At the hospital, the boy’s father bribed the doctors. Dr. Ajay Taware, the head of the forensics department, spoke on the phone 14 times with him. Reports suggest that the doctor charged five million rupees ($59,533) to alter the blood sample.
PUNE, India — On Sunday evening, May 19, 2024, I finished my work as a journalist and began the drive home. As usual, I stopped at a shop to grab paan for after dinner. I lit a cigarette and chatted with the shopkeeper when we noticed a luxury Porsche speeding down the road at 120 kilometers per hour.
Before I could comment on the reckless driving, the car crashed into a motorcycle, instantly killing two young software engineers. The victims had moved to the city for work from Madhya Pradesh, a central Indian state. [A disturbing and lengthy attempted cover-up of the crime ensued.]
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The harrowing accident unfolded in the blink of an eye. No one expected the driver to speed through a residential area. Carelessly, the driver weaved in and out of lanes. The car slammed into a motorcycle at an uncontrollable speed, throwing a young woman and a man off the bike.
Tragically, the two young software engineers died instantly. Meanwhile, an auto-rickshaw driver narrowly escaped the disaster, barely avoiding death. For a while, everything blurred as I sprinted toward the wreckage, my surroundings fading away. The crumpled Porsche, the destroyed bike, and the lifeless bodies of the two young victims left me in deep pain. Just moments before, these individuals probably discussed dinner plans or weekend outings. In mere seconds, they were gone.
The screeching tires, the smoke, and the horrifying sound of metal being crushed remained etched in my memory. The car crashed head-on into a wall, leaving a haunting echo that lingered with me. It was not just noise; the memories carried the weight of lives breaking apart, of things that could never be restored.
Strangely, I can not shake the image of a small, tree-shaped air freshener swaying from the rearview mirror of the sedan. Even long after the crash, it kept swinging back and forth, over and over. It was such an ordinary thing, yet I could not forget it.
As the car’s windows shattered and the vehicle sustained extensive damage, I spotted two boys in the front seat and one in the rear, all appearing drunk. One of the boys attempted to reverse the car and flee, but the crowd quickly surrounded him. They pulled him out of the vehicle and beat him severely. My heart raced, and my hands shook as I rushed toward the crowd, desperate to grab him before he could escape. Urgency weighed on me; if he slipped away, the police would likely never catch him.
After the accident, the driver stepped out of his Porsche, pleading with people not to escalate the situation and promising to cover any damages. While he attempted to shield himself from the growing crowd, a few people and I called the police and an ambulance. Throughout this time, the crowd continued to assault the boy. Meanwhile, I notified my news desk to report on the event since I was still at the scene. I filed my story on-site and stayed until the police and ambulance arrived. Later, I discovered that the driver was a reckless, entitled son of a wealthy city builder.
Even now, when I close my eyes, the scene vividly returns—the crash, the shattered glass, and the air freshener swinging. It seems darkly ironic how quickly life can shift; an ordinary day can suddenly become an unforgettable nightmare. Every time I stand at the paan shop, I reflect on that day thinking how fragile life truly is. We all understand this, but living through it changes you. It forces the realization that life can end swiftly, without warning or preparation, leaving nothing but a sudden, irreversible end. Yet, the wealthy often treat your life as though it is disposable.
While still recovering from the horrific scene, the police arrived and dispersed the crowd surrounding the boy. They arrested him and took him to the police station as I followed. After locking him up, they presented him to the Juvenile Justice Board the next day. Immediately, Judge LN Danwade, showing leniency, granted him bail. The situation almost became absurd when the boy was instructed to write a 300-word essay on “Road Accidents: Solutions” and serve 15 days with the traffic police. The verdict stunned the public, who openly mocked the judicial decision.
As news spread, public pressure pushed senior police officials to take action. On May 22, 2024, they canceled the boy’s bail and sent him to the observation home. After several twists, authorities uncovered that the boy’s parents coerced their driver into falsely confessing as the culprit. Later, the police proved the driver’s innocence.
In a 900-page chargesheet, the police revealed that the 17-year-old son of a wealthy businessman spent 69,000 rupees ($822) on liquor with two friends on the night of May 18, following his Class 12 results. Late that night, without a driving license, the minor drove an unregistered car with his two friends. The authorities disclosed that the vehicle’s owner had not paid the registration fee since March.
While at the police station reporting on the story, I saw a relative of the dead left shocked by the officials’ indifference. I felt unsurprised by their behavior; it is typical for the police. Ignoring the relative’s distress, they asked irrelevant questions about the relationship between the engineers who died.
Seated in the Assistant Commissioner of Police’s chair, the police served pizzas to the boy who killed two people. It stunned me and the other journalists. Even a local politician who visited the police station at 3:00 a.m., left without taking any action. Finally, when a friend of one of the deceased complained, the police registered an FIR under Section 304A [causing death by negligence] of the Indian Penal Code.
In the following months, the police station, juvenile justice board, doctors, and politicians, all attempted to protect the boy. Allegations surfaced that the boy’s family bribed officials with money. The authorities delayed conducting the alcohol and behavior tests on the accused. After consuming alcohol and causing the accident on the night of May 19, they took the boy to the hospital at 8:00 a.m. the next morning. They collected blood samples at 11:00 a.m. This raised suspicions that the delay aimed to reduce the detectable alcohol levels in his blood.
At the hospital, the boy’s father bribed the doctors. Dr. Ajay Taware, the head of the forensics department, spoke on the phone 14 times with him. Reports suggest the doctor charged five million rupees ($59,533) to alter the blood sample. Shockingly, Dr. Ajay including others discarded the blood samples of the accused and replaced it with a woman’s sample, which was later identified as the accused’s mother. Notably, Dr. Taware was involved in a kidney transplant racket and was dismissed from the hospital, but local politician Sunil Tingre reinstated him with some restrictions.
Two months after the incident, on July 26, 2024, the police filed a preliminary chargesheet against seven accused, including the 50-year-old father and the 49-year-old mother of the minor. Other accused include Dr. Taware, Dr. Shrihari Halnor, Casualty Medical Officer (CMO), and Atil Ghatkamble, a staffer at the morgue, along with Ashpak Basha Makandar and Amar Gaikwad, who acted as middlemen between the juvenile’s father and the hospital staff. All of them tampered with evidence for money. These accused individuals applied for bail, but the lawyer argued they would threaten witnesses if released, given their backgrounds.
The conspirators hatched the entire plot at various locations, including a restaurant, a hospital, a police station, the premises of the Juvenile Justice Board, and Dr. Halnor’s premises. Meanwhile, the parents of one of the deceased stepped forward to seek justice. These individuals remain inconsolable. The father of one of the victims stated his son planned to go to London to pursue a master’s degree in computer science and even applied for a loan of four million rupees ($47,625) for his studies abroad. “They took him from us too soon,” he cried.
Surprisingly, it is painful to see money buying justice and allowing the accused to go free. Shamefully, the doctors participated in such crimes, despite people trusting them with their lives. The road to justice for the deceased remains very long. At the same time, I feel terrible about the justice system and continue to write about it. I intend to follow the case until the judgment is reached, hoping that justice will be delivered this time. This incident may be another crime story for me as a crime reporter. However, it feels different. I witnessed two people die before my eyes, shattering their families’ dreams.