Somalia Outcry Over ‘Rushed’ Execution of Woman Convicted of Child Murder

‘Justice or rush to judgment?’ Somalia’s rare execution of a woman exposes deep cracks in the system

GALKAYO, Somalia — The death of 14-year-old Saabirin Saylaan jolted Somalia long before the firing squad assembled for the woman convicted of killing her. It began on Nov. 12, when, according to police records, Hodan Mohamud Diiriye phoned her husband to say the teenager who had been living in their home was unconscious. They raced Saabirin to a hospital in Galkayo, where staff pronounced her dead and called the police.

Less than three months later, on Feb. 3, Diiriye — a 34-year-old mother of more than 10 children — was executed by firing squad for murder. The case, fueled by leaked videos that allegedly showed the girl being tortured, ignited national outrage in a country where child abuse is often silenced and prosecutions are rare. It also produced an uncommon verdict: a woman sentenced to death in Somalia, and for child abuse.

Public fury has since ebbed in the belief that justice was served. But beneath the calm, lawyers and activists say the speed, spectacle and unevenness of the process exposed how patriarchal norms, clan power and a patchwork court system can skew outcomes — particularly for women with limited protection.

“The justice system in Somalia is very poor,” said Guleid Ahmed Jama, a lawyer who has worked in Somalia and founder of the Human Rights Centre, a watchdog in North Western State of Somalia. “It fails because the court system is decentralised and not established by a central government.” He said clan networks remain decisive. Women are often not regarded as equal members of those structures and therefore lack the bargaining power and protection men can command when accused of crimes.

Police said they recovered dozens of videos from Diiriye’s phone suggesting abuse, and a postmortem found Saabirin died by strangulation, with marks and bruises on her body. The leaked clips raced across Somali social media, hardening public opinion. When news of the death emerged, family members and supporters blockaded the hospital mortuary to prevent burial and to keep the case from sliding into a traditional dispute-resolution process that they feared would minimize the crime.

“This case provoked an unprecedented reaction because of its nature,” said Shukri Abdi Ali, head of the Women’s Peace Network in Galkayo and a member of Saabirin’s extended family. “In our community, we have never witnessed a case like this, where an innocent young girl was subjected to such brutality by a woman. It shocked the nation, as it went against the widely accepted beliefs of women as protectors and caregivers.”

Diiriye and her then-husband, 75-year-old Abdiaziz Nur Hashi, had taken in Saabirin, an orphan, after an older relative said she could no longer care for her. Hashi’s lawyer said the husband was often away and unaware of any abuse. Nine days before Saabirin’s death, the couple divorced, and Hashi moved into a hotel, according to court filings.

Under intense public scrutiny, the trial began Nov. 20 and was broadcast live. Diiriye pleaded not guilty, her lawyer said. “When she was brought in front of the judge, she said she was mentally unstable and didn’t remember anything she had done,” said Abdiaziz Mohamed Farah, who represented her.

On Dec. 15, the court convicted Diiriye of murder and sentenced her to death. Hashi received one year in prison for negligence and a $500 fine. He is now free, having paid the fine and the monetary equivalent of his sentence, according to his lawyer.

Farah alleges due process failures from the outset. He said Diiriye had no lawyer present during arrest or police interrogation and that the court rushed proceedings, leaving little time to prepare a defense. When he raised concerns about her mental health, he said, the court declined to order an assessment. Farah also wanted to call a domestic worker from the home as a witness, but she could not be located. In court, Farah said, Diiriye maintained the person in the leaked videos was not Saabirin.

“The trial was unlawful,” Farah said. “It was not in line with international standards. Such cases, especially concerning murder, are not to be handled lightly. This case was mismanaged and instead of giving it the weight and care it needed, it was handled irresponsibly.”

He sought to appeal, but said the court ignored his request after Diiriye signed a statement saying she would not contest the verdict. According to Farah, she told him her family had urged her to forgo appeal because they would arrange payment of blood money to Saabirin’s relatives in exchange for her life — a promise he said did not materialize. “If a person is accused of murder, they have rights and nobody should lose these rights,” he said.

Jama, the rights lawyer, said the swirl of televised spectacle, leaked evidence and an outraged public created an impossible environment for impartial justice. “Because the alleged perpetrator was a woman, it became very, very sensational in the media,” he said. “When all the public opinion went against her and when there isn’t a proper independent judiciary, that is a very tough situation to be in.”

The contrast with other capital cases has intensified scrutiny of Diiriye’s execution. In January 2024, a court sentenced Sayid Ali Moalim Daud to death for the murder of his pregnant wife, Luul Abdiaziz. The supreme court upheld the sentence in September 2024, yet he has not been executed.

“People are now asking why he is alive as a result of this case,” said Zakarie Abdirahman of the Coalition of Somali Human Rights Defenders. “He has exhausted all his appeals. I think the reason his execution is delayed is because he is from an influential clan.”

Abdirahman said Diiriye’s guilt may ultimately be clear — but the process itself matters. “Even then she should not face a rushed execution,” he said. “A thorough legal process was necessary, all evidence must have been examined, guilt established beyond reasonable doubt, and her mental health also carefully evaluated.”

The Diiriye case has revived calls for stronger child protection and consistent application of law in Somalia, where formal courts are fragmented, customary law is influential and armed groups still exert local control. Women’s advocates say those overlapping systems can fail the most vulnerable people on both sides of a case — children without guardians and women without clan standing.

In Galkayo, Saabirin’s relatives and activists who carried placards to the mortuary say they pressed for formal accountability not to set a precedent for execution, but to ensure that the death of a child would not be tradable or quietly settled. Legal advocates say the next step is codifying that principle without sacrificing the rights of the accused.

What comes next may depend on whether the outrage that powered a swift verdict can also fuel deeper reform: standardized procedures across regions, guaranteed access to counsel, professional assessments in cases involving claims of mental illness and clear rules on admissible evidence. For the moment, the questions left by a televised trial and a firing squad remain: whether justice in Somalia is shaped more by a phone’s leaked files and a clan’s weight than by the rights promised in court.

By Ali Musa
Axadle Times international–Monitoring.