Grief and Doubt: Ramisa’s father echoes Sagar-Runi’s unsolved case

As the country entered a third consecutive day of protests over the rape and murder of eight-year-old Ramisa Akter, her father Abdul Hannan Mollah sat in his Pallabi home and asked the journalists who came to see him a question that silenced the room.

“You are journalists,” he told the media yesterday. “Have you been able to ensure justice for the Sagar-Runi murders?” he asked.

It was not an angry question. It was a resigned one — spoken by a man who described himself as “a poor, destitute father” who does not know if his cries will reach the government.

The question, simple and devastating, has since resonated far beyond Pallabi.

Here is what it means, and why it matters.

Who are Sagar and Runi — and why did Abdul Hannan invoke their names?
Sagar Sarowar and Meherun Runi were a journalist couple murdered in their Dhaka home in February 2012.

The case became one of the most high-profile unsolved killings in Bangladeshi legal history. Despite multiple investigations, no one has been convicted.

The case has become shorthand in Bangladesh for justice delayed — and denied. When Ramisa’s father invoked their names to a room full of journalists, he was not asking a rhetorical question.

He was drawing a direct line between the failures of the past and his fear of the future.

THE SAGAR-RUNI CASE — A BRIEF HISTORY
Journalist couple Sagar Sarowar and Meherun Runi were found murdered in their Dhaka flat on 11 February 2012. Their young son discovered the bodies. T

he case drew enormous public attention but remains unsolved after more than a decade, with repeated investigation failures and no convictions.

It is widely cited as a symbol of Bangladesh’s most entrenched justice gaps.
What specifically does Abdul Hannan fear?

In the Daily Star interview, he identified two overlapping concerns. The first is procedural: the complexity of Bangladesh’s legal system and the length of time trials can take, even in cases where arrests have been made quickly.

The second is financial: the influence of money in the judicial process.

“They can get anyone released on bail in exchange for money,” he said plainly — adding that even an uneducated man like himself understands this, and that educated people surely understand it even better.

He was careful not to criticise law enforcement. In fact, he praised the officers involved — from DB and CID to PBI and local police — calling them sincere and cooperative. His anxiety is not with investigators, but with what happens after the investigation ends.

How common are these delays in Bangladesh?
Bangladesh’s courts carry a substantial backlog of cases, and criminal trials — particularly those involving multiple accused, appeals and legal challenges — can extend for years or even decades.

High-profile cases attract experienced defence lawyers and procedural manoeuvres that can slow proceedings considerably.

It is within this context that the government’s pledge of a swift trial carries both promise and burden: past governments have made similar assurances, and the results have been mixed.
What has the government promised?

Both the Law Minister and the Home Minister have pledged the fastest possible trial.

The Dhaka Metropolitan Police commissioner has been directed to submit an investigation report within a week.

Prime Minister Tarique Rahman visited Abdul Hannan personally on Wednesday and gave his assurance directly to the family.

These are significant commitments — but as the father of Ramisa knows, commitment and outcome are not the same thing.

Why does this moment matter beyond Ramisa’s case?
The questions Abdul Hannan put to journalists in that Pallabi flat are questions the Bangladeshi public has been asking — in different forms, for different cases — for a long time.

Who benefits from a slow justice system? Who can afford to? Who cannot? His words have given voice to a frustration that the protests in Shahbagh, Dhaka University, Rangpur and elsewhere are expressing through chants and placards.

The anger is not only about Ramisa. It is about every case like hers where the verdict never came.
As he spoke, Abdul Hannan tried to hold back tears.

He did not succeed. What he said in that moment — quietly, without drama — may prove more enduring than any slogan shouted in the streets. Because the question he asked has no easy answer, and everyone in that room knew it.