When Udaya Gammanpila announced the release of his book, In Search of a Mastermind, it was thought that he would make a big revelation. However the whole event proved to be an anti climax. It turned out to be more a strategy of deflection rather than a search for justice
Its timing and content reveal a different motive. By narrowing the scope of the tragedy to a settled narrative and targeting the investigators currently tasked with reopening the case, Gammanpila appears to be protecting a specific political ecosystem rather than uncovering the Mastermind.
Sudden interest: Justice or just politics?
One of the most telling aspects of Gammanpila’s recent venture is its timing. For years, as commissions sat and various reports were shuffled between government offices, his voice was not the loudest in the room demanding transparency. His intense interest seems to have spiked only after the National People’s Power (NPP) government appointed Shani Abeysekara and Ravi Seneviratne to lead fresh investigations.
By his own admission, Gammanpila’s focus shifted when these specific investigators—known for their past work on high-profile, politically sensitive cases—were brought back into the fold. This raises a fundamental question: Is the goal to find the truth, or is it to derail a process that might lead to uncomfortable places? When a political figure’s “search for justice” begins only when the investigators change, the motive looks less like a search for truth and more like a pre-emptive strike against an independent inquiry.
The attack on the investigators
To discredit the new investigation, Gammanpila has focused heavily on undermining the credibility of Seneviratne and Abeysekara. However, in doing so, he has relied on narratives that range from misleading to outright false.
The Janak de Silva Commission claim: Gammanpila has publicly asserted that these two investigators were required to be investigated based on previous commission findings. This is a significant distortion. The Janak de Silva Commission report, which relied on sworn testimony, did not recommend criminal action or specific investigations against them as claimed by Gammanpila. Downplaying victimisation: Gammanpila has also attempted to trivialise the treatment of Shani Abeysekara under the Gotabaya Rajapaksa administration. Abeysekara, was famously demoted to serve as a Personal Assistant to a Deputy Inspector General (DIG) in Galle. Gammanpila has characterised this as a mere transfer to his hometown. In reality, it was a clear act of political victimisation designed to sideline a man who knew too much about the intersection of crime and politics. In fact in one of his first interviews after assumption of office President Gotabaya Rajapaksa singled out Shani Abeysekera for criticism.
By attacking the messengers, Gammanpila is seeking to ensure that whatever the new investigation finds is already dismissed as tainted in the eyes of the public.
Recycling the “settled” narrative
The central thesis of Gammanpila’s book—that Zahran Hashim and his immediate network were the sole masterminds—is not a discovery. No one disputes that Zahran and his group carried out the attacks. The real question, and the one the Catholic Church led by Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith has consistently raised, is about the “Grand Mastermind.”
The questions that remain unanswered are:
1. Who benefited politically from the climate of fear created by the attacks?
2. Why were 97 specific warnings from foreign intelligence ignored?
3. Were there links between state intelligence elements and the attackers prior to the bombings?
By focusing solely on the operational level (Zahran), Gammanpila’s book effectively circles back to a politically safe explanation. It avoids the uncomfortable dimensions of institutional failure and potential complicity that have haunted the country since 21 April 2019.
The danger of selective memory
In Sri Lanka, memory is often weaponised. The Easter Sunday attacks span three different political eras: The Yahapalana era: Characterised by a breakdown in communication between President Maithripala Sirisena and Prime Minister Ranil Wickremesinghe. The Gotabaya Rajapaksa era: Which rose to power on a platform of national security post-Easter Sunday, but faced allegations of using commissions to suppress rather than reveal the truth. The Current era: Where the NPP has promised a fresh, independent look at the evidence.
Gammanpila’s narrative is highly selective about which failures it highlights. It avoids a sustained critique of the security apparatus that remained in place across these transitions. Instead, it leans into a nationalist framing that externalizes the threat.
The social cost of deflection
There is a darker side to this political manoeuvering. By emphasising a purely religious and civilisational framing of the attacks, Gammanpila risks reigniting the communal tensions that tore at the fabric of Sri Lankan society in 2019.
Responsible leadership requires a sharp distinction between a small group of violent extremists and the broader Muslim community. When political narratives lean too heavily into religious framing—without equal weight on state and institutional accountability—it fuels suspicion and marginalisation. This is not just an analytical failure, but a social hazard that could reopen old wounds for the sake of a political point.
Justice vs. instrumental truth
The difference between justice and instrumental truth is intent. Justice seeks to uncover the whole picture, no matter how uncomfortable it makes the powerful. instrumental truth, however, is a version of facts used as a tool to achieve a specific goal—in this case, the protection of certain political interests from a fresh investigation.
Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith has repeatedly stated that the Church will not accept a manufactured closure. The victims do not just want to know who wore the vests; they want to know who enabled the path to the churches and hotels.
The mastermind in the system
The enduring tragedy of the Easter Sunday attacks is that the term Mastermind is being used as a shield. If the public can be convinced that the case was closed with Zahran, then the investigation into the intelligence failures and political beneficiaries can be buried forever.
Udaya Gammanpila’s intervention does not advance the search for truth. By attacking investigators like Ravi Seneviratne and Shani Abeysekara with factual inaccuracies, and by narrowing the scope of inquiry to avoid institutional accountability, the book serves as a classic exercise in political deflection.
The real mastermind behind the continued lack of closure may not be an individual at all. It may be a system of political convenience where successive leaders prioritise narrative control over the demands of the grieving. Until the investigation is allowed to proceed without political interference and character assassinations, the ghosts of Easter Sunday will continue to haunt Sri Lanka’s conscience. ([email protected])