At one time, it was the norm for Criminal Court judges to hear accused individuals say, “I was tortured,” “I was beaten,” or, “I was forced to confess to a crime I did not commit.” Under the rules that existed at the time, there was very little a sitting judge could do in these instances aside from asking if the accused could produce proof of their abuse allegations. Of course, it is virtually impossible to prove the abuses that occur within the walls of a remote prison island, or within the confines of a prison compound.
And yet, it was a poorly kept secret that these abuses were in fact commonplace. Suspects were indeed tortured, beaten, and coerced into false confessions.
This offended me to my core, and despite the limited powers I, or the Criminal Court itself had, I could not bring myself to listen to these grievances day after day, and not take some sort of action to rectify the corruption.
And so, it became my mission to shine a light on the abuses taking place in prisons in the country. I undertook a series of steps to show that the court was not only aware, but was also keeping a close eye on the actions of suspected abusive officers. Just as a prosecutor would build a case, so too did I set out to collate all of the disparate information to make a case of my own. I asked judges to begin gathering data when these alleged abuses were reported; the names of officers, their ranks, the methods of abuse, and the dates and times during which they occurred.
Patterns arose. These suspects were repeating the same names of officers and the methods of abuse they employed, again and again. It became clear there were a number of bad actors within the prison system. And now we had the data to prove it. Empowered with this data, I personally confronted the police during the regular lectures I gave to both trainee and senior investigative officers at the police headquarters.
To further my case, and remove any shred of doubt as to the veracity of these allegations, I took the unorthodox and radical step of sending suspects who alleged abuse for medical examination, all at the court’s expense. And while the court did not have money allocated for this, I was unconcerned. When we received the bills from participating hospitals (often private to avoid delays or possible manipulation by the authorities themselves), we would simply forward them to the Justice Ministry and Ministry of Finance for settlement!
And while I knew that the medical investigations were unlikely to result in consequential findings given the delays between the time of abuse and the court hearings themselves, and the fact that the authorities would withhold suspects if their injuries were still traceable to the abuse, I also knew that the mere introduction of another method of investigation and accountability could be a deterrent in its own right, ultimately cumulatively reducing the quantity of abuse that occurred.
Sadly, the deeper issue at hand was that the entire criminal justice system was rotten. It was a system ripe for abuses at every level. Data that we collected in the Criminal Court showed that a whooping 97%+ of prosecutions, and their subsequent convictions, were based on a suspect’s confession alone.
Think about that for a moment. Nearly all incarceration was a result of an outcome that we knew was obtained by nefarious means. And once a suspect had confessed, regardless of circumstance, it was virtually impossible for them to redeem themselves with a retraction. In fact, any attempt at retracting a forced confession resulted in an immediate charge of perjury!
Arrests could be carried out at will, by police, the military, or even officials from Atolls Administrations. They were not required to produce an arrest warrant or produce suspects before a judge to request an extension to a suspect’s detention. Habeas corpus or bail was completely absent from the system.
Even the Constitution itself, and accompany relevant laws that had been passed over time, allowed a judge nominated by the President to extend any detention for an indefinite amount of time.
In a show that the President at the time was not in fact serious about reform, he appointed Mr. Ahmed Mohamed, sitting Civil Court Chief Judge, to exercise detention extension. And yet, Mr. Ahmed had never presided over a criminal case at any point in his career! He was educated in Libya during the extreme dictatorial reign of Qazzafi. Basic concepts of fundamental rights, due process, and rule of law were completely alien to him.
As one would expect, his upbringing and education were reflected in his approach to detention extension, much as my approach to reforms was influenced heavily by my Western legal education and experience.
From the point of view of law enforcement, however, there was nobody better suited for the job than Mr. Ahmed! He avoided confrontation, and was polite and unambitious as someone in his middle-age with no aspirations for upward career mobility. He blindly approved all of their requests, and rarely asked any clarifying questions. Simply put, he always gave the police exactly what they wanted.
The authorities would bring him large bundles of files of those who had been detained and were facing charges. Each file would include a request for the additional length of time police would require detention, with 30 days being the general standard.
Mr. Ahmed would typically attend to this “most undesirable work” in the evenings, after having attended to his far more important Civil Court duties. In every instance, Mr. Ahmed would approve each and every detention extension request. He would sign each file, and affix his seal; each stroke of the pen finalizing the fate of another detained suspect.
Mr. Ahmed did this indiscriminately, never knowing how long a suspect had already been in detention, or how long they would actually remain there as a result of his action. In fact, he would not know even if a suspect was dead or alive! This behavior became so prolific and predictable that he became known in legal circles as, “Mr. Stamp Ahmed” (“ތައްގަޑު އަހުމަދު”).
Despite my best repeated efforts, even as Chief Judge, I was unable to successfully shift the detention extension process from Civil Court judge to a Criminal Court judge. It remained one of my greatest frustrations.
As a glaring example of just how unfair the system was, a case was brought to my attention when I received the charge sheets for a minor from Viligili Island (Male Atoll) who was facing terrorism-related charges. As you can imagine, the case caught my personal attention. I reviewed the entire file in detail. This poor young man had already spent nine months under house arrest, unable to even attend school. His terrorism-related crime? Launching fireworks on a festive night! And yet, this act of teenage fun was inappropriately defined by police as tantamount to terrorism because firecrackers were banned in the country at the time. And yet, even this appalling miscarriage of justice did not catch the attention of “Mr. Stamp Ahmed.”
I released the child, with a sincere hope that he would be able to overcome the traumatic experience. On November 11, 2003, the moment I was appointed the country’s Attorney General, I knew what one of my top priorities would be, and I scrapped the entire detention extension system, with a hope that it would be a step towards a more just country.