The Curious Murder of the Medan Judge: Part One
It’s around 1.30 pm on 29 November 2019, and a huge news story is about to break in Medan, North Sumatra. One that will be the source of speculation and intrigue for weeks to come.
A black Toyota Land Cruiser Prado lies partially crumpled in an oil palm plantation in Deli Serdang Regency on the outskirts of the city. Its front airbag has deployed, but there is no one in the driver’s seat. In the back, wedged in the footwell, is the lifeless body of a man. He’s clad in a green tracksuit, his head resting behind the front passenger seat. He’s wearing socks, but no shoes. His hands are bound.
The body is already in rigor mortis and, due to the awkward position of the corpse, it’s a struggle to remove it. Video footage shows the first responders tugging with some force before they finally pull the man free. He is laid on the ground in the oil palm plantation and photographed by onlookers and law enforcement. Photos spread on WhatsApp before journalists at the scene can file the story.
His face is bruised and bloated, his hands scratched and streaked with dirt. He looks older than his 55 years—almost unrecognisable compared to the photograph on his identity card.
His name is Jamaluddin. He’s one of Medan’s senior judges, who sits on the bench of the District Court.
The story breaks online.
Judge Jamaluddin has been murdered.
Gotham City
Medan, also the provincial capital of North Sumatra, is a rough place.
Its nickname is Gotham City—after the fictional home of Batman based on Chicago, which Batman artist Neal Adams once commented has “a reputation for a certain kind of criminality”. Medan has a mixed bag of Melayu, Batak, Javanese, Chinese and Tamil residents, who flock to the central hub of North Sumatra seeking opportunity and affluence.
Many don’t find either.
Instead, they are often swept along in the tornado of violence that frequently erupts on Medan’s streets.
By the latter part of 2019, it begins to look as if Gotham City—even by its own violent standards—is in the midst of an ever-escalating crime spree. In October, human rights lawyer Golfrid Siregar is found dead in suspicious circumstances in an underpass. At the end of that same month, two activists are hacked to death in an oil palm plantation.
Then comes Jamaluddin.
Autopsy
Once his body is removed from the footwell of the car, he is transferred to Bhayangkara Hospital where an autopsy is performed. Doctors work for hours before compiling a detailed report. The next day, in accordance with Islamic practice, he is taken to his hometown in Nagan Raya Regency in neighbouring Aceh Province and laid to rest. His wife, Zuraida Hanum (41), is at his side. Photographs circulate of her weeping—hysterical with grief.
On 4 December, the autopsy results are released to the public. Perhaps due to the delay between the autopsy being performed and the police releasing a statement, conspiracy theories have been flying around Medan. As there appears to be no obvious sign of trauma to the body such as bullet or knife wounds, word on the streets is that Jamaluddin may have been poisoned. But the authorities roundly discredit this theory. There is no trace of poison found in Jamaluddin’s system, and no alcohol or drugs. There are only traces of caffeine and cough medicine.
The autopsy report cites the cause of death as suffocation.
Then, the next bombshell from the autopsy becomes the most contentious piece of evidence in the case. One that sends everyone into a frenzy.
The report says that Jamaluddin has been dead for between 12 and 20 hours. Jamaluddin’s wife, Zuraida, says that on the morning of 29 November, he leaves the family home around 5 am to pick up someone from the airport. According to her testimony, she offers to go with him, but he says it isn’t necessary as it’s so early. There is no evidence, such as CCTV footage or airport parking tickets, to prove this. A security guard confirms that Jamaluddin’s car leaves the housing complex at around 5 am, but it’s unclear who is driving. Usually when he leaves the complex, Jamaluddin turns left. In the early hours of the morning of 29 November, the car turns right.
Some people speculate that the airport story (either on Jamaluddin’s part or the part of his wife) is nonsense. Others question the timeline. His colleague, Judge Erintuah Damanik, has particularly strong views on the matter. “If that’s what happened then it means he was already dead. I don’t want to speculate [about the perpetrator]. She [his wife] said that he left at 5 am, [so] 20 hours before the autopsy would have meant he died at 3 am or 4 am. Please interpret that how you will,” he tells the media.
Somewhat surprisingly for a case as high profile as this, people are not exactly falling over themselves to come forward and speak out on Jamaluddin’s behalf. Few people comment publicly on his death at all, and there seems to be no real impetus to find out what happened—unlike other cases like environmental lawyer Golfrid Siregar’s, where friends and family rallied to keep the story in the news cycle and push for answers.
But when a few people do speak out, what they say sends more shock waves through Medan.
“Maimunah”
It’s 29 December, and a local lawyer gives an interview under the pseudonym “Maimunah” in which she says Jamaluddin hired her to handle his impending divorce from Zuraida.
When they meet for a consultation, he tells her he has assets of some IDR48 billion (USD3.5 million) which he wants to go to his adult children from his first marriage. Maimunah plans to file the divorce papers on 2 December, but Jamaluddin is found dead before she gets the chance.
While this in itself is not particularly odd, the ensuing testimony is.
On the evening of 28 November, the night before Jamaluddin is found dead, Maimunah is startled by a knock at her front door around 9.30 pm. She looks out of the window and sees Jamaluddin surrounded by a group of four or five men, who appear to be pushing and jostling the judge towards the door. According to her testimony, she’s watching television and doesn’t feel like she needs to meet her client. Her rationale is that they already have plans to submit the court documents several days later. Other prominent Medan lawyers comment that it seems strange that a lawyer would snub a client who came to her home—especially one as eminent as a District Court judge. “The client is king,” says one.
Jamaluddin calls her name three times. Maimunah doesn’t answer.
After 15 minutes, the judge and the unidentified men leave.
Kenny
Kenny Akbari is Jamaluddin’s adult daughter from his previous marriage. She lives in the same home as her father and stepmother in the Royal Monaco housing complex in a place called Johor. On 10 December, she gives an interview on local TV show Fakta TV One.
Her testimony serves only to add more fuel to the fire.
According to Kenny, her stepmother’s account of Jamaluddin leaving the family home at 5 am to go to the airport doesn’t make sense. She says that her father never went out in the early hours of the morning, often rearranging plans to avoid doing so. “It’s out of place, ever since I started living with him, he never went out that early,” she adds.
Everyone is struggling to find a motive for the murder, and since the case broke there has been speculation that the judge’s death is linked to one of the countless cases he presided over in the Medan District Court, many of which could have made him enemies. “All cases are controversial for the defendant,” says one Medan based lawyer when asked about this.
And Jamaluddin was no ordinary judge.
He was also a public relations officer for the court, tasked with briefing the media on high profile cases. His heightened visibility within Medan’s court system could have put him at risk.
Zuraida’s original testimony seems to confirm this theory.
She tells police that Jamaluddin had been “terrorised” in the weeks before his death and that someone deliberately crashed their car into the family’s front gate to intimidate him.
Kenny disagrees.
The gate is undamaged and no one mentions anything about a crash to her.
Still, Kenny is adamant about one thing: her stepmother’s innocence. “There’s no way [she was involved]” she says. “If she was, what was the motive? Financially, he gave her everything.”
Arrest
On 20 December, the case is formally announced as a criminal investigation but, strangely, no suspects are named. By 3 January 2020, Medan’s residents are becoming impatient and nervous that Jamaluddin’s killer is still on the loose. It seems to be taking the police a long time to make any arrests, even though they say they have interviewed 48 different witnesses. The police say that the perpetrator must have been “close to Jamaluddin”.
Yet no one is held responsible.
Then, on 7 January 2020, the police make a bombshell statement.
They have arrested three people in connection with Judge Jamaluddin’s murder.
One of them—the suspected mastermind behind the murder plot—is his wife, Zuraida.
In accordance with standard practice, she’s dressed in an orange prison uniform and paraded in front of the media, wearing a simple black headscarf. It’s a far cry from the pictures that originally circulated of her as the glamourous yet grieving widow.
The two other people arrested are named as Jefri Pratama (42) and Reza Pahlevi (29). The police sensationally refer to Jefri as Zuraida’s “lover”.
It’s 39 days since Jamaluddin was found lifeless in his car, and the story of the curious murder of the Medan judge is just getting started.
Sources; Resources; Further Reading:
BREAKINGNEWS Hakim PN Medan Ditemukan Tewas dalam Mobil Land Cruiser di Semak-semak - Tribun Medan
Titik Terang Kasus Kematian Hakim PN Medan - VOA News
PENGAKUAN TERBARU Anak Hakim Jamaluddin, Beber Kejanggalan Termasuk Keterangan Ibunda, Zuraida Hanum - Tribun Medan
Misteri Kematian Hakim PN Medan, Pengacara Sebut Harta Jamaluddin Rp 48 Miliar, Terkuak Jelang Cerai - Tribun Medan
Police step up probe into death of Medan judge - The Jakarta Post
Photo credit: Facebook/Hanum