Columns

Six years have passed since the horrific Easter Sunday attacks of April 21, 2019, which claimed the lives of nearly 300 innocent civilians and left hundreds more wounded or maimed for life. Despite the passage of time, the full scope of the conspiracy behind these coordinated suicide bombings targeting churches and luxury hotels remains unresolved. The massacre, one of the deadliest in Sri Lanka’s history, stands as a tragic reminder of the deep failures in public security and justice—and as yet another high-profile crime that the Sri Lankan law enforcement and political establishment have failed to conclusively address.

The political spectacle

The unresolved nature of the case continues to fuel suspicion and political intrigue. Instead of clarity and closure, the country has witnessed repeated cycles of accusations and counter-accusations among political actors, each attempting to use the tragedy to score political points or deflect criticism.

The most recent flare-up occurred during an adjournment motion moved by Batticaloa District MP Shanakyan Rasamanickam in Parliament last week, reigniting public anger and political division. The motion generated heat, but little light—indicative of a broader pattern where each re-emergence of the issue is accompanied by passionate rhetoric but little substantive progress.

Much of the current discourse focuses not on the perpetrators, but on discrediting or defending the individuals who led the investigations in the immediate aftermath of the attacks—specifically, Senior DIG Ravi Seneviratne and former CID Director SSP Shani Abeysekera. Both were central to the early investigations and have since become targets for supporters of former President Gotabaya Rajapaksa and his allies, who allege that the officers conducted politically biased investigations.

Undermining the investigators

The motives for these attacks on Seneviratne and Abeysekera appear transparent. Firstly, undermining their credibility casts doubt on the findings of the original and future investigations. Secondly, it serves as a means of political retribution, especially as both officers publicly aligned with the National People’s Power (NPP) at the Presidential elections. Their support for the NPP during the last elections has been seized upon by Rajapaksa loyalists to suggest that their past actions were politically motivated.

This line of attack has been led vocally by Udaya Gammanpila, a former cabinet minister under Gotabaya Rajapaksa and a prominent member of the nationalist political camp. Gammanpila has repeatedly called for the arrest of both officers, citing the findings of a relatively obscure committee chaired by retired High Court judge A.N. de Alwis. The so-called De Alwis Committee has become a central talking point for those seeking to discredit the investigators, despite its procedural limitations and lack of transparency.

Contrasting investigative approaches

The De Alwis Committee, appointed during President Ranil Wickremesinghe’s tenure, has been sharply criticised by observers, for its closed-door approach. Unlike the earlier Presidential Commission of Inquiry (PCoI) led by Supreme Court Justice Janak de Silva—which conducted an extensive 18-month investigation with public hearings, cross-examinations, and media access—the De Alwis Committee functioned with little transparency. It completed its work in a mere three months, did not hear witness testimony, and operated more like a literature review than a fact-finding mission.

Despite these shortcomings, Gammanpila and others have called for immediate action based on the De Alwis Committee’s findings, even though these recommendations were not based on sworn testimony or adversarial proceedings. In stark contrast, the Janak de Silva-led PCoI, which carried far more institutional credibility, did not recommend action against either Seneviratne or Abeysekera. Gammanpila has shown little interest in pushing for implementation of the de Silva Commission’s recommendations against others—revealing the selective nature of the outrage.

Political retaliation in action

The campaign against Shani Abeysekera began almost immediately after Gotabaya Rajapaksa assumed the presidency in late 2019. In one of his earliest media interviews, President Rajapaksa referred to Abeysekera by name, signaling that he was a marked man. Shortly afterward , Abeysekera was summarily demoted and transferred as a personal assistant to the Southern Province DIG—a clear signal of political reprisal.

This demotion was followed by a slew of legal cases filed against Abeysekera, some of which were later dismissed or discredited due to procedural irregularities and lack of evidence. At one point, he was remanded in custody for months under contentious circumstances, raising serious concerns among legal experts, civil society organizations, and international observers about the use of the judicial process for political vendettas.

Profiles in professionalism

Despite the political mudslinging, both officers have had long and unblemished careers in the Sri Lanka Police.

Senior DIG Ravi Seneviratne was widely regarded as a professional of the highest calibre. He had served as a Senior Deputy Inspector General overseeing the Criminal Investigation Department during some of the most complex investigations in recent memory. His operational and administrative experience earned him widespread respect within law enforcement circles.

SSP Shani Abeysekera, meanwhile, was known for his tenacity and fearlessness in pursuing politically sensitive investigations. Under his leadership, the CID advanced several high-profile cases, including those involving enforced disappearances, torture, and political assassinations. His work earned him both accolades from human rights groups and enemies among political elites. During his tenure, many families of victims and civil society actors saw him as one of the few officers committed to uncovering the truth, even at great personal risk.

Their political affiliations with the NPP, while relevant in a democratic context, should not be used to retroactively discredit their professional conduct. As former law enforcement officers with a brief interlude in public political life, they must adhere not only to the highest standards of conduct, but also to the appearance of impartiality. However, it would be unfair to assert—without compelling evidence—that their investigations were tainted by political bias at a time when they were still serving within the institutional framework of the police.

The continuing vacuum of accountability

The deeper problem, however, lies beyond personalities and political vendettas. Six years after the attacks, the Sri Lankan state has failed to establish a coherent narrative of accountability. Despite the PCoI’s extensive report and its detailed recommendations, there has been no comprehensive prosecutorial follow-up. Families of victims continue to demand justice, while the public remains in the dark about the full scope of the conspiracy.

All available public information—including testimony before the PCoI, leaked intelligence memos, and public statements by security officials—strongly suggests that the Easter attacks were not merely the work of an isolated extremist group, but may have been allowed or enabled to occur due to deeper political motives. The theory that the attacks were exploited to create a climate of fear and pave the way for the return of a “strongman” leader gained traction in the aftermath, particularly as Gotabaya Rajapaksa campaigned heavily on the platform of restoring national security.

The silence of key institutions—military intelligence, certain police units, and sections of the political establishment—only deepens public suspicion. A genuine, apolitical credible investigation may be the only path forward if Sri Lanka is to rebuild trust in its democratic institutions and give closure to the victims of that devastating day.

Conclusion

The Easter Sunday attacks remain an open wound in Sri Lanka’s collective psyche. Rather than healing that wound, the political class has repeatedly reopened it for short-term advantage. The smearing of officers like Ravi Seneviratne and Shani Abeysekera—while ignoring the findings of legitimate commissions of inquiry—reveals how political convenience has once again trumped justice. If Sri Lanka is to move forward as a democratic society governed by the rule of law, it must rise above factional politics and pursue accountability wherever the truth may lead. The country owes that much to the dead, the wounded, and to every citizen who demands that such a tragedy never be repeated. (javidyusuf@gmail.com)