When Due Process Fails: A Journalist, PECA, and the Law

 There are cases where the allegation matters.

And then there are cases where the process itself becomes the headline.

This is one of those.

In recent months, the name Sohrab Barkat has circulated quietly in journalistic circles. Not because of a breaking exposé or a viral video, but because of a legal contradiction that refuses to go away.

A journalist cleared by court.
Stopped at an airport.
Detained anyway.

That gap is the story.

The sequence that raises questions

The publicly available record is not disputed.

A high court directed that Sohrab Barkat’s name be removed from the provisional travel watchlist. The relevant authority later confirmed to the same court that no restriction remained and no pending case justified preventing travel.

Days later, at Islamabad airport, Barkat was detained while attempting to board an international flight. He carried court documentation. It was acknowledged. Yet he was stopped on the grounds that internal systems had not been updated.

From there, the matter escalated. He was transferred across jurisdictions, presented before different courts, and placed under investigation under provisions of the Prevention of Electronic Crimes Act (PECA).

This article does not assess guilt or innocence. That is for the courts.
It looks at something narrower, and arguably more important.

What happens when legal clearance does not translate into freedom?

Law on paper, uncertainty in practice

In theory, court orders are meant to settle uncertainty. They exist to draw a line and say: this far, no further.

But in practice, especially in cases involving journalists and digital media, that line often appears blurred. Administrative mechanisms, watchlists, and parallel investigations create a grey zone where clarity dissolves.

No single official decision needs to be dramatic.
Delay is enough.
Confusion is enough.

When a person remains caught between courtrooms and agencies, process itself becomes a form of pressure.

PECA and the question of responsibility

The legal basis of the case rests largely on PECA provisions related to online content.

The contested material, according to case records, involved an interview uploaded to a digital platform. The remarks under scrutiny were made by a guest, not the host. This raises a question that Pakistan’s legal system is still grappling with:

Where does journalistic responsibility end in the digital age?

If hosting a conversation is treated as endorsing every statement within it, the implications extend far beyond one case. Interviews, panels, and open dialogue become liabilities rather than tools of journalism.

This is not a defence of any statement.
It is a question of editorial boundaries, and whether current law has clearly defined them.

When cases replace convictions

Another feature visible in the public record is the layering of cases across time and location.

Bail in one matter.
Another inquiry surfaces.
Jurisdiction shifts.

Legally, each step may be defensible in isolation. Cumulatively, however, they create an outcome that feels less like resolution and more like suspension. Life pauses. Work stops. Reputation hangs in limbo.

No verdict is required for consequences to take effect.

This is what critics mean when they say process becomes punishment.

The silence after the headlines

Public attention, as always, moves faster than legal timelines.

There is outrage for a day or two. Statements are issued. Social media reacts. Then the cycle turns. Another story replaces the last.

But cases do not dissolve when attention fades.

Journalists left navigating courts without sustained public scrutiny often do so quietly, while the rest of society returns to routine. The cost of that silence is not borne equally.

Why this matters beyond one name

This is not a story about a single journalist’s politics, affiliations, or opinions.

It is about predictability.

A legal system earns trust when outcomes follow rules consistently, not when individuals must guess which clearance will be honoured and which will not.

For journalists, especially those working outside large institutional newsrooms, predictability is not a luxury. It is protection.

When due process becomes uncertain, self-censorship follows naturally. Not because people are told to be silent, but because the cost of speaking becomes unclear.

A narrow conclusion

This article does not call for outcomes.
It calls for alignment.

Court orders should mean what they say.
Administrative systems should reflect judicial decisions.
Laws designed to address cybercrime should not leave journalists unsure where journalism ends and liability begins.

When those lines blur, the story stops being about what was said online and starts being about how power is exercised offline.

And that is a story worth paying attention to.