It makes complete sense that a maker of horror films has made a docu-series on the 2020 Hathras gang-rape case. Raised in the UK, Patrick Graham has worked in Hindi films since 2010, and has previously directed Ghoul (2018) and Betaal (2020). Both horror shows, with strong socio-political subtext, it’s only sensible that such a filmmaker is trusted to recount the events from the horrific fortnight from 2020. Produced by Docu-Bay, Hathras 16 Days is a rare show on Indian streaming that appears to be questioning political powers running the country. While the story itself is grisly and heart-wrenching – one’s involuntary instinct might be to applaud the show for merely existing – it’s crucial to also break down its filmmaking choices. Told across three dense-but-briskly paced episodes of about 35 mins each, the show covers the crime, the law-enforcement and justice systems’ reaction to it, and then elaborates on why the case became a flashpoint in the discourse about a society teeming with caste pride, misogyny and an unyielding social status-quo that preys and disregards the wishes of the vulnerable. For the uninitiated, on September 14, 2020, a 19-year-old Dalit girl was gang-raped in broad daylight in Uttar Pradesh’s Hathras. Brutalised by four men using a dupatta, according to what would become the victim’s dying statement, her spinal cord was severely damaged. As per the account of the victim’s father and brother, when they took her to the local police, they refused to write an FIR. By the time the police did write the FIR, six days had passed – and the medical examination took place eight days after the incident. And that too, because the story spread like wildfire after the Bhim Army and its co-founder Chandrashekhar Azad got involved. They demanded she be transferred from Aligarh, where she was being treated, to the superior facilities at AIIMS, Delhi.After this, a series of confounding choices were made, casting a cloud over the intent of the local and state administration. Instead of AIIMS, she was transferred to Safdarjung Hospital, also in Delhi. Within 24 hours of her transfer, she was declared dead. Her parents were informed after the victim passed away alone on the hospital bed, shortly after they were asked to vacate the room. The family and the Bhim Army’s demands of a second postmortem report, to be conducted by a panel of doctors, was denied. Even though it’s mandated by the law for the hospital to hand over the body to the family/next of kin, such a thing didn’t happen in this case. The family wasn’t allowed to see the body of the victim — citing a ‘law and order’ situation. As the unrest outside the hospital grew, the administration sneaked the body out without informing the parents, and sent it on its way back to the victim’s village in Hathras.All of the above is covered in the first episode of the series, with the incident given a true-crime treatment. The format is instantly recognisable: talking heads ranging from the victim’s family, local police and journalists who covered the incident are interviewed. Dramatic recreations of the day are spliced into these interviews, and the result is a functional film that keeps the proceedings grounded. Graham and his crew stick to the basics, accumulating perspectives without necessarily transcending the medium. However, the incident itself is so shocking, cruel and dehumanising on several levels, that it might be impossible to be unmoved by its telling. Once reports of the incident reach the victim’s village, things get more incredulous. The victim’s family is ‘ordered’ to take the body directly to the cremation ground. When the family insists they’d like to take the body to their home first for mourning rituals, the police officials including Additional Director General of Uttar Pradesh Police Prashant Kumar (also interviewed here) is seen bullying the victim’s family – growling at the victim’s father after “agreeing” on their way from Delhi to Hathras. Another constable says “traditions and customs change with times” — when the family insists the cremation takes place in the morning. When the cops try to force the family to the cremation ground, first the victim’s mother lays down in front of the ambulance, asking them to drive over her corpse too. Later, when the father locked himself and the family inside his house — the cops did the unthinkable. They took the body to the cremation ground and burned it, without the family present.According to the witnesses privy to the events of the case, this was seen as a night where a country’s caste-coded apathy was unmasked. A young girl violated, assaulted, denied access to basic police redressal, medical facilities, and then the ultimate indignity — where her loved ones weren’t allowed to mourn and bid adieu to in a respectful way. The visual of the body being cremated far behind police barricades, laid bare the ugly face of India’s casteism. Would this have happened to someone from a so-called dominant caste? The cops and government officials, likely acting on the orders of the higher-ups, seemed like they were swatting a fly – almost projecting their annoyance at the crime and the media coverage it had generated.The series manages something nifty by painting this as a ‘new India’ phenomenon, given the sheer impunity with which the Adityanath government acted – distancing journalists from the victim’s residence; man-handling opposition leaders like Rahul Gandhi, Priyanka Gandhi Vadra, who tried to visit the family; the arrest of journalist Siddique Kappan near Mathura while he was on his way to report on the incident; the blatant lies, with cops like ADG Prashant Kumar claiming on record that the family was present at the cremation and there were pictures to prove it, something the parents and the victim’s family have continuously denied in more than one report. And then the complete lack of accountability, where only cosmetic changes (like a cop being transferred) were done. The legal manoeuvering proved this wasn’t a sexual assault at all, but a violent scuffle between two adults. Only one of the four accused named by the victim in her dying statement, was tried. The casual misogyny of the accused’s father and lawyer is something we’ve grown accustomed to watching in such documentaries, but it never ceases to be chilling. Especially, when the father confidently says something to the tune of how this incident was a result of a love affair gone awry. Or when the lawyer smirks while saying women (almost reflexively) report fake rape cases these days.As a journalism student, I was often torn about one’s dharma to record injustice, rather than stopping it when it’s taking place in front of your eyes. Ten years later, I know better. And after having seen Hathras 16 Days, primarily emanating from the work of journalists (including Tanushree Pandey, who is an executive producer here), I might have a definite answer. As a cold, calculative and cruel system operated in the dead of the night to dispose of this ‘case’ as swiftly as they could, the witnesses didn’t stand around doing nothing. They recorded evidence of the system’s apathy. It’s because of news reports that this documentary series exists. This might not do enough to jolt a nation out of its trance, but it will tell/remind some more viewers about what actually happened. At a time when it’s easier to be numbed by the sheer volume of injustice around us – remembering might mean resisting.*All episodes of ‘Hathras 16 Days’ are streaming on Zee5