Gamini is no more

Stories of the Disappeared Told by their Families– Part Three

by Moon Jeong-ho and Bruce Van Voorhis

The disappearance of Handunkutti Pathiranelage Gamini Sugathasiri

(June 05, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian) After attending Driver Training School, H. P. Gamini Sugathasiri was returning home on his motorcycle with a friend on 28 October 1989, around noon, when he was stopped about 500 meters from his home
by a group of soldiers, policemen and civilians dressed in black. Neighbours quickly notified Gamini’s parents about the incident, and they rushed to the spot where he was being held.

Gamini’s father Handunkutti Pathiranelage Danney, and mother Manadhi Pathiranelage Leelawathie attempted to go near their 21-yearold son, but the men pointed their guns at them and warned them not to get any closer. When Gamini’s parents nonetheless sought to go near their son, they were threatened with death. The parents saw other boys blindfolded and tied to trees or lampposts nearby. They also counted five vehicles with no license plates parked near the scene.
Some of the men seated in the vehicles had their faces covered. The men then forced Gamini and three other boys into a double cab and sped away. Danney and Leelawathie immediately hired a vehicle and followed. They heard Gamini screaming loudly and calling for help. Suddenly they noticed two soldiers riding Gamini’s motorcycle over- taking the convoy of vehicles, and all the vehicles stopped. The two soldiers opened the door of the double cab and pulled Gamini out. They broke off a large pole from a nearby fence and began beating him.

They then put Gamini in another vehicle with his motorcycle on top of him and drove off again. Later the vehicle reversed its direction, drove through Divulapitiya and stopped outside the entrance of the temporary army camp at Hunumulla.

Leelawathie ran to the vehicle and peered inside, seeing her son lying on the vehicle floor with his motorcycle on top of him. Danney and Leelawathie pleaded with the soldiers at the camp gate that their son was in pain, but the soldiers raised their rifles and forced them to leave. It was the last time they saw Gamini. Danney and Leelawathie immediately sought the advice of Saddhatissa Sakalasuriya, an Sri Lanka Freedom Party (SLFP) member of parliament, who advised them to file a complaint at the Divulapitiya police station nearby. As they left the MP’s home, they noticed two high-ranking army officers who had been involved in their son’s abduction also coming to meet Sakalasuriya. The same army officers later appeared at the police station and spoke to the Officer-in-Charge (OIC).

Danney and Leelawathie told the police that they had been sent by Sakalasuriya to report the abduction of their son and that they wished to make a complaint. The police refused to entertain their complaint saying that they did not have the proper logbook to record such cases. This decision of the police, Danney and Leelawathie believe, was influenced by the two army officers who they think pressurized the police into refusing to entertain their complaint. At this point, they cried and touched the feet of the army officers, pleading the return of their son. A police officer came over and tried to kick Danney, asking the
two of them why they had brought up their children to be members of the Janatha Vimukthi Peramuna (JVP). Out of fear, Gamini’s parents never went to that police station again. Gamini’s parents staunchly maintain that Gamini was not a JVP member and did not have any connections with JVP activists. They say he was not a member of any particular political party, but was studying and doing electrical work in his spare time. His ambitions were to finish his studies, obtain employment and help his family.

After being rebuked at the police station, Gamini’s parents visited another MP from the opposition, Lakshman Jayakody, who in turn advised them to notify the Red Cross, the army Commander and the IGP, which they did. Leelawathie explains that, “We wrote several letters to these people and also visited most of the army camps and police stations in the nearby areas to obtain any information about our son. But all our attempts to get some information about our son failed,” and she laments that no one gave them any clue or helping hand in finding their lost son. “I don’t know when and where I went looking for my son,” continues Leelawathie. “Even my sister joined me with her 8-month-old child as she was afraid that I might do something rash to my life on account of this unfortunate incident. We spent all our money in traveling and looking for my son. I have been to several astrologers too to find out whether my son was alive.”

Danney and Leelawathie, being ardent supporters of the SLFP, had also written to the leader of their party, Chandrika Bandaranaike Kumaratunga, about Gamini’s disappearance. Accordingly, when the People’s Alliance (PA) (which was a coalition of political parties including the SLFP) was elected to power in 1994, Kumaratunga appointed a Presidential Commission to inquire into the numerous complaints of disappearances in the country. Gamini’s parents made a statement to this Commission and were subsequently awarded compensation of 25,000 rupees (US$254) and a monthly stipend of 500 rupees (US$ 5).

The monthly payments ceased when the United National Party (UNP) returned to power in 2001. However, Leelawathie notes that though Kumaratunga made many promises at public meetings during her election campaign about how she would take steps to arrest and punish those who were responsible for abducting and killing people, little action has been taken to date.

Gamini’s parents recall a story told to them by a Buddhist monk who had allegedly been an eyewitness at Gamini’s death. Around the time of the PA’s election victory, a Buddhist monk named Kapugollewe Indrawimala visited Gamini’s parents’ home. Gamini had been one of his students at the Divulapitiya junior school where Kapugollewe had taught Buddhism. He told Danney and Leelawathie that he too had been abducted by the Army and witnessed Gamini’s death. The Buddhist monk explained that the army blindfolded them, took them to the Badalgama Bridge and shot them three at a time. Ven. Kapugollewe had survived by jumping into the river before he was shot, and swimming to a nearby house where he took refuge. He had eventually escaped to Thailand, where he lived for several years before returning to Sri Lanka in 1994 when the PA was elected to power. He advised Danney and Leelawathie to give up their search for their son, as he was no more.

However, Leelawathie insists that regardless of this Buddhist monk’s story, they did not get discouraged. In fact, whenever they received even a hint that their son might still be in some army camp, they never hesitated to go and look for him. She also says that in a bid to find some information about Gamini, she had visited the Poonani, Hasalaka, Kuliyapitiya, Anamaduwa, Mahiyangana and Boossa camps. Having learnt that they were still looking for their son, Ven. Kapugollewe visited them two or three more times and urged them again to give up their search. He promised to do whatever he could to assist them and said that he had already given a statement to the court.

Meanwhile, the police summoned Danney and Leelawathie to appear before the Minuwangoda Magistrate’s Court and give a statement to the magistrate about Gamini’s disappearance. This they did privately in the magistrate’s chambers. Thereafter, though they were summoned a couple of times to appear before the Minuwangoda Magistrate’s Court, they were never asked to testify, says Danney. Only the names of the defendants—OIC Nimal Fernando, Minister Ariyaratne Jayatilleke and Army Capt. Major Dean—were called, he says. After they were summoned to court for the third time the case was postponed for about a year.

“Suddenly,” says Danney, “We heard that the magistrate had been transferred to another court. This is still a mystery to us. After about two years, the case was once again called this time before the High Court of Negombo. But here too, the same old procedure continued with the case being postponed without our side being called. This is when we stopped going to court through fear of our lives. Even though the case may still be pending before the Negombo Court, we are not interested in finding out details about it.”

Why were they so afraid of going to court? “We decided not to go for any further hearings in any court pertaining to our case,” explains Danney, “Because the UNP government was in power, and there was a possibility that the thugs in the government may harm us.” According to Danney, people have been killed inside courthouses, when coming out of courts, as well as on their way home after attending court sessions. He is well aware of these deaths because of the wide publicity given to them in the local newspapers and on television. He says that they are living in fear, especially since the thugs who were responsible for many murders in the country are still living and are still serving in the police and army. For example, one such army officer is about to be promoted, while another is the OIC at the Mundalagama police station. As a result, the present situation is not very different from that which prevailed in 1989. “In our case,” says Danney, “We have to travel 25 kilometers on the road from the Negombo courts, and the accused have firearms and hold high-ranking government jobs. These leading government officials also have their own thugs and underworld gangs who can easily harm us. So we are afraid for our lives.”

“Just look at the things which are happening in our country today,” stresses Leelawathie. “Take, for example, the TV or any other national newspaper in our country. Almost everyday you may observe news items relating to various types of murders that have been committed in broad daylight. If people are shot and killed inside the courthouse, in a hospital, or on the main roads, or come into your house and shoot you, what can anyone say? The full picture is clear to us. Even when we go about our jobs, if someone comes and kills us and gets away, what is the protection that you and I have today?”

This fear also affects justice in Sri Lanka, notes Danney and adds, “The judiciary is generally good, but when the judges are threatened by various underworld elements, the standards of our judiciary could easily deteriorate. Judges in courts are quite willing to conduct a just and fair inquiry but they too are human. So when they face death threats and are instilled with fear, they may think twice about conducting just and fair inquiries. For example,” he says, “Recently a newspaper in Sri Lanka reported that a judge had received death threats relating to a case he had commenced hearing; and after these threats, he issued a statement that he would not hear this case. In another case, two underworld gangs shot at each other inside the court, and the judge who had been hearing the case escaped from the courtroom by crawling under the bench and running away. Likewise, the situation in our country today is that if one is in a position to spend 50,000 rupees [about US$ 500], one can easily hire a killer to dispose of a party to a case.”

Recalling the terror of the late 1980s Leelawathie notes that unfortunately, Gamini’s disappearance was not an isolated incident. Instead, she claims that around 100,000 people disappeared during the period. “Everywhere we went, we saw mass graves and heaps of bodies dumped and set on fire,” she says. “For example, the Walpita grave was one such grave that was found. We also know that along the roads to Kuliyapitiya and Anamaduwa heaps of bodies were found burning. The Kurunegala District was the worst-hit area.” And according to Danney, “The 100,000-odd people who may have died were not criminals. Rather, most of the youth were innocent and had been betrayed by some person or persons for various reasons such as jealousy and politically-motivated revenge.”

More specifically, Danney believes that his son was abducted because he, Danney, was a strong supporter of the opposition SLFP. He thus blames the local UNP leaders for Gamini’s death, including the UNP MP for Divulapitiya. “What I feel,” says Danney, “is that at the request of the village area UNP organizer, the minister had given either written or oral instructions to the police, maybe a telephone call, to arrest my son. He had the full power to question the army or the police as to why they were abducting people and killing them.”

Generally, explains Danney, political parties that come to power are greedy to retain their power. So they often resort to unlawful methods to do so. When someone is power-hungry, he or she will resort to anything to gain this power. He says that he is well aware that some politicians have purchased land from foreign countries or sold state properties to earn big commissions. So they are adamant to cling onto power—even if it means killing innocent people—and amass wealth.

Leelawathie hopes that one day this cycle of using violence to gain political power and accumulate wealth will end. “What I feel,” she says, “Is that whichever government comes to power, it must uphold justice and fair play in our country and stop these killings. By doing so, we could bring peace and harmony to our motherland. Until that is done the citizens of Sri Lanka will not enjoy the happiness of a just and fair society.”

Editor’s note: We are serializing a series of essays based on the stories told by several Sri Lankan families in the South about the disappearances which took place between 1987 and 1991. They are reproduced from a book published in October 2004 under the title, An Exceptional of the Rule of Law. Many similar incidents would have happened in the North and the East and we encourage the readers to send in their stories known to them. (Contact emails: editor@srilankaguardian.org or feed@srilankaguardian.org)
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