The recovery of the bodies of the wife and nine-month-old son of Juel Hasan Saddam, a detained upazila-level leader of the now-banned Bangladesh Chhatra League, in Bagerhat has triggered widespread public distress.
Police say the woman was found dead inside her home, while the child was discovered nearby. Investigators are awaiting autopsy reports to determine the precise cause of death, amid differing accounts from relatives and local residents.
While the incident itself is deeply tragic, it is the events that followed that have generated sharper public scrutiny.
Saddam, who is currently held in Jashore jail, was not granted parole to attend or briefly see his wife and child after their deaths. Authorities initially stated that no parole application had been filed.
It later emerged that an application had been submitted to the Bagerhat deputy commissioner, who advised the family to approach the Jashore district administration instead. No parole was ultimately granted. Instead, the bodies were brought to the prison gate, allowing Saddam a final viewing there.
Images and accounts of the bodies being taken to the jail gate have unsettled many across the country. Social media platforms filled with expressions of anger and grief, with critics describing the episode as emblematic of inhumane state conduct.
Others sought to defend the government, while officials pointed to procedural constraints – an explanation that has failed to convince many.
At a broader level, the incident highlights two interlinked issues: the responsibility of the state towards its citizens, and the corrosive nature of Bangladesh’s political culture.
The principle at stake is straightforward.
Even if a person is accused of terrorism, murder or the most serious crimes, the state is obligated to treat them justly. If fairness cannot be guaranteed, the very purpose of laws and courts is called into question. Punishing an offender is the state’s duty, but so is protecting that person’s rights as a citizen.
Justice is not defined solely by punishment, but by adherence to due process and the rule of law.
The reliance on bureaucratic explanations to justify the denial of parole has drawn particular criticism. Existing rules allow discretion in urgent humanitarian situations.
In this case, a compassionate and decisive administration could have resolved the matter quickly through routine communication between district authorities. The failure to do so suggests not an absence of legal authority, but an unwillingness to exercise it.
This is not the first time such concerns have surfaced. Under the previous Awami League government, political affiliation often influenced how laws were applied, with reports of arbitrary arrests, prolonged detention and disregard for the suffering of detainees’ families.
Despite a change in leadership and promises of principled governance, many now argue that the same coercive mechanisms remain in place, directed at a different set of political actors.
Reports of detained Awami League leaders dying in custody have further intensified these concerns, raising fears that the state may be drifting towards collective punishment rather than individual accountability. Such practices risk undermining the government’s claims of moral and legal renewal.
A genuine break from the past requires not only new rhetoric, but demonstrably different conduct.
There is broad consensus that crimes committed during the Awami League rule must be investigated and punished.
Accountability is essential. But accountability without due process is not justice—it is retribution. Both domestic and international legal standards require proportionality, evidence, transparency and humane treatment, regardless of the gravity of the alleged offence.
The case also exposes the deeper dysfunctions of the country’s political system. During the Awami League’s time in power, many young activists were drawn into violence and criminality at the behest of senior leaders seeking to maintain control and extract resources.
Figures like Saddam now face the consequences, while many of those who directed or benefited from such actions live abroad in safety. The burden of punishment has fallen disproportionately on lower-level actors and their families.
When Awami League fell from power on 5 August 2024, there was hope that the country’s political culture would change.
A year and a half on, that optimism appears increasingly fragile. The patterns of retribution, impunity and institutional indifference look uncomfortably familiar.
Without meaningful reform in how politics is practised and how state power is exercised, similar tragedies are likely to recur – regardless of which party is in office. The deaths of Swarnali and her infant son have become more than a personal tragedy; they stand as a warning of the human cost of vengeance replacing justice.
