In the 1996 film A Time to Kill, a father shoots the two men accused of raping his young daughter. He does not deny it. The trial that follows is not about whether he did it, but whether his pain justifies it. The defense briefly mentions the M’Naghten Rule, the idea that a person may not be criminally responsible if, because of mental illness, he did not understand what he was doing or did not know it was wrong.

But the lawyer in the film does something more powerful. He appeals to emotion. He asks the jury to imagine the victim as their own child. The jury acquits. It feels powerful. It feels just. But a modern nation cannot be governed by emotion.

I write this as someone who has spent decades in uniform. What troubles me today is the growing acceptance of extrajudicial killings, suspects eliminated before courts review evidence, stories shaped before investigations end. Some people commend. Some feel safer. And sadly, even many educated citizens, people who understand the law, quietly believe that perhaps this is “the time to kill.” Even more troubling, many involved are my former colleagues, so-called PSP officers, highly educated, selected on merit, once seen as the brightest, now falling for it.

Why does this happen? Part of the answer lies in our weak criminal justice system. Investigations are poor. Witnesses are threatened. Trials drag on for years. Conviction rates remain low. Police officers arrest the same offenders repeatedly. Public anger rises. Governments want quick results. Officers want to show performance. In this environment, force begins to appear as effectiveness.

But extrajudicial actions are rarely accidental. They are not sudden bursts of anger. Signals move downward. Orders are rarely written, but clearly understood. Everyone knows what is expected. A suspect may already be in custody. A small group carries out the act. One officer pulls the trigger.

Here lies the saddest part. No police officer ever publicly says he is killing for public safety. No one stands before the nation and says, “Yes, I did it to protect you.” Instead, there are denials. Carefully worded briefings. Stories of crossfire. Claims that the suspect died from his own bullets. They deny openly, yet carry out actions covertly that are very overt.

Why? Because they fear consequences. Because they are following signals from above. Because some believe it helps them stay relevant, gain rewards, secure promotions, access money, or remain in favor with those in power. The officer who fires often does so not only for “justice,” but for survival within the system.

I remember an incident in Quetta. A notorious dacoit was killed in what appeared to be a genuine encounter. Initially, several officers stepped forward, each claiming credit. There was talk of bravery and reward. But when the man’s heirs began seeking revenge, the story changed. Suddenly, no one had fired. The official version became identical: he died from his own bullets.

In Karachi (1990s), many officers once deployed in aggressive operations were later isolated or eliminated one by one when circumstances changed. Yesterday’s so-called heroes were left helpless. The facts are harsh: the institution rarely protects the lowest rung when narratives reverse. The people they once served are long gone, saving their own skin.

The officer who pulls the trigger becomes both an asset and a liability. When the political climate changes, he is often abandoned. Today’s “encounter specialists” may quietly vanish over time. Violence leaves scars not only on victims but also on those who perpetrate it. I have observed officers who participated in such acts, initially praised, later ostracized. Some faced legal battles. Some carried deep psychological burdens. Some saw their children socially isolated. Life haunts them long after the headlines fade.

I once met one of the most notorious “encounter specialists” after he had been charged with murder for an extrajudicial killing. The fearless image was gone. He sobbed. He looked timid. “I was just following orders,” he said. It was painful to watch and not easy to accept.

Why then does the public still support it? Because fear is real. Crime is frightening. People want safety now. They have lost trust in the criminal justice system. When they hear that a feared criminal has been killed, they feel relief. Some tell me openly, “Crime has reduced. It is working.”

Is it? For once we justify shortcuts for the guilty, the same shortcuts can one day harm the innocent.

Meanwhile, some colleagues argue that extraordinary threats require extraordinary responses. They say hardened criminals do not fear paperwork. They say the public demands results. But can anger become policy? Genuine courage in policing is not about pulling a trigger quickly. It is about resisting unlawful pressure. It is about building solid investigations, protecting witnesses, using forensic science, and strengthening prosecution. It is about leadership that clearly states: unlawful actions will not be quietly encouraged. Of course, it is easier said than done.

So, let’s pause. Is this truly a time to kill? Or is it time to fix the system, starting by ending interference from powerful quarters who wield influence without accountability and bend policing to their will?

The police have already lost much ground and must rebuild public trust. Let us not take on the role of silent angels of death, acting with unchecked power in the name of quick results. It is neither honorable nor worth the cost. All cheers are momentary. Let us not sacrifice our integrity to please others or serve passing interests. Alas! If we only understood, it is the rule of law alone that protects both the public and the police.

Dr Syed Kaleem ImamThe writer is a former federal secretary and IGP- PhD in Politics and IR-teaching Law and Philosophy at Universities. He tweets@Kaleemimam. Email: skimam98@hotmail.com: fb@syedkaleemimam

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