Nshimiyimana Claude, a barber from Gicumbi District, never imagined that buying a secondhand phone at a wedding would land him in jail for a year and a half, all under what was supposed to be a “30-day pretrial detention.”
Now a free man, Nshimiyimana is speaking out about what he describes as a deeply unjust experience in Rwanda’s criminal justice system, one that casts a spotlight on the growing concern over the misuse and uneven application of provisional detention. “They said it was 30 days, but I stayed 18 months before even being tried,” he told Impuguke.com.
From Wedding Purchase to Prison Cell
Nshimiyimana’s ordeal began in 2021, during a wedding in Rwimiyaga Sector, Nyagatare District, where he bought a used phone from a stranger. Days later, back in Gicumbi, police arrived to arrest him, the phone was allegedly stolen, and its original owner had reportedly been found dead. He was transferred to RIB Nyagatare Station and later brought before a judge, who issued a 30-day pretrial detention order while investigations continued. But what should have been a temporary measure turned into a prolonged stay behind bars.“They tore up the first detention paper and gave me a new one. I asked why, and they said it was to give investigators more time,” he said.
Rwanda’s Criminal Procedure Law No. 027/2019 does allow for the renewal of pretrial detention, but only within strict legal limits: three months for misdemeanor suspects and six months for felony cases. Once those thresholds are crossed, the law requires that the suspect either be released or formally tried.
But for Nshimiyimana and many others he encountered in prison, those timelines meant little in practice. “Some had been there two, even four years, still labeled as ‘on 30-day remand’ without a single hearing on the merits of their cases,” he said.
Mental Scars and a System Under Pressure
Though eventually released, Nshimiyimana says his time in detention left lasting scars. “People don’t trust you anymore. They think you’re a killer or a thief. The community distances itself. It hurts mentally,” he said.
He believes the only reason his case moved forward was due to external pressure. “If you have someone to follow up your case from outside, it moves fast. My cousin, who is a soldier, had to step in before I got a hearing.”
The law promises equal protection for all. both Rwanda’s Constitution and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights enshrine that principle. But in reality, that promise often feels hollow to people like Nshimiyimana. “What kind of justice lets someone sit in jail for years, on a supposed 30-day remand?” he asks.
Legal experts point to systemic shortcomings. Attorney Ibambe Jean Paul notes that delays often depend on jurisdiction, case volume, and complexity. “Some cases are expedited, especially those involving corruption or economic crimes, because they’re assigned to specialized chambers,” he said.
Court spokesperson Mutabazi Harrison denies bias in how cases are managed. “The judiciary is the guardian of human rights,” he said. “The real issue is the volume of cases. Our staff, from inspectors to investigators, is overstretched.” He admitted that delays do occur, not necessarily out of malice, but due to practical challenges that also contribute to Rwanda’s overcrowded prisons.
Court spokesperson, Mutabazi Harrison(photo:igihe.com)
In November 2023, Rwanda’s Human Rights Commission reported that all 14 prisons assessed had exceeded capacity. Musanze Prison, for instance, was built for 2,300 inmates but held nearly 5,000, a 215% occupancy rate. Many of those incarcerated were still awaiting trial.
Nshimiyimana’s story is just one among many, but it raises uncomfortable questions about the state of justice in the country. “Thirty days should mean thirty days. If there’s no evidence, release the person or take them to court. This limbo is destroying lives,” he said.
As public pressure mounts for reform, Rwanda’s judiciary faces a fundamental challenge: can it protect the rights of all citizens equally, or will the most vulnerable continue to suffer in silence?