Justice for Whom? Missing Voice in Our Criminal Justice System
In Bangladesh, justice is traditionally measured by the punishment handed down to the guilty. A conviction, a sentence and a fine mark the formal end of a criminal case. But for the real person behind the case – the victim or their family, the question remains painful and mostly unanswered: what did they truly receive from this justice? The answer is somewhat frustrating.
In Bangladesh, justice is traditionally measured by the punishment handed down to the guilty. A conviction, a sentence and a fine mark the formal end of a criminal case. But for the real person behind the case – the victim or their family, the question remains painful and mostly unanswered: what did they truly receive from this justice? The answer is somewhat frustrating.
In the current structure of our criminal justice system, crime is seen as an offense against the State. The role of the victim ends with their testimony, although in practice, victims in Bangladesh often have to make an extra effort to seek justice. Once the prosecution secures a conviction, it is usually professed by the state that justice has been served. But for the mother who lost her only son in an unintended clash despite not being involved, or the man who was permanently injured or lost an eye or a limb at the hands of hijackers, dacoits or gangsters while walking on the road at night or even while inside his own home, can justice without addressing the harm suffered by the victim truly be considered fair justice?
A prison sentence may remove a threat from society for some time or some years, but it does nothing to repair the shattered lives left behind. Take the case of a young man who lost both legs in a land dispute: the trial lasted five to seven years, the attacker was jailed, but the victim received no medical or financial support. In another case, a small businessman, the sole breadwinner, was killed in a political clash, leaving his wife and minor child to fight for justice for years. Although the offender was punished, the family received no compensation. Can such outcomes be called proportionate and fair justice?
These are not isolated cases. These cases reveal a gap in the existing laws and the lack of timely and adequate compensation for victims. Although Section 545 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1898, authorises courts to direct that all or part of a fine imposed on an offender be used to compensate the victim or defray prosecution expenses, in the present context, its practical effectiveness is significantly constrained by Section 32 of the same Code, which limits magistrates’ authority to impose fines, capped at Tk2,000 for Third Class, Tk5,000 for Second Class, and Tk10,000 for First Class Magistrates, including Chief Judicial and Chief Metropolitan Magistrates.
Compounding the problem, Bangladesh lacks a standardised method to assess the actual losses incurred by victims or the true cost of prosecution. Medical bills, psychological trauma, loss of income and funeral expenses are rarely accounted for. As a result, even when fines are recovered, the courts lack a framework to decide how much should be allocated to victims. Although Section 31 of the CrPC gives Sessions Courts and the High Court Division full authority to impose any sentence permitted by law, including fines, the discretionary power under Section 545 is less and infrequent in practice. Although there are special laws, such as the Nari-o-Shishu Nirjaton Daman Ain of 2000 and the Acid Control Act of 2002, which contain provisions for compensation and rehabilitation, they cover only a narrow subset of crimes and lack universal enforcement mechanisms.
