Showing posts with label police custody. Show all posts
Showing posts with label police custody. Show all posts

Sunday, February 22, 2026

Coming to grips with the BNSS on matters of Custodial Remand

One of the more significant changes to Indian criminal procedure brought about by the Bharatiya Nagarik Suraksha Sanhita 2023 [BNSS] is the regime governing remands to police custody during an ongoing investigation. 

As those familiar with the legal regime may know, Section 167(2) of the erstwhile Criminal Procedure Code, 1973 [Cr.P.C.] had been read by courts as casting two rules: (1) permitting a maximum 15 days of police custody remand during investigation (found clearly within the statute) and (2) allowing this remand to be granted only in the first fifteen days after an arrest. The BNSS has retained rule (1), and modified rule (2). Section 187 of the BNSS now permits the 15 days of police custody to be sought at any point of time within the first forty or sixty days of arrest, depending on the severity of an offence.

I'm not interested in the debates about whether this relaxation of the first fifteen days rule is good policy or bad. Instead, I wanted to flag an issue of some practical relevance arising from the changes to this regime, which has received surprisingly little attention. This is the impact on legal strategy for opposing remand and seeking bail, and pre-trial custody more generally.

Police custody remand is widely understood and accepted as being the critical investigative step in cases. It allows police practically unregulated and unhindered access to an accused for questioning in a coercive setting — since lawyers aren't permitted to participate in the questioning process. The outcome of police custody is often a confession of some sort, which leads to further clues. Usually, requests for such custody would be granted for short periods — so if police ask for a week, they normally get 3 days in which they get done whatever is needed, and come back to ask for more custody if needed.

Because of the importance wielded by police custody remand, lawyers in the grand-old Cr.P.C. days would not file for bail in serious crimes till it was clear that police custody remand was over. In most cases, this meant waiting out the first fifteen days period, and then moving for bail, because even if police had not sought police custody for that entire period, they could no longer seek such custody due to the first fifteen day rule. Courts also understood this logic and it would be an active consideration for deciding bails — if no further police custody remand was possible, it was understood that further pre-trial custody had no real investigative purpose. 

Now, though, police custody can theoretically be sought for and granted at any time till forty or sixty days of an arrest. For an rational investigator, it would make sense to not exhaust the total police custody period in the first fifteen days. This places both judges and lawyers in a bind, because now you cannot reasonably argue that there is no investigative purpose for further custody till forty or sixty days after an arrest.

How will this play out in the medium to long term? Custody periods may lengthen; some guidance may come from appellate courts on how magistrates should treat requests for police custody made belatedly, It may well not lead to any change at all, as police may rarely, if ever, ask for that period of remand that they may have been left with.        

Sunday, July 6, 2025

Gujarat, Anticipatory Bail, and Police Custody: A Peculiar Practice

Almost a year ago now, on 07.08.2024 the Supreme Court delivered its judgment in a contempt petition titled Tusharbhai Shah v. Kamal Dayani [2024 INSC 588 ("Tusharbhai")]. The only reason to cover the judgment is because it offered a window into a highly peculiar practice, and in turn offered a timely lesson about the sheer degree of variety in how criminal law works across India. A lesson which, sadly, falls on deaf ears more often than not.  

After giving a brief about why Tusharbhai Rajnikantbhai Shah went to the Supreme Court, the post takes a brief detour to give a quick explainer about how anticipatory bail works in India, since that is the heart of the case. I then go into the peculiar practice of enforcing anticipatory bail in Gujarat which the Supreme Court was confronted by in Tusharbhai — a practice which the Court has declared was contrary to law. I did not find any other jurisdiction as having imported this condition of permitting remand while dealing with anticipatory bail. It would be interesting to examine whether having this condition made courts in Gujarat more hesitant in granting anticipatory bail or made them more liberal.  

The Facts in Tusharbhai 

A commercial dispute about the sale of property led to registration of a criminal case against Tusharbhai Rajnikantbhai Shah. He sought anticipatory bail fearing his arrest but his plea was rejected by both the Sessions Court and the High Court of Gujarat. This led to his first petition before the Supreme Court, and he finally got some reprieve as the Court gave him interim protection of being released on anticipatory bail if arrested till his petition was finally decided, so long as he cooperated with the investigation.

Shah went to the police to offer his cooperation. He was formally arrested and released on bail in line with the Supreme Court's orders, and directed to come again. On his second visit to the police station, he was given a notice to appear before the concerned local court on 13.12.2023 "for the matter of remand". On this day, police filed an application before the court asking to take Tusharbhai Shah into police custody for seven days. The magistrate was seemingly shown the Supreme Court's order granting Shah his temporary reprieve. It would seem that the magistrate did not think this reprieve came in the way of granting custody of Shah to the police, and directed him to be sent to police custody for three days. Shah was confined in police custody and, according to him, was tortured. When the three days ended, he was brought before the court, and now was granted regular bail by the court. Shah filed a detailed complaint later on about the ill-treatment he faced in custody which the court did not entertain.

All this took place in the shadow of the Supreme Court petition that Shah filed, which was still pending. With good reason, he perceived the acts of the police and the judge to be in contempt of the Supreme Court's orders. Shah now filed his second petition before the Supreme Court, for contempt. What interests me here is not the allegations about police torture and how that was first handled by the trial court and later the Supreme Court in the contempt, but the police having asked for his custody in spite of granting him anticipatory bail and the magistrate not only being fine with the request but granting it. To understand  these aspects, we need to deal a little bit with anticipatory bail. Readers familiar with the concept can skip the next part.

The Mechanics of Anticipatory Bail 

The blog has covered anticipatory bail on many an occasion and a brief recap would do. Normally, 'bail' as a concept refers to being released from actual custody. 'Anticipatory Bail' by contrast refers to a remedy in which a person can apply for bail in anticipation of being arrested and taken into custody. A person must demonstrate a reasonable apprehension of arrest in a case where she does not have a right to bail (termed a 'non-bailable' offence), and show that permitting the arrest and custody will be unjust. If a court agrees, it can pass a directive to police that, in the event of arresting the person, he must be released on bail. 

Any bail, whether regular bail which is sought after arrest, or a direction for anticipatory bail sought prior to arrest, means a release from custody that continues till a court permits the re-taking of a person into the custody of law by cancelling bail (or a superior court finding that the bail order was perverse). Normally, bail is granted on the promise of fulfilling various conditions, the most important of which is continued participation with the legal process. If an accused fails to do so, or meet any other condition, then bail can be cancelled. But without this cancellation, you can't send the accused into custody even while you are on bail. These concepts do not overlap.       

Explaining the Gujarat Model of Anticipatory Bail 

Well, it would seem they did overlap in Gujarat, which is why the police had no qualms in seeking police custody of Tusharbhai Shah, and the magistrate no qualms in granting it, even though he had been granted bail and no cancellation of his bail was sought. In the hearing before the Supreme Court, lawyers for many of the contemnors confirmed this: In Gujarat, they said, it was a "long prevailing practice" for courts to grant anticipatory bail with an express stipulation that at any point of time the police can make a request for custody of an accused where felt necessary for an investigation. They cited a 2014 decision of that High Court in support of their claim. In this case as well, police claimed non-cooperation by Tusharbhai Shah, and the magistrate upon reviewing the record agreed and decided it was a fit case for custody.

The explanation did not cut it for the Supreme Court as a justification for the conduct of the police officer and the magistrate in question in the facts and circumstances of this case because the Supreme Court's order never had any such stipulation permitting custody in the first place. It also specifically held that this "long prevailing practice" of Gujarat was contrary to law and condemned it. But in doing so, the Court did not go into the practice much, which is precisely what piqued my curiosity when I read about it.

Was this claim of a long standing practice true? Absolutely. And it has a fascinating history that goes much further back than 2014. The practice appears to have been birthed in the first few years of anticipatory bail. At this juncture court were, to put it mildly, extremely reticent about this concept and worried deeply about its negative impact on a successful police probe. The broad ambit of the provision invited courts to invent guidelines to prevent misuse, and one saw different High Courts come up with ideas for controlling arbitrary judicial discretion. The Gujarat High Court made such an attempt in Somabhai Patel (1976) where the Court laid down 12 guidelines for courts to exercise anticipatory bail. One of these guidelines was that:

The power cannot be allowed to be invoked in order to defeat, thwart, stall, or render impotent, the provisions relating to remand to police custody for the purposes of facilitating investigation. It may, therefore, be specified in the order that the accused is to be released on anticipatory bail provided he is not required to be remanded to police custody and that if he is so required the police officer would be at liberty to obtain suitable orders from the Court in that behalf either before the arrest or within a reasonable time of the arrest. [Emphasis supplied]

Now, a trend of High Courts placing restrictive covenants upon exercise of judicial discretion for grant of anticipatory bail was stopped in its tracks by the Supreme Court in Gurbaksh Sibbia (1980). But as I have argued earlier, the inherent tension between liberal grant of anticipatory bail and its negative impact on the police investigation was never quite resolved. So it would seem that at least this guideline of Somabhai Patel continued to be followed. I came across one such order in Pankaj D. Suthar v. State (1991) where the High Court granted anticipatory bail in an atrocities act case on a condition that the accused report to the police to cooperate with the probe and "thereafter also for the purposes of being taken on remand in the event of necessities so felt by the Investigating Officer, which the learned magistrate shall decided the same on merits without being influenced by the fact that the petitioner is ordered to be released on an anticipatory bail by this Court on usual terms and conditions." (Interesting aside: Justice J.B. Pardiwala appears to have been the counsel appearing for the petitioner).

In the 2000s, this condition was fully part of the system, so much so that you can find lawyer's suggesting it as a means to convince a court to grant anticipatory bail in an otherwise unfavourable case. For instance, the counsel for the petitioner in Yazdi Icchaporia (2003) the lawyer suggested that stringent conditions may be imposed while granting bail including "specific condition giving liberty to the prosecution to move remand application in the event of grant of anticipatory bail" (the petition failed regardless). The same submission, with the same result, was made in Jitendra Rajgor (2004). An example of just how entrenched a view it was that custodial remand was permissible for persons on anticipatory bail can be seen in Pragnesh H. Parikh (2007) where when the magistrate denied a remand request for an accused who was on anticipatory bail, the sessions judge set aside this observation in a revision petition stating there was no such bar on seeking custody. Where anticipatory bail was being granted, especially in financial crimes, the bail order would carry a standard stipulation at the end — "it would be open to the investigating officer to file an application for remand if he considers it proper and just"

The first ripples in this otherwise placid pond of the Gujarat Model of anticipatory bail were seen after the Supreme Court's decision in Mhetre (2010). This judgment emphasised that there was no difference in the effect of an order for bail and anticipatory bail, and also deprecated a practice of passing anticipatory bail orders of a limited duration of time. As one can see, treating anticipatory bail and bail as different was the crux of how Gujarat was enforcing anticipatory bail. This was the logical justification for conditions where the life of anticipatory bail orders was restricted, and the remand condition imposed. 

A petitioner naturally challenged such conditions soon thereafter, and in Jashuben (2011) the Court had to decide the issue. It held that a limited time period for an anticipatory bail was clearly contrary to how the Supreme Court had explained the law, and the condition could not continue. But for the other condition about remand, the Court upheld the condition and gave insight into why the approach had come to be so popular:

Uptil now, under the order of anticipatory bail, an accused would be, immediately, upon his arrest, released on bail. For the purpose of seeking remand, during such a period, he would be treated as if in custody, but, under the protective umbrella of the Court, under an order of anticipatory bail. Right of the prosecution to seek remand of an accused, who has been granted anticipatory bail, deletion of the said condition, without any substitution would create serious complication. In a given case, when the prosecution is desirous of seeking police remand, question would arise whether the anticipatory bail order should be granted and if it is required to be granted on merits, what would be the position of the remand application, which the prosecution may file, later on. Obviously, if an order of anticipatory bail is granted, the accused immediately upon his arrest shall have to be released on bail. As long as he remains on bail, the prosecution cannot seek his remand. The prosecution, therefore, shall have to seek cancellation of the bail, before it can apply for remand. This situation would create two complications. Firstly, parameters for cancellation of bail are entirely different from those, for granting or refusing bail. Secondly, any such application by the police seeking cancellation of bail, may consume considerable time during which period the evidence may be destroyed or lost. [Emphasis supplied]

The High Court lays bare for us the tension between too wide an ambit for anticipatory bail and successful police investigations, which continue to remain hinged upon securing custodial interrogations as the ideal form of cooperation. Legitimising a cumbersome process — of seeking cancellation — before police can go seek remand would tilt the system too far in favour of the accused. Permitting police to seek remand struck a balance because it effectively required a judge to decide the question, safeguarding liberty against the threat of immediate arrest. 

Another challenge to this long prevailing practice came in 2014. This time, the Single Judge referred the issue to a Division Bench, as he did not agree with the conclusions in Jashuben. It would appear that this Division Bench did not explicitly overrule the practice either, which continued to flourish till 2024.

Conclusion: A Complicated Set of Lessons from History

The Supreme Court has now declared a practice of permitting police remands for persons who are granted anticipatory bail as being contrary to law. From past experience, it is fair to expect some time before this decades-long practice is finally uprooted, and the message from on high to trickle down to the remotest districts in Gujarat. 

In declaring the practice as contrary to law, the Supreme Court emphasised the idea of personal liberty and held that allowing the police to seek remands in this fashion rendered anticipatory bail nugatory. But as we saw with a deeper scrutiny of the Gujarat approach, the condition imposed was not to render anticipatory bail nugatory but strike a balance between liberty and effective investigations, which remains the heart of anticipatory bail jurisprudence since the topic entered the lexicon. If anything, we saw that lawyers were actively batting in favour of this condition as a means to get anticipatory bail in otherwise difficult cases. 

One wonders whether the outright removal of this condition will make courts in Gujarat more reticent in giving anticipatory bail in those cases where, previously, this condition may have convinced them that the grant of relief will not hamper an effective investigation. I suspect that it may well prove to make courts a bit more hesitant, initially at least, and end up with a situation where the Supreme Court's avowedly pro liberty intervention ends up actively having a negative impact for personal libery. The entire episode is a reminder that the lessons from history are not as simple as we might think.

Wednesday, August 16, 2023

The Judgment in V. Senthil Balaji v. State — On Remands to Custody and S. 167 of the Code (Part Two)

 (This is the second in a two-part post. For the first post, click here)

The previous post in this series began a discussion of the Supreme Court's judgment in V. Senthil Balaji v. State [Crl. Appeal Nos. 2284-85 of 2023 (Decided on 07.08.2023) ("Balaji")]. It looked at the reasoning adopted by the Supreme Court while concluding that procedures governing arrests under the general law — i.e., the Criminal Procedure Code 1973 ["Cr.P.C."] — did not apply to arrests under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act 2002 ["PMLA"] because this was not ordinary police but a 'sui generis' scheme, while at the same time concluding that officers of the Enforcement Directorate arresting persons under PMLA could be granted custody of the arrested person as provided under the Cr.P.C. even though the said provisions applied to police (which the Directorate officials were not).

This post turns to the Court's findings in Balaji on how should we interpret the legal provision pertaining to extended custodial detention of arrested persons during the pendency of an investigation — Section 167 of the Cr.P.C. Before turning to the Court's findings, it will be helpful to extract the relevant portions of the provision:

167. Procedure when investigation cannot be completed in twenty-four hours.—

(1) Whenever any person is arrested and detained in custody, and it appears that the investigation cannot be completed within the period of twenty-four hours fixed by section 57, and there are grounds for believing that the accusation or information is well founded, the officer in charge of the police station or the police officer making the investigation, if he is not below the rank of sub-inspector, shall forthwith transmit to the nearest Judicial Magistrate a copy of the entries in the diary hereinafter prescribed relating to the case, and shall at the same time forward the accused to such Magistrate. 

(2) The Magistrate to whom an accused person is forwarded under this section may, whether he has or has not jurisdiction to try the case, from time to time, authorise the detention of the accused in such custody as such Magistrate thinks fit, for a term not exceeding fifteen days in the whole; and if he has no jurisdiction to try the case or commit it for trial, and considers further detention unnecessary, he may order the accused to be forwarded to a Magistrate having such jurisdiction: 

Provided that — (a) the Magistrate may authorise the detention of the accused person, otherwise than in custody of the police, beyond the period of fifteen days, if he is satisfied that adequate grounds exist for doing so, but no Magistrate shall authorise the detention of the accused person in custody under this paragraph for a total period exceeding— 

(i) ninety days, where the investigation relates to an offence punishable with death, imprisonment for life or imprisonment for a term of not less than ten years;
(ii) sixty days, where the investigation relates to any other offence.

What Balaji says on Section 167
The discussion on Section 167 in Balaji takes place at two places — first at paras 50 to 66, and then from paras 73 to 79 of the judgment. The reason the Court wNIas called upon to interpret the provision may first be clarified. Here, the accused was arrested under PMLA, and the agency sought and obtained his custody from the concerned court, but before the agency could seek and actually take custody, the accused had been shifted to hospital for emergency procedures. The accused remained in hospital for the next two weeks. The agency renewed its request for taking custody of the accused upon his discharge. According to counsel for the accused, however, the agency was barred from taking custody now. It was argued that the 'fifteen days' referred to in Section 167(2) Cr.P.C. which spelt out the outer limit of custody possible for an investigative agency was a reference to the first fifteen days of custody, and not any point thereafter. Since the accused had already spent more than two weeks in custody, this period had lapsed, and the Directorate could not be helped. This was not a first principles pitch — it relied entirely upon a previous judgment of the Supreme Court in CBI v. Anupam J. Kulkarni [AIR 1992 SC 1768 ("Anupam Kulkarni")]. 

The Supreme Court in Anupam Kulkarni had explicitly and unequivocally held that the 'fifteen days' were the first fifteen days of custody, and did not refer to a period of fifteen days that applied across the broader time frame of 60 or 90 days. On this reading, the Court in Anupam Kulkarni dismissed applications of the CBI which sought to obtain physical custody of an accused outside of the first fifteen days, on grounds that the accused had been admitted to hospital for a few of those days and thus became unavailable to the CBI for questioning. 

There had been recent rumblings of discontent with the bright-line rule of Anupam Kulkarni emerging from the Supreme Court when in April a different bench agreed to create an exception and grant custody outside of fifteen days because it was of the view that the accused had acted in bad faith. In Balaji, not only does the Court reinforce this view that the fifteen days have to refer to a period when actual custody could be taken (para 60) but it gives the discontent with Anupam Kulkarni much firmer expression. The bench of Two Justices (same as the strength of the bench in Anupam Kulkarni) in Balaji has expressly voiced its disagreement with the view that custody with agencies must be limited to only the first fifteen days, and recommending that the matter be placed for consideration by a bench of larger strength. 

To understand why the Court in Balaji has concluded thus, we must turn to paras 50 to 66, and then paras 73 to 79. The main plank of the Court's reasoning is simple — nowhere does Section 167 itself state that police custody is limited to the first fifteen days. It says that the magistrate may authorise detention in custody from 'time to time', for a term not exceeding fifteen days 'in the whole'. This 'in the whole' cannot be read as the first fifteen days, but must refer to the outer limit of permissible detention in custody during an investigation which is either 90 days or 60 days (depending upon the offence). It acknowledges that the time limits have an Article 21 element and are a means to ensure speedy investigations, but it firmly holds that the Anupam Kulkarni view is principally wrong and this textual / plain / literal reading of Balaji ought to be favoured — "any other interpretation would seriously impair the power of investigation" (para 63). [Coincidentally, the Court was also not keen to provide any notice to prior to arrest on similar grounds of it seriously impairing investigations (para 33).]

Why Balaji is wrong in its reading of Section 167
There may or may not be a hearing on this issue of how to read Section 167 by a bench of larger strength — the Chief Justice may conclude that it is unnecessary, or perhaps the provision itself will be rendered a relic of the past with the new Sanhitas come into force. Nevertheless, it is important to understand why the view taken in Balaji is incorrect.

Let us take the statutory interpretation facets first. Balaji pens an ode to plain / literal / textual reading of a statute to convince us that such a reading ought to be followed in this case. But in tune with the double-speak found elsewhere in the judgment, we find that the Court abandons the statutory text when it suits the conclusions the Court wants to arrive it. In telling us that the limit of fifteen days can span across the overall period of 90 / 60 days, Balaji fails to pay heed to the phrase "the period of fifteen days" which the proviso refers to. This is not "a period" of fifteen days over which detention in custody of an agency can take place, but a definite, "the period" of fifteen days during which the detention can take place. It has to, therefore, be a continuous period, and not one that can be shaved off and broken up across a 90 / 60 day period. 

If the Court in Balaji had engaged more closely with the decision in Anupam Kulkarni, it would have realised that Anupam Kulkarni was not seemingly operating with the old Cr.P.C. in mind, but it was very much aware of the new law. This is where the history behind the provision becomes critical to understand, something which Balaji does a great disservice to, more so because what it offers to us is a half-baked historical approach with the comparison table (para 50) which merely presents the 1898 Code along side with the 1973 Code and plays spot the differences. 

A Short History of Section 167(2)
There is a journey from the old Code to the 1973 Code, a reason behind the choices made by Parliament when it enacted Section 167 and the other provisions of the 1973 Code. Without even attempting to delve into this history, the Court in Balaji could not have made assumptions about what might have been the legislative intent behind the phrasing of Section 167 as it was brought in the 1973 Code.

What is this history? Section 167 of the old 1898 Code permitted only fifteen days of custody during an investigation. This prompted a practice where police filed incomplete chargesheets only to make sure that the accused remained in custody while the investigation could continue, resulting in lengthy detentions at a stage even before the court was anywhere near starting proceedings. Parliament wanted to fix this aspect of the existing setup and speed up the process. 

This is the story that we find in different Law Commission Reports (repeated in judgments later), but none of these detail the drafting process of the new provisions, which is what we now turn to. The result of the initial discussions around a new Code was draft Section 170 in the Criminal Procedure Code Bill of 1970, the relevant portion of which read as follows:

(2) The magistrate to whom an accused person is forwarded under this section may, whether he has or has not jurisdiction to try the case, from time to time, authorise the detention of the accused in such custody as such magistrate thinks fit, for a term not exceeding fifteen days in the whole ... 

Provided that — 

(a) the magistrate may extend the term beyond the period of fifteen days if he is satisfied that adequate grounds exist for doing so; 
 ...  

As can be seen, the idea of 60 / 90 day limits was absent in this first iteration of the new Code. As was the idea of default bail. Instead the idea was to stick to fifteen day periods, requiring constant monitoring by court. The time limits, and default bail, both came into the draft after the Joint Committee of Parliament considered the draft, which also recommended reworking the clauses to retain the old statutory scheme for ease of convenience (something the Sanhitas' drafters may have done well to remember). When the Bill was introduced in Parliament, it contained the time limit scheme and the relevant part read as follows:

(2) The Magistrate to whom an accused person is forwarded under this section may, whether he has or has not jurisdiction to try the case, from time to time, authorise the detention of the accused in such custody as such Magistrate thinks fit, for a term not exceeding fifteen days in the whole ... 

Provided that — 
(a) the Magistrate may extend the term beyond the period of fifteen days if he is satisfied that adequate grounds exist for doing so; but no magistrate shall authorise the detention of the accused in custody for a total period exceeding ninety days ... 

... 

Again, there is another critical difference in how Section 167(2) was in the draft legislation as compared to what was finally enacted. There is no fifteen day limit on police custody in this draft whatsoever. There is a fifteen day period in which custody can be granted, following which there is the possibility of extension, up to ninety days, if deemed necessary by the court. 

In effect, then, the draft of the new law permitted much longer police custody than even the old Code. This problem was not lost on Parliament. When the clause was taken up for discussion on 09.05.1973, the issue was flagged by Dinesh Joarder and was reiterated by other members in their initial speeches. During the clause-by-clause discussions on 01.09.1973, the Government accepted the suggested amendments by B.R. Shukla to draft Section 167, which sought to make it clear that any extension of custody beyond the fifteen day period would be "otherwise than in the custody of the police". (Far more debate took place, and even led Section 167 to be reconsidered later, on account of the introduction of default bail).

Thus, what is clear is this. Parliament knew how the Old Code worked and saw the first fifteen days after an arrest as a period where detention in custody was somewhat permissible. It did not restrict these powers further. However, it sought to put an end to filing of incomplete chargesheets by police through explicitly permitting detention in custody during investigations up to a certain period. While doing so, it created a draft which made it ambiguous as to whether the extension outside the first fifteen days could contemplate detention in police custody. Members of Parliament flagged this ambiguity during debates, and the draft law was suitably amended to make it clear that extension of custody outside of that first fifteen day period could never contemplate detention in police custody.

This was the understanding followed by courts in the aftermath of the new code being brought into force. The Delhi High Court in Dharam Pal [1980 CriLJ 1394] dealt with a challenge by the state to orders of a magistrate refusing to grant police custody within the first fifteen days of arrest as judicial custody had been granted. The High Court held that altering the nature of custody was possible and arguably necessary, but was only possible within the first fifteen days from a plain reading of the law. In setting aside the order, even though the first fifteen days of custody had lapsed, the High Court directed the magistrate to consider the matter as on the date when police sought the remand. 

An even clearer exposition of how Section 167 was understood and applied was seen in the Kerala High Court's judgment of K.V. Sadanandan [1984 CriLJ 1823]. Applying Section 167 was a two-step exercise, as the Court explained. Section 167(2) explained that the first step was first deciding to decide the nature of detention in custody for fifteen days in the whole. Only if at the end of this period the Court remained of a view that further detention was necessary, it could resort to the proviso, and extend detention up to the 60 / 90 days, but the nature of such detention could only be "otherwise than in the custody of the police". 

Therefore, Anupam Kulkarni did not mistakenly apply the law thinking it was dealing with the 1898 Code as Balaji suggests, but it was following what had emerged as an established view across courts, and was also the correct view deciphered from a textual reading of Section 167 itself. 

The Promise of Liberty
In failing to consult the history behind Section 167, it is no wonder that the Court in Balaji commits such serious errors as to assuming the correct legislative intent behind the provision. At no point was it in the mind of Parliament to grant police the custody of persons in a manner even broader than the colonial 1898 Code. The very purpose behind the comprehensive restructuring of Section 167 by Parliament in 1973 was to send a clear signal to police that their languorous investigations spread over months if not years were antithetical to personal liberty that the Constitution respected and guaranteed through Article 21. If such kinds of investigations were in the minds of agencies, then it was precisely Parliament's intent to impair the power of police to continue with such practices. 

That Balaji found it difficult to accept this clear intention is not a unique feat. Similar difficulties were, in fact, experienced in the context of the other part of Section 167 i.e. the insertion of default bail provisions, when they came, which the Supreme Court had gone so far as to comment was Parliament's creation of a "paradise for criminals". Yet, no matter how unpalatable to its sensibilities Court must honour legislative intent, and not find ways to skirt around it as long as it remains palpable to the Constitution itself. And, by all accounts, Section 167 in prescribing a limit on police custody as being permissible only during the first fifteen days of arrest is certainly not contrary to the Constitution. 

The conclusions in Balaji on this aspect of reading Section 167(2) of the Cr.P.C. are, therefore, incorrect.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Kanojia Gets Bail: A Strange Kind of Justice

Prashant Kanojia was arrested for posting a tweet about a political personage. He did not abuse, use names, or anything of that sort. He posted a link to another story that was carried in the news about the claims of another person, about having an affair with the said personage. People were not up in arms at the suggestion. There was no public order disturbance. And yet, Prashant Kanojia was taken into custody by the police on trumped up charges, contrary to law, some rules, and judicial guidelines as well (along with him, other persons were also arrested in connection with the same incident). Why? Because the personage also happens to be the one who, indirectly, controls the police. 

For this unbelievably horrific act, the police not only kept him in custody for the 24 hours that the Constitution allows. But subsequently, he was taken before the magistrate on Sunday and remanded to eleven days in judicial custody. Not once did the magistrate seem to question the irregularities that seemed to accompany the arrest. For instance, the police invoking Sections 66 and / or 67 of the Information Technology Act 2000 when neither provision had anything do with the case. But I guess it was expected. After all, the personage also happens to be someone who, indirectly, can derail the career of the Magistrate. 

Kanojia's wife is then forced to take this issue all the way up to the Supreme Court — lucky for her that she stays in New Delhi and does not have to travel too far. The country's highest court is required to intervene in a simple case of bail? And once the Court does intervene and does its job by ordering that Kanojia be released on bail because it is patently ridiculous to keep a man locked up for tweeting a news piece, we are supposed to be happy and be thanking our stars that the Supreme Court exists?  

This is not the time for being happy, but for being outraged at just how pathetic the system is. And how pathetic we are for doing ever so little to change it.

Kanojia's arrest and the Supreme Court's intervention are very painful reminders of just how deep and pervasive the rot runs in our legal system. Where the executive controls the police, what else do you expect will happen if someone decides to challenge a Chief Minister? Of course it shouldn't happen, but let's not kid ourselves. And since the legislature and executive are joined at the hip in our system of government, no wonder we are happy to retain / enact broadly worded criminal laws that confer police with wide powers of arrest.

Technically, an independent judiciary should be serving as the corrective here. Magistrates can, and should, be questioning the arrest and why it was necessary. But that is a rare occurrence generally, let alone in a case involving political personages. Why? Because, again, political interference is a thing. Magistrates are working on a long-term career path that can be derailed by an adverse comment in their service record, or the evil-eye of an influential person. Can we really expect each person to be fearless and not care about making sure of food in the house? Of course not. 

Which then brings me to the Supreme Court itself. Time and again, the Court is presented with cases like Kanojia's, some far worse. This was made very clear when PUCL moved the Supreme Court in January 2019 citing cases of people being arrested under the now-defunct Section 66-A of the IT Act — something that seems to have played a role even in Kanojia's case. This has led the Court to do a number of things: issue a powerful rebuke to authorities, pass guidelines regulating powers of arrest, and even go ahead and push through new legislation for insulating police from political interference. Things brings a good measure of praise for the Court, but manages to secure precious little in terms of actual change in police behaviour. 

Again, to expect any other outcome is foolish, as the Court does not control the police. All it can do is talk by passing orders, and threaten states with contempt in case of non-compliance. The hollowness of that threat is evident if anyone takes stock of how many states continue in contempt of the court's orders of police reforms passed way back in 2006. 

What is my point here? That the outrage which we experience while hearing news about politically motivated policing and prosecution, such as the one in Kanojia's case, should not fizzle out because the Supreme Court agreed to intervene and grant bail. Keep rewinding the tape and you will find that many legislators have made promises about breaking this unholy nexus between the government and police, right from the Constituent Assembly, and even today we have not managed to make any real headway in achieving this goal. The Supreme Court is not an ever-vigilant sentinel. It cannot step in to save every Kanojia who is arrested for a tweet, or a Pehlu Khan who is lynched for practising his trade, or the many young tribal men picked up by virtue of who they are and not what they've done. 

It is time that we, as participants in a democratic setup, up the ante and continually push for reforms in the criminal justice system. If governments can listen to business lobbies of a few hundreds and get working on tax reforms, they will surely have to listen to the many thousands whose lives are made worse by a criminal system which is only "just" in name and very rarely in action.

Update (12.06.2019): Further arrests have taken place in the case after the Supreme Court passed its order. Persons arrested in Karnataka on similar allegations (relating to a different political personage) have not been released on bail yet. And we are still a nation that has a Constitution.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Detention, Deepak Mahajan, and Self-Incrimination

(A previous version of this post appeared on the Indian Constitutional Law and Philosophy Blog. I am grateful to its resident editor and some close friends for comments)

Recap
Previously, we talked about how the “person accused of an offence” in Article 20(3) of the Indian Constitution have been interpreted by the Supreme Court. The Court had understood this phrase as describing a person who was the subject of a formal accusation, akin to a FIR. This created a gap between the time it takes for an informal accusation to become a formal one, which becomes a point where a person remains unprotected, and could be compelled to give evidence against himself. While investigations for IPC offences may confer little investigative mettle before a formal accusation, the same is not the case in statutes creating socio-economic offences. Statutes such as the Customs Act 1962, and NDPS Act 1988 vest officers with extensive powers before a formal accusation is levelled. The Supreme Court during the 1960s consistently held that Article 20(3) would not apply to persons compelled to give evidence against themselves at these stages.

I have expressed deep reservations about this approach, and in this part of my argument flesh out a possible alternative approach to answering the problem. The ideal situation would involve an amendment to the Cr.P.C. providing a definition of ‘Accused’. That is difficult for multifarious reasons and it is easier to fashion an approach from existing law (statutory and supreme court decision based). Accordingly, I argue that the phrase “person accused of an offence” should be read with the concept of detention in custody by any authority during an investigation. I draw the line this way: if an authority seeks your detention for more than the 24-hour minimum, you must be able to exercise your right against self-incrimination. Before moving on to this argument, I need to discuss one important decision.

Deepak Mahajan and Custodial Remand
Previously we ended our discussion with Romesh Chandra Mehta and the Sea Customs Act. We begin this post with the decision in Directorate of Enforcement v. Deepak Mahajan [AIR 1994 SC 1775]. All you need to know is that in the interregnum, the Supreme Court consistently built upon the foundations laid by Romesh Chandra Mehta, and by 1994 it was a nearly unassailable position that Article 20(3) didn’t extend to the questioning of persons before filing of formal complaints in socio-economic offences. It also consistently held that officers conducting the interrogation were not “police officers” and therefore confessions made to these officers would not be hit by Section 25 of the Indian Evidence Act.

Enter Deepak Mahajan. The Appellant DM was arrested for having allegedly committed offences under the erstwhile Foreign Exchange Regulation Act 1973 [FERA] and was taken for questioning. This power was available under  Section 35 FERA. A quandary arose soon after – if his detention is needed beyond the Constitutional maximum of 24 hours [Article 22], could further detention be granted by a Magistrate as in ordinary IPC cases? Section 167 of the Cr.P.C. is what allowed further detention. For clarity, I extract relevant parts here:

(1)   Whenever any person is arrested and detained in custody, and it appears that the investigation cannot be completed within the period of twenty-hour hours fixed by Section 57, and there are grounds for believing that the accusation or information is well-founded, the officer in charge of the police station or the police officer making the investigation … shall at the same time forward the accused to such Magistrate

(2)   The Magistrate to whom an accused person is forwarded under this section may … authorise the detention of the accused in such custody as such Magistrate thinks fit … and if he has no jurisdiction to try the case or commit it for trial, and considers further detention unnecessary, he may order the accused to be forwarded to a Magistrate having jurisdiction
(Emphasis Supplied)

This provision thus, invokes both a “police officer” and an “accused person”. A reading of the provision makes it clear that only those persons are sent to the Magistrate by the police against whom “there are grounds for believing that the accusation or information is well-founded”. This is perhaps the closest to a definition for a formal accusation that we can find. Therefore, could this provision be made applicable to authorise detention during investigation in statutes like FERA? Remember, these laws were those where the Court had held the interrogating officers were not police officers [to prevent application of Section 25, IEA]. And persons questioned were not accused at this pre-formal accusation stage [to prevent application of Article 20(3)]. To extend Section 167 would mean either conceding one or both of these premises upon which the Court had built nearly 30 years of jurisprudence, let alone the dramatic impact it would have on the investigation and trial of the cases themselves. The Delhi High Court had held that Section 167 would not apply, which meant no further custody before filing a formal accusation.

Walking a Tightrope
You have to think that something had to give. If the Court applied Section 167 then it meant that the questioned persons get important legal protections. If it didn’t extend Section 167, this meant a limit to detention in custody for 24 hours before filing any formal accusation which curtailed the scope for coercive interrogation [note, however, that this didn’t mean Article 20(3) became applicable to the entire pre-complaint process. The FERA had interrogation provisions at this stage that worked completely independent of custodial detention, and thus would remain outside Article 20(3)]. Reading the decision, it is clear that the Court knew exactly how tricky the issue was. It reversed the conclusions of the High Court and held that Section 167 Cr.P.C. would apply to allow those arrested under Section 35 of FERA and other socio-economic offences to be remanded to judicial custody.

Crucially though, the Court did not extend Section 25, IEA or Article 20(3) to persons remanded to custody. Let’s leave aside the Section 25 issue and focus on what bothers us – the refusal to extend Article 20(3). The court engages in an interesting discussion on how the criminal law does not have a consistent description of the term accused. Perhaps there is merit in that claim – accused being a generic word can be coloured differently at different stages. But look above, to how the “accused person” sent to the Magistrate under Section 167 Cr.P.C. was someone against whom there were well well-founded accusations as determined by the police. Even after its deliberations on the meaning of ‘accused’, the Court went on to note that the word ‘accused’ or ‘accused person’ is used only in a generic sense in Section 167(1) and (2) denoting the ‘person’ whose liberty is actually restrained on his arrest by a competent authority on a well-founded information or formal accusation or indictment [emphasis supplied].” So why would it not result in these persons being conferred with the protection under Article 20(3)?

Conclusion
Deepak Mahajan remains seminal because this is the first time that the Supreme Court discusses the possibility of a link between the idea of custodial remand and self-incrimination. But the decision ultimately went the same way and compounded the earlier problems. Now, persons could be detained for up to 90 days without any protection from being compelled to incriminate themselves. In the next post, we’ll develop this argument to see whether Deepak Mahajan was in fact a lost opportunity that leads us to a better, more holistic, version of Article 20(3). 

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Custody and Section 167 Cr.P.C.

Section 167 of the Cr.P.C. has been subjected to a lot of interpretation over time due to the nature of the subject matter. The provision concerns remanding a person to custody by a court, when the police present said person before the court within 24 hours of an arrest. Nonetheless, two very interesting interpretive questions remain largely unexplored when you scan through Section 167 of the Cr.P.C. They are quite fascinating. I thought they merit some discussion.

Enter, the 'accused'
Our criminal law confers several rights upon an accused person. For instance, the accused has a constitutional right against self-incrimination [Article 20(3) of the Constitution]. But, nowhere do we have a definition of who is an 'accused'. The Supreme Court helped out by giving an explanation in 1954, when it held that one is an 'accused' when there is a formal accusation which may in the normal course result in prosecution [M.P. Sharma v Satish Chandra, AIR 1954 SC 300]. Later, though, it held that persons taken into custody and interrogated by customs officers are not 'accused' [Romesh Chandra Mehta v State of West Bengal, AIR 1970 SC 940]. The problems arising from this stand have been discussed here before. Suffice to say, that it remains unclear from the decisions who is an 'accused'. Which is why Section 167 assumes significance. This is the first time when the Cr.P.C. mentions an 'accused'. Section 167(1) says "whenever any person is arrested and detained in custody ... and there are grounds for believing that the accusation or information is well-founded ... shall at the same time forward the accused to such Magistrate" [Run a ctrl+f search to test me]. Before this, the Code speaks of arresting a person "accused of" a certain offence. Now, that person becomes the accused

Lets try line-drawing. Before this, what has happened? Arrest, and some (not more than 24) hours in custody. One conclusion which emerges is that only after the police seek formal custody from court does one become an accused. The first 24 hours are not included because they are needed to determine whether the accusation is well-founded. We can perhaps say that the test in M.P. Sharma could be modified to define the accused as a person against whom a well-founded accusation, as opposed to an accusation, has been made. This also invites a problematic reading of Article 20(3) which would then exclude the protection from persons for that initial 24 hour period and incentivise under-reporting of arrests. Before you disregard the idea, remember that the Court has already sanctified this exclusion for periods longer than 24 hours where the detaining authority is not wearing khaki but a better fabric [i.e., its a customs officer and not police officer]. Keeping that important development aside for a moment, what is important here is the possibility to use Section 167 for providing a clear, consistent idea of who is an accused.

Interpreting The Proviso 
The proviso to Section 167(2) creates 90 day and 60 day limits on detention in custody. 90 days where the offence is one punishable with death, imprisonment for life "or imprisonment for a term of not less than ten years". 60 days for "any other offence". Death and life imprisonment are clear enough, but how do we read "imprisonment for a term not less than ten years" in Proviso (a). Our drafting style for offences has been quite standard over time: there is always a maximum, there may be a minimum. The Proviso is based on the nature of offences, but no offence in the IPC is defined as having a punishment "not less than ten years". So why choose such perplexing language! The courts are left to make good of what they have. The Supreme Court has considered the proviso in detail twice to my knowledge; Rajeev Chaudhary v State [AIR 2001 SC 2369] and Bhupinder Singh v Jarnail Singh [(2006) 6 SCC 277]. Both decisions are problematic.

Rajeev Chaudhary required deciding whether Section 386 IPC fell in the 60 day or 90 day category. Section 386 is punishable up to ten years imprisonment. The Court held that in the Proviso "the expression not less than would mean imprisonment should be 10 years or more and would cover only those offences for which punishment could be imprisonment for a clear period of 10 years or more." In Bhupinder Singh, the Court was faced with a resulting problem. Section 304-B IPC allowed a minimum imprisonment of seven years and a maximum of life. This meant imprisonment was not "for a clear period of 10 years or more". Justice Pasayat decided that custody could still be for 90 days by wisely noting that "merely because the minimum sentence is provided that does not mean that the sentence imposable is only the minimum sentence". The only way to arrive at this conclusion was to overrule the clear period test of Rajeev Chaudhary but this never happens.  

I would therefore regard Bhupinder Singh as per incuriam, and address the position as it remains from Rajeev Chaudhary. The position is unacceptable. Not only does it re-write the text, but (a) plainly illogical and (ii) contrary to how we read the Cr.P.C. elsewhere. On logic, this reading potentially excludes offences such as Section 307 IPC and a host of other grave offences under special laws [NDPS Act, for instance] by this clear period test. Surely, that could not have been the legislative intention. On interpreting the Cr.P.C., turn to the Part-II of the Schedule to the Cr.P.C. [its right at the end] which explains how offences under laws other than IPC are normally tried. Offences punishable for 3 years form one category of cognizable and non-bailable, and those for less than 3 years form a separate one of non-cognizable and bailable. Non-IPC offences punishable up to 3 years have been consistently treated as cognizable and bailable (unless specified otherwise) illustrating that courts include the maximum punishment while understanding the offence (see decisions on Section 63 of the Copyright Act 1957). Similarly, not less than ten years in the Proviso, must mean to include all offences punishable with up to ten years.