The law and the limelight

But the ability to investigate, and supervise investigation, in all its micro-detail has lost its sheen in view of the exigent needs of managing the moment for the political system. Most people do what is rewarded the most; so do most police officers. If the quality of investigation and, consequently, the process of securing justice to the victims of a crime gets compromised, it is just an unfortunate by-product. Little wonder then that police investigations are routinely shredded apart in courts by crafty defence attorneys.

There is also a significant change in the mindset of the public at large. Thanks to information technology and an active media, they are exposed to first-world practices. This makes them impatient with non-functioning and archaic administrative systems with very poor delivery mechanisms.

Till recently it would have been rare to find the kind of sustained outrage witnessed in the aftermath of the Jessica Lal case verdict. What also stood out disturbingly was that most officers, at some point, came to know that something fishy was going on in the investigation. Yet what did they do? They kept writing to each other! Now when the British drafted the Criminal Procedure Code, they laid down that any superior police officer visiting a police station when supervising a case enjoys the powers of an SHO. This, in effect, means that all officers from the level of the SHO and above, have the powers of an SHO — including powers to arrest, register a case, search, seize and so on.

The British left, the world got connected and “flatter”. But what did we do? We added layers to an already rigid and vertical police force. Why did we do it? So that time-bound career advancement, promotions and the feudal trappings of the senior services could be protected. What we get then is a hierarchy of men, many of them individually very bright, who when asked to take a decision to stop the buck from rolling endlessly, play “file-file”.

Finally, when all hell breaks loose, everyone claims that he knew there was something wrong, and then implies that their senior colleagues did not act. They very conveniently forget that each one — from the additional DC upwards — was empowered by law to take any action he thought fit. That if one knew the cartridges had been switched or tampered with, it was perfectly routine and legal to take a call on the case and follow up with the authority concerned. Was it done? From what we could gather, no. It was also perfectly legal to order an enquiry, register a case, make a few arrests or whatever the situation warranted. Was this done? Sadly, no again.

However, the production of the cartridges in court did serve a purpose — of putting a question mark on the prosecution’s story. The stories regarding foul play had started emerging in the press as early as 2003 and was the subject of much correspondence between the senior officers, and yet a suspiciously doctored piece of evidence was allowed to get into the chargesheet. Whatever it was — whether negligence, incompetence or connivance — it was complete and systematic; there were no half measures to it.

Nor are there any half measures in feeding the press on the state of investigation of any major crime where the press has more than a passing interest. The relationship between crime reporters and police officers is symbiotic. It helps the journalist to get the stories, ahead of others and in greater detail; not a bad thing in a competitive media world. For police officers, however, it goes far beyond that. Many agencies, including the CBI, use this relationship creatively and effectively as a ploy for cancellation of bail in high profile cases. Leak some startling details of the case a day before the bail application and the media pressure may make it difficult for a high profile accused to be let off. Their structure means not just anyone can talk to the press.

Things differ radically, however, with the state police. There are officers who will go to great lengths to be media savvy, to learn and use the art of the sound byte; in a high-pressure environment, they use this facet to project the image of an alert and efficient cop. It’s time the media raised questions of how some officers have the time to chat with favoured journalists for hours but little time for the sweat and grime of investigation and police work.

This, though, is what the system puts a premium on — and what the media can connect with. Also, in a fiercely careerist environment, selective leaks of how and where the investigation has been botched up can show up a brother officer in poor light, and thereby weaken his position. The use of the media as a career-advancing tool is now a standard ploy.

After the Jessica Lall case verdict, and after the negative fallout hit the Delhi Police, one only had to feel the undercurrent of hostility and bitterness amongst top police officers to understand how career agendas were inevitably woven into media management. Gone are the days when media briefings were organised, authorised and regulated. Now anyone can say anything to anyone on any condition — off the record or on it.

The media loves it, officers love it, no one is complaining. It is democracy at play. In the process if the investigation suffers, police credibility and the case take a hit, so be it. It is then justified yet one more time, on the delinquent workings of that familiar excuse — The System. Conveniently forgetting that no system is superior to the people who make it.

sachin.shridhar@gmail.com (The writer is a former IPS officer)