Get me to the clink on time
Prisoners Would Rather Be Hanged Than Go Through The Slow Death Of Judicial Delay: Dec 5, 2006
Kartikeya | TNN
Mumbai: The country is in the middle of a public debate on capital
punishment, with human rights activists calling for it to be hanged. But at
the overcrowded Arthur Road Jail, many of the inmates say they would rather
be hanged than go through the slow death of the judicial process. Judicial
delay, it appears, is far worse than death.
The prolonged criminal trial has become something of a Schrodinger’s Cat
situation for those in the dock. The cat, whose story illustrates the
indeterminacy principle in quantum physics, is sealed in a solid box, and on
it being opened, has a 50-50 chance of emerging dead or alive. The catch is
that you just can’t tell until the box is opened. Prisoners waiting for
justice find themselves in the same sorry situation. As criminal lawyer
Sushan Kunjuraman puts it, “It is the wait and not knowing what will happen
that kills.”
In most cases, prisoners’ patience begins to wear thin after a year or
two behind bars with their case stuck in judicial logjam. “I have a client
called Samirulla Haroon Khan, who is an accused in a robbery case and in
custody for two years,” says Kunjuraman. “His trial is only half way
through. He often cries saying that he would accept a death sentence today
if it meant an end to his trial.”
A judgment, even if it goes against the accused, is welcome because it
puts an end to the cyclical torture of hope and despair. A conviction brings
psychological closure. “I had five accused in a robbery case who were in
jail for more than three years, and they got so tired of hoping for the best
that they started telling me to bring the trial to an end-even if it meant
conviction,” says advocate Prakash Wagh. Eventually, all five were
acquitted.
There are many reasons for procedural delay apart rom the sheer stack of
cases piled up in court. “Sometimes there are not enough guards to bring the
accused to court, at other times a witness does not turn up, or judges are
transferred midway through a trial,” says Wagh. With each delay, the
frustration builds in prison.
Retired police officer Suresh Walishetty remembers how small-time
criminals booked for offences such as theft sometimes preferred to plead
guilty before a magistrate and start their jail term rather than go through
a legal trial. “They cannot afford lawyers and no one would come forward to
look after them as undertrials,” says Walishetty. Adds a public prosecutor
who has tried those accused of narcotics-related
crimes, “Those found in possession of a small quantity of drug plead guilty
and go to jail for an year.”
An undertrial’s life in jail is filled with empty hours. Jail rules
dictate that undertrials may not be put to any work as they are still
innocent in the eyes of the law. This means that they sit idle all day long,
confined to their cells. Some of the accused in the 1993 blasts case even
asked the jail superintendent to give them some work as they were sick of
sitting around in their cells for 13 long years. The inactivity, they said,
was driving them mad. The jail authorities pleaded helplessness, citing the
rule book.
“In contrast, a convict’s sentence is marked by stern discipline with
every minute of his day filled with activity, whether it is a vocational
course or hard manual labour,” says Kunjuraman. Many men released after
serving long sentences say that time simply flew in jail unlike in the days
when they waited for their trial to crawl to an end. There is a sea change
in the behaviour of an undertrial when his status changes to that of
convict. “The case goes up in appeal to the high court. Technically, he can
still be acquitted, but the same man suddenly becomes so calm. He harbours
no ill feeling against anyone and does not keep wondering about what is
happening in court,” says Kunjuraman.
For the prisoner, it would seem, the countdown to freedom finally begins
only after he has been sent to jail.