The cold-blooded murder of a lawyer and his wife in the parking area of a supermarket, at a busy junction in a well-frequented Colombo suburb, is not merely another entry in the Police log. Rather, it forces the country to confront an unsettling question. Are citizens truly safe in the spaces they inhabit every day?

What makes this killing especially chilling is not only its brutality but its audacity. Gunmen reportedly armed with T-56 rifles carried out the attack in full public view, during the evening rush hour, surrounded by shoppers, families, and commuters. The spectacle of such violence unfolding amid the routines of ordinary life sends a worrying message. It tells the public that even crowded, well-lit, supposedly secure places may offer no shield against terror.

Law and order are not an abstract concept debated in policy circles. It is the invisible architecture that allows society to function. When it weakens, fear seeps into daily existence. Parents grow anxious. Professionals feel exposed. Communities begin to look over their shoulders. Confidence in the State erodes.

The fact that the victim was later identified as an attorney-at-law has sharpened this sense of alarm. Lawyers are officers of the court. They are participants in the justice system itself. An attack on one of them is inevitably interpreted as an attack on the rule of law. It is therefore unsurprising that the Bar Association of Sri Lanka (BASL) responded with urgency.

For the first time in 14 years, BASL convened an emergency meeting of its general membership. The decisions taken were telling. Attorneys-at-law resolved to refrain from appearing in courts across the country. They called on the Government to adopt urgent and robust measures to halt what they described as a culture of brutal killings. They urged law enforcement authorities to swiftly apprehend the perpetrators. They also expressed strong displeasure over the circulation of unverified information attributed to the Police.

This was not theatre. It was a collective cry of anxiety from within a profession that sits at the heart of the justice system. When lawyers speak of existential threats and dangers faced by the Judiciary, the public should listen carefully. These are voices trained to measure words.

Meanwhile, Opposition and SJB Leader Sajith Premadasa publicly questioned how what he termed “Chicago-style” killings could occur even within high-security zones, particularly at a time when emergency regulations are in force and the armed forces are deployed. He recalled that the restoration of law and order was among the central promises that propelled the present Government to power. Those assurances, he argued, now ring hollow.

Political statements must always be read with an awareness of partisan context. Yet, beneath the inevitable rhetoric lies a legitimate public concern. If emergency measures and heightened security deployments cannot deter brazen acts of violence in urban centres, what confidence can citizens draw from them?

Governments are elected not only to manage the economy or deliver infrastructure but to fulfil a fundamental, non-negotiable duty. The protection of life. This obligation does not fluctuate according to profession, political affiliation, ethnicity, or social standing. The State’s duty is universal. When citizens begin to feel that safety is conditional or uncertain, the social contract itself is strained.

Equally troubling is the recurring tendency to attribute violent crimes to shadowy references to the “underworld” or drug networks. While organised crime is a grim reality, invoking it reflexively risks creating an impression of deflection rather than determination. The public expects investigations, arrests, prosecutions, and convictions. Not narratives.

We have endured too many cycles of violence to treat such incidents as isolated shocks. Each high-profile killing chips away at the fragile sense of normalcy citizens struggle to maintain. 

This latest tragedy should serve as a national reckoning. Not for political point-scoring, but for honest introspection. Law and order is the bedrock upon which every other promise rests: economic progress, social harmony, democratic vitality. None can thrive where fear prevails.

The Government must therefore respond decisively, not defensively. Citizens are not asking for perfection. They are asking for protection. They are asking for reassurance that the rule of law is not a slogan, but a guarantee.

Because when law falters, trust follows. And when trust collapses, the consequences reach far beyond a single crime scene.