The price of duty

 When the public repeatedly hears questions raised about those entrusted to uphold the law, silence and pause can no longer be the response.

From Sameer Khan

When I was growing up, almost every boy dreamed of becoming a policeman. It was a simple dream, born out of the games we played and the heroes we imagined ourselves to be.

In households, the older brother would be the first to wear the badge of authority, with a pair of toy handcuffs ready to complete the uniform. He would arrest the villain, usually one of his younger siblings, and the living room would become a police station.

But if you happened to be the only male child, only one person was worthy of the criminal role – your father. With all seriousness as a child, we will place those handcuffs around our father’s wrists. He would play along, surrendering himself to the authority of a little boy who, only moments earlier, could barely tie his own shoelaces.

Looking back, it was never about catching a criminal. It was about feeling brave and heroic. For a while, we were the good guys, protecting a world that existed in our imagination.

Malaysian Border Control and Protection Agency director-general Shuhaily Zain, now facing charges involving junior police officers, deserves neither condemnation before trial nor unquestioning defence because of his rank. The law must be allowed to establish the facts.

What matters is that the process remains fair with evidence speaking louder than speculation and public confidence is protected.

In the end, an institution’s strength lies not in protecting its own, but in ensuring that justice is served without fear or favour. However, there is also another court that sits every day, without a judge, without lawyers and without the need to wait for evidence to be tested.

It is the court of public opinion. Its verdicts can be swift, unforgiving and difficult to reverse. In an age when every allegation finds its way onto our screens, reputations can be damaged long before the courts have had their say.

Yet, when public confidence in an institution is already under strain, even one more controversy can reopen old wounds.

The question is no longer simply whether an individual is guilty, but whether the institution itself has done enough to earn the public’s trust.

The numbers deserve our attention and so I did a little research.

Figures presented in Parliament show that criminal cases involving police personnel rose from 378 in 2023 to 407 in 2024 and 463 in 2025. Deaths in police custody increased from 12 to 13 and then 22 over the same period.

Meanwhile, rights group Suara Rakyat Malaysia documented more than 190 instances of police misconduct in 2024, with half of the cases receiving no action beyond investigation.

These figures do not establish guilt in any individual case, but they do explain why human rights groups continue to demand greater transparency.

When the public repeatedly hears questions raised about those entrusted to uphold the law, silence and pause can no longer be the response. Institutions must answer not merely with assurances, but with evidence that accountability is real.

KLIA is not merely a gateway to Malaysia. It is a strategic point in a global battle against drug trafficking. The sharp rise in drug cases and seizures reported in 2026 should concern every Malaysian.

International syndicates do not care about our reputation and our laws as well as the lives they destroy. They look for weaknesses and exploit them. This is precisely why enforcement must be firm and intelligence must be effective, with every allegation of wrongdoing investigated thoroughly and if any found guilty, they must be handled tactfully.

At stake is not simply the security of our borders, but the credibility of the institutions entrusted to protect them.

As children, there was something special about the idea of upholding the law, catching the bad guy and standing on the side of what was right.

As adults, we place that same hope in those entrusted with protecting our nation, particularly those guarding our borders. We expect them to rise above personal differences and serve a greater purpose.

Of course, the truth must be established by evidence, not assumption. But the questions deserve to be asked.

Perhaps the real question is not who wears and holds the badge and rank, or who stands accused. It is whether we have built an institution where truth can stand on its own, without fear or favour.

For in the end, a uniform may command respect, and rank may demand obedience, but neither can command the truth. And when the dust settles, we must ask ourselves one simple question: Are we teaching the next generation to uphold the law, or merely to learn how to use it against one another? - FMT

Sameer Khan is an FMT reader.

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