The crime after the crime

FOR many victims, justice becomes another battle they never asked for. Not out on the streets, but inside the very systems that should protect them. The long waits, the rude remarks, the endless delays — they all become a second form of harm.

- By Milani Salpitikorala

Protecting children cannot be a photo opportunity. It has to be policy, training, accountability and genuine reform

A crime after the crime, carried out in plain sight. Not in shadows, but in bright government hallways, waiting rooms, and court corridors. This is the quiet violence of postponements, lost files, harsh words, and unkind processes. This is the second crime every victim is forced to endure.

We call it “secondary victimisation” — a polished term professionals like to use. But do we truly understand what it means? Do we understand what a victim endures when the very system meant to protect them becomes another source of pain?

At the Child Protection Force, we have sat beside hundreds of children and women who came to us after the unthinkable had already happened. But what breaks them isn’t always the crime itself. It’s what comes after. It’s the waiting, the disbelief, the bureaucracy, and the utter disregard shown by those meant to help.

The first responders who are forgotten

Let's start where the system begins, the Police Women and Children’s Bureau and the National Child Protection Authority (NCPA). These are supposed to be the first lines of protection in Sri Lanka. But they are operating with the bare minimum, overworked, under-trained, and under-resourced.

These officers handle the most emotionally charged cases — child sexual abuse, domestic violence, incest, yet there’s no mental health support for them. None.

Time and time again, we have said this: you cannot expect an emotionally burnt-out officer to handle a traumatised child. These officers aren't failing because they don’t care, they’re failing because the system gives them nothing to work with.