By DAILY NATION
Faith Wairimu
There is something about Faith
Wairimu that makes her stand
out in a crowd. Maybe it is her
cute, innocent eyes, or the lock
of brown wig that covers part of
her forehead, or the earrings
that run from the bottom to the
top of her ears.
Maybe it is her innocent-looking
face, made even more so by a
dash of black around her eyes
and the sharp arcs of her
tweezed eyebrows that make her
look permanently stunned and,
some say, stunning.
But looks can be deceiving, for
this is the woman who last week
confessed in a court of law to
contracting the services of hit
men to kill her husband of 15
years. Her justification? She
feared her husband, John Muthee
Guama, would leave her for
another woman.
Faith says there was no way she
could live with the thought of
her husband entertaining
another woman, and so she
sought the help of people she
thought were gangsters to put a
bullet in his skull. Those
gangsters, however, turned out to
be undercover police officers,
and so here we are, trying to
understand how a couple that,
from photographs in their family
album, looked so happy, and
loving, and trusting.
Muthee, probably the luckiest
man alive in his Kasarani
neighbourhood today, struggled
to explain to this writer where
the rain began beating his
marriage.
“I don’t understand what
happened,” he said, his voice
trailing off, “and probably it will
never sink in. All I can do is just
speculate.”
The police, however, need no
speculation. Inside the grubby
walls of Kasarani police station,
off Thika Road at Roysambu
area, a man sits, perusing
documents and answering calls
on his mobile phone. Every now
and then, he steps out to either
chat with his colleagues or speak
with his seniors.
Muthee is alive today because of
the actions of this man, who,
being the sleuth that he is,
requested anonymity. The target
also believes that one of his
tenants, a woman he only
identifies as Mama Kevo, who
was a close friend of Faith’s,
might have had a hand in saving
his life.
This is how it all unravelled: A
few weeks ago, Mama Kevo,
acting on behalf of Faith, met
with police officers from
Kasarani and informed them that
her friend was looking for
someone to kill her husband.
The police immediately saw a
chance to play hero and told her
that they would like to be part of
the action. They asked Mama
Kevo for Faith’s contacts and
arranged a meeting.
“We assured Faith that we would
do a clean hit,” the police officer
told us. “She did not know that
we were actually police officers
and eased herself into the trap
effortlessly. She requested that
we leave no trace that could be
used to incriminate any of us
after killing her husband and we
assured her that we would be
absolutely professional about it.”
Faith agreed to pay the “killers”
Sh200,000 for the job —
Sh40,000 upfront and Sh160,000
after the hit. Then they parted
ways, the police going back to
their station to monitor her and
she going back home to her
husband, whom she hoped would
be dead in a few days.
“Ours was a pretty delicate
operation,” the police officer
said. “We had to ensure that
Faith does not in any way
suspect us to be the good boys,
and so, on the surface, we took
every order she gave us. While at
it, we had to ensure that Muthee
was safe, so we started
monitoring him as well.”
On June 18, Faith called the
“killers” and informed them that
the day had come. She had lured
her husband to an open, busy
place in Githurai from where she
believed they could make an easy
exit after the killing. Near where
they stood was a busy Equity
Bank branch and, looking at
them from across the road, no
one could have imagined what
was about to happen.
The “killers” rushed to the
rendezvous in a car. Faith saw
them but maintained her cool.
Muthee just stood there, minding
his own business. Around them,
the cacophonic frenzy of the
Githurai-Zimmermann area
swallowed up every sound.
Matatus. Market women. Touts.
Children out and about. The
groan of a car wash machine.
The tap-tap of a carpenter busy
at work. Everything seemed
normal.
But in Faith’s mind all the
normalcy was about to be
shattered by the deadly burst of
gunfire. Where would they hit
her husband? Would they be
accurate or would they spray
bullets all over the place.
She stepped a few metres away
from Muthee… and waited for
the gunfire. Instead, the doors of
the “killers’” getaway car opened
and a man stepped out. What
was happening?
The men went straight for her
husband and started dragging
him towards the car. Muthee
went bollocks, shouting at them
to leave him alone and calling
his wife to come to his rescue.
Then he looked around and
realised Faith was nowhere to be
seen. She had fled. He was alone.
Around them, the groan of a car
wash machine, the tap-tap of a
carpenter, the wail of a child….
As Muthee struggled with the
attackers, a crowd started
milling around them. He stood
his ground, shouting at the top of
his voice that he was being
abducted and needed help. The
chaos attracted two
Administration police officers
guarding the nearby bank, who
had been informed about the
sting operation. They rushed to
the scene and helped bundle
Muthee into the car.
Once inside the vehicle, the
police officers told Muthee they
were not out to kill or rob him,
but to save his life. He felt his
heart sink into his socks. What
was happening? Were these
people for real? And where was
his wife?
He started to settle down and go
with the flow when the car eased
into the vast Kasarani police
station compound. These cannot
be bad guys, he thought to
himself as he was led into the
dark confines of the
administration block.
Once inside, the police officers
explained to him what was
happening and asked him to
maintain his cool. Then one of
them made a phone call to Faith,
asking her to give instructions on
what, exactly, she wanted them
to do with her husband.
Her answer was as chilling as
the tone of her voice. Three
bullets to the head, she told
them, and dump the body by the
roadside. She would, she said,
wait for three days before
reporting the disappearance of
her husband to the police, by
which time the killers would be
Sh200,000 richer and far, far
away.
She also told them she would
also lie to the police that her
husband had gone on a business
trip and was scheduled to return
after three days and that, being
the loving wife that she was, she
had decided to raise the alarm
when her husband delayed in
coming back home to her.
Muthee could not believe what
he was hearing. To make it even
more convincing, the police
officer asked Faith to speak, for
the last time, to her husband.
“When he handed the phone to
me, I could hear clearly that the
person on the other end of the
line was my wife. Now sure that
the police had the right person
and were not goofing, I decided
to play along. I told her to take
good care of our two children
and to tell them that their Daddy
loved them very much, and that
he wished them the best in life.”
Then they waited for a few
minutes before calling Faith
again to inform her that they
had honoured their side of the
bargain. But she needed proof of
Muthee’s death before she could
give them the remaining
Sh160,000, so they passed by a
butchery and soaked their clothes
in blood before heading for their
rendezvous with her.
Faith walked into the room,
looked around, saw the killers,
looked again, saw her husband,
and crumpled. She did not need
to be told what had happened.
The officers handcuffed her and
took her into custody before
taking her to court the following
day, where she pleaded guilty to
the charges. She will be
sentenced this Friday.
So, other than the “other
woman” that Faith says was her
motivation to attempt to kill her
husband, what else could have
gone on in her head?
Muthee is sure that Faith wanted
to take full charge of the
property they own and somehow
felt she would be better off with
him out of the way.
“The last question she asked me
during our dramatised
conversation on the phone at the
police station was that I tell her
where I kept the documents of
all the properties we have
together as well as our vehicle’s
logbook,” he says. “But is mere
wealth worth my life? Couldn’t
separation have worked for her?
If anything, she is entitled to half
the family property by virtue of
being my wife.”
But Faith maintains that it was
her husband’s “extra-marital
affairs” that pushed her to the
wall.
“He has been moving around
with other women,” she told the
court. She also claimed that her
husband of 15 years had been
physically abusing her and that
he had refused to pay school fees
for their children. Muthee denies
the allegations.
‘I have treated my family well’
However, even with all that is
going on, Muthee still speaks
well of his wife, but in the past
tense.
“My love for Faith was
unconditional,” he says. “I loved
her so much and I always
believed that she felt the same
for me…. I still can’t understand
why she would plot to have me
killed.
“Together, we came from very
humble beginnings and built a
future together. In my
estimation, I have treated my
family well, taking her and the
children out regularly and even
planning holidays to destinations
like Mombasa. I have not kept
her out of my businesses at all,
as is the case with most families
where the wife feels aggrieved.
She is even the manager of our
business. As far as I know, she
started changing after I broke my
leg in an accident one-and-a-half
years ago. That’s all I can say.”
The two owned a car and a four-
storey rental apartment building
in Zimmermann. They also
operated a joint bank account.
The account, he says, has been
the source of a lot of friction
between them of late.
“She has been feeling that I’m
too intrusive when I insist that
rent and any other returns from
our various investments be
deposited in the joint account for
easier management,” says
Muthee.
So, even as his wife awaits
sentencing, does he think he can
ever forgive her?
“My in-laws and other people
have asked me to forgive her and
move on with life, to think of the
good things she has done for me
and turn a blind eye to this
incident,” he says, his eyes
darting around in an attempt to
mask his confusion. “While it is
true that she has never exhibited
any signs of doing such a thing, I
must confess it is not easy.”
Muthee says he is traumatised
and considers seeing a counsellor
in order to cope with the
experience.
“It pains me to imagine that I
would have been dead today,
and, worst, that death was
planned by someone I love.”
For now, Muthee says his
priority is his two children —
one in Standard Seven and the
other in Form Two — whom he
hopes to guide through the
traumatic experience.
And so ends the story of Muthee
and Faith, two lovebirds who
met, fell in love, got married,
built a life, got children, plotted
a future, but drifted so tragically
apart.
krazyinsidekenya 