If you want to know exactly where you stand in the Kenyan food chain, look at the tarmac on Lang’ata Road. On Tuesday, it was stained with the blood of a woman who was just trying to get to a funeral. She didn’t make it, because someone with a Parliament sticker on their windshield decided their schedule, or their thirst, was more important than two human lives.

This isn’t just a hit-and-run. It’s a performance review of our ruling class.

Witnesses say the driver hit a pedestrian in Kibra, didn’t even tap the brakes, and kept floor-boarding it until they hit another victim near Wilson Airport. Most people would be paralyzed by the horror of ending a life. But in this city, if you have the right piece of laminated paper on your dashboard, you don’t feel guilt; you feel inconvenienced.

The driver didn’t rush to a hospital. They didn’t even rush home to hide. They went to a club. Think about that level of cold-bloodedness. You leave a man on the road grappling with the fact that he now has to bury both his mother and his wife, and you go to order a drink. That is the Nairobi “Big Man” psyche: the belief that commoners are just speed bumps on the way to the next bottle of Hennessy.

We’ve seen this script before. The vehicle is now at Lang’ata Police Station, which is usually where justice goes to be negotiated over tea. The authorities are “investigating” whether the sticker was real or fake. Does it even matter? The sticker is a symptom of a culture where we have commodified power. Whether it was a Member of Parliament or just a well-connected thug, the intent was the same: use the symbol of the state to bypass the consequences of being a decent human being.

It’s the same rot we see in the Minnesota Cartel, where billions meant for the hungry are laundered into our resorts and political campaigns. The people who drive these cars, fueled by stolen money and protected by government branding, don’t see citizens. They see obstacles.

Don’t wait for a name to be released. If they were a nobody, their face would have been on every news cycle by now. The silence from the police tells you everything you need to know about the weight of that Parliament sticker. In this city, the law is a spider web: it catches the small flies but lets the big hornets tear right through.

If you’re walking along Lang’ata Road tonight, keep your eyes open. That sticker isn’t there to protect you; it’s a warning that the person behind the wheel has already been forgiven for whatever they do to you.