Within hours, the data was public. And as John had suspected, the overcharge was not theft—it was a software glitch from an outdated billing system, affecting only 2% of users. But the company had known for two months and done nothing. That was the real sin: silence.
John’s office was on the fifth floor of a modest building in Kololo. From his window, he could see the chaotic dance of boda bodas, the glittering towers of new hotels, and the old mango trees that had witnessed decades of Ugandan history. He often said, “Every story has a root. Find it, and you can shape the branches.” pr john muyizzi
“We were wrong to stay quiet,” the CEO admitted. “We let fear override responsibility. Every affected customer will receive a full refund plus 50% extra credit. And here is the timeline for our new billing audit—publicly updated every week.” Within hours, the data was public
His first move surprised everyone. Instead of issuing a defensive statement, he asked LinkNet to release the full, unaltered memo—plus three years of pricing data. The board was horrified. “That’s corporate suicide!” they cried. But John insisted. “The cover-up is always worse than the crime,” he said. That was the real sin: silence
John didn’t rush. He brewed his usual ginger tea, opened his leather-bound notebook, and wrote three things: Truth. Empathy. Action.
One morning, a call came that would test every skill John possessed. A major telecommunications company, LinkNet Uganda, was in crisis. A leaked internal memo suggested they had been overcharging customers for months. Social media was on fire. The hashtag #LinkNetRobbery was trending. The CEO, a proud woman named Ms. Namukasa, was in panic.