“Monserrate has called the verdict vindication. Legally, he is entitled to do so. Politically, however, the question remains unresolved. Should public life demand only legal innocence, or should it also insist on moral responsibility? Political parties routinely hide behind court verdicts to avoid uncomfortable conversations. Acquittal becomes not just a legal end, but an ethical escape.
This approach lowers the bar for leadership. Democracy is not strengthened when leaders survive controversy without reflection. It is weakened when accountability is reduced to what can be proven in court, years after the fact, amid investigative failures.”
The acquittal of Goa Revenue Minister Atanasio “Babush” Monserrate in a 2016 rape case may have settled a legal battle, but it has reopened a deeper political and moral debate. In a state where personalities often overshadow principles, the verdict is less about one man’s relief and more about what repeated controversies mean for public trust.
A North Goa sessions court cleared Monserrate and a co-accused of all charges, including rape and offences under the POCSO Act, citing serious gaps in the prosecution’s case. The court said essential facts were missing. Sexual assault could not be proved, the complainant’s age was not conclusively established, and her testimony contained multiple inconsistencies. Under criminal law, where guilt must be proved beyond a reasonable doubt, the benefit went to the accused.
From a legal standpoint, the judgment follows established principles. Courts cannot convict on suspicion or sentiment. But public life is not governed by legal thresholds alone. It is shaped by accountability, ethical standards, and the confidence citizens place in those who govern them.
This case lingered for nearly a decade. During that time, Monserrate remained an influential political figure, changing parties, holding office, and consolidating his position in Panaji. The long delay itself is a problem. Justice delayed is not merely inconvenient; it corrodes faith in institutions. When serious allegations take years to resolve, the process becomes the punishment for some and an advantage for others.
The judgment also exposes a chronic weakness in India’s criminal justice system. Cases of sexual violence often fail not because nothing happened, but because investigations are sloppy and prosecutions lack depth. In this case, the inability to firmly establish age under the POCSO Act proved fatal. Medical evidence did not support the allegations. Statements changed over time. These are not minor procedural issues. They are foundational failures.
Such lapses hurt everyone. They leave the accused under a cloud for years and deny complainants a credible chance at justice. When the state cannot investigate serious crimes with care and competence, the courtroom becomes a stage for uncertainty rather than truth.
For survivors of sexual violence, particularly those accusing powerful men, verdicts like this reinforce a sense of futility. Reporting itself is arduous. Trials are slow. Outcomes often hinge on technicalities. Each acquittal in a high-profile case deepens the belief that influence, time, and resources tilt the scales.
Monserrate has called the verdict vindication. Legally, he is entitled to do so. Politically, however, the question remains unresolved. Should public life demand only legal innocence, or should it also insist on moral responsibility? Political parties routinely hide behind court verdicts to avoid uncomfortable conversations. Acquittal becomes not just a legal end, but an ethical escape.
This approach lowers the bar for leadership. Democracy is not strengthened when leaders survive controversy without reflection. It is weakened when accountability is reduced to what can be proven in court, years after the fact, amid investigative failures.
The timing of the verdict, ahead of civic and assembly elections, adds another layer of unease. While courts do not operate on electoral calendars, politics certainly does. An acquittal at such a moment bolsters political confidence and quietens criticism, regardless of the broader questions it leaves unanswered.
The judiciary has done what it could with the evidence before it. The larger failure lies elsewhere: in policing, prosecution, and political culture. Until investigations are timely and professional, trials swift, and parties willing to draw ethical red lines, such outcomes will continue to shadow public life.
As Goa approaches the polls, voters are not merely choosing representatives. They are choosing the standards they are willing to accept. Courts decide guilt. Citizens must decide credibility.
