“She Defended the Law — Until the Law Turned Against Her!”
A woman lawyer was allegedly abused and detained illegally by Gurugram police while doing her professional duty. She now fights the very system she once defended in a gripping legal battle.
Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!
NEW DELHI: In a shocking case titled A.S v. State of Haryana, W.P.(Crl.) No. 235/2025, a woman lawyer who once stood for justice now finds herself seeking justice from the very system she served.
On the night of May 21, 2025, a woman lawyer—an executive member of the Tis Hazari Bar Association—walked into Sector 50 Police Station in Gurugram, not as an accused, not as a complainant, but simply as a professional doing her job. She had accompanied a client to file a complaint, exercising a right protected by law, duty-bound by her profession, and morally guided by the very principles she had sworn to uphold.
ALSO READ: Shocking Incident of Police Brutality: Advocate Brutally Attacked in Delhi
What followed, if her allegations are true, was a nightmarish descent into the very injustice she had sought to resist.
She was allegedly physically assaulted by female police officers, sexually assaulted by male officers, and unlawfully detained. No arrest memo was issued. She was not allowed to contact anyone. She was coerced into consuming an unknown liquid and was taken to a hospital where no Medico-Legal Certificate (MLC) was prepared—effectively erasing medical evidence.
When she stood up and filed a complaint, a retaliatory FIR was registered against her by the police. The very institution tasked with upholding law and order had, in her eyes, turned predator.
India’s legal architecture does not leave women unprotected. The Bharatiya Nyaya Sanhita (BNS), 2023—which replaced the Indian Penal Code—lays out robust provisions against such abuse. Section 74 of BNS (Section 354 of IPC) penalizes wrongful confinement by public servants. Section 75 of BNS (newly added in BNS) covers the use of criminal force against women.
Section 79 of BNS (Section 509 of IPC) directly addresses offense of insulting a woman’s modesty through words, gestures, or acts. Section 126(2) of BNS (section 342 of IPC) punishes abuse of authority by those in power. If the woman’s allegations are proven true, the involved police officers could face charges under all these provisions.
More than statutes, constitutional protections lie at the core of her rights: Article 14 guarantees equality before the law. Article 19(1)(g) allows every citizen to practice their profession freely. Article 21, the most cherished of all, assures the right to life and personal liberty, interpreted by the Supreme Court to include the right to dignity. Article 22 guards against arbitrary arrest and detention.
So where did all these rights disappear that day?
The answer lies not in the absence of laws, but in the failure to enforce them. The absence of an arrest memo, no information to family, and no medical documentation are not mere procedural lapses—they are violations of due process, as laid down in the Supreme Court’s landmark judgment in DK Basu v. State of West Bengal (1997). These are safeguards designed to protect every citizen, especially in custodial situations.
To understand the gravity of this case, one must look beyond the legal text and into the life of the petitioner—not just as a woman, but as a woman lawyer. The legal profession, despite its commitment to justice, is no safe haven for women. It is still deeply male dominated, and female advocates are routinely subjected to condescension, discrimination, and hostility—especially those practicing criminal law.
What makes this incident so chilling is not only that it happened to a woman, but that it happened to a woman who knew the law, had institutional backing, and held a position of professional responsibility.
If a woman like her can be assaulted and silenced while doing her job, what hope do ordinary women have—those without law degrees, bar memberships, or public voice?
Her experience echoes a terrifying reality: that the courtroom may be a place of law, but the road to it often isn’t. Women lawyers walk a thin line—between assertiveness and ‘provocation,’ professionalism and perceived arrogance. When a woman lawyer is attacked inside a police station for doing her job, it sends a dangerous message to all women in law: You are only safe as long as you stay silent.
Perhaps most disturbing is the retaliatory FIR filed by the Gurugram police. This tactic is not new. Often, when women file complaints—especially against powerful actors—counter-cases are filed to intimidate them, exhaust them legally, and discourage others from speaking up.
Such retaliatory measures not only distort the justice process but actively subvert it. The accused become complainants. The victim becomes the one defending herself. In a system already slow and inaccessible, this tactic is both clever and cruel. It turns justice into a battlefield where survivors are made to bleed twice—once in body, and again in spirit.
This case should have been protected from escalation by existing legal tools.
The Supreme Court, in Sheela Barse v. State of Maharashtra (1983), directed that female detainees must be handled only by women officers. In Arnesh Kumar v. State of Bihar (2014), it warned against unnecessary arrests. In Paramvir Singh Saini v. Baljit Singh (2020), it mandated CCTV cameras in police stations.
If these guidelines had been implemented in spirit and not just in letter, this incident might have been prevented—or at least, easily proven. But none of them were meaningfully enforced. No camera footage was available. No medical proof. No memo.
No communication. The result? The woman stood alone, with the burden of proof falling back on her word against theirs.
And while the Protection of Women from Sexual Harassment Act (POSH Act), 2013 is a powerful tool against workplace sexual harassment, it doesn’t extend to interactions with public officials in police stations or court premises.
That’s a gap in the law—a blind spot that leaves women professionals like lawyers, journalists, and activists exposed during the very execution of their duties.
So, what now? Can the legal system redeem itself in her eyes—and in ours? Yes, but only if it acts. And acts swiftly.
The case must be taken out of the hands of the local police. A CBI probe or judicial inquiry would ensure impartiality. Legal provisions must prevent the automatic registration of counter-FIRs against women complainants without judicial oversight. New provisions must be introduced to protect advocates—especially women—against abuse or obstruction by state actors.
Legal aid, psychological counseling, and emergency response cells should be made available to any woman lawyer facing harassment. CCTV camera footage in police stations must be stored, regularly audited, and made accessible during investigation.
Police training should not treat gender issues as optional electives, but as core professional requirements.
But reforms and rules, though essential, are not enough. What this lawyer needs—and deserves—is recognition. Not of her victimhood, but of her courage. Because standing up in a courtroom is hard enough. Standing up to the police, in a courtroom and outside it, takes extraordinary bravery.
And while professional solidarity is powerful—her case has been supported by senior lawyers, bar associations, and women’s rights groups—the real test is whether that solidarity translates into institutional change.
As the Supreme Court continues to hear her plea, this case becomes more than a personal battle. It becomes a public mirror.
It asks each of us:
- What kind of justice system do we want?
- One where survivors must fight to be believed?
- Or one where the law acts as a shield, not a sword?
AS v. State of Haryana is not just a case. It’s a moment in India’s legal history that forces us to reckon with uncomfortable truths. That even women of law are not safe from the law’s enforcers. That rights on paper mean little when the system collapses under power. That justice, delayed or denied, is not just a failure of law—it is a betrayal of the Constitution.
But it is also a moment for redemption. The courts have a chance—not just to deliver a verdict, but to set a precedent. To affirm that no woman should fear walking into a police station. That no advocate should be punished for standing by her client. That no survivor should be met with silence.
ALSO READ: Cheque Bounce Cases: New Supreme Court Guidelines
This is not just a story of violence. It is a story of betrayal—of what happens when power eclipses law, when the enforcers of justice become its violators, and when a woman lawyer, armed with knowledge, courage, and a black robe, is made to feel utterly powerless.
Because justice, when it is real, is not a privilege granted to the powerful. It is a promise kept to the vulnerable. Let this case be that promise.
AUTHOR:
Anshul Raj
Law Student in 3rd year
Assam University, Silchar.
Would You Like Assistance In Drafting A Legal Notice Or Complaint?
CLICK HERE
Click Here to Read Our Reports on CJI BR Gavai
Click Here to Read Our Reports on Police Brutality
FOLLOW US ON YOUTUBE FOR MORE LEGAL UPDATES