The Dead End

The year was 1991.The telephone rang, waking up DCP Rathore. He picked up the phone, listened for a few minutes and left for the police station immediately. There had been another shoot out. This time, a prominent builder from Lokhandwala had been shot late at night, coming out of his mistress's apartment. The builder Mr. Sanjay Kapur had been receiving death threats for quite some time, and had gone to the police and lodged a complaint. The police had been monitering his telephone calls.

Inspector Rathore reached the site of the shootout. The place was a mess, it had been raining, and the roads were covered with mud, blood. The man had run for his life, and he could very clearly smell fecal matter, the victim had emptied out his bowels out of fear before he finally died.

DCP Rathore sighed, this was the fourth death this year, it was getting very tiresome. They found two bullet marks on the victim. One on his right leg, and one right in the middle of his temple. Rathore barked order for his men to first cordon off the area, not allowing any reporters to take any photographs and then search the area for gun casing.

The next day the Chief Minister of Maharastra Sharad Pawar, issued a statement about how the murderer would be found. The crime branch was called in by the Commissioner of Police, he wanted the killer or killers to be caught, dead or alive he did not care. The police started thier investigation, it was a slow and painful one, because either people had not seen anything, or did not want to say anything out of fear of repurcussion. One week into the investigation, they discovered a Soviet made SVD Dragunov, found in one of the dumpsters, one lane away from the shootout. Immediately it was sent to the forensics for both fingerprints and bullet analysis. They hit pay dirt, one bullet matched the gun. That was the puzzling bit, the bullet that hit the leg had been shot with the SVD they found, what about the one that killed him, the one through the head? No said the forensic experts, this bullet has been fired from another gun. They came back with some smudged finger prints as well, on sending these to the lab, for carefully reconstruction, they were found a match. They belonged to an ex -army jawan. His name was K. Devaya, he had been a sniper in the army and had served in the IPKF in Jaffna in 1987.

The police started their man hunt for Devaya.

Devaya had left the Army in 1987, and had moved to then Bombay in 1988. He was a widower, with one daughter. He lived in Ghatkopar, and worked in the mill area of Parel, in an import export house. The police managed to find his house, but when they reached, it had been locked up. The neighbours told the police that he had left hurriedly a couple of days back, telling the neighbours that his mother was very ill and that he had to go home. The police then went to all the train and bus stations, and finally in the Dadar station, one ticket collecter recalled that he had bought a ticket for the Rajadhani express to Delhi. The man hunt for Devaya lasted for months. They finally found him in Arunachal Pradesh, with an ex -army colleague of his. He was brought to Bombay and locked up in Arthur road jail, in maximum security.

DCP Rathore spent many hours interrogating Devaya, he slowly pieced together his story. Devaya had moved to Mumbai in search of work. While working in the import export business, one of his friends had introduced him to betting on horses. This had become addictive, Devaya had lost a lot of money and the touts began to threaten him for the money. One day he was approached by a tout, who had a job for him. They told him that his debts, now mounting to Rs 7 lakhs would be forgotten, all he had to do in exchange was to shoot a builder. Devaya, was hesitant. Though he was ex- army and had served and fought in Sri Lanka, he had never killed any one in cold blood. They then threatened him, if he did not do it, they would break his hands and legs. DCP Rathore was well aware of how the blackmailing worked. Devaya finally relented. They gave him the gun, and told him when and where and who was it to be carried out.

On that faithful night, Devaya positioned himself outside the apartment block, he was sitting in the car with two other goons. When he fired the first shot he missed, the victim's car windshield exploded. The victim let out a scream and started running away from his car, Devaya shot him again, this time on his leg, the victim collapsed. Hearing the screams of the victim, some passersby stopped, immediately Devaya and the other men, started the car and drove away. Leaving the victim alive. The next day Devaya read in the papers that the victim had died. Devaya panicked and left the city.

DCP Rathore knew that this was no ordinary murder. He rounded up the men Devaya had owed money to, then after some "gentle" persuasion, found out the head of the betting circle, his name was Aziz. He then got Aziz arrested, and brought to the police station. Aziz was thrown into prison and no FIR was written. Aziz was not even allowed to meet with any of his colleagues or family. Aziz was given the third degree treatment, the infamous rubber tyre. The prisoner is tied up and his legs are put through a rubber tyre, and with a bamboo stick covered in cloth, the heels of his feet are beaten mercilessly. No marks will be left on the prisoner, but he will not be able to walk for a few weeks. The pain is unbearable. It had the desired effect. Aziz sang like a canary. He had received a call from Dubai, giving him specific instructions on getting rid of Sanjay Kapur, all he had to do was make it look untraceable. Unfortunately for him, the people in Dubai did not have too much faith in his ability to choose a good shooter. They had also sent one of their own. That was the bullet that had killed Sanjay Kapur.

The police never found the real killer, he had appeared and disappeared into the night like a ghost. It was another dead end.