WHEN THE STATE SIDES WITH THE ACCUSED: KARNATAKA’S DANGEROUS NEW NORMAL

 In Belagavi this week, Karnataka witnessed a moment that should unsettle anyone who still believes in the rule of law. The Chief Minister—constitutionally the foremost guardian of fairness and due process—chose to stand shoulder to shoulder on a public platform with Veerendra Heggade, a man facing multiple grave allegations, including land grab proved by the government’s own AC court, financial improprieties flagged by civil society groups, and formal accusations in the Soujanya rape and murder case. This was not a coincidence of presence; it was a deliberate political embrace. And it was a message.

When the highest elected executive places himself beside an accused under active investigation, it is not merely bad optics—it is a violation of constitutional ethics. It signals to officials, investigators, and the public that the State has already made up its mind. It corrupts the neutrality that Article 14 demands. And it transforms the appearance of justice into a theatre of power.

If the CM’s conduct was troubling, the Deputy Chief Minister’s words were far worse. D K Shivakumar, once again, confidently declared that the allegations against Heggade were part of a “conspiracy(shadyantra).” This, while an SIT appointed by the same government is probing the matter. His statement is not an opinion. It is a political directive delivered through public speech. It undermines the investigation before its work is complete. It implicitly warns the SIT what result is expected. It tramples upon the victim’s constitutional right to an unbiased probe.

In any functional democracy, ministers are expected to refrain from comments that prejudice ongoing investigations. The Supreme Court has repeatedly held that fair investigation is part of the fundamental right to life and liberty under Article 21. Even the appearance of bias, the Court has said, is enough to invalidate an investigative process. Here, we are dealing with far more than appearance—we are dealing with open endorsement.

What moral universe allows ministers to defend the accused while whistle-blowers, complainants, and grieving families are hounded, demonised, and branded as “burude gangs”? What political order celebrates the gratitude of a community for protecting one powerful man while ignoring the anguished voice of a mother seeking justice for her daughter? This is not governance; this is feudal patronage dressed up as secular power.

By calling it a conspiracy, the DCM has effectively told the SIT: “The accused is innocent. Now prove it.” By sharing the stage with Heggade, the CM has declared: “He stands under our protection.” The result is a State machinery that bends toward power, punishes those who speak up, and rewards those who can command political blessings.

The constitutional promise of fairness is being shredded in slow motion. The fence is eating the field, and doing so in broad daylight. When the government itself becomes the shield of the accused, justice is no longer delayed—it is deliberately destroyed.

Karnataka must ask itself a difficult question: If the State sides with the powerful accused even before the truth emerges, who will stand with the powerless seeking justice? Why in the first instance, an SIT was formed at such a huge expense?