Death in Mumbai (28 page)

‘Whatever you wish to say, tell it to the court,' the stunned officer told Emile.

‘That I will, but I will also see you; it's not like I am going to be behind bars for my whole life.'

E
PILOGUE

O
N
J
UNE
30, 2011, three years and twenty-three days after Neeraj Grover was killed and his body hacked to pieces, the trial court convicted Emile Jerome and Maria Susairaj.

Judge M.W. Chandwani began to read his judgment aloud. The courtroom was densely packed with reporters, with not even standing room on offer. In the dock, the tension was suffocating as former lovers Maria and Emile refused to look at one another.

An audible gasp went around the courtroom as the judge exonerated Maria Susairaj of the charge of murdering Neeraj Grover. Relying extensively on her confession—the only account we have of what transpired on the morning of Neeraj's death—Maria was convicted of destruction of evidence, and sentenced to three years' imprisonment.

It had taken a little over that long for the trial to conclude, and Maria had already finished her term. She could walk out of jail the next morning—which she did amidst unprecedented media frenzy in Mumbai.

On her first evening out of jail in three years, Maria chose to hold a press conference. She would not talk about
her confession or entertain questions about her relationship with either Neeraj or Emile, her lawyer stipulated. In the full heat of the media's glare, he then whipped out a photograph of the dismembered remains of Neeraj Grover found at Manor.

‘Mr Umesh Kumawat,' he directly addressed the reporter who had first run the story of Neeraj's body being hacked into three hundred pieces. ‘Where are the three hundred pieces? I can see only five or six,' he said before handing over the photograph to whoever cared to count, while Maria shuddered delicately.

If he was seeking relief for his client from public opprobrium, it wasn't forthcoming. Neeraj Grover's friends, incensed by this travesty, walked in to disrupt the press conference, shouting their protest. In the mêlée that followed, Maria was escorted out, held protectively by her brother and lawyers, while the media trampled over one another to chase her for photographs and sound bytes.

It was great theatre for the actress manqué—only this time she occupied centre-stage.

Emile Jerome was convicted of ‘culpable homicide not amounting to murder', and sentenced to ten years' imprisonment. Citing Exception 1 of Section 300 of the Indian Penal Code, Judge Chandwani read out: ‘Culpable homicide is not amounting to murder if the offender, whilst deprived of the power of self-control by grave and
sudden provocation, causes the death of the person who gave provocation.'

While Maria Susairaj walked free, Emile Jerome went back to Taloja jail, on the outskirts of Mumbai, where he is Qaidi no C-31.

Emile's stint in jail so far has been a fraught one. He got into demonstrative scraps with the authorities at Arthur Road jail, where he was first lodged as an undertial. He complained of assault and that he had been denied basic amenities. When he came to court for his trial, he often spoke to reporters about the pathetic prison conditions. In turn, jail officers charged Emile with unruly behaviour. When he protested about being shifted from the barracks he shared with, among others, the gangster Abu Salem, they moved him to another jail on the outskirts of Mumbai. There he was put in charge of a teaching programme to train his illiterate fellow prisoners. His minor rebellions effectively subdued, gaolers now describe him as a model prisoner.

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I
OWE AN
enormous debt to all my colleagues at
Mumbai Mirror
for their indulgence, resourcefulness, and assistance.

Grateful thanks also to Ramananda Sreenivas and Nagaraja Dixit for making the trip to Mysore so memorable.

Saira Menezes, Namita Devidayal, Aakar Patel, and Bachi Karkaria for their generous friendship and encouragement.

Priya Gupta who can, and did move mountains.

My dearest friend and first reader, Tushita Patel, whose affections and unfailingly crisp advice have seen me though the years; her friendship is most cherished.

My brother Aditya whose sense of humour and equanimity keep the peace at our home.

The idea for this book started with a phone call one afternoon from Chiki Sarkar. She has since nurtured it with her sharp instincts, kindness, and enormous belief. Without her persuasion, gentle or otherwise, this book would have never been written.

My publisher and editor, Meru Gokhale, whose meticulous eye has made this a sharper book. Thanks for the attention and care with which she has seen this book out into the world.

An endeavour like this depends entirely on the cooperation of the people interviewed. A great many of them gave generously of their time, often trusting me with their personal histories. To everyone I have spoken to for the book, on or off the record, my profound gratitude.

A N
OTE ON THE
A
UTHOR

Meenal Baghel
, editor of Mumbai's leading newspaper,
Mumbai Mirror
, uncovers the true story of one of the most sensational crimes to hit the maximum city in recent years. Using exclusive interviews with the police, the friends and families of the victim and the accused, Baghel draws a riveting picture of a death whose mystery has not faded, even though the killers may have been found. Gripping and hard-hitting,
Death in Mumbai
is a fascinating insight into a new type of crime affecting the Indian city.