May 24, 2025
By Asmatullah Niazi
It was a terrible evening in July 2021, just hours before Eid ul Azha. While people were making preparations to celebrate the day, a festival of sacrifice, a 27 year old Noor Mukadam, was being brutally tortured and ultimately beheaded by a freind she had trusted inside his bungalow in the posh F-7 Sector in Islamabad. The chilling part? Zahir Jaffer, who was the son of a rich businessman, had his servants support in doing so.
Later though, Jaffer was arrested at the crime scene – his room – and an FIR was registered against him. A month later, February 2022, he was sentenced to death by a District & Sessions’ court for Noor’s murder along with 25 years rigorous imprisonment for rape. The household staff members who had aided him in the situation by blocking Noor’s path when she tried to run away, were sentenced to a mere 10 years each. Jaffer’s parents, a prominent businessman and his wife, were later acquitted, despite strong evidence of their involvement.
This month, four years down the line, the Supreme Court of Pakistan re-examined the case after Jaffer had filed and appeal, and upheld his death sentence. Now the only remaining option for him can be a presidential pardon under Article 45 of the Constitution.
While the Supreme Court’s verdict is being hailed as a landmark decision, it was only possible due to the bold, persistent and courageous stand taken by Noor Mukadam’s parents, Shaukat Mukadam, a former diplomate, and her mother Kausar. They refused to compromise, and fought tirelessly for Jaffer to be given the death penalty, setting a precedent for the safety and security of vulnerable women, who are often targeted, or subjected to violence in a patriarchal society, which is also plagued by a flawed judicial system and weak law enforcement. However, the proceedings were not without disturbing undertones. What was utterly disappointing and frankly, alarming, was how, during the Supreme Court proceedings, some of the judges made remarks that were below the dignity of the judiciary and cast unwarranted aspersions on the victim. For instance, Justice Hashim Kakar reportedly commented that Noor was in a ‘live-in’ relationship with Jaffer, implying a moral transgression that went against ‘our moral values and religion.’
Such a comment entirely overlooked the horrific nature of the crime and, more critically, the fundamental fact that Noor trusted Jaffer, a long-time friend, and felt safe with him, even when alone at his residence. This victim-blaming narrative, echoing Zahir Jaffer’s defense counsel’s tactics, sadly highlighted a persistent societal bias even within the highest echelons of the justice system.
The same mindset was displayed by Zahir Jaffer’s defense counsel, Salman Safdar, who attempted to delay the case by claiming that his client had been mentally ill at the time of the incident, a strategy often employed by defense
lawyers to stall proceedings. In fact, Zahir Jaffer was reportedly a certified mental health counselor who worked with Therapy Works, a company providing therapy to mentally ill individuals and drug addicts in Islamabad. This was where his mother Asmat Adamjee also worked. He was also known to visit elite schools in Islamabad and Rawalpindi to conduct mental health sessions for students.
Pakistan’s history is scarred when it comes to incidents of violence against women, often involving the elite and the powerful classes who are perpetrators. An incident that took place in the 1980s in Nawabpur, South Punjab, is a stark example, where influential men paraded a group of women naked as revenge. Sadly such incidents continue, with many more cases surfacing online.
During my reporting days, I myself witnessed a chief justice and other judges providing safe passage to Mir Hazar Khan Bijarani, an MNA of the PPP in Sindh, who had been accused in a karo-kari case for handing over five minor girls to a family in exchange for settling a murder dispute in Jacobabad. Then Chief Justice, Iftikhar Mohammad Chaudhry instead of ordering his arrest from the courtroom, had instead given him verbal directions to ‘seek protection of the court of jurisdiction.
Bijarani’s own death was in February 2018 – killing himself after he had killed his wife, shooting her thrice. Whether it was an honour killing, is not known.
In 2002, Mukhtaran Mai was gang-raped in Meerwala, South Punjab, on the orders of a village council. Despite global outrage, the Supreme Court later acquitted five of the six accused, commuting the sixth man’s death sentence to life imprisonment. Mukhtaran Mai’s gang rape case exemplifies judicial discrimination in Pakistan, where influential feudals often escape justice.
Despite her tireless struggle, Mai’s fight for justice was hindered by the country’s flawed justice system. After the Supreme Court verdict in April 2011, she expressed deep pain and distress and told media that she did not have any more faith in the courts. “I have put my faith in God’s judgement now. I don’t know what the legal procedure is, but my faith [in the system] is gone.”
Mukhtar Mai was gang-raped on the orders of the Mastoi clan, as punishment for an alleged affair of her 13 year old brother. Instead of succumbing to trauma, however, she fought for justice, and though her perpetrators were acquitted, she won several human rights accolades, and now runs a girls’ school in her village but she is still harassed and threatened by the Mastoi clan.
In Islamabad in September 2022, Shahnawaz Amir, son of famous journalist Ayaz Amir, murdered his wife, Sarah Inam, a Canadian national. Shahnawaz was sentenced to death and fined Rs1 million, but has since appealed the verdict in the Islamabad High Court. The Sarah Inam case highlights the delays in Pakistan’s judicial system, where cases of extreme brutality and the murder of women often face prolonged legal battles, undermining prompt justice.
Pakistan’s laws on rape have also been historically influenced by Islamic beliefs, often placing the burden of proof on victims. The Protection of Women Act (PWA) of 2006 was seen as a step towards change, but its implementation fell short of expectations. The law still retains elements of the draconian Hudood Ordinances, introduced during General Zia-ul-Haq’s regime, which created difficulties for rape victims. Ideally, these laws should have been repealed and eliminated
during the 18th Constitutional Amendment.
Justice in Pakistan is elusive and uncertain. Despite this, recent verdicts, such as those in the Noor Mukadam and Sarah Inam cases (awaited a final fate), offer a flicker of hope. A mobilized civil society and digitally active public can push the justice system in the right direction, holding even the powerful accountable. UNFPA reports that approximately 56% of women in Pakistan who have faced physical or sexual violence suffer in silence, without seeking help or sharing their
experiences – a trend that needs to change.
Pakistan’s judiciary has taken crucial steps towards accountability, but true justice lies in ensuring that every woman’s rights are protected, and every perpetrator is held accountable, regardless of social status or influence.