By: Nalinda Indatissa (President’s Counsel)

The administration of justice in Sri Lanka rests on the principle that disputes must be resolved fairly, openly, and according to law. A central feature of this system is the role played by Attorneys-at-Law. Legal representation is not merely a private convenience for litigants; it is an essential mechanism through which courts are able to deliver fair, reasonable, carefully considered, and credible justice.


Right of a Suspect or Accused Person to Legal Representation

The Constitution of Sri Lanka expressly guarantees the right of a person charged with an offence to be represented by an Attorney-at-Law. Article 13(3) provides that any person charged with an offence shall be entitled to be heard, either in person or by an Attorney-at-Law, at a fair trial before a competent court. This elevates legal representation to the level of a fundamental right and makes it an indispensable component of a fair trial.

This constitutional guarantee is further strengthened by the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights Act, No. 56 of 2007. Section 4(1)(b) affirms the right of an accused person to defend himself in person or through legal assistance of his own choosing and requires that he be informed of that right. Section 4(1)(c) goes further by providing for State-funded legal assistance where the interests of justice so require and the accused lacks sufficient means. These provisions transform the constitutional right into a practical and enforceable safeguard.

The Judicature Act, No. 2 of 1978, provides the institutional framework within which these rights operate. Courts established under the Act function on the basis that parties may appear in person or through Attorneys-at-Law, who are recognised as officers of court with a right of audience. Although the Judicature Act does not itself create the right to representation, it enables the constitutional and statutory guarantees to be exercised in practice.

Read together, the Constitution, the ICCPR Act, and the Judicature Act firmly establish that a suspect or accused person has a strong and protected right to be represented by an Attorney-at-Law.


Right of an Aggrieved Party to Legal Representation

An aggrieved party or victim does not derive a constitutional right to representation from Article 13(3), as that provision is confined to persons charged with offences. However, Parliament has expressly recognised the importance of legal representation for victims through statute.

The Assistance to and Protection of Victims of Crime and Witnesses Act, No. 4 of 2015, permits aggrieved parties and witnesses to be represented by Attorneys-at-Law in court. This statutory right is intended to ensure meaningful participation, protection from intimidation, and proper articulation of the victim’s interests within the justice process. While statutory in nature, this right reflects a clear legislative policy that victims are not to be excluded or silenced in criminal proceedings.


How Legal Representation Improves the Quality and Credibility of Justice

Legal representation enables courts to deliver justice that is fair, reasonable, and carefully considered. Lawyers assist courts by identifying the real issues, presenting facts coherently, explaining the applicable law, and testing evidence through cross-examination. This assistance helps judges arrive at decisions based on reasoned legal analysis rather than incomplete information or emotional presentation.

Judgments delivered after hearing counsel carry greater credibility than decisions made in closed or informal settings. When arguments are tested openly and on record, judicial reasoning is sharpened, errors are minimised, and public confidence is strengthened. Such judgments are more consistent, more predictable, and more resilient on appeal.

Although lawyers appear on behalf of litigants, they are not partisan leaders. They are officers of court whose primary duty is to the court and to the administration of justice. They are bound by ethical and professional obligations not to mislead the court, not to abuse procedure, and to conduct themselves with candour and restraint. This special position explains why courts rely on counsel and why representation enhances, rather than undermines, judicial authority.


Obstruction of Legal Representation and the Contempt of Court Framework

Any act that interferes with legal representation strikes at the heart of the justice system. Threatening, intimidating, or assaulting a lawyer because of submissions made in court, positions taken in litigation, or representation provided to a client is not a private matter. It directly undermines the rights of accused persons, the participatory rights of victims, and the administration of justice itself.

The Contempt of a Court, Tribunal or Institution Act, No. 8 of 2024, expressly addresses such interference. Section 3(1)(b) provides that any act done with intent to interfere with, or cause grave prejudice to, the judicial process in relation to any ongoing litigation constitutes contempt of court. Where a lawyer is threatened or assaulted to deter him or her from appearing, continuing representation, or advancing submissions, such conduct is capable of falling squarely within this provision.

Further, section 3(2)(c)(ii) and (iii) deem it contempt to do any act that gravely prejudices or unlawfully interferes with the due course of a judicial proceeding, or that interferes with or obstructs the administration of justice. Intimidation or violence directed at lawyers because of their professional role is a clear form of obstruction of justice and may therefore attract contempt jurisdiction, in addition to ordinary criminal liability.

Because lawyers are officers of court, interference with them is treated not merely as an offence against an individual, but as an attack on the judicial process itself. The Act thus reinforces the principle that justice must be protected not only inside the courtroom, but also against external pressures and retaliation connected with court proceedings.

By Krishantha Prasad Cooray

Harry Jayawardena passed away a year ago. Twelve months. Three hundred and sixty five days. The time has ticked quickly. And yet, it is as though it was just the other day that we last spoke.

It is not surprising, really. After all, we were the closest of friends. There were no filters between us when we spoke. It was brutally honest conversations that we had. We spoke our minds freely. Although he was very much older, he treated me like a friend he had known all his life. He even called me ‘Lokka’ – a private joke between us, because that is also how I addressed him. He didn’t feel ‘older.’ He was, not in years, but in life experiences.

Harry Jayawardena, as everyone knows, was an iconic businessman and industrialist. He was in fact a kind of King Midas of Sri Lankan enterprise; whatever he touched, prospered. The fearlessness, the uncompromising relentlessness and attention to detail are unmatched. He didn’t exactly lecture me, but I knew him enough and listened to him enough to be privy, in a sense, to the man and his thinking. He didn’t set out to impart knowledge but he was so generous with advice and honest in our interactions that I could not but learn from him.

We spoke every single day. Maybe that’s why I miss him so much. It was part of my day to exchange a few words with Harry J, as I fondly refer to him. It’s been long enough for me not to expect, unconsciously, a call from him, but it’s still too soon not to remember him every day. Harry’s voice is in my ear. His advice guides me. Even though I don’t attribute analysis and decisions to him at the particular moment, there are innumerable times when I recognise how much he has shaped my thinking, not just by the things he’s said but his life work. In such moments, I feel an immense sense of gratitude. In such moments I am overwhelmed by sadness.

Loyalty was something he valued. Life, for Harry, centred on genuine relationships over success or power. He valued and fiercely protected friendships. Our friendship too was defined by absolute trust. Harry J didn’t trust easily. He assessed, weighed, let words and actions define the particular person. But when he did trust someone, it was for life. He would stand by friends through thick or thin, regardless of costs. That’s a measure of the man’s sincerity. A man’s word was his bond; that’s how it was for Harry. Once trust was established, there was no room for interference, misunderstanding, and most of all, no chance whatsoever of betrayal. Our conversations were unguarded. We didn’t have to second-guess. That, to me, is a rare and precious bond.

Harry loved challenges. He was, as mentioned, fearless. This doesn’t mean he walked into difficult situations with his eyes closed. He did his homework. He didn’t skim over the small print. He was meticulous when it came to assessing the pros and cons of any situation, be it in business or otherwise. Once he committed himself, he poured energy, passion and resources without fear. There was no retreat as far as he was concerned. He never gave up, whether it was a difficult business negotiation or standing up firmly for a friend. Harry was an unbelievable fighter. He believed in seeing things through no matter how tough it was.

We spent a great deal of time together and therefore understood each other well. Harry always gave me sound advice: practical, thoughtful, and rooted in experience. It was the kind of guidance that stayed with me shaping decisions long after the conversation ended. It is not that I ask myself, ‘what would Harry have done had he been in my shoes?’ I go ahead and later realise, ‘that’s what Harry would have wanted me to do.’

He was a religious man in his own way. A devout Catholic, he exemplified the ethics associated with those convictions. He did what he believed was right, and privileged truth and friendship over success or power.

It’s been a year. That’s a long time and yet it’s as though it was just the other day that he called me and in his booming voice greeted me as always with ‘Lokka’ and I would respond with the same one-word address with similar enthusiasm, ‘Lokka.’ He is missed. Immensely. It was such a privilege to have known him. It is, one might say, an obligation to remember. It is not just that. He just cannot be forgotten.