by Kirthie Abeyesekera
On one of my sojourns in the homeland, my former employer, Ranjith Wijewardene, said he wished to see me, I lost no time responding to the call of the genial, one-time owner of the Associated Newspapers of Ceylon Ltd., whose father, the renowned D. R. Wijewardene's legacy was snatched from the legal heirs by the Sirima Bandaranaike government of the '70s. But that's another story.

Now the publisher of the 'Sunday Times', Mr. Wijewardene asked me if I could meet with some of his young reporters and discuss interview techniques and strategy for crime reporting, and how and where to look for stories.

The proposal did not make much headway since my holiday schedule was hard to co-ordinate with the Sunday Times staffers' own time tables.

There are many guidelines for a reporter. Perhaps, the most important thing is to establish a proper relationship based on trust, goodwill and mutual respect, with the right contacts. Which takes me back to my reporting days of the '60s and '70s when I hoofed the crime beat for the 'Observer'. It was my good fortune to have personally known and worked with some of the finest officers who have adorned the country's police of yesteryear.

Among my first contacts was John Attygalle, Inspector-General of Police – a man I held in high esteem. When the Kirambakanda boy murder case, better known as the Pauline de Croos case, was almost given up as 'unsolved', the Observer carried daily reports of new evidence.

Following these exposes, Attygalle asked the Criminal Investigation Department to take over the case and ordered the dredging of the well at St. Rita's church, Ratmalana, where 11-year-old Gotabhaya's body was finally found.

My first personal introduction to Attygalle was by Senior Crown Counsel, A.C. (Bunty) de Zoysa, who prosecuted in the Kirambakanda case. I accompanied him to the IGP's bungalow for afternoon tea. That was the start of a healthy working relationship. Thereafter, Attygalle kept the Saturday mornings free for me at his Fort office. Observer deputy editor, Clarence Fernando, would be kicking his heels at the newsdesk, for his Sunday, Page One Lead, which invariably, Attygalle provided for me — right from the horse's mouth. When Attygalle returned from a Far East official trip, I was flattered to receive a Terrylene shirt the police boss had brought me from Singapore — a token of his friendship for a reporter he trusted.

Eleric Abeygoonewardene
Eleric Abeygoone-wardene was more than a worthy successor to Attygalle. He initiated the weekly conferences which went a long way in fostering better understanding between the Police and Press. I was privileged to have access to his unlisted home telephone number. Needless to say, I was on top with the news.

Stanley Senana-yake, a family friend, took over as IGP during a tumultuous period in the country's history — the 1971 youth insurrection and the subsequent Lake House takeover — after which Police-Press relations were never the same. One was suspicious of the other. There were many other police officers in the pre-take over era with whom I had developed a close working relationship.

Tyrrell Goonetilleke
Tyrrell Goonetilleke was Supdt. of Police, CID, when I first knew him. The tight-lipped super sleuth kept newsmen at arms length with his disarming smile. It took me many months to gain his confidence. Thereafter, it was plain sailing.

In his address at the 1990 launch of my memoirs, 'Among My Souvenirs', he stressed the importance for reporters to honour 'off-the-record' comments, in the interests of the investigation. He named some reporters who had respected that unwritten rule.

R. Sundaralingam
I first met R. Sundaralingam when he was SP Jaffna in the '60s. When he took up duties in Colombo, he was among my closest police contacts. As the co-ordinator of the 1973 seminar on 'Narcotics and Drug Abuse', sponsored by the Sri Lanka Police Narcotics Bureau and the Colombo Plan Bureau, he included me as the only participating journalist and panel-speaker.

The author with R. Sundaralingam

At the funeral of Dudley Senanayake the same year, I was with Sundaralingam at Independence Square. He was responsible for traffic and crowd control. He taught me the formula to assess a crowd. He estimated the funeral-crowd as the largest ever at any single event. Now with Interpol in France, Sundaralingam continues to be the source of some of my stories.

Ernest Perera
Ernest Perera was SP Colombo, when I knew him. We enjoyed a good relationship. On my 1991 holiday in Sri Lanka, he was IGP. I was at his office, working on a story, when a call came through summoning him immediately to the President's office. It was the day the Impeachment Notice was served on President R. Premadasa.

Ernest Perera's trust in me was such that he left me in his private office to continue my research, as he swiftly responded to the Presidential call. I came to know A. M. Seneviratne, SP, CID, during the Kirambakanda investigation. A fatherly figure, he was a meticulous officer who played strictly by the rules I soon gained his confidence.

In 1972, Justice Minister, Felix R. Dias Bandaranaike, asked the DID to probe a story of mine on the escape of some detenus from an Insurrection Camp. I had refused to divulge the sources of my information. I was interrogated on the notorious Fourth Floor by Seneviratne. He was very officious.

Emergency
It was a time of Emergency Rule and strict news censorship, following the youth uprising the previous year. During over two hours of grilling, he showed no signs of even knowing me. I expected the handcuffs to be clicked round my wrists any moment. It was with a deep sigh of relief that, after what seemed an eternity, I walked out of the Fourth Floor, a free man.

D. S. (Dumbo) Jayatilleke, SP, was another good police friend, always accessible to me. Working on a Palliyawatte smuggling story at Hendala, I had taken down the number of a car that had picked up smuggled whisky at the scene of my investigation.

Returning to the newsroom, I called Dumbo to check the owner of the car. Within a few minutes, he called back and asked why I needed the information. I told him the reason. He told me it was a police car and gave me the name of a high ranked officer to whom it had been assinged. He trusted me to use the information judiciously.

Hema Weerasinghe
Hema Weerasinghe was Vice Squad Chief when I first came to know him. An old Anandian, like his better-known cricketing brother, Dhanasiri, he quickly became my friend. Later, he was seconded for service with the Colombo Plan Bureau where he was better able to used his expertise on narcotic drugs.

On my sojourns home, I never fail to meet him. On one visit he hosted a dinner for me at his Wellawatte home. Among some old police friends he had also asked, was Donald Mendis another excellent detective whom I first met in Jaffna in the '60s.

Terry Amerasekera was an inspector I met during the Kalattawa investigation in Anuradhapura. He cut short his honeymoon to answer the call of duty. When I met him later, on a visit home, he was Senior SP. We lunched at the 'Akasa Kade', along with my buddy, cameraman, Chandra Weerawardena. Terry insisted on picking up the tab. Later, I was happy to hear he was appointed DIG of my home province, Uva, from where he retired.

I have kept no notes. The names and incidents I have mentioned, are from memory. Among the many other officers I knew and worked with closely, and who come to mind readily, are S. B. W. de Silva, Edward Gunawardena, E. Egodapitiya, Tassy Seneviratne and M. Sanmugam.

T. B. Dhanapala
T. B. Dhanapala, SP, known for his integrity, died in harness. Elder sibling of the more renowned Jayantha, now a top United Nations diplomat, he was sent to clean up Anuradhapura in the terror-reign of Alfred de Zoysa. He provided special police security for me during my visits, after the villain of Kalattawa had threatened my life.

Over the years of my reporting, I was fortunate to be able to develop sound relationships with police officers of many ranks. Some friendships have endured over the years. There came a time on the beat when I didn't have to go for the stories. The stories came to me.

In his book, 'Specialist In Crime', Ernest Millen, CBE, a former Deputy Assistant Commissioner of New Scotland Yard, and Commander of the CID, says that "Any competent police investigator has to admit that, on many occasions, the men of the Press can render him invaluable assistance. Sometimes, the crime reporter, because of his greater freedom to question people, can actually uncover evidence which it would be difficult for a policeman to obtain. Many of these crime reporters have become famous, and their names are household words.

Millen however cautions: "The first rule a Press man must learn is that you never ask a detective a question where you can't use the answer, which sums up the give-and-take, and also the mutual trust which should exist between crime reporters and detectives."

Anthony Wilson-Smith, a respected columnist of 'Maclean's, the prestigious Canadian national weekly magazine, argues that a journalist is not a professional. "Unlike doctors or lawyers, both of whom have to pass rigorous tests, and can be barred from practising if they violate rules regarding their conduct journalism has no such barriers or universal codes of conduct."

So, the lesson is that we, reporters have to set our own standards, based on what we, in our judgement, believe is right.

Gaining the confidence and respect of our contacts and, equally important, our readers, and an unflinching regard for 'facts', should rank high in our 'Book of Ethics'.