After nearly nine months in prison, eight activists who protested the East African Crude Oil Pipeline walked out of Luzira Prison last week, their release closing one legal chapter while opening a wider debate about protest, punishment and civic freedom in Uganda.
They were freed on April 21, 2026, only days after being sentenced to 11 months by Her Worship Rophine Achayo. But because they had already spent eight months and 17 days on remand, the sentence had effectively been served before it was pronounced.
For the eight campaigners, the prison gates opening marked the end of a long wait shaped by adjournments, denied bail applications and a court process that stretched far beyond the one-day demonstration that led to their arrest.
Their case began on August 1, 2025, when they staged a peaceful protest at Stanbic Bank headquarters in Kampala against the East African Crude Oil Pipeline, commonly known as EACOP.
The group, Nalwadda Shammy, Katende Akram, Zziwa Ismail, Teopista Nakyambadde, Kalyango Shafik, Asio Dorothy, Keisha Ali and journalist Katiiti Noah, were affiliated with Rooted in Resistance, a youth- led movement formerly known as Students Against EACOP Uganda.
What followed was a trial that, to supporters, became emblematic of how dissent is handled in Uganda. From their first appearance in court on August 1, 2025, where they pleaded not guilty, to final judgment on April 10, 2026, the proceedings were repeatedly delayed.
Over the course of the case, the accused appeared before four different judicial officers, an unusual sequence that added uncertainty and slowed progress. Hearings in September and October leaned heavily on police testimony, CCTV footage and video evidence.
By November, the prosecution had closed its case. One of the accused accepted a plea bargain and was released after being sentenced to time already served. Others chose to continue contesting the charges.
Then came more delays. Court sessions were postponed in December and January because magistrates were unavailable. Although there was a directive to conclude the case quickly, the defence was not heard until late January 2026.
For those on remand, time did not stand still outside prison walls. Asio Dorothy lost her mother while in detention. Keisha Ali lost his father during the same period. Despite those bereavements, bail was not granted.
According to the account provided, the court suggested plea bargains as a possible route to temporary release for burial attendance, a choice that placed grief against principle. The human cost of the case is one reason it has drawn wider attention than many protest prosecutions.
When the eight emerged from Luzira, they did so with visible relief but also anger about what they said the case represented.
“My worry is not the time I was to spend in prison, but the alarming rate at which civic space is shrinking in Uganda,” said Katiiti Noah.
“Our conviction by the trial magistrate was not just about us; it was intended to set a precedent against other human rights defenders and activists who choose to engage in peaceful protest. When you look at this alongside increasingly severe legislative measures and punitive laws, like the Sovereignty Bill, it paints a broader picture of a system that is steadily closing in on dissenting voices and lawful civic engagement.” Keisha Ali, a student at Makerere University, spoke about the longer shadow of conviction.
“A conviction record brings personal risks, including stigmatization within your community, psychological pressure, and sometimes the endangering of my family as a method of intimidation,” he said.
He added that it could also narrow future opportunities.
“It limited me from different organizations including even the government sectors, to offer me a job, and it also limited my traveling to different countries that don’t tolerate the record of a conviction.” Nalwadda Shammy said the repeated adjournments appeared designed to wear them down.
“The magistrate gave us an adjournment after an adjournment, thinking she would frustrate us and plead guilty for exercising our constitutional rights,” she said.
“I appreciate my co-accused for not budging in and falling prey to the failed judicial system of our country. Besides, I would demonstrate again for a good reason regardless of what they would do to us.”
Their lawyer, human rights advocate Eron Kiiza, framed the case as part of a broader pattern surrounding environmental resistance.
“It is a form of judicial harassment and intimidation designed to silence critical voices against fossil fuels development in Uganda,” he said.
“Unable to intellectually persuade climate scientists and activists, aware of the deleterious impacts of fossil fuels on human and planetary health, fossil fuels companies like Total and EACOP are resorting to judicial harassment, and state coercion to silence, intimidate and impoverish peaceful protestors against their climate harming projects.”
The East African Crude Oil Pipeline remains one of the region’s most contested infrastructure projects. Supporters view it as a strategic economic asset that could unlock investment, jobs and export revenues.
Opponents argue that it carries environmental risks and displaces communities while deepening dependence on fossil fuels. That larger struggle gave the Kampala protest significance beyond a single city demonstration.
For many observers, the case now raises pressing questions about access to bail, the pace of justice and how Uganda handles protest-related offences. It also touches a deeper national issue: whether peaceful dissent is treated as a democratic right or a security problem. For the eight that walked out of Luzira, freedom came late and at a cost.
