In the world of private investigation, your gut is often more valuable than your GPS. It’s that prickle on the back of your neck telling you a story is a little too polished, a client a little too desperate. But sometimes, the mask is so well-constructed that you don’t see the cracks until the handcuffs click—not on the subject, but on the client.
This is the story of my investigation involving Leonard Thuo Mwithiga, a case that started with a father’s plea and ended with a Connecticut State Police sting operation that busted him for a hitman for hire offense.
The Professional from Kenya:
It began with a phone call from a man who had just flown into the U.S. from Kenya. Leonard Mwithiga presented himself as a grieving father and a professional in distress. We met at a modest motel in Plainfield, Connecticut. The Motel 6.
Mwithiga was the picture of credibility:
Mr. Wwithiga was a well-spoken, calm man and was dressed in a sharp suit. He told a convincing tale of a wife who had fled Africa with their children, leaving him behind to pick up the pieces. He claimed he just wanted his day in court to fight for custody and bring his family back home. Once he won his battle and took his children home, his wife could continue living in America, on her own, like she always wanted.
As a private detective for over 33 years, I’ve seen many parental abduction cases and Mwithiga did not seem like the type. He was convincing and played the part perfectly. Because of the way he carried himself, his professional position back in Kenya, which I verified, and his skills in telling a good story, I took the case. Now I was tasked with finding his wife and children so she could be served with legal papers and taken to court.
If my client were able to win that case, he would be able to take his children home and never look back.
Finding the Family:
Finding people who aren’t necessarily “hiding” but are simply living a quiet life isn’t usually difficult for an experienced investigator. Within a week, I located the woman and children living in an apartment just one town over from where Mwithiga was staying.
The legal wheels began to turn. The wife was served, a court date was set, and for a moment, it seemed like a standard, albeit emotional, custody battle. But at the first hearing, the atmosphere shifted.
The First Red Flag: The Marshal’s Escort:
Following the court appearance, Mwithiga asked me to perform surveillance. He wanted to know if she was working and where the kids were going to school—standard requests for a custody case to determine stability and child support.
However, as I watched the subject exit the courthouse, my “PI alarm” went off. She wasn’t walking alone; she was being escorted to her car by a Connecticut State Marshal.
In my experience, marshals don’t provide door-to-door service unless a person expresses a legitimate fear for their safety. I immediately called Mwithiga. I asked him point-blank: “Are there any restraining or protective orders against you that I’m not seeing in the system?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No,” he said. “Nothing like that exists.”
The Strange Feeling:
A couple of weeks later, Mwithiga called again, requesting more mobile surveillance. I sat in my car for three hours, watching a quiet apartment complex. Nothing moved. The air felt heavy with a “strange feeling”—the kind you can’t quantify in a report but you ignore at your peril.
I realized there was no longer a legitimate investigative purpose for this. He knew where she lived. He had her in court. Why was he paying me to sit here and watch her front door?
“It’s over,” I told myself. I called Mwithiga, terminated the surveillance, and closed the case. I told him I wouldn’t be taking any more of his money. My involvement ended there—or so I thought.
The News Feed and the Uber Driver
Two weeks later, I was scrolling through my cell phone news feed when a headline stopped my heart. Leonard Thuo Mwithiga had been arrested.
The details were chilling. It turned out Mwithiga hadn’t just been looking for “custody.” He wanted his wife dead.
While he was using my services for surveillance, he was also using Uber for transportation. During his rides, he began asking drivers if they knew anyone who could “end his wife’s life” for money, specifically mentioning poisoning. He was looking for a hitman.
Luckily, he asked the wrong person—or rather, the right one. One of the Uber drivers, terrified by the request, went straight to the Connecticut State Police.
The Sting:
The State Police acted fast. They set up an undercover operation where an officer posed as a “hitman.” They met with Mwithiga and the Uber driver. Mwithiga, still convinced he was the smartest person in the room, paid a deposit to the “hitman” to have his wife murdered.
He was taken into custody on the spot.
The Aftermath and the Statement
After the news broke, I did what many people do in the modern age—I shared my perspective. I made a TikTok explaining the investigation from my side and how close I had come to a very dark situation.
The video caught the attention of the authorities. I was contacted by the State Police and asked to come into their offices to provide a formal statement. They wanted to know everything: what he asked for, what I observed, and the timeline of our interactions.
Final Thoughts:
Today, Leonard Thuo Mwithiga remains behind bars, awaiting the disposition of his case for attempted murder.
This case serves as a grim reminder for those in my profession. We are often the first point of contact for people in crisis, but we must never forget that “well-spoken” and “professional” are not synonyms for “innocent.”
I’m grateful I listened to that “strange feeling” and walked away when I did. In this business, the most important thing you can protect isn’t just your client’s interests—it’s the truth.
