ON the night of Aug 13, 2026, Mir Raza Ali’s father was on TV imploring — as he had been doing for some time — for justice. It is now over two weeks since Mir Raza Ali, a 25-year-old businessman, left his home on an ill-fated trip that would be his last. The gruesome nature of his death, questions surrounding the initial police investigation and the inconsistent behaviour of the officials demonstrate why parents in Karachi so fear their children leaving their homes. In this sense, there are at least three dimensions to the death of Mir Raza Ali. First is the immense grief and the individual tragedy faced by the family of the young man. The death of one so young is heartbreaking enough, but the horrific details of this case and the mystery that surrounds those who appeared to have tortured and killed him have deepened the tragedy. Second is the story of lapses in the investigation of his death and the dismissive attitude of Karachi’s police force towards the violent deaths of young people. Third, there is the message that the ongoing disclosures and delays convey to the people of an exhausted and neglected city. The violent death of Mir Raza Ali has gripped the city. Here was a young man who did not leave the country despite having the opportunity to do so. Mir Raza was a business wunderkind, starting a business on next to nothing as an 18-year-old and making it a resounding success. In interviews, Mir Raza leveraged this fact as evidence that there is hope for the young in Karachi and the rest of the country. He created jobs for scores of people. One of them, holding a placard at Karachi’s Teen Talwar area, could not stop his tears when talking about just how well-mannered, professional and respectful the young man had been. If the family had not been able to somehow set up a protest movement — and Karachi’s police surgeon Dr Summaiya Syed had not been so blunt in noting deficiencies in the initial postmortem — Mir Raza Ali’s death might have continued to be treated as possible suicide. The second postmortem found multiple injuries, including fractures and a wound caused by a bullet entering from the back; a murder charge was subsequently added. We now come to the second dimension of the case: the lapses and negligence that have so far come to light. As such failures are uncovered, they underscore the impunity with which the institutional structure can frustrate efforts at investigating homicide in the city. A judicial commission was proposed but deferred after the family expressed confidence in a new police investigation team. The level of protection available to officials who fail in their duties seems to be so formidable that few appear bothered enough to even provide convincing justifications for their actions. This situation reflects a collapse of the administrative system and a hollowing out of democratic institutions to say the least. No one is more alone than a victim of crime in Karachi. The third and most pernicious aspect is the message that this case and others like it send to those living in the city. Karachi denizens are used to living life in defensive mode. On the surface, things seem to function. Drive around the city at night and restaurants are full, people are shopping, traffic is everywhere — but life is merely a thread away from being extinguished. No one is more alone than a citizen of Karachi who has become a victim of crime. If your home is robbed, your child is missing or your money is stolen, you are immediately alone. The idea of justice has become anathema. Even if you want an FIR registered for a robbery, you may have to bribe the police; it follows that when som­eone is killed, few believe justice will be brought to the perpetrators. This latest case just substantiates the feeling of futility and resignation that casts its shadow over millions of people. Changing medical boards, changing hypotheses of the case, changing investigation officials, selectively releasing information, officials saying one thing and then nothing — all show how unsafe and broken this city has become. Investigative teams, medical boards, postmortem reports, DNA and toxicology findings imply that the data gathered will hopefully lead to some conclusion, and perhaps closure. But the point is that, all too often, there is no point at all. The powerful and indifferent wait it out until the blood dries on the ground and there are new murders to ignore or pass off as suicides. Perhaps the definition of being suicidal in Karachi is simply staying in the city. The writer is an attorney teaching constitutional law and political philosophy. rafia.zakaria@gmail.com Published in Dawn, August 15th, 2026