Jai Bhim and deaths in custody

 

Watching the Tamil movie Jai Bhim – based on true events – on Amazon Prime yesterday, I couldn’t help reflect on the way authorities everywhere, not just in India, deal with crime and minority groups.

The movie’s realistic depiction of the sufferings of victims of police abuse – and their families – was quite disturbing. And I couldn’t help seeing parallels to cases of abuse and death in custody reported in Malaysia.

Once again I felt wounded by man’s capacity to injure a fellow human. I believe you will too, if you were to watch the movie. It’ll touch a raw nerve.

But before you dismiss it as something that happened or happens in India, let me disabuse you of that notion. It is also about what happens in Malaysia, in the US and elsewhere. It is the universal story of the privileged and the underprivileged, of the powerful and the powerless.

It is about the struggle for justice, and of how even one person with conviction and persistence can make a difference.

I would say it is the best Tamil movie I’ve watched this year. And I’d urge you to go watch it, especially if you have a connection to, or are interested in, the criminal justice system. It has English subtitles but I believe even without the subtitles, you will be able to understand the story because the actors have given powerful performances.

Director TJ Gnanavel was reported to have said the story was about a particular habeas corpus case handled by the much-respected activist lawyer K Chandru, who later retired as a judge of the Madras High Court. But, as I’ve said, its more than that. And I think it is in the way Gnanavel has made the film, and the performances of the actors, that has turned it into a representative film, not merely one that depicts an isolated incident in Tamil Nadu in 1993.

Top Indian actor Suriya shines as Chandru while less known actors Manikandan and Lijomol Jose, who play Rajakannu and Sengkani respectively, put on a splendid performance.

Jai Bhim is, in brief, the story of false charges being slapped onto members of a defenceless minority community, police brutality, and hope in the form of a lawyer dedicated to fighting injustice.

Rajakannu, a member of the Irular tribe, is falsely accused of theft. He is arrested with a couple of relatives and tortured by the local police – all of which is depicted in detail. Even Rajakannu’s wife Sengkani and his sister are arrested and brutalised by some policemen; one of them even removes the sister’s clothes.

The local police station chief is under tremendous pressure to solve the case from his superiors as the theft victim is a local VIP. Also, he is clamouring for a promotion. Therefore, he and two other policemen are desperate to get a confession out of Rajakannu. And they beat him to death. (Something else is revealed later in the film but I won’t spoil it for you.)

To cover up, the policemen claim the trio had escaped.

A distraught Sengkani, who is pregnant with her second child, goes in search of Rajakannu and seeks the help of various people to no avail. Finally, she is taken by a sympathetic activist who teaches the Irular community to read and write, to meet lawyer K Chandru and the landmark legal battle begins.

Chandru files a writ of habeas corpus and, from almost certain defeat, slowly pieces the events that occurred together to fight the case in court. In the course of the true story, we learn how devious, and cooperative, policemen can be to save their skin or those of their compatriots.

But the determination of Sengkani and Chandru’s tenacity and skills win the day. In this, they are helped by the report of an honest senior police officer who, despite being told by his superior to safeguard the name of the police force, investigates the matter on the instructions of the court and submits evidence truthfully. Also, the willingness of the two judges to be flexible in search of the truth, pays off.

The movie is unafraid to ask difficult questions and when you watch the court room scenes, you realise it is not just individuals who are on trial but the very notions of law enforcement, the justice system and the caste system.

Retired judge Chandru was reported as saying that “apart from a few cinematic liberties, the film has stayed true to the facts and the backbone is intact”.

The fact is, police brutality and deaths in custody happen everywhere.
Earlier this year, India’s Parliament was told that 348 people died in police custody throughout the country in the last three years and that another 1,189 had been tortured during detention.

It happens ever so frequently in Malaysia, too. In the latest case, reported on Nov 2, construction worker Muhammad Hidayat Abdul Halim, 44, died at the Pekan police station in Pahang 48 hours after being arrested on Oct 8 under the Dangerous Drugs Act 1952.

Last month, home minister Hamzah Zainudin told the Dewan Rakyat that there were six cases of custodial deaths so far this year. But rights group Suara Rakyat Malaysia (Suaram) disputed the number, saying there were at least seven such deaths.

Also last month, the Human Rights Commission of Malaysia (Suhakam) revealed that in 2020 the police reported 34 cases of deaths in custody while the prisons department recorded 363 deaths. In addition, the immigration department reported 50 cases while the national anti-drugs agency reported nine.

Suhakam acknowledged that the high figures were partly due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

But as Suhakam commissioner Mah Weng Kwai observed: “One death in custody is one death too many.”

For years, various individuals, opposition politicians and rights NGOs have been calling for probes into custodial deaths and for some measure to be put in place to ensure such deaths do not occur. Suaram, for instance, has been shouting against deaths in custody for so many years that by now it should have lost its “suara” (voice). Luckily for the victims and their families it hasn’t.

The government has, over the years, promised much but custodial deaths continue.

Most Malaysians are wondering if the government even cares. They are also wondering why the Cabinet seems so afraid of clipping the powers of enforcement agencies or to set up an independent oversight body to watch over them.

I wonder if there were any cases similar to that depicted in Jai Bhim. Were there instances when officers had to, shall we say, go overboard in their questioning methods due to pressure from their superiors?

Since we have enough death in custody cases, would any Malaysian producer or director have the courage to make a movie based on it? If they do, the national film development corporation, or Finas, won’t be the only one coming after them.

It’s a fact that policemen do beat suspects to get to the truth, although they are not supposed to. But, as one police officer told me a long time ago: “What do you expect? Do you think he’ll admit to stealing or murdering if I ask him politely?”

However, when people turn up dead in police lock-ups or other detention facilities, something is terribly wrong. It reflects badly on the enforcement agency concerned, it reflects badly on the government and it reflects badly on society.

Particularly so when it is individuals from the poorer segment of society or from minority groups that end up dead. Have you ever heard of a rich man or an influential person dying in custody due to suspected abuse?

But there are also policemen who do not take the easy way out. They carry out painstaking investigations to prove their case. And, as in the movie where one senior officer refuses to play ball, we do have officers who are guided by their conscience and have the courage to stand up for justice.

There is a reason we hold high the rule of law; there is a reason we have judicial institutions.

The government should heed Suhakam’s call to allocate sufficient funds and manpower to the management of detention centres to enable them to increase the quality of health services provided.

The government should also heed the advice of the Malaysian Bar to introduce a Coroners Act to thoroughly investigate each and every death in custody and to strengthen the role of coroners so that greater clarity can be provided in the inquiry process.

The courts should be more circumspect when police request for remand orders, particularly when an extension is requested. The court should ask the suspect if he or she is being treated properly and if there is any complaint about the way he or she is being treated.
We are fortunate to have a few lawyers who take up cases involving the downtrodden.

Jai Bhim, in fact, shows the crucial role of lawyers and judges in protecting the small man and upholding justice. It affirms the need for police officers, lawyers, and the judiciary to work together in the search for truth and justice. It suggests that even one dedicated and tenacious person can make a difference. And it offers hope that justice will prevail. - FMT

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.