Why This Rare Death Sentence May Be Justified
Editor-in-Chief of indiacommentary.com. Current Affairs analyst and political commentator. Author of Cyber Scams in India, Digital Arrest, The Money Trap and The Human Hack
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By Sunil Garodia
First publised on 2026-04-07 04:33:53
About the Author
Editor-in-Chief of indiacommentary.com. Current Affairs analyst and political commentator. Author of Cyber Scams in India, Digital Arrest, The Money Trap and The Human Hack
View all posts by this Author
The sentencing of nine policemen to death by a sessions court in Madurai is not just another criminal verdict. It is a moment that forces a difficult reckoning with the nature of power, accountability, and violence within the Indian State.
In June 2020, in the town of Sathankulam in Tamil Nadu, a father and son, P. Jeyaraj and J. Bennix, were taken into custody by the police for allegedly violating lockdown norms. What followed inside the police station was not enforcement of law but a sustained episode of brutality. Evidence placed before the court, including medical reports and witness testimonies, established that the two men were subjected to severe physical torture over several hours. They were denied basic legal safeguards and treated in a manner that stripped them of all dignity. Both died within days of their detention.
The facts of the case leave little room for ambiguity. This was not an instance of excessive force used in a moment of provocation. It was a prolonged and coordinated act involving multiple officers. The victims were in custody, which means they were under the direct protection and control of the State. That protection was not only withdrawn but replaced with violence.
The court, in its judgment, placed the case within the "rarest of rare" category and imposed the death penalty on all nine accused. This conclusion carries serious implications, particularly in a country where the death penalty remains a contested form of punishment. There are strong and valid arguments against capital punishment. Its irreversible nature, the possibility of judicial error, the need to reform a criminal and the moral question of whether the State should take life are concerns that cannot be dismissed lightly.
This writer shares that discomfort and remains opposed to the death penalty in principle, except in the rarest of rare circumstances. However, this case meets that threshold. The reason lies not only in the brutality of the act but in the identity of the perpetrators and the context in which the crime occurred. When ordinary citizens commit murder, the law responds with severity. When agents of the State, entrusted with authority and responsibility, commit torture leading to death while the victims are in custody, the breach is far more profound.
Custodial violence in India is not a new phenomenon. It is a recurring pattern that has been documented for decades. Official data and independent reports have repeatedly shown that while custodial deaths are reported with disturbing frequency, accountability remains rare. Investigations are often delayed, prosecutions are weak, and convictions are even rarer. This creates an environment where impunity becomes the norm rather than the exception.
The D.K. Basu vs State of West Bengal judgment laid down clear procedural safeguards to prevent custodial abuse, including requirements for arrest memos, medical examinations, and access to legal counsel. Despite these guidelines having been in place for decades, compliance has remained uneven and often superficial.
Later, in Paramvir Singh Saini vs Baljit Singh, the Supreme Court directed that CCTV cameras with audio recording be installed in all police stations and investigative agencies. This direction came months after the Sathankulam incident, but it was not issued in a vacuum. It was a response to a long and continuing record of custodial abuse and the persistent absence of reliable evidence from within police stations.
The problem, however, is not limited to the timing of judicial orders. It lies in their implementation. Even after the Court made CCTV surveillance mandatory, compliance across states has been inconsistent. As per latest reports, not even 50 percent of the police stations have CCTV. Reports have also have pointed to cameras not being installed, not functioning, not having night vision and audio facility or failing to cover critical areas. In several custodial death cases after 2020, the absence of usable footage has continued to hinder accountability. This reflects a deeper institutional resistance to transparency.
The Sathankulam case gained national attention because of its shocking details, but similar instances continue to surface across the country. There have been cases in Tamil Nadu, Punjab, Uttar Pradesh, and other states where individuals have died after being subjected to illegal detention and physical abuse. Human rights organisations have consistently pointed to the use of torture as an investigative tool, despite clear legal prohibitions.
The structural reasons behind this pattern are well known. India continues to operate under a policing framework that has its origins in colonial legislation. The Police Act of 1861 was designed to maintain control rather than ensure service and accountability. Over time, this framework has been reinforced by institutional weaknesses, political pressures, and a culture that often rewards results without scrutinising the methods used to achieve them. In such an environment, violations become routine and are often rationalised as necessary.
The significance of the Madurai court's verdict lies in its departure from this pattern. It signals that custodial torture will not be treated as a minor excess or disciplinary issue but as a grave criminal act. It challenges the assumption that the uniform offers protection from consequences. It also sends a message to both the police force and the public that the law applies equally, even to those who are empowered to enforce it.
At the same time, this judgment raises an uncomfortable question. If such an extreme punishment is required to secure accountability in one case, what does it say about the countless others where justice has not been delivered. The answer cannot lie in relying on exceptional verdicts. It must come from systemic reform. Police accountability mechanisms need to be strengthened, and compliance with Supreme Court directives must be enforced in both letter and spirit.
Supporting this verdict does not amount to endorsing capital punishment as a general principle. It is a recognition of the specific circumstances of this case and the scale of the wrongdoing involved. When the State itself becomes the perpetrator of violence against those in its custody, the response must reflect the gravity of that betrayal.
The true measure of justice, however, will not be this one judgment. It will depend on whether it leads to a broader change in how custodial violence is addressed in India. If it remains an isolated instance, its impact will be limited. If it becomes part of a larger shift towards accountability, it may mark the beginning of a necessary correction.
For now, it stands as a rare instance where the system has responded with the seriousness that such a crime demands.
