Witness 1: Hummam Quader Chowdhury

Testimony of Hummam Quader Chowdhury

My name is Hummam Quader Chowdhury. My current age is 42 years. My address: [redacted] Chattogram. Current address: [redacted] Dhaka.

I am a politician. I am a victim of the culture of enforced disappearance that has persisted for the last 17 years.

On 04-08-2016, at 9:00 AM, I left my Dhanmondi residence by car for the Dhaka CMM Court. My personal security Md. Sayem, my driver, and my mother were with me in the car. On the way, a motorcycle began following my car. When my car stopped at a traffic signal near Banshal Police Station, 7–8 individuals in plainclothes surrounded my car. When they told me to get out of the car, I handed my mobile phone and wallet to my mother and stepped out. I was forcibly held by both hands and made to walk to the Banshal Police Station. I was taken to the room of the OC of Banshal Police Station. After 15–20 minutes, the same individuals took me downstairs.

Subsequently, I was taken to the DB Office at Minto Road in a microbus. I was kept in the room of an officer of the Narcotics branch. There, I saw on the TV that my mother was entering the courtroom and my lawyers were protesting that law enforcement agencies had detained me. A short while later, I saw on the TV news that a warrant of arrest had been issued against me because I failed to appear in court. I shouted in protest, saying, “Why is an arrest warrant being issued against me while I am in your custody?”

After a considerable time, I saw on the TV that the accused in the Holey Artisan case were being produced in court. I became frightened seeing that news. I suspected that I might be implicated in that case. Later, Monir Saheb, the Director of the DB Media Wing, gave a briefing stating that they had not detained Hummam Quader Chowdhury. I saw this briefing on TV as well. When I protested again, they turned off the TV. It was then approximately 4:00 PM. I was kept there until 10:00 PM. At 10:00 PM, a person asked me if I had eaten anything. I was told that whatever I wanted to eat would be brought for me. Subsequently, various types of food were brought for me. I ate a small amount of bread. I was told, “Now it is time for you to leave.”

It was then 11:00 PM. I was taken outside and put into a broken microbus. Two people were sitting behind me, two were sitting on either side of me, one person was in the front, and there was a driver. The car began its journey from Minto Road towards the Prime Minister’s Office. The man sitting in the front was crying. He asked for my forgiveness. At that time, I thought I was going to be killed in a crossfire. After arriving in front of the Prime Minister’s Office, the person sitting behind me said, “You have to be blindfolded.” I did not protest. I was blindfolded. At this time, the car was crossing the Mohakhali flyover. I realized that we had reached Airport Road. The person next to me kept asking someone on the phone, “We have arrived, where are you?” Later he said, “We can see you, we are coming.” The car turned onto a dirt road and stopped. I was taken out of the car and handcuffed. I was handed over to another group. They put me in another microbus and made me wear a hood (Jam-tupi). I felt the touch of a weapon at my waist. The car began its journey. I was asked if I was afraid. I gave no answer. Suddenly, when the car started swaying, I realized that I was perhaps being taken to the Cantonment, because zigzag concrete cones are kept on the roads there. After driving for a while, the car stopped and I heard the sound of a car horn. I heard the sound of an old gate opening. After the car entered inside, I was taken out of the vehicle.

I was made to stand against a wall and my body was searched. When the hood was lifted slightly, I felt the touch of air on my nose and mouth. It felt as if something had been sprayed on me. I was taken inside a room. I was made to sit on a small stool. Then my medical test was conducted. I was asked if I use any medicine. After measuring my blood pressure, the handcuffs on my hands were removed, my hands were taken to the back, and I was handcuffed again.

The interrogation began. First, they wanted to know my identity. They wanted to know my political beliefs. They wanted to know who in my family was alive. Then I was asked if I communicated with ISI, RAW, or CIA. When I denied the communication, they started beating me. I was hit on the back of the head with a stick. I fell down from the stool. I was put back on the stool and beaten again.

After a considerable time, they took me to another cell. There, my hood (Jam-tupi), blindfold, and handcuffs were removed. They forced me to stand by pushing me against a wall, made me strip off my clothes, and took photos of me. When I protested, I was told that there was plenty of space there to hang me. Subsequently, when they wanted to give me a lungi, I told them that I do not wear lungis. They brought an old T-shirt and a pair of flannel pants for me. They took away my watch and clothes. I was kept in that cell for 7 months.

Inside the cell, there was a cot (chowki), an Otobi table, and a plastic chair. The next morning, when I was served breakfast, I sat at that table and ate bread and eggs. I saw “CTIB” written in red ink on the lower part of the table. At that time, I did not know the meaning of CTIB. I fell ill. I had a fever of 103 or 104 degrees. A person came to meet me and became agitated upon seeing “CTIB” written on the table. The table was removed from there.

On the third day, another senior officer arrived. I was blindfolded with three layers. I was asked what had happened to me and why. I replied that perhaps my fever was due to fear. I was told there was no reason to fear and that I would be released. When I asked when I would be taken to court, he gave no answer.

Occasionally, I would be taken to another location in the same building for interrogation. This place was the interrogation cell. While being taken there, I would be blindfolded, made to wear a hood, and handcuffed. Even if I needed to go to the bathroom, I was taken in the same manner.

Due to the torture, sores formed all over my body. a large abscess formed on my leg. I thought they might take me to a hospital and someone would recognize me. After several days, when I could not walk due to the abscess, I shouted and screamed to call a doctor. Then a doctor came and examined me. When I spoke about being taken to the hospital, he said a senior doctor would come and treat me.

The next day, several people came to my cell, tied me to the cot, and performed surgery on my abscess. At one point, I became unconscious. When I regained consciousness, I saw my hands were free. I saw blood, wet gauze, and tissues lying on the cell floor. I was given antibiotics. Someone told me I needed to take a warm compress. I felt that I would die of infection, which I told them. Warm water was brought in a waste bin for me to take the compress.

The medicines given to me were brought by hand with their packaging removed. One day, someone mistakenly brought a strip of medicine with the packaging. “VIP-1” was written on it. Seeing that, I realized this was my code name.

I was tortured occasionally. Often, they would come to my cell and give me injections in my arm. As a result, it felt as if my entire body was on fire. Due to repeated injections, my hand had turned black, and several times chemicals were pushed through an IV (Intravenous) as well. I saw “Defence medicine, not for sale” written on the IV bag. Sometimes, I was beaten during interrogation. They questioned me about my father’s politics. They repeatedly asked whether I opposed the Awami League and whether I had contact with any foreign intelligence agencies. I was repeatedly tortured for being involved with the BNP.

I counted the days by looking at the food. When bread was served for a meal, I understood a new day had started. Lunch and dinner consisted of rice, a piece of fish or a piece of chicken, along with some vegetables. One day, when Biryani was served in a styrofoam box, I realized it was Eid day. For the first two months, I kept track of the days by making marks on the wall with a nail. After two months, I stopped keeping track. I had found the nail in the corner of the window. All the windows were painted with black paint.

Many things were written on the walls inside the room. I realized these were written by those who were imprisoned in this room before me. Someone had written, “No one will tell you how long you will be kept here.” On the wall on the other side, the flag of Bangladesh was drawn. The room I was in was approximately 15/16 feet in length and 8/10 feet in width. I had carved my initials (HQC) and the date of my disappearance in one corner of the wall with a nail.

While in the room, I could not distinguish between day and night. However, I could hear the sound of the Azan and, in winter, the sound of Waj Mahfils. One day, hearing the sound of many fighter jets, I realized it was perhaps December 16. In the cell opposite mine, I could daily hear the sound of a prisoner reciting the Quran and the sound of belching loudly after a meal. I also heard the sound of his crying for many days. After August 05, 2024, I learned that the name of the man reciting the Quran mentioned above was Brigadier Aman Azmi. Then I realized that I was not alone in this building; there were more prisoners here.

There were two layers of doors in my cell. One was an iron bar door and the other was a complete steel door. One day, because a part of the steel door was left open, I saw a person being dragged along. He was wearing a hood. However, his beard was visible under the hood. He seemed to be an elderly person. On another day, I saw another detained person. He was blindfolded. He was wearing a lungi and had a long beard. He was quite young. Inside my cell, there was a tube light and a ceiling fan. This light was on all the time; there was no way to turn it off. This was part of the torture. One day, while I was being beaten in the interrogation cell, my blindfold shifted, and I saw that the room where I was being interrogated was completely soundproof. The surrounding walls were covered with brown-colored cardboard-like covers with small holes. At first, the room seemed very large, but after the blindfold came off, I saw that the room was very small.

In my cell, there was a tube light and a ceiling fan. This light was kept on day and night; it was a part of the torture. There was no way to turn it off. One day, while I was being beaten in the interrogation cell, my blindfold slipped, and I could see that the room I was being questioned in was completely soundproof. On all sides, the walls were covered with a brown, cardboard-like material featuring small holes.

At first, the room seemed very large, but after the blindfold came off, I saw that the room was actually quite small. During my time there, I had no opportunity to speak with any other prisoners. However, I would repeatedly question and try to talk to those who looked after me or came to bring food. They never answered any questions, but when I found out my code name was VIP 1, I asked the person who brought the food to serve better quality food. He then brought his ‘big brother’ (senior). That ‘big brother’ came and told me that if I said such things again, the consequences would not be good for me. He asked me how I knew my code name was VIP 1. I was then forced to tell him that I had seen it written on a medicine packet. The person who used to serve my food at that time did not come to give me food after that incident. Those who came to bring food were the ‘little brothers’ (juniors), the ‘middle brothers’ would occasionally come to check, and the ‘big brothers’ would come if there was a major problem – this was their hierarchy.

When I was taken to the interrogation cell for the last time, I was asked what I would tell everyone if I were released. I replied that I would say whatever they told me to say. They instructed me to say that some bad people had kidnapped me and I had escaped from them. I was further told that the honorable Prime Minister wanted to give me a second chance. Then I realized that Sheikh Hasina was behind my disappearance and torture. That day, I was taken back to my cell again.

After three days, in the early hours of the morning, some people entered my cell and I was blindfolded with three layers. They handcuffed me, took me out of the cell, and put me in a microbus. After driving for a long time, I could feel that zigzag motion again. After about 20 minutes of driving, a person asked me if I was afraid. I said I wasn’t afraid. Then I was cross-questioned as to why I wasn’t afraid. In reply, I said, ‘If you kill me, I will meet my father (in the afterlife), and if you release me, I will meet my mother.’ After driving for a long time, the microbus stopped and I was dropped off. They made me sit on the sidewalk and removed my handcuffs. While telling me to take off my blindfold, they told me to keep my eyes closed for three minutes. They warned that if I opened my eyes, there would be trouble. Then I heard the car door close and the car drive away. I opened my eyes and watched the car leave. I stood there for a while trying to recognize the area. At one point, I realized I was in the Dhanmondi 7A area, which is only three streets away from my home. I started walking towards my house. From a distance, I saw some people coming from the opposite direction. I got scared, thinking they were coming to kill me. When they came closer, I realized they were actually day laborers. When I tried to enter my house, the guard wouldn’t let me in because he didn’t recognize me. Due to my significant weight loss and my very long beard and hair, he couldn’t identify me. However, my pet dog recognized me, and that’s when the guard finally opened the gate. Once inside, I found out that my mother no longer lived there; she was staying with my elder brother at his house in Gulshan.

I went to my brother’s house in Gulshan by car. Upon meeting my mother, she asked if I had seen Mir Arman and Brigadier Azmi, as they had also disappeared. I told her I hadn’t had the chance to see anyone there. Later, I learned that at the time of my detention, Tauhidul Islam was the Director of CTIB and General Akbar was the head of DGFI. By the time I was released, General Abedin was the head of DGFI.

After August 5, 2024, I had the opportunity to visit the ‘Ayna Ghor’ (where I was kept disappeared) along with the Chief Advisor. I learned from a documentary by journalist Tasneem Khalil that the code name for this building is ‘Ayna Ghor,’ though its institutional name is JIC. During the visit with the Chief Advisor, I was able to identify the cell where I was held because my initials and the date of my abduction, which I had written, were still there.

I was released on March 2, 2017.

While detained in Ayna Ghor, I didn’t hear any foreigners during my interrogations, but I heard some individuals speaking in Hindi outside my cell several times. One day, I heard someone saying, ‘Saka’s son is here.’ On another occasion, a ‘Mejo Bhai’ asked in broken Hindi, ‘Will you eat rice? I have cooked rice for you.’ A foreign individual also asked the ‘Mejo Bhai’ if I had been interrogated.

I later learned that the name of the person who performed surgery on my abscess was Dr. Roushan Alam.

I seek justice against those who disappeared me, gave the orders to do so, kept me confined in Ayna Ghor, and tortured me. I demand the maximum punishment for Sheikh Hasina, General Akbar, General Abedin, Brigadier Tauhidul Islam, and their associates—both those who gave the orders and those who participated in the entire process. The investigating officer has questioned me, and this is my statement.

State Defense: We would like to refer to Section 11, Sub-section 3(a) of our law regarding issues raised by these charges, My lord. Since we haven’t received the certified copy of the charges yet, we request time to file our review application. According to the rules, an application can be submitted within 7 days of the order. We have submitted an application requesting that 7-day opportunity.

Prosecution: We don’t believe an adjournment is necessary just for a review. They knew they hadn’t received the copy—why raise it only today? In the Hossain Mohammad Ershad case, testimony was taken despite witness difficulties. My witness has an upcoming election campaign and his testimony should be recorded now.

State Defense: Review is a fundamental right of the defense, My Lord. We aren’t asking for a long time, just seven days.

Tribunal: Under the article of review, they are entitled to time.

Prosecution: The same principles for cross-examination should apply here. This shouldn’t be a reason to stop other proceedings.

Tribunal: The defense must be given the option to see the charges brought against them. We must give them time. However, the learned defense must also cooperate.

State Defense: My Lord, please give us four days. One day is too short.

Tribunal: We will set the date for January 25th, as Friday and Saturday fall in between.

Prosecution: Since they haven’t filed the application yet, the witness should remain available.

Tribunal: January 25th will be for the application and subsequent steps.

State Defense: Very well, we will conduct the cross-examination on the 25th.

Prosecution: In that case, we will also begin the examination of Prosecution Witness 2 (PW2) on that date.

Tribunal: You may do that; it follows the regular procedure.