The killing of Matthew Mulbah, a man known to his neighbors as a 'gentle giant,' has ignited a firestorm of public outrage and skepticism across Liberia, casting a harsh, unforgiving light on the Liberia National Police (LNP) and their fundamental inability to manage crises involving vulnerable citizens. While Inspector General of Police Gregory Coleman has attempted to frame the encounter as an act of self-defense triggered by the stabbing of an officer, the physical evidence and witness accounts suggest a far more sinister reality: an execution-style dispatching of a mentally ill individual who, by all accounts, posed no immediate, insurmountable threat that necessitated the firing of six to eight rounds. For the observers of Liberia’s fragile democratic transition, this incident is not merely an isolated tragedy but a potent symptom of a systemic culture of excessive force and a profound lack of professional training within the nation’s security apparatus. The death of Matthew Mulbah serves as a tragic microcosm of the wider failure of the state to protect its most vulnerable, revealing that the very institution tasked with upholding the rule of law often operates with a disregard for the sanctity of human life.
The historical context of the LNP cannot be ignored in this analysis. Emerging from the ashes of Liberia’s protracted civil war, the police force has struggled for decades to transition from a paramilitary-style entity associated with political repression to a community-focused law enforcement agency. While the Security Sector Reform (SSR) programs initiated after 2003 aimed to professionalize the force, this incident suggests those reforms remain largely cosmetic. The lack of Crisis Intervention Team (CIT) training—a standard international practice for managing psychiatric emergencies—is a glaring omission that continues to cost lives.
When the LNP was summoned to assist with Mulbah’s admission to the E.S. Grant Mental Health Hospital, they were called upon as agents of care and assistance, not combatants. Instead, the arrival of officers, who were reportedly unprepared to manage a psychiatric crisis, transformed a medical intervention into a lethal battlefield.
The fundamental premise of the police, that they must escalate force to neutralize threats, proved utterly incompatible with the requirements of caring for a man in the throes of a mental health crisis. Witnesses have stated clearly that Mulbah was confined to his room, agitated, and seeking only to be left in peace. The decision to force his removal without specialized training, equipment, or non-lethal intervention strategies was the primary failure. When Mulbah allegedly reacted defensively, the police reaction was not calibrated to de-escalate or incapacitate but to destroy.
The assertion of self-defense loses all credibility when one considers the sheer volume of gunfire unleashed. A single shot or a warning shot might suggest a panicked reaction to a stabbing; firing six to eight rounds at a man who was already confined to a room is indicative of an intent to kill, not an intent to secure a perimeter. Furthermore, the report that the order to fire came from an officer outside the room, removed from the immediate danger, suggests a command structure that is detached from the realities of the ground, prioritizing the neutralization of 'targets' over the protection of citizens. George K.
Werner, the former Minister of Education and a close friend of the deceased, described Mulbah as someone who was a staple of the neighborhood, a man whose presence was defined by reliability and kindness. That this same man was reduced to a lethal threat in the eyes of the police speaks to the dehumanizing lens through which the LNP often views the public. The trauma of the shooting was compounded by the reported actions of the officers following the barrage of gunfire, as they proceeded to handcuff a critically wounded man—a gruesome post-script to an already horrifying event. The economic and social implications for Liberia are severe.
Trust in the police is a cornerstone of any functional democracy, and in Liberia, this trust is perpetually fractured by such incidents. When citizens fear that calling the police for help—whether for medical assistance or protection—will lead to the death of a family member, the social contract is fundamentally broken. This incident is a stark reminder that as long as the LNP remains untrained in the nuanced, life-saving strategies of crisis intervention, they will continue to serve as a source of violence rather than a source of safety. Regional experts note that Liberia’s police force, despite its reform history, frequently resorts to lethal force where police in other regional neighbors might utilize de-escalation tactics.
The refusal to implement modern policing standards is not just a policy failure; it is an economic failure as well, as resources are poured into an institution that consistently undermines its own legitimacy and the peace of the nation. The government’s response to this tragedy must move beyond the perfunctory statements of the Inspector General. An independent, transparent inquiry is not just a request but a necessity. The public deserves to know the identity of the officer who gave the command to open fire and why those present failed to exercise the discretion and judgment expected of law enforcement.
Accountability in this case is the only way to signal to the Liberian public that the lives of the mentally disabled are valued and that the police are not above the laws they are sworn to protect. If the LNP continues to shield its officers from accountability after such clear instances of unprofessionalism, it invites a future of recurring violence and deepening resentment. The case of Matthew Mulbah is a cry for systemic reform. It highlights that the training of security forces must evolve to include social work, mental health awareness, and stringent rules of engagement that prioritize life above all else.
Without such changes, the cycle of violence will only continue, and the next 'gentle giant' in another neighborhood might suffer the same cold, calculated fate. The duty of the state is to provide security; in this instance, the state provided only death. We must ask ourselves what kind of Liberia we are building when the police represent a greater threat to the common man than the dangers they are meant to suppress. The memory of Matthew Mulbah deserves more than a mourning community; it demands a fundamental shift in how the state treats its most vulnerable, ensuring that justice is served and that the dark chapters of excessive force are finally closed in favor of a new, professional, and humane standard for Liberian law enforcement.
