The Price of Truth: When Commissions Ignore Natural Justice
On April 30, 2026, the Supreme Court of Mauritius ordered the removal of six specific points from the 2018 Commission of Inquiry on Drug Trafficking’s report. The case involved lawyer Vikash Rampoortab. The Court found that those elements violated the principles of natural justice because Rampoortab had not been given the opportunity to respond to certain claims before they were published.
That judgment is not an isolated incident. It forms part of a broader pattern in which multiple figures have successfully challenged the Commission’s findings, with both the Supreme Court and the Privy Council ruling that portions of the report exceeded legal limits and infringed upon individual rights. The Commission, chaired by former Justice Paul Lam Shang Leen, has become a cautionary tale about what happens when investigative zeal outpaces procedural restraint.
The case of Mrs Roubina Jadoo-Jaunbocus offers another instructive example. She had been accused by the Commission of conducting unsolicited visits to prisoners, acting as an intermediary for drug trafficker Kamasho, and interacting with kingpin Veeren Peroomal. When she filed for judicial review, alleging breaches of natural justice and violations of the Commissions of Inquiry Act, she argued that she was not allowed to cross-examine witnesses or confront the documents used against her. Chief Justice A. Caunhye and Judge N. Devat agreed, finding that the Lam Shang Leen Commission “failed to act in conformity with the rules of natural justice and the requirements of fairness,” and ordered that the relevant paragraph be disregarded.
These reversals raise fundamental questions about the adequacy of current legal frameworks. The courts have been unambiguous: findings that bypass the rules of natural justice cannot stand, regardless of the Commission’s investigative intent or the depth of its work. Natural justice requires that if a Commission intends to make a damaging finding against someone, that person must first be confronted with the specific allegations and the evidence supporting them. This includes the hearing rule, which grants a person the chance to answer the case against them. An individual must receive reasonable notice that an adverse finding might be made, be fully informed of the specific issues, and have the opportunity to give evidence, produce relevant documents, and cross-examine witnesses where appropriate.
By contrast, Commissions have increasingly relied on a procedural defense that proves fragile under judicial scrutiny. When bodies claim they were merely making “comments” or “recommendations for further inquiry,” they argue such statements are generally not open to judicial review. Courts have begun to recognize, however, that when these comments are serious enough to damage a person’s reputation or career, they transcend mere reporting and create what legal scholars call a “stigmatizing effect.” That potential for lasting personal and professional harm triggers the necessity for judicial oversight.
The repeated striking down of findings from the 2018 Commission suggests that, in its pursuit of tackling drug trafficking, the body prioritized expeditious findings and public exposure over the strict procedural safeguards mandated by law. The evidence itself may have been sound. The procedural failures were fatal to the legal standing of the findings.
A compelling case for reform has emerged following the Privy Council’s ruling in Pyaneandee and the Rampoortab judgment. Both decisions underscore that findings impacting an individual’s reputation demand strict adherence to the principles of natural justice, including a formal right of reply prior to the publication of a report. That requirement must be absolute regardless of the Commissioner’s prior judicial background.
Yet even when courts order the removal of derogatory labels such as “Black Sheep” years after a report has been made public, the legal remedy remains incomplete. The harm inflicted by a public, often sensationalized, report is frequently permanent. Once information permeates public consciousness, it becomes nearly impossible to fully expunge the stigma from public opinion. A court order provides vindication in law but cannot fully restore what reputational damage has taken from a professional’s standing.
Judicial review proceedings that clear an applicant’s name in relation to a Commission’s report do not necessarily shield them from other authorities. The Financial Intelligence Unit and the Bar Council retain the power to carry out their own independent investigations if they believe sufficient grounds exist. These statutory bodies operate under their own distinct legal mandates and possess the autonomy to pursue disciplinary or investigative processes, provided they adhere to their own governing statutes and procedural requirements. A judicial review might quash a Commission’s finding based on procedural flaws, but this does not preclude a regulatory body from acting on the underlying facts or separate evidence.
The tension between truth-seeking and procedural fairness remains unresolved. Commissions of Inquiry are indispensable for transparency and the restoration of public confidence, yet they function as potent, non-judicial mechanisms capable of inflicting profound damage on personal, professional, and commercial reputations. Whether Mauritius will reform its legal framework to close the gap between investigative ambition and procedural obligation is the question that the Rampoortab and Jadoo-Jaunbocus judgments have placed squarely before lawmakers.