Summary of this article
The Bengal STF and local police units conducted raids across Bihar and Uttar Pradesh
As the suspects' vehicle crossed the Bally Nivedita Setu, a digital transaction left a permanent mark.
Suspect’s lawyer says he was nowhere near ambush site, claiming that CCTV footage from his residence shows the suspect at home
The narrow lanes of Madhyamgram usually hum with the rhythmic life of North 24 Parganas, but right after Bengal Election Results, that rhythm was shattered by a clinical, 50-second ambush. Chandranath Rath, known to many as the quiet, efficient personal assistant to BJP leader and the new Chief Minister of Bengal, Suvendu Adhikari, was shot dead outside his house. As the Bengal Police’s Special Investigation Team (SIT) cast its net across state lines, the investigation has morphed into a high-stakes drama spanning from the banks of the Hooghly to the holy city of Ayodhya.
The Dragnet Moves West
The manhunt for Rath’s killers did not stop at the Bengal border. In a coordinated strike, the Bengal STF and local police units conducted raids across Bihar and Uttar Pradesh. The operations yielded three suspects: Mayank Raj Mishra, Vicky Maurya, and Raj Singh. While Mishra and Maurya were intercepted in Buxar, Raj Singh was arrested in Ayodhya.
Police sources describe Singh not just as a suspect, but as the alleged "sharpshooter" behind the murder. To investigators, he represents a growing trend of "contract commerce" where violence is outsourced across state lines to mask local motives.
Digital Fingerprint at Toll Plaza
The breakthrough for the SIT came not from an informant, but from a UPI toll payment. As the suspects' vehicle crossed the Bally Nivedita Setu to enter Kolkata, a digital transaction left a permanent mark.
Special public prosecutor Bivas Chatterjee revealed that while the SIM card used for the payment was registered to one individual, it was being operated from a different handset—a classic attempt to obfuscate one’s trail that ultimately served as the breadcrumb for the police. This digital footprint, combined with mobile tower analysis showing two UP-based numbers active near the crime scene, allowed the SIT to triangulate the suspects hundreds of miles away.
The Alibi of the Lens
However, as the three men were remanded to police custody until May 24, a counter-narrative emerged from a Ballia district court. Raj Singh’s lawyer, Harivant Singh, has challenged the police's "sharpshooter" theory. The lawyer insists that Singh was nowhere near the ambush site, claiming that CCTV footage from Singh’s own residence shows him at home on April 4, 5, and 6—the very window when the murder was executed.
This sets the stage for a classic courtroom battle: the "hard" evidence of mobile tower pings and digital payments versus the "visual" evidence of a home security camera. For the family of Chandranath Rath, these legal technicalities are secondary to the void left by his absence. For the police, the pressure is on to unmask the masterminds who remained in the shadows while the alleged shooters did the work.
More Than a Political Footnote
While the headlines focus on Rath’s proximity to Suvendu Adhikari, those who knew him describe a man caught in the crossfire of a volatile political landscape. As the CID moves to add sections related to the destruction of evidence, the investigation is peeling back layers of a deeper conspiracy.
Whether Raj Singh is the professional assassin the police claim him to be, or a man wrongly identified by a digital ghost, remains for the Barasat court to decide. For now, the "fifty-second ambush" has left a permanent stain on the quiet neighbourhood of Madhyamgram, proving once again that in the digital age, no one—guilty or innocent—ever truly walks alone.
The Common Misconception
The arrest of a suspected hired gun from the heart of Uttar Pradesh has turned the local political narrative on its head. For days, the tea stalls and street corners of Madhyamgram were thick with a familiar, weary suspicion. In the hyper-polarised atmosphere of Bengal, the immediate instinct was to point toward the Trinamool Congress. To many, the cold efficiency of the hit bore the hallmarks of the state’s long-standing "political revenge" trope—a story of a local aide silenced by the machinery of an entrenched ruling party. The grieving family and BJP colleagues did not just lose a friend; they inherited a ready-made script of state-sponsored intimidation that seemed to fit the grim reality of the 50-second ambush perfectly.
However, as the digital trail led the SIT toward the dusty highways of Buxar and the religious skyline of Ayodhya, that convenient script began to fray. The revelation that the alleged trigger-pullers were contract killers from outside the state has introduced a far more chilling and complex human element to the tragedy. It suggests that Chandranath Rath wasn't just a casualty of a local political skirmish, but perhaps a target in a more professional, outsourced vendetta that bypassed the local cadre entirely. For the residents who expected a predictable tale of local "TMC Vs BJP" violence, the truth is proving harder to digest: the horror didn't come from a neighbour with a grudge, but from strangers who travelled hundreds of miles, paid for their tolls via UPI, and vanished back into the vastness of their own state leaving a family to wonder who truly signed the order for their loss.
Search for Mastermind continues
While the arrest of the alleged sharpshooters provides a sense of progress, it leaves the most vital question unanswered: “Who paid for the hit?” By shifting the focus away from the local political "usual suspects" to hired mercenaries, the masterminds have created a layer of insulation that is difficult to pierce. Until the SIT can bridge the gap between the men who pulled the trigger and the person who signed the check, closure for Rath’s family remains elusive.
