Sushant Singh Rajput death: Will Indian actress Rhea Chakraborty get an apology for trial by media?

We have all heard of trial by fire. In India, however, a trial by media is infinitely more dangerous. Not only does it enable a court of public opinion that is of late nothing short of a strident echo chamber, it also character assassinates a victim without a shred of admissible evidence, like actress Rhea Chakraborty. In 2020, actor Sushant Singh Rajput was found hanging in his Mumbai apartment. His postmortem report confirmed asphyxia as the cause of death.

It was common knowledge in the circles that the actor was troubled and tragically took his life. Even in death, however, demons of a different kind — the Indian media — did not spare him. His demise was an open and shut case, but with elections in his home state, Bihar, around the corner, Rajput became a convenient political tool for the ruling party. It was a lead that the media, in its eagerness to please, swallowed hook, line and sinker, barring a few notable exceptions.

Sushant’s partner, Rhea, was zeroed in on as the fall guy to legitimise a different agenda. It helped that the country is still to shrug off its misogynistic streak, which, coupled with glamour that is looked up to in recent times as almost a slur, made for nasty bedfellows. Encouraged, the late actor’s family claimed it was a murder, and the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), which at a given time has at least 1,000 pending cases, was roped in to investigate.

Hence, it comes as no surprise that the CBI has submitted its closure report in the Sushant Singh Rajput case with no evidence of external involvement in his death and a ‘pure case of suicide.’ Almost five years later, Rhea and her family have been officially cleared of all allegations. But where is justice for her?

A quick rewind. India was in the throes of the pandemic when this young woman, who had just lost her partner, was thrust physically and emotionally into a media vortex that almost made the paparazzi who chased Lady Diana look respectful. Like vultures to prey, prime time news anchors descended on Rhea, gloatingly announcing that she was guilty of Rajput’s death. Even pretenders have a better argument. On the contrary, we were exposed to the disappearing ethics of Indian journalism. Where are those loud voices today?

As the country went into hiding, trying to keep a step ahead of Covid-19, an innocent Rhea was first publicly paraded and then jailed and put behind bars for 27 days, to be finally released on bail. This was also when India was gasping for oxygen and hospital beds. Evening debates on prime-time news shows were, however, as unaffected by the sweeping tragedy as a poor man to fashion trends. Night after night, journalism was thrown into dustbins, as so-called anchors rustled up WhatsApp forwards as sources and slandered a family as drug addicts. Indian media has never recovered from this hit and hereafter has had a fluid date with its nadir.

The flow of misinformation was like a river in spate. Amidst the unchecked hysteria was a sense of power that came from trying to prove a right, wrong. Women are often expected to stand up for their own. In Rhea’s case, the witch hunt and misogyny were spearheaded by a female anchor who does not hide her proximity to the ruling BJP. In this assembly line of so-called journalists, it was a diatribe-filled race to the bottom. Day after day, they slandered Rhea, calling her ‘gold digger’, ‘black magic woman’ and painted her as a scheming drug queen who led Sushant Singh Rajput to his death. Forensic evidence was shot to pieces, and innuendo masqueraded as evidence.

The toxicity on television had an online partner. Social media unleashed trends – paid, unpaid and fake – a spectacle that is as fierce as it is misleading. Mumbai Police revealed that 80,000 fake social media accounts were active to mislead their investigation in the case. Tweets with hashtags ‘Justice For SSR’ flooded social media for months. Another report by Microsoft Research India that outlined the role of politicians in keeping conspiracy theories alive pointed out how they were ‘instrumental in changing the course of the discourse by referring to the case as a murder, rather than suicide.’

The educated caved into a sort of trance by this false narrative. Riveted in its voyeurism, the country consumed misinformation without sense or sensibility. Soon, Rhea’s brother Showik was also in jail, and the trolls and citizens — an interchangeable word these days — ratcheted up their judgement and punishment a notch. ‘Lies can deceive, but the truth always prevails in the end.’ And it did, through the haze of rumours, fake news and sensationalism, Rhea was not just innocent, she has also been proven innocent. How long before women are no longer held accountable for the actions of men and society?

On the other hand, the country’s media is a parody of what it stands for, resembling a blood sport buoyed ideologically by influence and profit. The blame is not just on the men and women who maligned Rhea publicly, but also on the owners of platforms that gave them a free rein to spew venom, misinformation and hate. Accountability is a bridge too far. The decent thing to do would be to at least issue a public apology, but don’t hold your breath, though. Remember, when journalists become ringmasters of a circus, the next Rhea is only a primetime debate away.