The unfolding Twisha Singh case has once again exposed an uncomfortable truth about India’s justice system — that justice often moves only when public pressure becomes impossible to ignore. And in this case, much of that pressure came not from politicians, activists or bureaucrats, but from an aggressive and relentless media campaign. The decision of the Madhya Pradesh High Court at Jabalpur to cancel the anticipatory bail granted to former judge and sitting judge of a consumer court, Giribala Singh marked the first serious indication that the system was finally willing to act decisively. The High Court’s observations were significant. It reportedly noted the possibility of influence over evidence and witnesses, especially considering the accused’s legal background and institutional familiarity with the system. Soon after, the arrest followed. But the larger and uncomfortable question remains: would any of this have happened had the media not intervened so aggressively? The answer, for many ordinary citizens, appears painfully obvious. Had the accused been an ordinary citizen instead of a former judge, would anticipatory bail have come so easily? Had the case involved a less influential family, would the police have delayed action for so long? Would there have been hesitation in registering serious charges? These are not rhetorical questions born out of emotion alone. They emerge from a growing public perception that power, status and institutional connections continue to distort the delivery of justice in India. At the heart of the tragedy is Twisha Singh, whose death triggered allegations of dowry harassment and suspicious circumstances surrounding her marriage to Samrat Singh, son of a deceased Indian Army officer. The case struck a chord precisely because it shattered the myth that education, elite backgrounds or decorated families are immune from social evils like domestic abuse and dowry-related harassment. If such allegations can emerge from highly educated and influential households, what then must be the plight of ordinary women with neither visibility nor support? This is where the role of the media becomes impossible to dismiss. Channels like Republic TV, led by Arnab Goswami, may attract criticism for their style, volume and theatrics. But in cases like these, loud journalism often succeeds where silent institutions fail. The relentless coverage ensured the case did not disappear into procedural files, delayed hearings and bureaucratic indifference. It amplified the voice of grieving parents who otherwise might have remained unheard.
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That is why branding every such intervention as a “media trial” is both lazy and dangerous. Certainly, media must exercise restraint. It cannot pronounce guilt before investigation or prejudice judicial proceedings. But there is a difference between influencing a trial and forcing accountability. The Indian media has often acted as the pressure valve through which suppressed public anger finds expression. From corruption scandals to custodial deaths and high-profile crimes, investigative journalism has repeatedly compelled institutions to wake up. The Supreme Court’s intervention in the matter, including transferring the investigation to the Central Bureau of Investigation, was undoubtedly a positive step. The apex court effectively acknowledged that delays and lapses had already damaged public confidence. The transfer of the probe restored hope that an independent investigation could still uncover the truth. At the same time, concerns over judicial discomfort with media scrutiny cannot be ignored. Courts are right to caution against sensationalism. But blanket criticism of media activism risks discouraging precisely the kind of journalism that exposes institutional apathy. Responsible journalism is not the enemy of justice; often, it is the catalyst for it. India’s democracy rests not merely on the Legislature, Executive and Judiciary, but also on an independent and fearless press. The media is imperfect, noisy and occasionally excessive. Yet, in a country where power frequently shields itself behind influence and procedure, an aggressive press often becomes the only bridge between victims and justice. The Twisha case is therefore not merely about one tragic death. It is about whether ordinary citizens can still believe that truth matters more than status. And if the system ultimately delivers justice here, it must honestly acknowledge one fact — the wheels of accountability began moving only because the media refused to let the story die.
