The Irony of CBI Revelations : When Crime Journalism Turns Questions into Conclusions
Twisha Sharma Case: the death of Twisha Sharma has become one of the most closely watched criminal investigations in the country. With the arrest of retired judge Giribala Singh and her son Samarth Singh, public interest in the case is understandably intense. Every development is scrutinised, every statement analysed, and every court hearing followed closely.
Yet amid this heightened attention, an uncomfortable question deserves to be asked: when does reporting on an investigation cross the line into constructing a narrative around it?
A recent NDTV presentation sought to reveal what it described as the CBI’s line of questioning for Giribala Singh. Viewers were told that the agency would investigate pregnancy-related discussions, evidence tampering, alleged harassment, digital records, injuries on Twisha’s body, contradictions in statements, and possible concealment of facts. The segment repeatedly referred to these as details that the CBI had “revealed” and portrayed them as major investigative breakthroughs.
The problem is not the questions themselves.
The problem is the way they are being presented.
Questions Are Not Findings
Every criminal investigation begins with questions.
Did harassment occur?
Was there evidence tampering?
Were there contradictions in statements?
Were injuries caused before death or afterwards?
Did anyone conceal information?
These are precisely the kinds of questions investigators are expected to examine. Asking them does not mean investigators have already reached conclusions.
Yet television coverage often collapses the distinction between a question and an answer.
A question becomes a suspicion.
A suspicion becomes an implied finding.
An implied finding becomes a public assumption.
By the time the matter reaches court, many viewers have already formed conclusions that the investigation itself has not reached.
This is particularly concerning in a case where the investigation remains ongoing and key forensic examinations are still awaited.
The Illusion of a Major Reveal
The language used in such broadcasts creates a powerful impression.
“CBI has revealed.”
“NDTV has accessed documents.”
“These are the questions the CBI is asking.”
To an ordinary viewer, this sounds as though the agency has opened its confidential files and disclosed critical findings.
But a closer look reveals something rather different.
Most of the so-called revelations are routine investigative activities:
- Examining phones and digital records.
- Reviewing CCTV footage.
- Analysing call data.
- Questioning domestic staff.
- Interviewing witnesses.
- Conducting confrontations between accused persons whose statements may differ.
- Investigating allegations mentioned in the FIR.
Any competent investigating agency would be expected to perform these tasks.
There is nothing extraordinary about them. What is extraordinary is the way they are packaged and presented as exclusive breakthroughs.
Investigative Journalism or Investigative Theatre?
Perhaps the most striking aspect of the presentation is that viewers are never clearly told where the information comes from. The audience is expected to accept the narrative without knowing whether it originated from court proceedings, legal sources, investigators, or journalistic reconstruction. At the same time, viewers are naturally inclined to assume that the source cannot be disclosed because of the secrecy surrounding an ongoing investigation. The result is a powerful combination: claims that carry the authority of an investigative agency but remain largely insulated from independent verification.
Was it obtained from court proceedings?
From lawyers involved in the matter?
From sources familiar with the investigation?
From individuals connected to the case?
The audience is not informed.
Instead, the repeated phrase “CBI has revealed” creates the impression of direct disclosure by the agency itself.
That distinction matters.
Investigative agencies generally do not publicise their interrogation strategy, witness examination plans, digital forensic approach, or specific lines of questioning while an investigation is underway. Doing so could compromise the very process they are trying to conduct.
This raises a simple question: are viewers being shown actual investigative findings, or are they being shown a reconstruction of investigative possibilities wrapped in the language of revelation by the presentor or journolists?
The Missing Context
Equally important is what such presentations leave out.
A criminal investigation is not a one-way exercise designed to confirm allegations. It is supposed to test them.
Investigators examine claims made by complainants.
They also test competing explanations.
They verify timelines.
They analyse digital evidence.
They compare witness statements.
They look for inconsistencies on all sides.
The public, however, often sees only one part of this process.
When television coverage focuses exclusively on allegations against one side while giving little attention to unresolved factual disputes, the result is not a fuller understanding of the case. It is a narrower one.
That may generate engagement. It may create dramatic television. But it does not necessarily bring audiences closer to the truth.
What Questions Are Being Left Out in Twisha Sharma Case?
Selective questioning can be just as influential as selective reporting.
When television coverage repeatedly highlights a particular set of allegations, viewers may begin to assume that these represent the entirety of the investigation. In reality, a credible criminal investigation examines multiple possibilities, competing claims, disputed timelines, and contradictory evidence before reaching conclusions.
As we noted in our earlier analysis, Twisha Sharma Case: Questions the Media Has Not Asked, several aspects of the case have received comparatively little attention in mainstream coverage. These include disputed timelines, digital records, financial transactions, contextual details surrounding key events, and other factual issues that may ultimately prove relevant to understanding what happened.
The purpose of raising such questions is not to support any particular side. It is to recognise a fundamental principle of both journalism and criminal investigation: facts are tested, not assumed. Questions that challenge one narrative are no less important than questions that reinforce it.
A thorough investigation must examine all credible lines of inquiry. Journalism should aspire to the same standard. Otherwise, public understanding risks being shaped not by the full complexity of the evidence, but by whichever fragments happen to make the most compelling television.
A Familiar Pattern
This is not unique to the Twisha Sharma case.
Indian television crime coverage has repeatedly followed a familiar formula.
Routine investigative steps are presented as major breakthroughs.
Leaked fragments of information are transformed into dramatic revelations.
Questions are treated as evidence.
Possibilities are presented as probabilities.
Probabilities gradually become public certainties.
The process creates compelling television. It also creates the risk of a parallel trial outside the courtroom.
The Real Story
The real story is not that investigators are asking difficult questions.
They should be.
The real story is not that investigators are examining digital records, CCTV footage, witness statements, or alleged inconsistencies.
They must.
The real story is that crime coverage increasingly rewards dramatic storytelling over procedural accuracy.
A remand hearing is not a conviction.
An allegation is not proof.
A question is not an answer.
And a television presentation is not an investigation.
The truth of what happened to Twisha Sharma will ultimately emerge not from dramatic graphics, selective leaks, or prime-time speculation, but from forensic evidence, witness testimony, judicial scrutiny, and due process.
Until then, skepticism is not cynicism. It is responsible citizenship.
The public deserves facts. Not theatre disguised as revelation.
