OVERCROWDED! UNDERSTAFFED! ABANDONED! Secret Probe Unearths Horror in Children Remand Homes as Gender Ministry Bosses Sleep on the Job
A heartbreaking and explosive Auditor General’s 2025 report has laid bare a collapsing juvenile justice system in Uganda, exposing shocking failures in the management of remand homes and the national rehabilitation centre under the Ministry of Gender, Labour and Social Development—leaving vulnerable children trapped in overcrowded, under-resourced and poorly managed facilities.
At the centre of the storm are top officials including Balaam_Barugahara, the state minister in charge of children and youth affairs, Permanent Secretary Aggrey Kibenge and Commissioner for Youth and Children Affairs Mondo Kyateeka, whose roles include overseeing policy, supervision and protection of children in conflict with the law.
But the audit findings paint a grim picture of a system buckling under neglect and weak oversight.
What emerges is a disturbing reality where children—some as young as under 18 and meant to be protected under the law—are instead being held in facilities stretched far beyond their limits. Six out of eight remand homes and the rehabilitation centre are bursting at the seams, operating at between 110 percent and a staggering 229 percent capacity. In Fort Portal and Mbale, the situation is even worse, with populations exceeding recommended limits by over 120 percent.
“This level of overcrowding undermines care and rehabilitation,” the report notes, as children are crammed into already strained spaces meant to offer protection and reform.
Even more alarming is the complete absence of resident medical personnel across all eight facilities, in direct violation of the law which requires each centre to have a full-time nurse. Instead, management has resorted to informal arrangements with nearby health facilities—essentially outsourcing medical care for some of the country’s most vulnerable children.
While auditors noted that about 70 percent of sampled juveniles received medical check-ups on admission, the system remains dangerously fragile. “This is not sustainable,” an observer remarked to RedPepper. “These children deserve consistent and professional care, not emergency improvisation.”
The cracks deepen when it comes to justice and due process.
Out of more than 9,200 juveniles admitted over the review period, a shocking 63 percent lacked Social Inquiry Reports—critical documents needed to guide court decisions. The result has been delayed hearings, prolonged detention, and children languishing behind remand for far longer than the law allows.
From sampled cases, 41 percent of juveniles with minor offences had overstayed beyond the legal three-month limit, while 45 percent of those facing capital offences exceeded the six-month threshold.
“This delayed justice system is punishing children before they are even convicted,” the report implies.
Back inside the facilities, basic welfare is also compromised. Juveniles with chronic illnesses are not receiving specialized diets, with 9 percent lacking appropriate nutrition tailored to their medical needs—putting their health at serious risk.
Staffing levels are equally dire. Across all facilities, probation and social welfare officers are stretched thin, with an average ratio of one officer to 37 juveniles—far above the recommended 1:8. This leaves little room for proper supervision, counseling, or rehabilitation.
Recreational and development opportunities are also limited. Except for a few centres, most lack proper playgrounds, leaving children with little more than indoor games like Ludo. Opportunities for growth, exercise and social development are severely restricted.
Education—arguably the most powerful tool for rehabilitation—is also failing.
At Kampiringisa National Rehabilitation Centre, only 25 percent of juveniles who expressed interest in formal education are actually accessing it, largely due to lack of on-site schools. Others are left idle, their futures hanging in uncertainty.
Vocational training programs exist but are crippled by outdated equipment, some dating back to the 1950s. Key skills like carpentry cannot even be taught due to lack of functional tools.
“This equipment is dilapidated and unsuitable,” the report reveals, effectively rendering skills training ineffective in preparing juveniles for real-world opportunities.
And when these children finally complete their sentences, another crisis awaits.
At the time of audit, nearly 30 percent of juveniles who had completed their committal orders were still stuck in the rehabilitation centre, unable to return to their communities. Even those who were released—971 over three years—were sent back into society with no start-up support, no tools, and no safety net.
“This undermines their ability to utilize the skills acquired,” the report warns, pointing to a high risk of reoffending.
Worse still, there is no structured follow-up system to track or support these children after reintegration, directly contradicting the principle of continuous care under the Children Act.
In perhaps one of the most damning revelations, the system itself lacks a clear regulatory framework. Since the Children Act was enacted in 1997, no specific rules have been developed to guide the management of these facilities, leaving them operating in a vacuum of inconsistency and weak oversight.
Coordination between key government agencies—including the Office of the Director of Public Prosecutions, the Judiciary and the Ministry of Internal Affairs—is also described as ineffective, with no structured engagement to streamline juvenile justice processes.
“This hampers effective administration of juvenile justice,” the report states, exposing a fragmented system where institutions are not talking to each other.
Despite these grim findings, the Auditor General noted that the juvenile system is still attempting to fulfill its mandate. But the warning is clear: urgent reforms are needed.
The report calls for sweeping changes, including expanding facilities, recruiting more staff, introducing diversion programs to keep minor offenders out of detention, improving healthcare, strengthening education and vocational training, and creating systems to support juveniles after release.
But as the dust settles, one haunting question remains.
How did a system designed to protect children become one that exposes them to neglect, delay and uncertainty?
For many observers, the answer lies in years of inaction, weak supervision and failure by those entrusted with responsibility. And unless urgent action is taken, Uganda risks raising a generation of children failed not just by the justice system—but by the very institutions meant to protect them.
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