I first met Mrs. Gowry Thavarasha many years ago when I was working as a mid-level CID officer. As a senior instructing attorney,
she would frequently represent suspects who were arrested or detained by the CID. Like many lawyers, she would frequently contact me and other CID officers in a professional capacity, on behalf of her clients. Mrs. Thavarasha was one of a small number of lawyers who stood out to many of us as someone who was always polite and never condescending. The requests that she made were never improper or unethical. She would more frequently, seek permission from, coordinate family members to visit detainees held in our custody and to provide them with food or other reasonable accommodations.

when elements of the state under various governments tried to impede or obstruct our investigations. At sometimes we felt that she would treat victims of crime and their family as if they were her own. I got to experience the magnificent personality of this lady – “of treating victims and their family as if they were her own” – from the other side of the fence, in 2020. After I was arrested and remanded in 2020, she was one of many upright and courageous lawyers who eagerly and willingly volunteered herself to my family to take on critical aspects of my legal defense.

She was one of handful of lawyers, including Mr. Saliya Peiris (P.C) , Mr. Wasantha Navaratne Bandara (P.C), Mr. Viran Corea, Mr.Upul Kumarapperuma, Mr.Shantha Jayawardhane and Mr. Nipuna Wimalasekara, who came to my aid at a time when many people were scared to even mention my name in public or acknowledge that they knew me, for fear of being arrested.

While I was in jail, Mrs. Thavarasha personally spent days drafting and checking every aspect of my bail revision papers. She frequently telephoned and spoke to my wife, daughter and son, explaining every aspect of the legal process to them with patience, kindness and compassion. She and her juniors, Ms. Tharmarajah Tharmaja and Ms. Brintha Chandragesh left nothing to chance, perfecting our papers with Mr. Viran Corea’s team.

Whenever there was a setback of any kind, my family found out from Mrs. Thavarasha before anyone else. She would call them or meet with them and reassure them with honesty and confidence that I would be safe and finally released unharmed. She demonstrated a mastery of the legal system when she spoke to them, quoting provisions of laws and sections of judgments from memory. My wife and children were humbled that such a senior lawyer would spare them so much time and care.

When finally I was released, I went to meet Mrs. Thavarasha to personally thank her for all of her work. After learning that she and her juniors had refused to accept any legal fees from my family and insisted on doing their work pro bono, I offered to at least compensate them for the costs of printing the hundreds of papers that went into our legal filings. Even then, she refused to accept any money. “Shani,” she said. “After the way you devoted your life to serving my country, after seeing your integrity and hard work with my own eyes for so many years, I know exactly what kind of police officer you are. I cannot possibly accept even one cent from someone like you. This was our honour, our duty. Please forget about it.”

I was almost moved to tears, and started to object, but she cut me off. “I know you will normally never accept favours from anyone, so I will tell you what I want in return. If you do this for me, you can consider the debt repaid.”

“One day,” Mrs. Thavarasha continued, “you may return to public service, in the police or another role. We may cross paths again. You earned my respect over so many years by never bending the rules and always being decent, honest and professional. You would say yes when it was proper to say yes, and no when it was proper to say no. You never asked me for personal favours, and I never asked you for any either. You have done me this great favour of allowing me to show my gratitude to police officers like you. I will ask you for nothing more, other than to always remain the same professional in the future. That is all I ask of you.”

She left me speechless. I learned thereafter that Mrs. Thavarasha had very often appeared pro bono for the poor and underprivileged. She would regularly spend her own money out of pocket to help such people in times of need. The same was true for many police officers who fell into trouble for doing their jobs. She would represent them at every step in the legal process from internal inquiries all the way to the Supreme Court. To lawyers like her, the law and legal system were not just a profession. It was a creed. Her qualification carried with it a sense of duty, and she sought to protect the system as well as to protect anyone who served the system well, or who was treated unfairly.

In the tragically short time that Mrs. Thavarasha was with us, she left an indelible mark on me, my family, the police, the courts, and the legal fraternity at large. Many people who would have otherwise lost hope in the legal system they served, had their faith restored through her dedication,courage, kindness and care.

She had a level of selflessness and purity of character and karma that is extremely rare. Followers of any religion would agree that such people rarely spend much time on this earth before ascending to heaven for all eternity. To me, as a Buddhist, all that is left to
do is to offer my sincerest blessings and hopes that she would attain Nirvana and take her place among the gods. And that is something my wife, children and I have done every day since her passing. It is something I will continue to do until the end of my days.

G.Shani Abeysekara,
Senior Superintendent of Police (Retired),
Former Director of Criminal Investigation Department