HRW Calls on Bangladesh to Probe First Enforced Disappearance in Two Years

On a sweltering night in early April 2026, a 30‑year‑old fisherman named Miraj Sheikh vanished from the eyes of his family after being taken away by members of the Coast Guard near the Sundarbans. It sounds almost like a plot from a thriller, yet the reality is far grimmer – an alleged enforced disappearance that has now sparked an outcry from Human Rights Watch (HRW).

HRW’s statement, released on Monday, makes it crystal clear: the Bangladeshi government must act fast and obey the High Court’s July 12 order that demands the authorities locate Miraj and bring him before the court within fifteen days. This isn’t just another missing‑person case; it’s the first reported instance of an enforced disappearance in Bangladesh in two years, and it has re‑ignited a debate that’s been simmering since the political upheavals of 2024.

Back in 2024, when the Awami League’s 15‑year reign finally crumbled under mass protests, the interim administration that followed tried to pull the plug on a nightmare that had become all too common – people disappearing without a trace. In November 2025 the interim government rolled out the National Human Rights Commission Ordinance, a legal tool that would let an independent body inspect detention facilities and launch investigations without waiting for a court’s permission.

Fast forward to February 2026: the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) wins the election, but rather than building on the interim government’s modest reforms, the new administration let the ordinance lapse. Instead, it proposed legislation that would strip the Human Rights Commission of the power to probe alleged abuses by security forces. HRW sees this as a step backwards, warning that “without genuine reforms, the shadows of enforced disappearances will only grow longer.”

Meenakshi Ganguly, deputy Asia director at HRW, summed it up with a sigh: “Thousands of people were subjected to enforced disappearance during Sheikh Hasina’s rule. This latest case shows that those practices have become entrenched in Bangladeshi security agencies.” She urged the BNP government to adopt safeguards, institutional reforms and, most importantly, accountability.

Under international law, an enforced disappearance is defined as a state‑or‑state‑supported abduction followed by a refusal to acknowledge the deprivation of liberty or to reveal the person’s whereabouts. Bangladesh signed the International Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearance in August 2024, pledging to criminalise, investigate and prosecute such acts. The current case tests whether that pledge is anything more than ink on paper.

What happened to Miraj? Witnesses say Coast Guard officers stopped his boat at Joymonir Ghol, near the forested fringes of Mongla, and whisked him away on a speedboat. The next day his family knocked on the doors of the Coast Guard office in Digraj, only to be told he was “on an operation” and to return later. When they did, the officers claimed Miraj had never set foot in their facility. A tea‑stall owner near the scene recounted that a Coast Guard member unlocked Miraj’s motorcycle, took it away, and then returned it the following day – a bizarre detail that adds a layer of confusion to an already unsettling story.

Miraj’s father filed a habeas‑corpus petition, prompting the High Court’s July 12 directive. Yet Lt. Cmdr. Mahbub Hossain, the media officer for the Coast Guard’s Western Zone, keeps denying any knowledge of the fisherman’s detention. The family’s attempts – a complaint, a news conference, letters to officials – have, so far, hit a wall.

The pattern is painfully familiar. A commission set up by the interim government tallied 1,569 cases of enforced disappearance between 2009 and 2024. While 1,282 of those victims resurfaced after weeks, months or even years of secret detention, at least 251 are presumed dead and 36 bodies have been recovered. The commission warned that these numbers are likely a “substantial undercount.”

Security agencies implicated range from the Detective Branch and Counter‑Terrorism units of the police to the paramilitary Rapid Action Battalion and even the Directorate General of Forces Intelligence. The same report described a “widespread and systematic culture of torture,” citing specialised interrogation rooms equipped with rotating chairs, pulley‑suspension rigs, electric shock devices and even instruments for thermal torture.

One of the most notorious cases is that of Mir Ahmed Bin Quasem – better known as Armaan – a lawyer who was snatched by the Rapid Action Battalion in 2016 and held in secret detention for eight years. He finally emerged after the Awami League fell in August 2024, describing his ordeal as “being buried alive.” His story now forms part of the International Crimes Tribunal’s prosecutions, where ten former army officers tied to the Rapid Action Battalion are on trial.

All of this makes Miraj’s disappearance more than an isolated incident; it is a flashpoint that could either spark renewed momentum for reform or deepen the despair of families who have long lived in limbo. HRW’s call is simple: investigate, be transparent, and restore the legal mechanisms that protect citizens from disappearing into the night.

For Bangladesh, the stakes are high. The world is watching, and the promises made in 2024 to ratify the international convention risk being reduced to mere symbolism if the current government does not act decisively. As HRW reminds us, justice delayed is justice denied – and in cases of enforced disappearance, that delay can be a life forever lost.