Usama Shehzad Cheema
In a province long haunted by crime and institutional inefficiency, a new name has swiftly captured public imagination: the Crime Control Department (CCD). Led by Additional Inspector General Sohail Zafar Chatha, this newly launched Police force has drawn sharp attention across the province. Within a matter of weeks, CCD has made its presence felt, not through community policing or policing reforms, but through a long series of police encounters. The stories repeat with a chilling regularity. Suspects are apprehended. They are being taken to recover stolen goods or weapons. On the way, their accomplices allegedly ambush the police. In the crossfire, the suspect is killed. The police officers remain safe. This same tale, repeated almost daily from Lahore to Layyah, is becoming a new trend in Punjab.
At a glance, many people appear satisfied. In a country where public frustration with crime runs high and faith in the courts runs low, any show of strength feels like justice. Videos have emerged of alleged criminals publicly declaring their exit from unlawful activities, citing fear of CCD. Social media is flooded with praise for the department. There is a visible sense that finally someone is doing something. But satisfaction must not blind us to substance. The purpose of a justice system is not to deliver fear. It is to deliver fairness. And the more one examines this new trend, the more difficult it becomes to believe that justice is what is truly being delivered.
It would be easier to applaud CCD if its actions were accompanied by judicial transparency, forensic evidence, and due process. But that is precisely what seems to be missing. Hundreds of encounters, and yet the story barely changes. The uniformity in encounters’ stories raises serious questions. Are all these incidents genuine ambushes? Are all these deaths truly the result of exchange of fire? Is every suspect killed while trying to escape or being rescued? Or has encounter become a convenient replacement for fair trial?
Pakistan’s Constitution leaves no ambiguity about the rights of its citizens, and an accused does not cease to become a citizen of the land. Article 4 guarantees treatment in accordance with law for every citizen. Article 10 protects against arbitrary arrest and detention. Article 10A ensures the right to a fair trial. Article 14 defends the inviolable dignity of man. These articles are not mere theoretical constructs. They are safeguards that form the soul of a constitutional state. To discard them in the name of efficiency is to abandon legitimacy itself. The argument that criminals deserve instant punishment may sound tempting. But it sets a dangerous precedent. When the state starts deciding who deserves a trial and who does not, then no one is truly safe.
There is also the institutional question. CCD is not an altogether newly formed policing force. It draws its manpower from the Punjab Police, an institution that has repeatedly been linked to corruption, inefficiency, and politicisation. From Sahiwal to Model Town, the Punjab Police has a troubling track record. There are credible accusations that in many parts of the province, local police are not just aware of the criminal networks but are actively in collaboration with them. Essentially the same force is now being handed unchecked authority to kill and walk away. In such an environment, how long will it take before personal grudges, political influence, or mere suspicion lead to the killings?
It must be acknowledged, however, that the problem is not limited to excessive policing. It lies deeper in the failure of the criminal justice system. It is no secret that suspects routinely secure bail due to lack of evidence. Cases collapse because investigations are weak and trials are delayed. Nevertheless, these are not reasons to abandon the system. They are reasons to fix it. The government must invest in training investigation officers, adopting forensic tools, and ensuring proper evidence collection. The prosecution must be empowered with resources and personnel who can effectively build cases that stand in a court of law. These are the long and hard paths to reform. But they are the only lawful ones.
A recent order by the Lahore High Court Multan Bench, directing the registration of an FIR against CCD personnel over a contested encounter, is a timely reminder that unchecked power must answer to judicial oversight. It is not only a matter of law but of basic human dignity. The state cannot be permitted to operate in a zone where death comes before defense. Every encounter must be scrutinised. Every life taken in custody must be accounted for. If evidence exists, let it be presented before a court. If it does not, then the Police must not resort to state-sponsored elimination.
It is also time for civil society to step forward. Lawyers, bar councils, human rights organizations, journalists, and elected representatives must question and challenge this unchecked use, rather abuse, of power. No matter how pressing the threat of crime may be, justice cannot be served by shortcuts. The notion that justice delayed is justice denied must not lead to the dangerous belief that justice by the gun is justice delivered. It is not. It is merely violence wrapped in the language of order.
Punjab needs security, but not at the cost of true justice. When the state starts using bullets instead of trials, it does not show strength, it actually shows fear. Fear may bring short-term control, but it cannot build lasting peace. Quick solutions create deeper problems over time. Real law and order depends on effective investigations, fair trials, and genuine accountability. That is the only way to ensure security that is both strong and sustainable.
