On that damned day of 18th October 2024, the very fabric of Kampala’s order was torn apart by none other than Mercy Timbitiwire Bashisha—a woman so vile, even demons in hell might shudder at the mention of her name. She prowled through the city in her white Toyota Land Cruiser, registration number UBM 439T, like a self-anointed queen, trampling on the law as though it were her personal doormat. This creature, cloaked in the guise of a human, left a trail of destruction, much like a rabid animal let loose on innocent citizens.
Her arrogance, soaked in satanic defiance, knew no bounds. When a traffic officer, humbly doing his duty to protect the public, signaled her to stop, she drove on as if his very existence was beneath her notice. It was as if she believed herself untouchable, a goddess in her own twisted fantasy, untethered by mere mortal laws. Does this sound like a regular traffic violation? Oh no, this was nothing short of a full-blown rebellion against decency, much like Jezebel of old, who spat in the face of God’s prophets. But Mercy? She spat on the law itself, dragging us all into the abyss of her madness.
If ignoring the officer wasn’t enough, the situation took an even darker turn. After the relentless pursuit by the officer to the Lugogo Traffic Lights, Bashisha pulled over, not to surrender but to fortify herself like a cornered beast. Parking at the Uganda Manufacturers Association, she locked herself in her car, as if that would protect her from the judgment she so richly deserved. When the officer demanded her driving license, her response was not one of submission but of violence. Like some foul spirit possessed, she unleashed an assault on the very man tasked with upholding the law. Imagine it—a public servant assaulted for doing his job, much like how Jezebel ruthlessly crushed anyone who stood in her way. Mercy wasn’t just defying the law; she was waging war on order itself.
But the demonic drama didn’t end there. In an act so brazen it could only have come from a depraved mind, Bashisha robbed the officer of his police EPS gadget and his two phones. The sheer gall of this woman! This was no longer a human we were dealing with; this was the physical manifestation of chaos, a creature whose moral compass had long been shattered. And what of the phones and the EPS gadget she stole? Perhaps she believed they were trophies of her sick triumph over the law.
Now, this monstrosity sits in police detention, where she belongs, but one must wonder—how many more lives would she have ruined had she not been stopped? How much more terror would she have unleashed? The real question is—what possesses a person to behave in such a grotesque manner? Is it simply arrogance, or something more sinister? We may never know.
But one thing is certain—Mercy Bashisha has proven herself to be a creature of unparalleled wickedness. Kampala’s streets cannot afford to be sullied by such filth. And yet, in her mind, she might still believe she’s invincible. Let her story serve as a warning: no matter how high these creatures climb, the fall from grace is inevitable, and Mercy Bashisha’s crash will be one to remember. For Kampala cannot—will not—be held hostage by such lawless demons.
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