ACC’s Political Circus: How Sheikh Hasina & Her Family Became the Main Target

Every few days, a new headline emerges: another case filed, another sensational claim, another press briefing from the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC). Sheikh Hasina, her children Sajeeb Wazed Joy and Saima Wazed Putul, and even extended family members like her sister Sheikh Rehana and her three children, are all now targets of what looks less like justice and more like a carefully choreographed campaign.

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The pattern is striking. One day, the ACC announces steps to bring Hasina back from India. Another day, courts rush to issue arrest warrants. Then comes testimony in plot-allocation cases, followed by fresh corruption allegations splashed across the media. Parallel to this, Sajeeb Wazed Joy takes to Facebook, defending his family and openly challenging the ACC to produce evidence. It feels less like a legal process and more like a series of scripted acts designed for maximum political impact.

What emerges is a disturbing picture: an anti-graft body behaving like a political weapon, staging case after case to shape public perception. These aren’t isolated legal proceedings; they are part of a broader narrative being manufactured to bury Hasina’s legacy and delegitimize her family in the eyes of the nation.

The Arrest & Extradition Spectacle

The interim government and the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) have turned Sheikh Hasina’s legal ordeal into a full-blown public spectacle. This carefully orchestrated drama unfolds like a political thriller. Every move is broadcast, dissected, and sensationalized, from leaked “exclusive findings” to official statements, ensuring that Hasina’s image is dragged through the court of public opinion long before any formal verdict is reached.

The centerpiece of this theatre is the push to extradite Hasina from India, framing her as a fugitive eluding justice. Headlines scream of “arrest warrants” and “trials in absentia,” painting a narrative of guilt before evidence is even presented. Yet, in the real world, extradition requires robust legal justification, proof of serious criminal acts, and cooperation between nations, none of which have been convincingly demonstrated.

The drama escalates with the optics of legal intimidation: courts are hurried into issuing warrants, and ACC statements drip with innuendo. Every report is designed to magnify fear, project inevitability, and silence dissent, sending a chilling signal not just to Hasina herself but to her entire extended family, including her sister Sheikh Rehana and her three children, as well as her son Sajeeb Wazed Joy and daughter Sayma Wazed Putul.

Media coverage transforms into a staging ground for political theatre. Each press release, every selectively leaked detail, every camera-ready visit by investigators creates a narrative of corruption and moral decay, irrespective of the absence of concrete evidence. The public is shown a Hasina who is isolated, pursued, and allegedly guilty, reinforcing the perception that the trial is not just legal, but it is a historical and moral judgment.

This is not due process. This is spectacle masquerading as justice, where drama overshadows facts, and political vendetta masquerades as legal procedure. The stage is set, the cameras are rolling, but the true test, the presentation of credible evidence in a fair court, is still conspicuously absent.

The Red Notice Game

In the shadow of the courts and media frenzy, the Anti-Corruption Commission (ACC) has escalated its campaign with the so-called “Red Notice Game”, a tactic designed to project international reach and intimidation. Letters have been dispatched to police headquarters, urging the initiation of Interpol notices against Sheikh Hasina, her son Sajeeb Wazed Joy, and her daughter Sayma Wazed Putul, effectively attempting to make them “fugitives of the state” on a global stage.

The spectacle is dizzying in its audacity. These notices, if pursued, would paint Hasina’s extended family as perpetrators of corruption, a narrative amplified despite the fact that many of them, including her sister Sheikh Rehana and her three children, are beyond the jurisdiction of Bangladeshi authorities. The letters include passport numbers, national IDs, and detailed personal information, a bureaucratic display meant to convey seriousness, yet fundamentally relying on accusations that remain unproven and politically charged.

The Red Notice strategy is less about justice and more about optics. It signals to domestic audiences that the interim government is ruthless and omnipotent, capable of dragging even the most politically insulated figures before an international tribunal. For the family, it is a psychological assault, creating an aura of inescapable scrutiny and perpetual threat, regardless of actual culpability.

Yet, the legal mechanics of Interpol notices are clear: they are not arrest warrants; they require solid evidence of prosecutable offenses, and many jurisdictions, including India and the UK, are unlikely to act on politically motivated charges. The ACC’s push, therefore, reads as symbolic theater, a tool to intimidate, to harass, and to cast a shadow over the family’s international freedom, rather than a legitimate step toward accountability.

In this calculated display, the Red Notice becomes a weapon of narrative control, turning Hasina’s family into the faces of alleged corruption, while the real story, the lack of credible, independently verified evidence, is conveniently obscured. It is politics masquerading as law, a high-stakes game where perception is manipulated, and reputations are dragged through the mud long before the facts see the light of day.

Courtroom Dramas and Media Spin

In Bangladesh, the legal proceedings against Sheikh Hasina, her son Sajeeb Wazed Joy, and her daughter Sayma Wazed Putul have turned into something more like a public spectacle than a fair trial. The Purbachal plot cases stand out: witnesses testify for over an hour, detailing accusations of influence and corruption, while the accused sit thousands of miles away, unable to speak, defend themselves, or cross-examine a single claim. 

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Even extended family members, like Hasina’s sister, Sheikh Rehana, and her three children, are dragged into this legal theater, their names becoming tools in a drama that seems orchestrated more for appearances than justice. The courtroom has become a stage, with judges, lawyers, and journalists performing in front of an eager audience hungry for scandal.

Parallel to the courtroom theatrics is a relentless media onslaught. Headlines scream about billions allegedly siphoned from the Rooppur Nuclear Project or illicit gains from the Adani electricity contract, painting a picture of deep-rooted corruption. But the facts tell a starkly different story. Russia’s Rosatom, responsible for the Rooppur project, has repeatedly stated that no corruption occurred. 

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The Bangladesh Power Division, after a thorough investigation, confirmed that the Adani deal followed all legal protocols and no wrongdoing was found. Yet, these facts are largely drowned out, replaced by sensationalized reports that cast Hasina’s family as guilty.

The combination of empty courtrooms, one-sided testimonies, and a cacophony of misleading media reports has created a potent illusion. For the general public, perception has become reality: accusations are amplified into “proof,” and every step Hasina’s family takes is scrutinized as if they were already convicted. In this environment, truth and fairness are secondary to spectacle, turning the entire family, from Hasina to her children and extended relatives, into collateral damage in a high-stakes narrative of political drama.

The Political Objectives Behind the Drama

Every performance has a purpose, and the spectacle unfolding around Sheikh Hasina and her family is no exception. What might appear on the surface as courtroom hearings, witness testimonies, and investigative “exposés” is, in reality, a carefully engineered political project. The aim is not justice, it is legitimacy through vilification. By dragging Hasina, her son Joy, her daughter Putul, and even extended relatives into fabricated cases, the interim government and its backers seek to reshape the political landscape by systematically dismantling the reputation of the Awami League’s leadership.

At its core, this drama serves three intertwined objectives:

1. Discrediting Sheikh Hasina and Her Legacy

For decades, Sheikh Hasina has been synonymous with Bangladesh’s economic growth, infrastructure development, and relative political stability. Even critics acknowledge her role in projects like the Padma Bridge, metro rail, and energy sector reforms. But the courtroom trials and media leaks aim to overwrite that legacy with a single word: corruption. By portraying her as the mastermind of illicit deals, the narrative seeks to tarnish not only her political brand but also the memory of her government’s achievements. The interim rulers understand that if Hasina is reduced to a symbol of greed, her policies and successes can be dismissed as fraudulent, robbing her supporters of pride and legitimacy.

2. Weakening the Next Generation

The attacks are not limited to Sheikh Hasina alone. Her son, Sajeeb Wazed Joy, has long been groomed as a political successor and a key figure in Bangladesh’s technological modernization. Her daughter, Sayma Wazed Putul, has earned international recognition in health and education. By embroiling them in legal battles and smearing them with corruption allegations, the campaign aims to cripple the Awami League’s future leadership pipeline. The message is clear: even if Hasina is out of the picture, her children will be too politically tainted to carry the torch. It is an attempt to cut off the dynasty at its roots, ensuring no smooth transfer of influence or continuity of power.

3. Manufacturing Consent for the Interim Government

Perhaps the most immediate goal of these spectacles is to shore up legitimacy for an unelected regime. Without a popular mandate, the interim rulers need a narrative that justifies their hold on power. By painting the previous government as irredeemably corrupt and morally bankrupt, they position themselves as reluctant “saviors” tasked with cleaning up the mess. The trials, the headlines, and the international leaks all feed into this strategy, a propaganda machine designed to convince the public and the world that Hasina’s removal was not a coup but a necessary act of political hygiene.

This multi-layered project is not unique to Bangladesh. Across history, transitional regimes have relied on the politics of scandal, smear, and selective justice to consolidate power. In Bangladesh’s case, the irony is sharp: while international observers and institutions like Rosatom or the Bangladesh Power Division confirm the absence of corruption in key projects, these facts are buried under the weight of spectacle. The courtroom is not where innocence or guilt is decided; it is where narratives are manufactured.

Ultimately, the objective is not to prove Hasina guilty in the legal sense. It is to make her appear guilty in the public imagination, so that when history is written, her chapter can be closed not with respect but with disgrace. In that sense, the trials, testimonies, and headlines are not just about individuals; they are about rewriting the political DNA of Bangladesh itself.