Crime and political thrillers that feel uncomfortably real.

Many people see these deployments as peacekeeping missions. They are that. But they are also something else. They have quietly become one of the strongest pillars keeping President Museveni and his family in power.

He did not fly around the continent shaking hands like a diplomat. Epstein preferred shadows. Quiet hotel rooms. Private dinners. Emails sent late at night. He was the kind of man who opened doors for powerful people and then slipped quietly into the room behind them. Most of the time he was not acting like a banker. He was acting like a fixer. A broker of influence. The man who knew another man who knew another man.

The General sat alone in his private office, the air thick with the scent of old Waragi and power. His tongue, still rough from last night’s drinking, ran absent-mindedly over his upper teeth. The texture was…unpleasant. Sticky, like something had died in his mouth overnight. It took him a moment to realize that, yet again, he had skipped brushing his teeth. It had become a habit. He told himself it was because he was too busy running a country and, more recently, hunti

Ten years have passed, but the space he left behind has not grown smaller. If anything, it has grown larger. I miss my Dad more now than I did when he first died. I miss his voice. I miss our arguments. I miss making him proud. If I had the chance today, I would gladly take another disagreement with him, knowing it would end with both of us still having each other.

In this part of the world, America doesn’t pick leaders. It picks tools. And once it finds one that works, it holds on tight.