A Custodial Death, a Mother's Courage and the Collective Struggle for Justice

“The ones back home are not our people – they are our relatives,” says Malathy, pointing at the team that helped her through the ordeal, in and outside court, as she battled for justice in the brutal custodial torture and killing of her older son, Ajith Kumar, in June 2025, at Thirupuvanam in Tamil Nadu.

Ajith was a security guard at the Bathrakali Amman temple in Madapuram village in Thirupuvanam, where a visitor accused him of theft of her jewellery. The police detained him for “interrogation”, and the torture ultimately put an end to his life. The postmortem report recorded 44 brutal injuries on his body. Nine policemen were charged in the case.

Initially, the Thirupuvanam police picked up Ajith and some others for questioning, then released them. But on the following day, June 27, 2025, Ajith was taken back into custody by a “special team” of police. The team took him to multiple locations around the village and subjected him to torture in an effort to “extract the truth” from him. He was brutally assaulted despite insisting on his innocence.

On the evening of June 29, Ajith breathed his last in a shed near the temple, with chilli powder forced into his mouth as multiple blows landed on him. A temple staff member recorded a video through a small opening in a window of the bathroom of the temple, and that became the primary evidence of the torture inflicted on Ajith. The incident shook Tamil Nadu as people were confronted with the sheer brutality inflicted on a fellow citizen by men in khaki.

The court’s commendable intervention

The Madurai Bench of the Madras High Court intervened swiftly and decisively in this matter, acting on a petition by the Joint Action Against Custodial Torture (JAACT). This is a collective that emerged in Tamil Nadu and Puducherry after the Sathankulam custodial torture and death in 2020.

Also read: Behind India's Custodial Death Numbers Are 'Brazenly Ignored' Guidelines, Say Experts

JAACT comprises 86 civil society organisations and political parties with the common objective of ending custodial violence. On its plea, an urgent hearing was convened by the Madras High Court on the morning of July 1 and the judicial magistrate was directed to submit a preliminary report by 3 pm that very day to prevent evidence tampering.

On July 3, the court appointed a district judge to obtain a firsthand report, safeguard the evidence and identify witnesses. The report of this enquiry was submitted on July 8.

The court awarded interim compensation to the victim’s family (one of the firsts marked by this case), ordered protection for the family, eyewitnesses and advocates under the Witness Protection Scheme, 2018, and transferred the investigation to the CBI with directions for continuous judicial monitoring. Additionally, the court ordered interim compensation of Rs 32.5 lakh for the victim’s family, and three cents of land and a government job for the brother of the deceased, Naveen Kumar.

In what has been viewed as a firm stand against grave human rights violations, the presiding judges emphasised the constitutional duty of the state – in this case the police – to protect its citizens, not harm them. The judges noted how the incident had “shaken the conscience of the people”. Through its swift orders, the court reaffirmed public confidence in the judiciary as a guardian of justice.

Courage of a mother

The outcome of this case was not an easy achievement. Malathy and her family were swarmed by influential men, caste leaders and political parties. They tried to appropriate the family's tragedy and struggles for their own gain. At one point, they coerced Malathy to accept money and push the case under the carpet. Then followed false promises of jobs, as is the norm with every instance of human rights violation. But Malathy refused to shut down under pressure. Hope bloomed from hopelessness, strength beamed from brokenness and a mother determined to fight for justice, no matter the cost.

“Women are stronger than men, though most of us refuse to accept this. It is during such difficult times that we realise it,” says advocate Henri Tiphagne, a human rights lawyer who argued this matter before the Madurai Bench.

Also read: Custodial Torture Continues Unabated in India Amidst Culture of Impunity: Report

Malathy exhibited remarkable strength after the death of her older son. Her usual routine – waking up at 4.30 am and working until 11.30 pm – came to an abrupt halt on the fateful day of June 29, when Ajith died in the hands of men in khaki. A single mother, she had raised both her sons to work hard and remain disciplined – her greatest treasure given to her children. She worked stringing flowers, preparing batter and selling it, and doing lake work under VB-G-RAM-G, doing all she could to earn and feed her family of three.

Tiphagne, who is Executive Director of People’s Watch, remembers: “It is the survivors and the victims who have given us the privilege to step into their lives and fight on their behalf.” Attaining justice in cases of human rights violations, especially custodial violence, is an extremely slow process and it takes immense courage to stay the course.

What keeps women going despite the ordeals they face is the singular passion to prove to the world that their child was faultless, that those who murdered him should realise this was the “greatest crime they had committed on an innocent person”.

In this case, Malathy was that and more. She became the force behind the younger son, Naveen, returning to work after the tragedy. While the government offered him a job – he, too, was a victim of torture on the same day – the trauma made it difficult for him to leave his village to work. It is Malathy’s roaring courage that said to him: “I want my second son to go live; show the world the man he is and not be gripped by fear.”

Challenges to bouncing back

Life has changed in every unexpected way for Malathy and Naveen. Memories of losing her older child are fresh in her mind, the pain refusing to bid her goodbye, tormenting her at every nook and corner of her house, where he had lived. His words ring in her ears, and the memories of good times haunt her. Her efforts to push them away fail miserably, as she holds them close, unwilling to let go, taking it all in, although it pierces her already shattered heart.

Also read: SC Directs All States, UTs to Send Replies on Torture Bill Within Three Weeks

Her path to recovery also reveals the prejudice of society. In December 2025, six months after her son’s death and after the customary rituals had concluded, Malathy looked forward to resuming her small batter business. But the bitter reality was that none of her earlier customers would drop by to buy from her due to fear of the CCTVs installed at her home for her protection. They feared being seen by the police, thus revealing how collective fear discourages individuals who try to rebuild life.

A culture of human rights

The human rights movement is built on collective efforts and solidarity. The strength exhibited by survivors sustains the movement. It is about fighting for the truth, but it is also about what Malathy took a stand against – a system that brutally murdered her son and thought this poor woman would have no way to fight the men in khaki. A system that has failed many times when it comes to confronting men in khaki, who are drenched in political ties and often consider human lives less important.

Malathy dared fight, not to exhibit her strength, but to make justice a reality for her son.

Even as she waits for the dawn of the day through every court hearing, even as the CBI recently remarked that it had closed the complaint of theft owing to a lack of evidence, Malathy continues to hope, to believe.

Despite everything, Malathy holds herself together to make justice a reality. She does so even in an India that has not ratified the UN Convention Against Torture, yet could secure a place in the Human Rights Council for the seventh time. It is the courage of countless such mothers and wives, fighting for their slain sons and husbands, that holds up other brave hearts as they navigate through the system, carrying their own aches and bruises.

Grace Anu is a counsellor at People’s Watch, Madurai.

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