-By LeN Investigative Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -12.Feb.2025, 9.15 PM) It was the evening of September 7, 1999, when Rohana Kumara, the outspoken editor of Satana (Battle), a Sinhalese-language weekly newspaper, was gunned down just 50 meters from his home. The assassin shot him point-blank with a 9mm handgun, leaving his lifeless body as a chilling message to those who dared challenge the establishment.
Nearly 25 years later, the murder remains unsolved, cloaked in layers of political intrigue, alleged state complicity, and a media blackout. But now, whispers from across the seas suggest that the long-cold case may finally see the light of justice—not in Sri Lanka, but in the United Kingdom. The family of Rohana Kumara, frustrated with the lack of progress and alleged cover-ups at home, is seeking UK jurisdictional intervention. The reason? They believe the strings of this assassination lead all the way to the top, implicating then-President Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga.
As London prepares to possibly reopen the case, the central question looms large: Who ordered the murder of Rohana Kumara, and did Sri Lanka’s highest office play a role in covering it up?
To understand the potential scope of this investigation, one must first grasp who Rohana Kumara was and why his words made him a target. Satana, under Kumara's leadership, was no stranger to controversy. The paper became a thorn in the side of the ruling powers, frequently publishing exposés on government corruption, military abuses, and the darker underbelly of Sri Lankan politics.
At the heart of Kumara’s investigative reporting was a series of explosive stories about then-President Chandrika Kumaratunga’s media advisor, Sanath Gunatilaka. Kumara alleged that Gunatilaka had attempted to hand over broadcasting rights to the Australian-based Channel 9, under shady circumstances involving millions of rupees. The deal, Kumara claimed, was riddled with corruption, implicating key figures in Kumaratunga's administration.
Just weeks before the 1999 presidential election campaign, Kumara’s reporting intensified, exposing what he claimed were financial irregularities and unethical political maneuverings within the highest echelons of power. Then, suddenly, he was dead.
Following Kumara’s assassination, the Sri Lankan police moved quickly—some say too quickly—to dismiss political motivations. At a hastily convened press conference, police officials suggested that Kumara had been murdered due to a “love rivalry.” This explanation, while convenient, never sat well with those who knew Kumara or followed his work.
Adding to the skepticism was the role of then-Media Minister Mangala Samaraweera, who parroted the official narrative but was later accused by insiders of knowing more than he publicly admitted. The government’s eagerness to close the case, combined with inconsistencies in the investigation, only fueled suspicions that the truth was being deliberately buried.
What complicates the case further is the alleged involvement of the Presidential Security Division (PSD). During Kumaratunga's presidency, the PSD was notorious for recruiting unsavory characters—criminals, thugs, and mercenaries—under the guise of providing security. Critics argue that this unit operated more like a shadow militia, tasked with silencing dissent and intimidating political enemies.
One name repeatedly surfaces in connection with Kumara’s murder: Amarsinghe Dhananjaya Perera, better known as Baddagane Sanjeewa. Sanjeewa, a PSD officer with a murky past, was rumored to have been involved in multiple extrajudicial activities during Kumaratunga's tenure. According to reports, Senior Superintendent of Police Nihal Karunaratne uncovered documents suggesting that Sanjeewa was directly involved in Kumara's assassination—and that the order may have come from the very top.
But before Sanjeewa could be thoroughly questioned, he died under mysterious circumstances, officially labeled as a car accident. To date, no serious effort has been made to investigate his role in Kumara’s murder, and the PSD’s involvement remains an open secret in political circles.
Fast forward to 2024, and the family of Rohana Kumara has grown tired of waiting for justice in Sri Lanka. With the case seemingly buried under political debris, they are now pushing for an investigation in the United Kingdom, leveraging international legal frameworks to reopen the case.
Why the UK? Part of the rationale lies in the presence of key Sri Lankan political figures, including Chandrika Kumaratunga, who frequently travel to or reside in London. If UK authorities determine that there is credible evidence linking these figures to Kumara’s murder, they could invoke universal jurisdiction laws to summon individuals for questioning—even for crimes committed abroad.
The family’s legal team has reportedly submitted dossiers containing previously overlooked evidence, including testimonies from former PSD officers now living in exile and documents that implicate high-level government officials in a cover-up. If UK investigators find these claims credible, it could lead to unprecedented legal action against a former head of state.
The implications of such an investigation are staggering, not just for Kumaratunga, but for Sri Lanka’s broader political landscape. Kumaratunga, who has often positioned herself as a reformer and critic of subsequent governments' corruption, could see her legacy irreparably tarnished.
Moreover, reopening the case could unearth skeletons that other political figures would prefer to keep buried. The involvement of figures like Sanath Gunatilaka and Mangala Samaraweera could cast a long shadow over Sri Lanka’s political elite, revealing a pattern of state-sanctioned violence against dissenting voices.
For the NPP government, which has positioned itself as the torchbearer of justice and transparency, the case represents both an opportunity and a threat. While pursuing justice could bolster their credibility, any association with past political figures implicated in the case could cause severe reputational damage.
As the case gains traction in London, several key questions remain unanswered. Who truly ordered the assassination of Rohana Kumara? Was it a rogue element within the PSD, or did the order come from the very top of Sri Lanka’s government? And, perhaps most importantly, will justice finally be served after a quarter-century of silence?
For now, the wheels of international justice turn slowly, but they do turn. If UK authorities decide to pursue the case, it could open the floodgates for further investigations into political assassinations and state-sponsored violence during one of Sri Lanka’s most tumultuous periods.
For the family of Rohana Kumara, justice delayed has been justice denied for far too long. But with the world watching and new evidence emerging, the hope is that the truth—no matter how deeply buried—will finally come to light.
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by (2025-02-12 15:41:51)
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