She wasn't handcuffed. Yet, she was indeed guarded by hordes of police personnel all the time: from custody to court. Following an overnight stay in custody, she was taken to court with a "guard of dishonour" and then hauled on to a prison van to jail on Tuesday.

But who's this woman, one of the most wanted criminals? No. She is Rozina Islam, a competent reporter from the country's leading Bangla daily, Prothom Alo. Then, why was a journalist treated like a dangerous criminal?

From the footage and cell-phone clicks going viral in the social media, we saw her get harassed, fainted and continue to stay confined for nearly six hours at the Secretariat by government staffers. What grievous crime Rozina could commit to be roughed up this way? We were told, she tried to "steal" information from the health ministry, which is at the centre of public interest information during the ongoing pandemic.

A journalist was being hounded like a criminal over her attempt to collect information. Seriously? Any attempt by journalists to get hold of information is not a crime but an act of courageous journalism. The sole purpose behind this courageous effort is to inform the people and their representatives in public offices. And, journalists' dig at information is made lawful by Article 39 of the constitution. Having been safeguarded by the constitution, they use this freedom of expression to help fight corruption and injustices, and reveal what those in corridors of power want to hide. So, it's not reporters but their harassers who should be put in the dock.

The intention of the government machinery is quite apparent: suppress the flow of information to media outlets, at any cost. The Official Secrets Act of 1923 and the Digital Security Act of 2018 are ready to be used against journalists to stem the flow of information. In addition to the laws, the government order on public servants "say nothing to media" is also in full force. If the flow of public interest information is choked, it's only natural for journalists to try desperate methods. Possibly, that's the case with Rozina.

In an independent Bangladesh, Rozina became the first victim of the colonial-era law, enacted by then British rulers of undivided India to tackle so-called spying by people. Hopefully, Rozina will come out of jail on bail soon and eventually prove to the court how ridiculous the spying charge was against her.

Sadly, this outrageous action has already served the purpose of the government apparatus. The Rozina ordeal is now left burnt in the brains of all reporters on the field. It will start to replay at the back of every reporters' mind, every time they step on to any public office, be it at the Secretariat or in the countryside, for information. They will invariably recall what's happened to Rozina: journalist can be labelled as a spy, dumped into jail and made to face trial for espionage.

Journalists are like messengers. Through their critical news and views, they only try to inform the democracies, governments and societies about the ills in states so that those could be fixed. And Rozina is none but a messenger. Care to recall what messages, through her reports, Rozina has sent out to the people and the government? Flip through the headlines that her reports made over months into the pandemic: ৩৫০ কোটি টাকার জরুরী কেনাকাটায় অনিয়ম (Irregularities in Tk 350 crore urgent purchase); 'এখন এক কোটি দেব, পরে আরো দেবো' (Give 1 crore taka now, will give you more later); উৎপাদনের নয়, রাশিয়ার সঙ্গে চুক্তিটি গোপনীয়তার (Not of production, deal with Russia of confidentiality); কিটের ঘাটতি নিয়ে দুই রকম তথ্য (Two different information on kit dearth); পড়ে আছে জীবন রক্ষাকারী সামগ্ৰী (Life-saving equipment lying unused); স্বাস্থ্যমন্ত্রী অফিস করেন না (Health minister doesn't attend office) etc.

It goes without saying, all of those are huge public interest stories, and the responsibility for corruption and irregularities lies with one specific public office, the health ministry where Rozina had gone again to glean the latest information. She should have been fully aware of the fact that her disclosures made a lot of the corrupt at the ministry hostile to her. Yet, she went there as she was obligated to make public the public interest stories.

Indeed, a law -- জনস্বার্থ সংশ্লিষ্ট তথ্য প্রকাশ (সুরক্ষা প্রদান) আইন, ২০১১ (the Public Interest

Information Disclosure Act (Provide Protection), 2011) -- was right there to provide safety for Rozina's endeavour. That law should have been seen by the bureaucrats and law-enforcers involved before treating her as a criminal. Ironically, laws seem to be used or abused always by the people in power, at their convenience. But Rozina, her family, the media outlet she works for or the journalists' unions she belongs to are entitled to sue the government staffers involved on charges of assault, harassment or even defamation.

Journalism is not a crime but courage. As an investigative journalist, Rozina showed her courage. Rather, it's the government machinery that committed a crime: it shot a messenger. It turned its back on centuries old wisdom: don't shoot the messenger.