Justice prevails

Victims are too often betrayed by those they trust, while perpetrators are protected by silence, social standing or fear

By Editorial Board
May 25, 2025
Noor Mukadam(late). —TheNews/File
Noor Mukadam(late). —TheNews/File

Four years ago, just days before Eidul Azha in July, Pakistan was shaken by a horrifying act of brutality: the beheading of 27-year-old Noor Mukadam in the heart of Islamabad’s elite sector. The nation watched in horror as details emerged – a young woman murdered in cold blood by a so-called friend, Zahir Jaffer, in what appeared to be yet another case that would disappear into the abyss of apathy and power. Yet, for once, the story did not fade. In the days that followed, women across the country rose in anger and sorrow, demanding accountability – not just for Noor, but for all women subjected to gender-based violence. The public outrage, sustained protests and the unwavering determination of Noor’s family ensured this was not just another statistic. A few months later, Zahir Jaffer was handed the death penalty by the Islamabad High Court – a decision that many met with cautious optimism, fully aware of how easily wealth and influence can bend the arc of justice in Pakistan.

Now, four years on, the Supreme Court has upheld the death penalty, putting to rest the doubts and fears that justice might still be derailed. The most remarkable part of this verdict is not the punishment itself, but the resolute stance taken by the judiciary. There was also the courage and endurance of Noor’s family. Her father stood as a pillar of strength, refusing to bow before pressure or intimidation, or to let the case drown in victim-blaming narratives. It is a grim irony that justice in such cases often requires an extraordinary combination of privilege, persistence and public attention. Gender-based violence in Pakistan is neither rare nor fading. In 2024 alone, a pregnant woman was allegedly murdered by her husband for not completing household chores. Another was killed for refusing to transfer property to her spouse. In 2023, the son of a prominent public figure was accused of beating his wife to death with dumbbells. These cases, chilling in their details, surfaced briefly in the media -- and then silence.

Noor’s murder was grotesque not just because of its brutality but because it exposed the unholy mix of privilege, power and impunity. The fact that she was prevented from escaping by house staff following her killer’s orders reveals the layers of complicity and fear embedded in our social structure. Victims are too often betrayed by those they trust, while perpetrators are protected by silence, social standing or fear. Legal punishment after a murder is only a fraction of the solution. What we need is a cultural shift – one that recognises the warning signs of abuse and empowers communities to act before it’s too late. Law-enforcement agencies must also do their part by setting up effective witness protection programmes, making it safe for people to report abuse, even in its early stages. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Noors across Pakistan – women whose stories remain untold, whose deaths are not mourned publicly, whose justice is denied. As we pay tribute to Noor Mukadam’s memory and her family’s extraordinary courage, we must remember that justice cannot end with a single verdict.