Himanshu Roy: A Devoted & Thorough Police Officer Who Knew No Ego

Former chief of the Maharashtra Anti-Terrorism Squad, Himanshu Roy, allegedly shot himself dead 11 May.

Former chief of the Maharashtra Anti-Terrorism Squad, Himanshu Roy, allegedly shot himself dead on 11 May. 

(Photo: The Quint)

It was a rainy evening in July five years ago. A biker had followed my car from SV Road in Malad (West) up to the railway station in Goregaon (East) in Mumbai, probably irked by the fact that I had overtaken his bike. I was driving alone, and seeing him follow and hurl abuses, I tried to navigate through the busy roads as swiftly as I could. I had to brake at a traffic signal, however, and the man, spotting an opportunity, got off his bike. He walked to my window, and punched it. The glass collapsed, covering me in broken shreds.

Before I could react, the biker fled the spot. I went to a coffee shop’s washroom, cleared the glass pieces from my body, and went to the nearest police station.

As a crime reporter, I knew Himanshu Roy well, who was then the joint commissioner of police (crime) for Mumbai, and headed the city’s elite crime branch. I was certain he would help.

Roy answered his phone within a few rings, and I rushed with the details.

Roy Knew No Ego, Dwelled on No Pride

“Breathe, and get some water first,” he said, noticing I was shaken. “I’ll wait.”

As I gulped the glass of water a police constable helped me with, the crime branch supremo waited in patience.

“Tell me. Are you hurt, child?” “No,” I replied, evidently calmer now. “Great. Go on. Tell me what happened.”

After I narrated the incident to Roy, he spoke to the concerned officer at the police station, who then took me to the spot where my car had been vandalised.

The officer, upon Roy’s instructions, took thorough notes, and promised he would nab the culprit.

For several days after, Roy would call me frequently with an update on my FIR. Since I hadn’t noted the motorbike’s registration number, and because there were no CCTV cameras on the stretch, the man could never be nabbed. But on his part, Roy phoned me and apologised for it. He knew no ego, dwelled on no pride.

As a crime journalist and true crime author in Mumbai, I’ve met several police officers in the city over the past decade – from constables to commissioners. And I can say with all the confidence that no officer, who enjoyed a rank as high as Roy, would have called a journalist, and apologised for the department’s inadequacies.

Not Your Regular Cop

Himanshu Roy was not your regular cop. He was a devoted, dyed-in-the-wool police chief, and a thorough gentleman.

A 1988 batch IPS officer, he was the additional director general of police, Maharashtra, when he shot himself with a service revolver on Friday, 11 May.

He had led the state’s Anti-Terrorism Squad (ATS) in the past, and was pivotal in the investigation of some of the most sensational murder cases that Mumbai has ever seen, including that of journalist J Dey, which recently saw the conviction of gangster Chhota Rajan and eight others.

In crime reporting circles, it is a well-known fact that Roy was a meticulous officer, who insisted on strong evidence and thorough paperwork, which were keys to conviction in the court of law.

Although officers working with him would often be pressed with painstaking probes and detailed investigations, they knew the results were worth the grind.

“Detection is pointless without conviction,” he once said to me. I’m certain that Rajan’s conviction, only a week before Roy ended his life, must have brought him immense peace.

A Commanding Presence

My interaction with Roy began in April 2012, when I was reporting on the multiple murders allegedly perpetrated by the current under-trial, Vijay Palande. Palande was accused of masterminding the murder of senior citizen Arunkumar Tikku in his Oshiwara flat, with the intention to usurp the 15,000 sq ft apartment, worth Rs 3 crore.

Within two days of the crime, Roy’s team had nabbed Palande and his cronies, and had successfully averted Palande’s bid to murder Tikku’s son, Anuj, a small-time Bollywood actor.

The arrest also led the Mumbai police to two other murders that Palande had allegedly perpetrated in 2012, and another two from the past.

Three years later, when I wrote a book about the serial murders, I mentioned Roy’s commanding presence, and his press conference, announcing Palande’s arrest, in detail:

Roy took a sip of water. His eyes stayed glued to mediapersons. He understood the magnitude of the details he’d just thrown at us. He was aware that Palande’s elaborate conspiracy, the big money at stake, and the involvement of a foreign national would keep the story on the front page, and on prime-time television news reports.

Roy waited for the details to sink in, and as they did, an uneasiness stole over us – it could be sensed in the unusual silence in the press room. Murders were ordinary, but such elaborate conspiracies weren’t. Journalists continued to look at Roy, as though he was still speaking, but not a word was exchanged for a few moments.

Then, our minds churning with details, we started thinking aloud, all at once. “One question at a time, please,” Roy said, now leaning back in his chair, amused about the sudden excitement of a bunch of scribes.

But the buzz did not abate. Roy raised his right palm, and used his heavy voice to assert himself: “Please.” It was enough. The clamour died down. The press conference dissolved into a classroom, and reporters were now obedient students with dutiful decorum and raised fingers.

I Wish I’d Reached Out to Him

For the research on this book, I met Roy on several occasions, and each time, he graciously accommodated my requests for intricate details on the crime.

Since the case was sub-judice, he could never tell everything, but made every effort he could, to help me write a book, which could shed as much light on the serial killings as possible.

Over the past three years, after I learnt he was suffering from cancer, I would often think of visiting him. But other reporters would tell me that he was recovering, and wasn’t seeing many people. Today, after learning of his alleged suicide, I wish I had reached out to him – I wish I had known that inside that steel exterior lived a man, who was as human and as vulnerable as you and I.

(The writer is an independent journalist, and author of ‘The Front Page Murders: Inside the Serial Killings that Shocked India’. The views expressed are personal. The Quint neither endorses nor is responsible for them.)

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