The Hasanul Haq Inu verdict is being read too narrowly if it is treated only as a question of whether 10 years of imprisonment is too little or too much. The sharper question is what kind of accountability Bangladesh is now building after the July uprising: one that can withstand appellate scrutiny, international review, and historical judgment, or one that satisfies immediate anger while leaving future courts to repair its weaknesses.
The International Crimes Tribunal-2 (ICT-2) convicted Inu on three of eight charges and imposed three 10-year terms to run concurrently, while acquitting him of five charges, including the allegation that he was responsible for the killing of six protesters in Kushtia on August 5, 2024. The prosecution has announced that it will appeal both the acquittals and the sentence, while Inu and his family have rejected the verdict and indicated that further legal steps may be considered. That mutual dissatisfaction is not incidental; it is the central takeaway. The verdict has moved the contest to the appellate arena, where questions of liability, proof, sentencing, and proportionality will have to be argued with greater discipline.
The prosecution’s grievance appears to be that the sentence fails to reflect the gravity of crimes against humanity, particularly because three separate terms will be served concurrently. That is a serious legal issue, but it cannot be resolved through public outrage. The appellate court will have to decide whether concurrent sentencing was a principled exercise of discretion or whether separate convictions demanded a more cumulative punishment. Equally, the defence is entitled to test whether the tribunal’s inferences from phone conversations, political meetings, and alleged endorsement of coercive measures met the standard required for criminal responsibility. This is precisely why appeal is not a technical afterthought. In a case of this sensitivity, appeal is a necessary legal safeguard.
The most significant feature of the judgment may be that the tribunal did not accept the prosecution’s entire case. Conviction on three charges and acquittal on five may be read by some as judicial restraint. It may be read by others as proof that the prosecution overstated parts of its case. Both readings are possible. What matters now is whether the written judgment demonstrates a clear evidentiary line between political speech, political complicity and criminal participation in crimes against humanity. Bangladesh’s criminal justice system has often blurred those categories in politically charged cases. The ICT process cannot afford that blur. If speech becomes criminal only when linked to intent, contribution, and foreseeable consequences, the judgment must explain that link with precision. If political association becomes a basis of liability, the judgment must be even more careful, because guilt by association is not justice.
There is also a larger institutional concern. The July atrocities demand accountability, but accountability cannot be reduced to conviction rates or sentence length. The UN human rights office estimated that as many as 1,400 people may have been killed during the 2024 crackdown, with thousands more injured, and stated that the vast majority of those killed and injured were shot by security forces. Unicef, responding to the UN fact-finding report, noted that more than a hundred children were among the dead and stressed the need for accountability, reconciliation, and reforms to policing and justice systems. A justice process that responds to such a rupture must be broader than trials of prominent political figures. It must include evidence preservation, witness protection, reparations, security sector reform, and an honest reckoning with command structures.
Hence, the international response to the ICT proceedings is not a simple endorsement or rejection, but conditional. The UN has recognised the importance of verdicts for victims, but it has also insisted that accountability proceedings, especially for international crimes, meet due process and fair trial standards, and it has expressed opposition to the death penalty. Human Rights Watch has said those responsible for grave abuses should be held accountable, but it has also raised concerns about fair trial standards, counsel of choice, opportunity to question witnesses, and the continued use of capital punishment in the broader ICT process. Amnesty International has similarly raised concerns over the tribunal’s legacy of politically influenced trials and fair trial violations while stressing that justice for victims is not served by death sentences. India, meanwhile, has responded cautiously to the broader ICT verdicts involving Sheikh Hasina, saying it would engage constructively with all stakeholders.
This matters because international legitimacy is not cosmetic. It affects cooperation, extradition, evidence sharing, technical assistance, and the credibility of Bangladesh’s democratic transition. The OHCHR has stated in its fact-finding report that it cannot assist criminal justice processes that permit capital punishment or raise serious fair trial concerns. For a country seeking to show that the post-uprising order is more lawful than the order it replaced, this is a structural warning.
The Inu verdict also exposes a tension inside the country’s public discourse. Many citizens understandably want severe punishment for those associated with the repression of July protesters. Victims and families are entitled to anger, recognition, and remedy. But criminal law is not the language of anger. It is the discipline that converts public injury into legally provable responsibility. When the prosecution treats acquittal as an injustice per se, or when the accused treats conviction as illegitimate per se, both sides risk pushing the public away from the central discipline of evidence.
The appellate phase should therefore be seen as a test not just of Inu’s conviction and sentence but of the ICT’s second life as an institution. It should clarify how crimes against humanity liability is established for political actors who may not have physically pulled triggers but allegedly helped design, endorse or legitimise repression. It should explain sentencing principles in a way that victims can understand without sacrificing legality. It should guard against both impunity and performative severity. Above all, it should show that the rights of the accused and the rights of victims are not rival claims. They are mutually reinforcing conditions of credible justice.
Bangladesh is at risk of mistaking verdicts for closure. The July uprising was more than just a criminal event; it was a breakdown of state legitimacy. A criminal trial can punish individuals, but it cannot by itself rebuild public trust in policing, prosecution, courts, and politics. That requires independent institutions, restraint in political speech, equal application of law, and a willingness to subject popular demands to constitutional discipline.
The real takeaway from the Inu verdict is uncomfortable: the harder work begins after conviction. If the appeal produces clearer legal reasoning, if the prosecution is held to a rigorous standard, if the defence receives a meaningful opportunity to challenge the case, and if victims receive reparations rather than mere symbolism, the ICT process may yet contribute to a more credible rule of law. If not, Bangladesh may win verdicts and lose legitimacy.
Barrister Khan Khalid Adnan is advocate at the Supreme Court of Bangladesh, fellow at the Chartered Institute of Arbitrators, and head of the chamber at Khan Saifur Rahman and Associates in Dhaka.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
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