Dhurba Giri
On the first day of the Gen-Z uprising — September 8 — state repression that began in Baneshwor, Kathmandu, spread across Nepal, killing 76 young people. In Baneshwor alone, 19 youths were shot in the chest and head. All were unarmed citizens participating in peaceful protests. At that time, KP Sharma Oli was the Prime Minister and Ramesh Lekhak was the Home Minister. Even today, families of the martyrs and Gen-Z groups continue to fight for justice. Yet, five days after a formal complaint was filed against both leaders, it remains “stuck in the file.”
On October 7, the victims’ families went to the Kathmandu Police Office and lodged a complaint against Oli and Lekhak, accusing them of crimes against humanity and the state. But the police refused to register it, forwarding it to the Inquiry Commission. The Commission responded clearly: in cases of criminal nature, the police can investigate at any time. The complaint was then sent back to the police. Still, the police are hesitating to open the file, citing the need for “legal consultation.”
According to police spokesperson SP Pawan Bhattarai, “Legal consultation is underway regarding how to proceed with the complaint.” However, the District Attorney’s Office has stated that it has had no communication with the police. Two working days have already passed since the file’s return, but no legal process has moved forward. This reflects both political fear and legal pretense within the police.
Nepal’s Criminal Code Act, 2017, partially mentions crimes against humanity, but its interpretation and punishment provisions remain vague — a loophole the police appear to be using as an excuse. Yet, former Supreme Court Justice Balaram KC insists, “The killings on September 8 and 9 were a massacre. Action can be taken under the existing criminal code.” His message is clear: no one stands above the Constitution — the police must act out of legal duty, not political pressure.
Gen-Z activist Raksha Bam adds, “Victims have the right to file complaints. This is a criminal offense — there’s no need to wait for the Commission’s report.” But the police remain silent, and once again, the voices of citizens seeking justice are buried beneath the dust of bureaucracy.
Meanwhile, the Commission has issued travel bans for Oli, Lekhak, the then Home Secretary, Investigation Chief, and Kathmandu CDO — five in total. But that’s merely a symbolic restriction. Without registration and investigation of the complaint, such bans carry no real meaning.
The irony deepens — while the complaint against the former Prime Minister and Home Minister is stalled, those filed against Balen Shah and Sudan Gurung are also being “held” by police. This shows that Nepal’s police force is not seeking justice but balancing between power and fear.
Families of the 76 martyrs are still asking one question: Can justice ever grow from the soil soaked in the blood of unarmed citizens? Until the police prioritize legal duty over political allegiance, the case against Oli and Lekhak will remain imprisoned on paper.
Now is the time for the judiciary, civil society, and the police administration to declare in one voice: “Justice cannot be stopped.”
