Punjab’s Crime Control Department, or CCD, has become the most feared and the most praised arm of the provincial police. Supporters cite sharp declines in robbery, snatching, and car theft. Critics point to a trail of bodies, grieving families, and courts flooded with petitions. The clash between crime control and the rule of law now defines policing in Punjab.
One of the starkest cases comes from Bahawalpur. Zubaida Bibi says 22 children in her family lost their fathers in one day. In September 2025, seven of her sons and sons-in-law left home to attend a wedding nearly 200 kilometres away. She says CCD teams raided the venue at night and took them into custody. For days, the family had no information. Later, they were called to a CCD office in Lahore, near the Anti-Corruption Directorate in Gulberg. Officials told them to leave and wait for their relatives to return.
They never did. Zubaida Bibi alleges five of her family members, including her sons Imran, Irfan, and Adnan, and her son-in-law Hassan Jahangir, were taken to different districts and killed in staged police encounters. FIRs were registered in Chiniot, Faisalabad, Narowal, and Hafizabad. Each FIR carried the same story. The men were shot by their own unknown accomplices during a supposed gunfight. The family insists the men were already in CCD custody.
She filed applications before the Federal Investigation Agency and later approached the Justice of Peace in Lahore through her counsel, senior Supreme Court lawyer Aftab Bajwa. In December 2025, the court issued notices to the FIA and other authorities. On 15 January 2026, Additional Sessions Judge Shafqat Shahbaz Raja disposed of the petition. He held that under the Custodial Death and Torture Act 2022, only the FIA had jurisdiction to investigate such cases and directed the agency to decide the matter on merit.
CCD officials reject the family’s account. SP Aftab Phularwan described the victims as members of the so-called Odh gang, accused of honey trapping, kidnapping for ransom, and cyber scams targeting elderly people and pensioners. He denied any fake encounters and said police returned fire when attacked.
Zubaida Bibi is not alone. In July 2025, Shahnaz Bibi from Muzaffargarh filed a complaint before the Additional IG South Punjab and later a habeas corpus petition in the Lahore High Court over the alleged abduction and illegal detention of her husband by CCD. The petition was later withdrawn. Advocate Mian Dawood also approached the Lahore High Court over alleged staged encounters. Punjab Police denied the claims and instead highlighted falling crime.
The police numbers are striking. Robbery cases fell from 792 in 2024 to 324 in 2025. Street crimes dropped from about 41,000 to 18,608. Vehicle snatching declined by 64 per cent, car theft by 60 per cent, and motorcycle snatching from 9,754 to 4,628. Robbery with murder fell from 170 to 96. Police also reported losses. One sub-inspector was killed and 96 personnel were injured. They said 42 allegations of custodial torture or death were sent to the FIA and insisted operations stayed within the law.
Behind the scenes, CCD runs in near silence. A senior officer says the leadership avoids media contact. Encounters surface through social media rather than official briefings. FIRs often list the killers as unknown accomplices. This wording shifts blame away from the police and forces families to chase invisible suspects. Lawyers argue this tactic discourages legal heirs from pressing cases and weakens the legal trigger for judicial inquiries.
The scale of encounters has surged. Unofficial estimates put the number above 2,200 in 2025. Punjab Police data lists 1,498 encounters for the year. Eleven policemen died. 586 suspects were killed. 1,033 were injured. 1,043 were arrested. Even by Pakistan’s troubled history, the jump is extreme.
Human rights groups and political figures have raised the alarm. HRCP has condemned the rise in killings. Former federal minister Fawad Chaudhry, PPP leader Sharmila Faruqi, and journalist Mohsin Baig have all accused CCD of killing suspects without trial. They compare the trend to the era when Shahbaz Sharif, then Punjab’s chief minister, used encounters as a crime control tool. The Sabzazar case, in which even senior officials were booked, still haunts public memory.
Police offer their own defence. A CCD officer says the criminal justice system fails victims. Low conviction rates, weak investigations, and witness intimidation allow repeat offenders to walk free. Criminals, he says, use money to hire lawyers, bribe officials, and derail cases. In jails, gangs form, and crime becomes organised. Judges blame police for weak evidence. Police blame courts for acquittals. In this deadlock, encounters fill the gap.
This logic rests on fear rather than law. The Constitution promises due process. The state holds a monopoly over force only within legal limits. When police become judge and executioner, mistakes turn fatal. Innocents lose their lives. Real criminals escape scrutiny. Public trust erodes.
Punjab faces a choice. Crime control matters. So does the rule of law. A system that trades courts for bullets offers quick numbers but leaves deep scars. Zubaida Bibi’s search for justice shows what those scars look like. The question is whether the state listens before more families join her.
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