Prosecutions guided the investigations. For the first time, police officers were charged under the International Crimes Act. The matter is before the Kisumu High Court.

You joined the Judicial Service Commission in March 2022. What does it mean to chair the Committee on the Administration of Justice?

For the first time, a non-judge has been given that role. Since the JSC was established, judges had held the position of chairperson of that particular committee.

I believe my lived experiences as a litigating counsel, someone who engages with communities and someone who understands the issues affecting access to justice have been useful. We have achieved quite a lot in that space.

How have you approached leadership at the Commission?

I was elected by members of the Law Society of Kenya, and I am grateful that my colleagues, peers, juniors and seniors recognised me as someone who could represent them. I resonated with their concerns. I travelled across the country, listened to their issues and built my manifesto around them.

I am at about 85 per cent completion of what I promised. I continue to engage members directly. I am not a leader who disappears and returns only when there are elections.

I have been submitting annual reports to members, which was not happening before. I engage their leadership, give talks to young lawyers and support training in areas such as trial advocacy. I want members to have the skills they need to succeed in the profession.

You say about 85 per cent of your manifesto has been implemented. What remains?

One of the issues was addressing corruption completely. I have come to understand that corruption is not something you can address overnight. It requires systems, processes and communication with the relevant stakeholders.

Take the removal of a judge. The process is quite tedious, and there was no documented process on how to go about it. Through the committee I chair, we have developed draft regulations on the process of removing a judge. We hope that by the end of this year, the regulations will be completed.

But regulations on paper are not enough. You need structures and proper implementation. The other issue is performance. Disciplinary processes should not be the only way to address corruption. We need to examine the systems themselves.

Does everyone understand why they work for the Judiciary? Is their work measured? And if it is measured, does the public have an opportunity to provide input?

We have recommended that customer satisfaction surveys be brought back so that when judges and magistrates submit performance reports, there is public feedback on their work. The Judiciary serves the public, and if you have numbers but the public is not feeling the impact, there is a gap.

We also need better public communication about the work of the JSC. We submit annual reports to Parliament, but we can do more to explain our work to the public and demystify what the Commission does.

What changes have you helped introduce at the JSC?

We have established the Directorate of Complaints and Investigations and a Directorate of Legal Services to support legal cases. We have also established a monitoring and evaluation department and a media unit.

The aim is to put structures in place so that commissioners can focus on policy while the secretariat handles day-to-day management.

Through the committee, we have also worked on a whistleblowing policy and a code of conduct for commissioners. We recognised the need for clear standards of conduct and worked with the Ethics and Anti-Corruption Commission on developing the code.

These are collective decisions, but I have been part of the process. I describe my leadership as transformative because I want to make tangible changes in the spaces I occupy and help the people I work with grow.

What are the biggest gaps in access to justice, particularly for survivors of sexual and domestic violence?

One major problem is that institutions operate in silos. Instead of working together to address a particular issue, each institution sometimes focuses only on its own mandate. Take cases of sexual violence. We have police gender desks, gender or sexual and gender-based violence units in hospitals, and specialised courts. These are positive developments, but the services are not necessarily integrated.

What if we had a genuine one-stop centre where a survivor could access the relevant services without having to move from one institution to another? I have seen models elsewhere where family and juvenile justice services are brought together, with the relevant professionals working under one roof. We should explore what is possible in our context.

The other gap is community awareness and leadership. I believe prevention is better than cure. Communities need to talk about these issues and address them before they occur. Our social networks have also weakened. Growing up, if you did something wrong in the market, even the shopkeeper could correct you and take you home to explain what had happened to your parents.

Today, we are increasingly living in silos. We put up fences to protect ourselves and our children, but that also reflects something broken in our communities. We do not trust or support one another as we once did. We need to embrace the principle of Ubuntu and rebuild that sense of shared responsibility.

How do you support the next generation of lawyers and leaders?

I have structured mentorship programmes with young lawyers and people outside the legal profession. They approach me with what they want to do, and I help them find mentors who can guide them.

I hold monthly meetings with my mentees to understand where they are and what they are working towards. This morning, for example, I linked a young advocate with a lawyer who handles employment and labour matters. I also visit schools and speak to young people. I give talks to inmates in prison and to boda boda operators about issues affecting them and the consequences of sexual violence.

When you visit prisons, you see many young people serving sentences for sexual violence-related offences. That should tell us something about the need for prevention, awareness and responsibility. I also conduct continuous professional development training, particularly in family law, and support initiatives that advance mentorship.

What has been your lowest moment in this work?

There have been different moments at different stages of my career. In Lodwar, I once tried to help a woman recover land that had been taken away from her. I thought writing a letter through the executive officer was the right thing to do, but it nearly caused a clan conflict. I had not fully understood the local context.

In another case, a young boy had accidentally shot and killed another boy. Elders demanded that a girl be given in marriage to an older man as compensation. I initially thought the police should intervene immediately, but the administration warned that doing so could trigger an inter-clan conflict.

We had to engage the elders through mediation. Eventually, the girl, who was about six years old, was returned to her family. These experiences taught me that you must understand the context in which you are working while remaining committed to human rights.

At the Commission, the recurring pain is documenting deaths and injuries during election-related violence. You visit mortuaries and hospitals, assist victims, and then find that the numbers continue to rise.

Sometimes you feel that what you are doing is not enough. But I have learned not to play God. I do what I am expected to do and recognise that there are things I cannot change on my own.

How do you cope with the emotional burden of working with victims of human rights violations?

I am aware of vicarious trauma, where you carry other people's burdens with you. At the Commission, we have debriefing sessions, and I also have a very supportive family. Sometimes they can tell when things are becoming too much and encourage me to take time off, go home or go on holiday.

I have also learned to understand the limits of the institutions I work with. People may expect the JSC or Human Rights Commission to resolve everything immediately, but each institution has a specific mandate.

At the end of the day, I remind myself that I have done my best in the boardroom, in the community and in social halls. There are things I cannot change immediately, and there are other people responsible for addressing them. That understanding helps me cope.

If you were writing a book about your legacy, how would you describe it?

I would describe myself as a human rights practitioner who does not just believe in occupying spaces, but in transforming them and making them better. I want to improve the lives of the people I work with and the people I work for.