Chapter 7: The Law’s Blind Eye

The next step was routine: send her for a psychiatric forensic assessment.

Section 84 of the IPC says, “Nothing is an offence which is done by a person who…by reason of unsoundness of mind, is incapable of knowing the nature of the act.”

Everyone in the thana had heard of Section 84, but none of us ever thought we’d see it play out in real life—like a scene straight out of a crime show on Sony TV.

If found not responsible, she’d undergo compulsory treatment, not prison. The villagers would rage, but the law would move on.

In a way, it was the perfect revenge—planned or not, the result was the same. We couldn’t prove she was sane at the time of the crime. The law could not punish her.

Just like in the Ananya case. We wanted to jail those boys, but couldn’t.

Now, Kunal’s grandparents came, clutching the inspector’s sleeve, their bangles clinking, eyes red with grief. They demanded justice, but knew the law would not deliver it.

The system is a wall—sometimes it shields, sometimes it blocks justice. Old men spat into the dust, muttering, “Yeh kalyug aa gaya hai.”

Sandeep and I prepared to hand over the files, resigned to the outcome. I believed it was over.

But Inspector Javed and Mehul refused to accept defeat. They decided to interrogate Kavita again, off the record.

Later, we learned they turned off the CCTV. What was said inside, we never knew. By the time we found out, disaster had already struck again.