When police descended on the Kyamula home of socialite Brian Kirumira, better known as Bryan White, they expected to collect clues from what was reported as a tragic gas explosion.
Instead, they stumbled upon something stranger: grass-thatched huts tucked discreetly behind the mansion, suspected to be shrines.
Now, what began as an accident investigation has morphed into a sensational murder probe, one that’s blurring the lines between celebrity, superstition and the darker side of Kampala’s social elite.
The victim, 25-year-old Caroline Nalubwama, died at Kiruddu hospital last week after being rushed from Bryan White’s residence. Early reports claimed a gas cylinder explosion caused the fatal injuries.
But when her body arrived at the mortuary, there were no burn marks, only blood trickling from her nose. Her father, Ssalongo Tom Mutyaba, has rejected the gas explosion account outright.
“Bryan White called me himself,” he told reporters. “He said my daughter had been killed by the gods while she was being treated in the shrine. He calls himself a witch doctor, so, these stories about gas are lies.”
To a grieving parent, the idea that a daughter could die under such bizarre circumstances, in the home of a man known for his wealth and theatrics, felt like a cruel twist of fate.
THE POLICE INVESTIGATION DEEPENS
Police now say the case has been transferred from Katwe to Nateete division, which has stronger forensic capabilities and a CCTV command center. According to Kampala Metropolitan Deputy Police spokesperson Luke Owoyesigyire, detectives are examining CCTV footage and physical evidence to determine what exactly happened in the house that night.
“The circumstances that led to this death are still under investigation,” Owoyesigyire said at a press briefing in Naguru. “The prime suspect is still hospitalized but remains a person of high interest. We’re yet to confirm whether the cause was gas, fuel, or something else.”
When pressed about reports of shrines, Owoyesigyire confirmed that officers had found grass-thatched structures on the premises.
“Yes, there are such structures,” he said carefully. “But we cannot yet confirm their purpose.” The comment only deepened public intrigue. In a city where whispers of witchcraft and sacrifice often swirl around the powerful, the discovery has given an already sensational story a chilling undertone.
THE FALL OF KAMPALA’S “MONEY MAN”
For years, Bryan White has embodied Kampala’s brand of flashy success, a self-styled philanthropist and party fixture who threw wads of cash into crowds and boasted of ties to the political elite.
His rise was meteoric; his controversies, endless. In 2017, he was charged with attempted murder after allegedly shooting his neighbour, though the case was later dropped. In 2020, he was again arrested, this time for fraud and unpaid debts, including the alleged acquisition of a luxury car through false pretenses.
Each scandal seemed to dent but never destroyed his image. Until now. This latest case feels different, not just because of its tragedy, but because of what it represents. For years, Bryan White cultivated an aura of untouchability, mixing celebrity, money and mystique in a country where influence can blur accountability.
But as the police probe expands and the evidence piles up, that image is cracking. Behind the gates of his mansion, once the stage for champagne parties and political visitors, police tape now flutters in the wind.
The “Bryan White Foundation,” once hailed for charity drives, has fallen silent. And for Caroline’s family, the spectacle has stripped the case of all glamour. “We just want the truth,” her father said quietly. “That’s all.”
As Kampala debates whether this was a ritual gone wrong or a tragic domestic accident, one fact is clear: the story has gripped a nation. It touches every nerve — class, power, belief, and the uneasy coexistence of faith and fear in Uganda’s public life.
For now, police are keeping their findings close. But the investigation into Bryan White’s home, and the shrines within, has already exposed more than anyone expected.
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