Hallo Court, Gota is Not Guilty: When a President’s Counsel Made a Mockery of the Sub Judie Rule
One does not need a degree in law—least of all a President’s Counsel—to recognise a fundamental pillar of any functional democracy: a pending case must be decided by a court, not by a politician, and certainly not by a lawyer standing outside it, shouting an acquittal into a microphone.
Yet, in the feverish days of June 2026, that is precisely what transpired. As the Colombo Fort Magistrate’s Court was actively investigating former President Gotabaya Rajapaksa’s alleged role in the 2019 Easter Sunday bombings cover‑up—having already imposed a foreign travel ban on him—President’s Counsel Ali Sabry stepped forward. He declared, in effect, that Gotabaya is not guilty, that the legal proceedings should stop, and that he, Mr. Sabry, was somehow “legally qualified” to pronounce this pre‑emptive verdict.
The question is not whether Mr. Sabry believes his client to be innocent. The question is whether a senior officer of the court—a President’s Counsel, no less—may publicly short‑circuit an ongoing criminal investigation without being hauled before the bench for contempt. And, more disturbingly, whether the silence of the authorities in response to his actions suggests that Sri Lanka’s judiciary is being reduced to a theatre of the absurd.
This article argues that Mr. Sabry’s statement is a prima facie case of contempt of court, a direct assault on the sub judice rule, and a deeply troubling spectacle that makes a mockery of the very legal system he was appointed to uphold.
The Anatomy of a Questionable Declaration
Before examining the contempt implications, it is essential to understand who Ali Sabry is. By his own official biography, Mr. Sabry is a President’s Counsel (PC), a distinction awarded to senior attorneys‑at‑law. His academic qualifications are straightforward: primary education at Kalutara and Zahira College, followed by enrolment at the Sri Lanka Law College in 1992. He is not a legal academic, just a third-class lawyer. He does not hold a doctorate in jurisprudence. He is, by training and profession, a practitioner—a capable one by many accounts, but a practitioner nonetheless.
That is not a criticism. One does not need a PhD to understand the sub judice rule. What is remarkable is that a man holding the highest professional title available to Sri Lankan lawyers—President’s Counsel—would so casually disregard one of the most elementary restrictions on extra‑judicial speech.
The reported declaration—“Hallo Court, Gotabaya is not guilty, stop legal proceedings, I am legally qualified to say before the judgement will hand out”—is, if accurately quoted, a masterpiece of professional recklessness. It contains three separate sub‑judicial offences:
Mr. Sabry is, of course, entitled to his opinion. He is entitled to believe in his client’s innocence. But he is not entitled to use his title as a President’s Counsel to deliver a verdict on a live case outside the courtroom. That is not advocacy. That is contempt.
The Sub Judice Rule: What It Is and Why It Matters
The term sub judice is derived from the Latin phrase adhuc sub judice lis est, meaning “the matter is still under consideration”. In common law jurisdictions, including Sri Lanka, the sub judice rule restricts comments and disclosures pertaining to ongoing judicial proceedings. Its purpose is straightforward: to avoid the public prejudging the issue, to prevent undue influence on the court, and to preserve the integrity of the administration of justice.
Sri Lanka’s Supreme Court has observed that “contempt of court is an offence purely sui generis and one that is vaguely defined”. Indeed, the constituent elements of contempt have not received full statutory recognition, meaning that “what would constitute contempt in the eyes of the court would vary according to the facts and circumstances of each case”. But that flexibility does not mean nothing qualifies. On the contrary, the Supreme Court has repeatedly affirmed that it has the inherent power to punish for contempt, whether committed inside or outside the courtroom, under Article 105(3) of the Constitution.
The key consideration in any sub judice analysis is risk. Does the extra‑judicial statement create a substantial risk of serious prejudice to the proceedings? In the case of a professional judge—trained to disregard public opinion—the bar may be higher than in jury systems. As the Supreme Court itself noted, citing English precedent, “professional judges are sufficiently well equipped by their professional training to be on their guard against allowing a prejudging of the issues to influence them”.
However, that is not the end of the inquiry. Contempt of court is not solely about influencing the judge. It is also about maintaining public confidence in the judiciary. As the Supreme Court has also recognised, the power to punish for contempt extends to “bringing the court into disrepute”. When a President’s Counsel declares a verdict before the judgment, he does not merely express an opinion; he sends a signal to the public that the legal proceedings are a charade, that the outcome is predetermined, and that the court is merely going through the motions. That corrodes the very legitimacy of the rule of law.
The Rajapaksa Connection: A Pattern of Legal Intimidation
To understand why Mr. Sabry’s statement is particularly egregious, one must locate it within the broader pattern of Rajapaksa‑aligned legal behaviour. Mr. Sabry is not an independent commentator. He has served as the defence counsel of President Gotabaya Rajapaksa, as his chief legal adviser, and as the President of the Muslim Federation of the Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna (SLPP). In other words, he is a political insider acting in his capacity as a loyalist, not merely a lawyer giving detached legal analysis.
The timing is also significant. On 3 June 2026, the Colombo Fort Magistrate’s Court imposed a foreign travel ban on Gotabaya Rajapaksa in connection with the Easter Sunday bombings investigation. The investigation had already led to the arrest of former intelligence chief Major General Suresh Sallay, and prosecutors were actively building a case that increasingly implicated the highest levels of the previous administration.
It is precisely at this moment of maximum legal jeopardy that Mr. Sabry chose to go public with his pre‑emptive acquittal. Whether his intent was to influence the court, to rally political support, or simply to grandstand is irrelevant. The effect is the same: a senior lawyer used his professional title to attempt to short‑circuit the judicial process.
Is It Contempt of Court? A Legal Assessment
Let us apply the Sri Lankan common law test for contempt. In Jayaratne v. Sirimavo Bandaranaike (69 NLR 184), the Court held that “a rule nisi for contempt of court will not be issued unless there is available evidence which can lead the Court to conclude that an offence of contempt appears to have been committed”. The standard is not proof beyond a reasonable doubt at the rule nisi stage; it is whether a prima facie case exists.
Applying that standard to Mr. Sabry’s reported statement, we may identify the following elements:
1. The proceedings were active: A criminal investigation with a travel ban and active judicial oversight.
2. The statement was made publicly: It was not a private conversation or a sealed submission to the court.
3. The speaker held a position of authority: As a President’s Counsel, his words carry significantly more weight than those of an ordinary citizen.
4. The content was prejudicial: Declaring a suspect “not guilty” before trial is the very definition of pre‑judgment.
5. The statement undermined judicial authority: Directing the court to “stop legal proceedings” is an explicit challenge to the court’s jurisdiction and authority.
On these facts, a reasonable legal observer would conclude that a prima facie case of contempt has been established. Whether the Supreme Court or the Court of Appeal would ultimately convict depends on the specific language used, the context, and Mr. Sabry’s explanation. But the existence of a case is not in serious doubt.
Moreover, the Contempt of a Court, Tribunal or Institution Act, No. 8 of 2024 has since provided additional statutory clarity on the offence, further strengthening the basis for action.
The Silence That Speaks Volumes
Perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this affair is the institutional silence. Has the Attorney General’s Department initiated contempt proceedings against Mr. Sabry? Has the Bar Association—of which Mr. Sabry is a former treasurer—issued a statement condemning his extra‑judicial pronouncement? Has any sitting judge referred the matter to the Supreme Court for action?
The answer, at the time of writing, appears to be a resounding no.
This silence is itself a form of judicial erosion. When a President’s Counsel can publicly announce a verdict on an active case without consequence, the message to every other lawyer—and every other citizen—is that the sub judice rule is optional. It applies only to those without political connections. It is enforced selectively, if at all.
There is a long and honourable tradition of senior lawyers vigorously defending their clients, even controversially so. But there is a difference between vigorous defence and contempt. Mr. Sabry crossed that line. The failure of the legal establishment to respond is not a sign of strength or restraint; it is a sign of paralysis in the face of political power.
A Mockery of the Judiciary
Let us be direct: when a President’s Counsel stands before the public and mimics a judge handing down a verdict—complete with the theatrical “Hallo Court”—he is not practicing law. He is performing a parody of it. He is treating the judiciary as a stage prop, a minor inconvenience to be brushed aside with a wave of the hand.
This is not a victimless act. The Easter Sunday bombings killed 269 people and injured more than 500 others. The families of the victims have waited seven years for accountability. They have watched investigations stall, witnesses recant, and the powerful evade scrutiny. Now, when a court finally begins to examine the role of the former president, the man who once served as his defence counsel steps forward to declare the matter closed.
That is not justice. That is a mockery of justice.
The Rule of Law Cannot Survive Such Performances
Sri Lanka has endured decades of legal formalism masking political impunity. The rule of law has been invoked by governments that violated it, defended by lawyers who profited from its absence, and celebrated by politicians who treated the courts as an inconvenience.
The Ali Sabry Social media statement—if accurately reported—is a textbook example of contempt of court. It violates the sub judice rule. It undermines public confidence in the judiciary. It uses the prestige of the President’s Counsel title to pre‑empt a judicial verdict. And it has, thus far, gone entirely unpunished.
The question before Sri Lanka’s legal establishment is simple: Is the sub judice rule a living principle of the Constitution, or is it a dead letter to be quoted only when politically convenient? If it is the former, then Mr. Sabry must be called to account. If it is the latter, then the judiciary may as well close its doors, because it has already surrendered the only authority it truly possesses: the authority to be heard without interference.
Mr. Sabry is said to be “legally qualified” to pronounce a verdict before the judgment. He is not. No lawyer is. That is precisely why we have courts, and judges, and the slow, grinding machinery of due process. When a President’s Counsel forgets that distinction, he does not display legal brilliance. He commits contempt. And when the authorities look away, they make a mockery of everything the rule of law is supposed to mean.