He was released under strict bail conditions that forbade him from interacting with the media. A month later, Suni consented to be interviewed by me.
Towards the end of our first brief phone call, he calmly added, “If by any chance word gets out that I spoke to you, it won’t just be bad for me but for you as well. Don’t misunderstand me, it is a threat.”
Over the next thirteen months, Suni spoke to me over multiple phone calls and four in-person meetings. This was the first — and so far, only — time he consented on record to provide a detailed account of his role in the assault to a journalist.
The only other time Suni spoke with the media was in April 2025 when Reporter TV, a Malayalam TV channel conducted a sting operation on him.
When I asked him why he had spoken to a TV journalist, Suni said he was aware of the conversation being recorded all along, but didn’t think it would be immediately telecast. It was hard to tell if Suni was being honest, or if he was simply embarrassed about being caught on camera.
During our conversations, he admitted to his crime in no uncertain terms. He had abducted Gayathri. He had used the phone — the one he refused to speak about — to record eight clips of himself sexually assaulting her. And, he claimed, he had done this on the instructions of the man who hired him: Dileep.
But this is where Suni’s contradictions lie. In court, he has denied any role in the conspiracy and refused to reveal details of the plot or the money trail, ultimately weakening the case.
While speaking to us, Suni consented to be repeatedly interviewed for a text story. But on camera, he refused to say the same things.
When we first met in October 2024, he did not want to get into details of the crime. He was yet to give his statement in court and insisted that he planned on being honest with the judge.
His yoga teacher in jail, he claimed, had changed his life. He said his practice taught him to “start telling the truth.” His lawyer, he added, was not pleased.
Days later, he appeared before the judge, swore under oath, and lied.
He told the court that he wasn’t even in the car with Gayathri when she was assaulted but had been aware of a conspiracy to attack her. He admitted to being in touch with Dileep, and said he often worked for the actor’s wife and friends.
“In court, you can only speak like that,” he said casually, when I asked why he had lied so blatantly.
Over the course of one year, in Suni I met a man fuelled by a life of crime — restless to talk about it, and eager to be liked.
“Abducting someone is not a big deal. It’s like picking up a chicken from the street. There’s no real risk,” he once said, grinning.
Conversations with him offered me not just a glimpse into the mind of an unrepentant criminal, but also exposed how his chilling confidence was enabled by the Malayalam film industry.
That is precisely what makes Suni’s world view indispensable to understanding this case. Our interviews revealed more than just the contours of the crime he was hired to commit; they also opened a window into the world that made such a man possible.
