Last Updated:December 27, 2025, 14:28 IST

Justice is not only about conviction. It is about confidence. And today, the survivor’s confidence in the system appears shaken

The suspension of the life sentence of former BJP MLA Kuldeep Singh Sengar by the Delhi High Court has triggered widespread outrage. But beyond the immediate anger lies a deeper, more uncomfortable question—not just about one judicial order, but about how India’s criminal justice system treats survivors after conviction.

The Unnao rape case was never an ordinary prosecution. It involved a minor survivor, a powerful sitting legislator, allegations of sustained intimidation, the death of the survivor’s father under contested circumstances, and extraordinary security measures during trial. When the trial court convicted Sengar and sentenced him to imprisonment for the remainder of his natural life, the verdict was widely seen as a rare assertion of accountability against entrenched power.

That sense of closure has now been shaken.

On December 23, the Delhi High Court suspended Sengar’s sentence while hearing his appeal. The court’s reasoning rested on a technical interpretation of the law: that a Member of Legislative Assembly does not fall within the definition of a “public servant” under Section 21 of the Indian Penal Code. Since the POCSO Act adopts this definition, the aggravated provisions under which Sengar had been sentenced—including Section 5(c) of POCSO and Section 376(2) IPC—were held inapplicable. On a narrow textual reading, the interpretation may appear legally arguable. But the order has raised troubling questions about how technical reasoning interacts with lived reality, especially in cases involving extreme power imbalance and documented fear.

Suspension of sentence in life imprisonment cases is not routine. The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that once a conviction is recorded, the presumption of innocence no longer applies, and suspension must be granted only in exceptional circumstances. Factors such as the gravity of the offence, the role of the accused, and the impact on the survivor are meant to guide the court’s discretion.

In this case, those factors included the rape of a minor, abuse of political influence, allegations of intimidation, and the need for sustained protection of the survivor and witnesses during trial. Yet the high court’s order largely frames the matter as a sentencing error rather than a crime with continuing consequences.

The most troubling aspect of the order, however, lies in its treatment of the survivor’s fear. The survivor and her family told the court that Sengar’s release would put her life at risk, citing past violence and sustained intimidation. These concerns were not speculative. Court records acknowledge the death of the survivor’s father, pressure on witnesses, and the necessity of security arrangements.

Still, the high court observed that a convict cannot be kept in custody merely on the apprehension that the police may fail to perform their duty. For survivors of sexual violence, fear is not an abstraction—it is rooted in memory and experience. Reducing that fear to a theoretical concern has drawn sharp criticism.

This was not the first time Sengar was allowed out of jail. Over the past three years, he was granted interim bail on four occasions—for his daughter’s wedding, cataract surgery, and medical treatment—spending a total of 23 days outside prison. Each time, both the survivor and the Central Bureau of Investigation objected, warning of potential harm. Bail was granted nonetheless.

During one such medical bail, AIIMS reportedly flagged unusual visitor access that disrupted hospital functioning, prompting a formal communication to the CBI Director. Ironically, Sengar later cited these very instances to argue before the high court that he had never misused his liberty.

That brings the focus sharply onto the role of the Central Bureau of Investigation.

Court documents reveal that in 2019, when the survivor sought framing of graver IPC charges, the CBI did not support her plea. The trial court rejected the request, and the CBI did not challenge that decision. The Delhi High Court’s own records note this omission.

More disturbingly, the trial court observed that aspects of the CBI’s investigation caused disadvantage to the survivor. The survivor later told the high court that even after the case was transferred to the CBI, fairness was not fully ensured. Allegations were raised that age-related evidence had been suppressed—claims that are recorded in judicial orders, not activist statements.

There is no denying that the CBI secured a conviction. But justice is not defined solely by the final verdict. It is also about standing firmly with the survivor at every stage, closing legal gaps, and anticipating how power can exploit procedural weaknesses. On that measure, the record appears uneven.

The CBI has now challenged the high court’s order before the Supreme Court of India. In its plea, the agency argues that the high court failed to adopt a victim-centric, purposive interpretation of the POCSO Act; that long incarceration alone cannot justify suspension of sentence; and that Sengar’s release would endanger the survivor’s life given his influence.

The appeal is significant. But it also raises a difficult question: why were these vulnerabilities not addressed earlier? Why was the survivor left to pursue crucial legal battles without full institutional backing in 2019?

Justice delayed is painful. Justice diluted is devastating.

Beyond the legal arguments lies a broader concern. What message does this episode send to survivors watching closely? That technicalities can outweigh trauma? That fear can be discounted? That power still finds exits even after conviction?

Courts are not meant to be emotional, but they are expected to be conscious of context. Investigating agencies are not activists, but they are expected to be relentless.

The Supreme Court will now decide the legal fate of the order. But the moral question is already before the nation.

Justice is not only about conviction. It is about confidence. And today, the survivor’s confidence in the system appears shaken.

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