KAMPALA, Court | On the night of April 5th, 2023, what should have been a routine class at Makerere University turned into a nightmare for Kato Wilson. As students gathered for a lecture in the iconic but aging Mitchell Hall dining room, a group of unruly peers stormed the session, demanding the class to end. In the chaos that followed, Kato was assaulted—his eardrum ruptured, his sense of safety shattered.

It’s a scene no student expects when they walk into a university lecture. The assault left Kato not only physically hurt but also emotionally drained, questioning how Uganda’s premier academic institution could let such a thing happen on its grounds. For Kato, this wasn’t just an unfortunate incident; it was a violation of his fundamental rights. His plea for justice was rooted in something much deeper than his physical injury—he sought to challenge what he saw as a failure by Makerere University to protect its students.

Driven by a desire to hold the university accountable, Kato filed a lawsuit, citing violations of his rights to life, education, and protection from inhuman treatment. He demanded UGX 250 million in compensation and a commitment from the university to create a safer learning environment for all students. On paper, it seemed like a case of a young man standing up to a giant institution, fighting not just for himself but for every student who had ever felt unsafe within the hallowed halls of Makerere.

But as the case unfolded in the High Court of Uganda, a different narrative began to emerge. The court, presided over by Justice Ssekaana Musa, acknowledged the emotional weight of Kato’s story. His claim—based on the trauma of being attacked during a lecture—was compelling. Yet, as much as the court sympathized with his plight, the legal foundations of his case began to crumble under scrutiny.

For one, Kato had bypassed the university’s internal grievance procedures, an important step in seeking justice within an institution. Before bringing his case to court, Kato was advised to report the incident to the Dean of Students, who oversees student welfare, but he chose not to. The court made it clear that while human rights are paramount, there are procedures in place for a reason. These internal mechanisms allow institutions to address issues and make amends without immediately resorting to legal action. By sidestepping these processes, Kato weakened his claim.

Additionally, the court pointed out inconsistencies in Kato’s story. His initial police report suggested that he had been assaulted by an unknown man, while later claims implicated a group of Mitchell Hall residents. There was also confusion about the exact location of the assault—was it Mitchell Hall, or a similarly named venue? These discrepancies, while perhaps understandable in the heat of the moment, raised doubts about the clarity and strength of his case.

Justice Ssekaana’s ruling, dismissing the case, was not just a rejection of Kato’s claims, but a reminder of the delicate balance between individual rights and institutional responsibility. In his judgment, the judge emphasized that while Makerere University could certainly do better in ensuring student safety, the burden of proof lay with Kato. The case brought to light important questions: How much responsibility does a university have for the actions of its students? And at what point does the failure to provide a safe environment cross the line into human rights violations?

For Kato, the ruling was undoubtedly a disappointment. He walked into the courtroom hoping to bring about change, not just for himself but for his peers. Yet, the legal reality is often more complex than the emotional weight of the story. While his case did not succeed, it raises important issues that institutions like Makerere cannot afford to ignore. The safety of students, the condition of learning environments, and the broader question of how universities handle internal disputes remain pressing concerns.