Exactly 24 years ago, on the afternoon of February 1, 2002, a quiet apartment in Bengaluru became the epicentre of one of Karnataka’s most heart-wrenching crimes. By evening, as news of a brutal double murder spread, panic gripped the city. Angry crowds gathered, rumours swirled, and public confidence in policing began to crack.
With no witnesses and no immediate suspects, the case seemed destined to go cold – until one overlooked detail quietly redirected the course of the investigation.
Inside a first-floor flat lay the bodies of a 35-year-old woman and her four-year-old daughter. The scene was brutal. The woman had been sexually assaulted and murdered. Investigators believed the child may have witnessed the attack, and she was also killed to eliminate the only witness to the crime.
Gold ornaments were missing from the house, suggesting robbery. Yet there were no signs of forced entry. Neighbours reported hearing nothing unusual. No one recalled seeing a suspicious person entering or leaving the apartment.
For investigators in 2002, this was deeply unsettling. There was almost nothing to work with. This was an era before CCTV cameras became commonplace, before mobile phones routinely generated call data records, and long before location tracking or digital footprints became investigative staples. The police work relied heavily on observation, memory, instinct, and relentless legwork.
Word of the crime quickly reached the then Bengaluru police commissioner H T Sangliana, who personally took note of the case as public outrage mounted. With fear spreading across the city, Sangliana directed that Abdul Azeem be brought in to assist the investigation, recognising the need for experienced hands in what had become a sensational and high-pressure case.
No forced entry, no witnesses
Azeem immediately sensed the gravity of the crime. “The condition of the woman’s body made it clear this was not just a robbery, it was rape followed by murder. The killing of the child indicated desperation; someone feared being identified,” he later recalled.
The victims belonged to a Marwadi family originally from Rajasthan, who ran an electric cable wholesale business. Investigators explored every angle – business rivalries, financial disputes, personal enmities, and family tensions. Relatives, neighbours, employees, and associates were questioned at length, but nothing surfaced.
By every conventional measure, the crime left no clues. No eyewitnesses. No physical trail. No immediate suspects. Yet the nature of the crime suggested a possibility: the killer was likely someone known to the victim, someone who had entered the house without resistance, and someone who believed leaving no witness would erase the crime.
“When I entered the flat, I saw there was no sign of forced entry, and the jewellery was missing. That’s when I realised it could be someone known to the victim. I then interrogated all the family members – the brother-in-law, the husband, and other relatives – continuously investigating every detail. I remember asking if any of their servants had recently left. At first, they said no, but later that very question led to the breakthrough in the case,” Azeem said.
The first clue
With no external leads, investigators turned inward – to the household itself. Persistent questioning revealed that the family had earlier employed two men from Rajasthan – Deeparam and Abha Ram – at their electric cable shop. Deeparam had even worked briefly as domestic help in the house but had been dismissed six months before the double murder, due to frequent intoxication and erratic behaviour.
At first, this information seemed routine. Former employees surface in almost every serious murder investigation. But then came the crucial detail. The woman’s brother-in-law recalled seeing Deeparam in Bengaluru just a week before the murders, despite being told he had returned to Rajasthan.
Investigators dug deeper and uncovered the motive. Deeparam harboured a grudge. He was furious at being removed from employment and could not tolerate the humiliation of having been dismissed. The murders, investigators concluded, were an act of revenge; he wanted to punish the family and take what he believed was owed to him.
Tracking the suspects
The police followed a familiar behavioural pattern. Migrant workers returning to Bengaluru often stayed in low-cost lodges in commercial areas. A search led to a lodge where Abha Ram had recently stayed. He was detained first. Some stolen property was recovered, but during interrogation, he claimed ignorance about Deeparam’s whereabouts, insisting that his accomplice had already fled to Rajasthan.
Abdul Azeem (Special Arrangement)
Instead of pressing blindly, the police made a calculated move. They traced Deeparam’s brother, who was working in Bengaluru, and summoned him for questioning. After recording his details and collecting his phone number, they allowed him to leave, placing the number under discreet observation. Azeem later reflected, “We knew he was the only link to Deeparam. If we held him, the trail would stop. So, we noted his number, let him go, and waited. That patience gave us the breakthrough.”
The scarred finger
Three days later, the gamble paid off. A call from the monitored number was traced to Surat, Gujarat. Initially, the police believed the call was coming from a residence, but further tracking revealed it was actually made from a public telephone booth. In an investigation that had few leads, the location itself became the crucial breakthrough.
A special police team was immediately dispatched, navigating flight delays, missed connections, and urgent coordination between the Bengaluru and Mumbai police. Local Marwadi youths were quietly enlisted to assist. Officers circulated photographs discreetly, telling people they were looking for individuals who might have information about a kidnapped girl, careful not to alert the suspects.
From 8.30 am, officers waited near the telephone booth, watching the steady flow of callers. Hours passed. Then, just before noon, three men walked up to the booth and began making calls. The display panel lit up with the STD code 080 – Bengaluru.
One detail cut through the anonymity of the crowd – one man had an unusually muscular index finger on his right hand, marked by a scar, a telltale sign of years of handling thick electric cable wires, while half of his face was hidden behind dark glasses. Azeem recalled, “It was not something you notice unless you are looking very carefully. But once I saw that finger, I knew. That was that moment, the case was cracked.”
Azeem recalled that his team was positioned at a distance, and he couldn’t even signal to them that this was the suspect. “All I could do was shout,” he said. “I yelled that I was the police and warned them that if they tried to act smart, I would shoot.” Hearing the commotion, the team rushed in, and the men were immediately overpowered. Gold ornaments stolen from the woman’s house were recovered, and part of the jewellery was later found pledged with a pawnbroker in Surat. Within a week, both accused were in custody. The investigation was completed, and a chargesheet filed.
Justice served
On July 22, 2003 – 18 months after the murders – the trial court sentenced the accused to death. They later appealed to the Karnataka High Court, which reduced the sentence to life imprisonment.
For Bengaluru, the arrests brought relief after days of fear and uncertainty. For the police, cracking the case restored public confidence at a time when panic had begun to overshadow trust.
At the press conference after Deeparam’s arrest, the Bengaluru police highlighted the scar on his finger - the key detail that led to his identification. (Special Arrangement) 
Abdul Azeem (Special Arrangement)
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