Saturday, January 29, 2005
FEATURE ARTICLE: SIT In-Charge embroiled in false case
EXPOSE OF LAW & ORDER IN TAMIL NADU
Equal Prejudice Before Law
In the voluminous chargesheet the police filed, 712 pieces of evidence (including witness statements) are said to be attached, substantiating the prosecution's theory of the crime. Those pieces of evidence likely include "confession" statements, "cell phone records", "seized motor vehicles" allegedly used to commit the crime, "murder weapons" etcetera.
Any unbiased observor of this case harbors reservations about the prosecution claims. Even so, many question whether all these evidences could be concocted. How could this many pieces of evidence be faked? Would so many policemen from Constables to Inspectors to Superintendents participate in a frame-up?
The details about the evidnence in this case have not yet been disclosed, but one thing we can say for sure is - it has happened before. The Tamil Nadu police have concocted cases, out of thin air, complete with damning "evidence", and, in one of those cases, managed to keep a man in jail for 6 months under the Goonda's act. The only reason the truth ever came out in that case, was because the police made a mistake, and a tenacious defense attorney brought it to the attention of two honest High Court judges...
Taslim Ansari, whom we briefly mentioned in our last editorial comment, spent 6 months in Velur Central prison as a bootlegger under the Goonda's act. His story, detailed in a number of press accounts, as well as in the High Court judgement of his case, is instructive of the way law enforcement works in Tamil Nadu. There's an interesting twist at the end of the story -- a celebrity surprise, shall we say? We hope that's enough of a teaser to keep you reading.
It was late November, around midnight. Taslim Ansari was sound asleep in bed when the knock came at the door. Must be someone whose car broke down, thoughtTaslim. Over 25 years, he had built a good name for his thriving auto-repair business. He secured his lungi tightly as he walked to the door.
It was Chengelpet Inspector J Sivakumar. He told Taslim to put on a shirt and come with him. Oh, and bring your cell phone, he instructed. Luckily, a neighbor saw Taslim leaving in the police jeep. He and Taslim's uncle followed it to the station, one on his Yamaha motorcycle and the other in his Maruti van. The jeep was inside the gate, so they returned home.
The next day, when his family went to enquire after Taslim, the good Inspector demanded 1 lakh rupees for his release. When they pleaded that wasn't possible, Inspector Sivakumar said he would settle for a Toyota Qualis van in lieu. That was his final offer. Otherwise, he warned, I'll have your husband booked under the Goonda's Act and have him thrown in jail for a full year. Before Taslim's family and friends could leave the station, the inspector had his constables take their vehicles, a Yamaha motorcycle and a Maruti van.
The Tamil Nadu police did exactly as they had promised. They scripted a case, casting Taslim as villain. It wasn't just an arbitrary accusation. They had incontrovertible evidence to prove the charges. Eyewitnesses had seen Taslim drive up in broad daylight to an abandoned Yamaha motorcycle in his Maruti van and load 3 bottles of tainted alcohol from it. When the police stopped him and inspected the van, they found it full of bottles of bootleg liqour, that smelled so foul, it made Inspector Sivakumar's eyes and nostrils burn. Forensic examination of the liquid proved it was tainted liqour.They arrested Taslim the bootlegger, and seized the two vehicles. It didn't take long for Taslim to confess everything during police interrogation. Afterwards, Taslim had, through his family, tried to influence senior officers to let him off the hook. The police had cell phone records to prove it.
It was an open-and-shut case. Uncontradicted "eye-witness" statements, "forensic analysis" of the seized liqour, the "seized vehicles" (laced, perhaps with traces of spirit) and even a signed "confession" -- that was good enough for the sessions court. The court twice denied Taslim bail on the basis of this "solid" evidence. The District Collector of Kanchipuram didn't hesitate a bit to slap the Goonda's Act on Taslim. You see, even though he had no prior record, more than one charge arose from the present case.
"Eye-witness testimony", "confessional statements", "forensic evidence", "cell phone records", "seized vehicles". Does any of this sound familiar?
Where the story fell apart was in the Madras High Court. You see, Taslim's lawyer decided to do his own investigation. He decided to get the original bills for Taslim's mobile phone from Airtel. At first, the police blocked this. But, Taslim's attorney persisted. He sent a legal notice to Airtel, and forced them to send the original cell phone records, which were a bit different from the ones the police presented as evidence.
Taslim's lawyer set to call up each of the numbers on the Airtel bill that occurred after Taslim was taken into custody. And you know what he discovered? Many of them were to Inspector Sivakumar's superiors. Of course, that only went to substantiate the prosecution claims that Taslim or his family sought to influence senior officers. But, in between all these, there were a number of calls to one particular private residence. It took a lot of footwork, but he finally figured out to whom the calls were placed: Inspector Sivakumar's ex-wife and his two children.
The High Court judges saw through the whole charade. The Inspector had been the one making the phone calls to his superiors and to his children. And everyone else -- the other policemen witnesses, the prosecutor, the District Collector, they had all played along.
Sivakumar emphasized one thing in his defense. He had only acted on orders from his superiors, who were fully apprised at each step of the way. And the fact of the matter is, this must be so. For, how else could such an elaborate set-up sustain?
Someone had to arrange to get a sample of tainted liqour from the Prohibition Wing's cache to send to the lab. Someone had to corroborate the seizure of the bootleg and van, and arrange for the eye-witness testimony. Some other policemen had to corroborate the interrogation, and get Taslim's signature on blank pieces of paper for his "confession". Someone with clout had to make certain that the District Collector and the lower court magistrates would toe the line. Someone with authority had to intimidate the cell phone company, when the defense started to make trouble.
A measly Inspector and two constables couldn't possibly acheive all this on their own.
So, who do you think Inspector Sivakumar called first after he requisitioned Taslim Ansari's phone? It was the private cell number of an Additional District Superintendent of Police.
That's right - none other than SIT Chief Investigating Officer, Mr. S.P. Shaktivel.
You do the math.
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Equal Prejudice Before Law
In the voluminous chargesheet the police filed, 712 pieces of evidence (including witness statements) are said to be attached, substantiating the prosecution's theory of the crime. Those pieces of evidence likely include "confession" statements, "cell phone records", "seized motor vehicles" allegedly used to commit the crime, "murder weapons" etcetera.
Any unbiased observor of this case harbors reservations about the prosecution claims. Even so, many question whether all these evidences could be concocted. How could this many pieces of evidence be faked? Would so many policemen from Constables to Inspectors to Superintendents participate in a frame-up?
The details about the evidnence in this case have not yet been disclosed, but one thing we can say for sure is - it has happened before. The Tamil Nadu police have concocted cases, out of thin air, complete with damning "evidence", and, in one of those cases, managed to keep a man in jail for 6 months under the Goonda's act. The only reason the truth ever came out in that case, was because the police made a mistake, and a tenacious defense attorney brought it to the attention of two honest High Court judges...
Taslim Ansari, whom we briefly mentioned in our last editorial comment, spent 6 months in Velur Central prison as a bootlegger under the Goonda's act. His story, detailed in a number of press accounts, as well as in the High Court judgement of his case, is instructive of the way law enforcement works in Tamil Nadu. There's an interesting twist at the end of the story -- a celebrity surprise, shall we say? We hope that's enough of a teaser to keep you reading.
It was late November, around midnight. Taslim Ansari was sound asleep in bed when the knock came at the door. Must be someone whose car broke down, thoughtTaslim. Over 25 years, he had built a good name for his thriving auto-repair business. He secured his lungi tightly as he walked to the door.
It was Chengelpet Inspector J Sivakumar. He told Taslim to put on a shirt and come with him. Oh, and bring your cell phone, he instructed. Luckily, a neighbor saw Taslim leaving in the police jeep. He and Taslim's uncle followed it to the station, one on his Yamaha motorcycle and the other in his Maruti van. The jeep was inside the gate, so they returned home.
The next day, when his family went to enquire after Taslim, the good Inspector demanded 1 lakh rupees for his release. When they pleaded that wasn't possible, Inspector Sivakumar said he would settle for a Toyota Qualis van in lieu. That was his final offer. Otherwise, he warned, I'll have your husband booked under the Goonda's Act and have him thrown in jail for a full year. Before Taslim's family and friends could leave the station, the inspector had his constables take their vehicles, a Yamaha motorcycle and a Maruti van.
The Tamil Nadu police did exactly as they had promised. They scripted a case, casting Taslim as villain. It wasn't just an arbitrary accusation. They had incontrovertible evidence to prove the charges. Eyewitnesses had seen Taslim drive up in broad daylight to an abandoned Yamaha motorcycle in his Maruti van and load 3 bottles of tainted alcohol from it. When the police stopped him and inspected the van, they found it full of bottles of bootleg liqour, that smelled so foul, it made Inspector Sivakumar's eyes and nostrils burn. Forensic examination of the liquid proved it was tainted liqour.They arrested Taslim the bootlegger, and seized the two vehicles. It didn't take long for Taslim to confess everything during police interrogation. Afterwards, Taslim had, through his family, tried to influence senior officers to let him off the hook. The police had cell phone records to prove it.
It was an open-and-shut case. Uncontradicted "eye-witness" statements, "forensic analysis" of the seized liqour, the "seized vehicles" (laced, perhaps with traces of spirit) and even a signed "confession" -- that was good enough for the sessions court. The court twice denied Taslim bail on the basis of this "solid" evidence. The District Collector of Kanchipuram didn't hesitate a bit to slap the Goonda's Act on Taslim. You see, even though he had no prior record, more than one charge arose from the present case.
"Eye-witness testimony", "confessional statements", "forensic evidence", "cell phone records", "seized vehicles". Does any of this sound familiar?
Where the story fell apart was in the Madras High Court. You see, Taslim's lawyer decided to do his own investigation. He decided to get the original bills for Taslim's mobile phone from Airtel. At first, the police blocked this. But, Taslim's attorney persisted. He sent a legal notice to Airtel, and forced them to send the original cell phone records, which were a bit different from the ones the police presented as evidence.
Taslim's lawyer set to call up each of the numbers on the Airtel bill that occurred after Taslim was taken into custody. And you know what he discovered? Many of them were to Inspector Sivakumar's superiors. Of course, that only went to substantiate the prosecution claims that Taslim or his family sought to influence senior officers. But, in between all these, there were a number of calls to one particular private residence. It took a lot of footwork, but he finally figured out to whom the calls were placed: Inspector Sivakumar's ex-wife and his two children.
The High Court judges saw through the whole charade. The Inspector had been the one making the phone calls to his superiors and to his children. And everyone else -- the other policemen witnesses, the prosecutor, the District Collector, they had all played along.
Sivakumar emphasized one thing in his defense. He had only acted on orders from his superiors, who were fully apprised at each step of the way. And the fact of the matter is, this must be so. For, how else could such an elaborate set-up sustain?
Someone had to arrange to get a sample of tainted liqour from the Prohibition Wing's cache to send to the lab. Someone had to corroborate the seizure of the bootleg and van, and arrange for the eye-witness testimony. Some other policemen had to corroborate the interrogation, and get Taslim's signature on blank pieces of paper for his "confession". Someone with clout had to make certain that the District Collector and the lower court magistrates would toe the line. Someone with authority had to intimidate the cell phone company, when the defense started to make trouble.
A measly Inspector and two constables couldn't possibly acheive all this on their own.
So, who do you think Inspector Sivakumar called first after he requisitioned Taslim Ansari's phone? It was the private cell number of an Additional District Superintendent of Police.
That's right - none other than SIT Chief Investigating Officer, Mr. S.P. Shaktivel.
You do the math.
