Child Abuse, the Need for Legal Knowledge among Activists, and the Abuse of Power by Law Enforcement
By: Rafiqul Islam
A Child Right Activist
The harrowing tale of Mano, a 14-year-old village girl and class 7 student, exemplifies the grave inadequacies in the current system’s response to child abuse and highlights the urgent need for activists to possess legal knowledge and credentials. This essay explores the disturbing circumstances of Mano’s case, the failure of multiple institutions to protect her rights, and the resultant necessity for activists to arm themselves with legal education to effectively advocate for victims of child abuse. Furthermore, it delves into the pervasive issue of enforcement power being wielded in a manner that intimidates and hinders justice rather than facilitates it.
Mano’s ordeal began with a betrayal of innocence. Enticed by a married adult from a neighboring village through a midnight phone call, she was lured out of her home, taken to a mustard field, and raped under the false promise of marriage. Following the assault, she was taken to the perpetrator’s home, where instead of receiving care or assistance; she faced further abuse at the hands of his parents. Verbally and physically assaulted, Mano was eventually handed over to the child helpline, a supposed refuge for children in distress. The child helpline team of all two male members transported her about 8 kms for shelter without informing her family hardly a kilometer away from the place of recovery.
The shelter provided by the child helpline failed in its duty to preserve evidence critical to her case. By instructing Mano to wash her clothes and bathe, the shelter authorities unwittingly or negligently destroyed vital forensic evidence. Moreover, they did not present her to the Child Welfare Committee (CWC), a statutory body tasked with ensuring the protection and welfare of children in such dire circumstances. This omission not only delayed the legal process but also compromised Mano’s right to justice and protection under the law.
On the third day after the assault, Mano’s mother, an illiterate woman overwhelmed by the legal labyrinth, sought assistance. I took it upon myself to draft a First Information Report (FIR) on her behalf, outlining the horrific crime that had been committed against her daughter. In consultation with a lawyer and child right activist of international importance, I included sections from the Protection of Children from Sexual Offences (POCSO) Act and the Indian Penal Code (IPC) relevant to the case.
Despite the clear articulation of the law, the response from Police Inspector was disheartening and indicative of a larger issue. Offended by the assertiveness of a layperson drafting a legally sound FIR, he summoned me to his office, where his conduct was nothing short of bullying. His self-possessed demeanor and repeated emphasis on his authority underscored a troubling reality: the exercise of power by some law enforcement officers often aims to intimidate and deter rather than uphold justice. However, a case u/s 109/120b/365/323/376f of IPC r/w sec 4/17 of POCSO Act was registered following submission of FIR in December 2021. Her forensic examination was conducted even later.
This encounter with the Inspector led me to a sobering realization: while knowledge of the law is undeniably powerful, possessing a legal degree is crucial for activists working to safeguard the rights of vulnerable populations. It is not merely about understanding the statutes; it is about the authority and credibility that a law degree confers. In a system where power dynamics often overshadow justice, the formal qualification of a law degree can provide activists with the legitimacy needed to challenge unjust practices and advocate more effectively for victims like Mano.
The failures in Mano’s case extended beyond the initial mishandling of the evidence and the intimidation by law enforcement. The investigating officer, responsible for bringing the accused to justice, submitted a charge sheet to the court that shockingly included the wrong names of the accused. This critical error led to the charge sheet being returned by the court, adding further delays and complications to the legal process.
To compound the issue, the case file has since been misplaced, leaving Mano’s family in a state of helplessness. Being poor and illiterate, they are unable to locate the case file and are uncertain whether it remains at the police station or was returned to the court. The transfer of the initial investigating officer has only added to their confusion, as they do not know who is currently handling the case. This lack of transparency and accountability within the system highlights the systemic failures that often plague the justice delivery process, especially for marginalized communities.
Inspector’s reaction to my involvement in Mano’s case, combined with the mishandling of the charge sheet and the misplacement of the case file, are not isolated incidents but rather symptoms of a broader problem: the misuse of police power to intimidate and dominate, and the lack of accountability within the justice system. When law enforcement officers prioritize their authority over their duty to protect and serve, and when the system fails to maintain basic procedural integrity, they contribute to a culture of fear and silence that discourages victims and their advocates from seeking justice.
Mano’s case highlights the intersecting failures of various institutions meant to protect children and ensure justice. From the mishandling of forensic evidence by the child helpline to the dismissive and authoritarian response of law enforcement, and the systemic lapses in the judicial process, the system fell short at multiple points. For activists, this underscores the need for a robust understanding of legal procedures and, more importantly, the formal credentials that can provide them with the necessary standing to challenge systemic failures and abuses of power.
