-By LeN Special Correspondent
(Lanka-e-News -24.April.2025, 10.50 PM) In a country where courtrooms see more drama than theatre stages, and where police chiefs moonlight as land brokers, the news that former Colombo Crime Division (CCD) Director Neville Silva had quietly surrendered before the Matara Magistrate’s Court this morning might have gone unnoticed—were it not for the bullet holes, the body, and the baffling cast of characters involved.
Yes, dear reader, buckle up. For this tale features everything that would make even Shakespeare blush—corruption, betrayal, a shooting mistaken for a drug bust, and, as always, a conveniently silent media.
The stage is the Palana area in Weligama. The date: December 31st, 2023. While the nation downed arrack in anticipation of the new year, a gunfight broke out outside the boutique W15 Hotel, a tranquil property known for its ocean views, vegan cocktails, and—now—ballistic residue.
One police sergeant, part of a CCD team allegedly on “official duty,” was killed. But as with all things involving Sri Lanka’s security apparatus, the official version of the truth lasted about as long as a fireworks display.
The CCD team, supposedly conducting a top-secret raid on a supposed “international drug operation,” was—wait for it—mistaken for an underworld hit squad by the local police, who, either due to negligence or heightened intuition, decided to pre-emptively open fire.
If this sounds like a Quentin Tarantino plot written during a toddy-fueled fever dream, that’s because it just might be.
Now, months later, the man at the center of the storm, ex-CCD chief Neville Silva, has emerged from hiding and surrendered to the Matara Magistrate. Silva, who once commanded elite anti-narcotics units, now finds himself facing allegations more befitting a contract killer than a cop.
According to leaked documents and multiple high-level sources within the police, the W15 operation was no noble anti-narcotics raid. It was, in fact, a coordinated hit orchestrated on the orders of none other than then-Minister of Public Security, Tiran Alles, allegedly over a land dispute with the hotel’s owner.
Yes, you read that right.
The whole thing wasn’t about heroin. It was about hectares.
Sources within the Weligama police say the W15 Hotel’s owner had resisted subtle, then not-so-subtle, attempts to “settle” a property dispute with parties connected to Tiran Alles. Allegedly, a tidy sum was demanded to resolve the matter—a demand that was either ignored or refused.
What followed was a military-style “raid” conducted by the CCD under Neville Silva’s direction—allegedly acting on direct instructions from then-Inspector General of Police (IGP), Deshabandu Tennakoon, a man now conveniently enjoying remand custody and temporary amnesia.
To complicate matters, the local police, not briefed about this sudden Colombo-based cowboy raid, thought an underworld gang had arrived to carry out a hit. They responded by opening fire. One CCD officer lay dead, and the rest fled into the Weligama shadows like gangsters in a B-grade teledrama.
So why the silence for so long? Why did Neville Silva only now surrender? Why did the media stay so eerily quiet?
Well, dear reader, Sri Lanka is a country where inconvenient truths are often tied up in red tape, buried beneath bureaucratic concrete, and sprinkled with a heavy dose of “ongoing investigation.”
But when a police chief orchestrates a shootout on behalf of a sitting minister, and that operation results in a cop’s death, one expects more than whispers and whispers-about-whispers.
In the wake of the incident, then-Minister Tiran Alles was summoned by the CID—yes, the very same department that once reported to him. He recorded a six-hour-long statement on March 31st, 2025. We’re told it was "cooperative," "detailed," and—according to one insider—"completely useless."
Insiders also claim that Neville Silva wasn’t acting out of sheer obedience. No, he was allegedly promised a Senior Superintendent of Police (SSP) posting in the Central Province in return for "handling" the W15 matter.
If true, that makes Silva not just a police officer, but a mercenary for hire—a career law enforcer willing to convert a land squabble into a gun battle for a shiny badge and a promotion.
Forget blue uniforms—this one needed a price tag.
And then there’s IGP Deshabandu Tennakoon, who, according to intelligence sources, allegedly greenlit the operation. Tennakoon, whose leadership has been described by former colleagues as "equal parts Machiavelli and Monty Python," is no stranger to controversy.
Now under remand custody, the man once responsible for national security will likely be facing legal grenades in the months to come. Whether he’ll throw Neville under the proverbial bus remains to be seen, but seasoned observers suggest it’s only a matter of time before the inner circle turns into a cage match.
The hotel’s management, meanwhile, has gone full Fort Knox. Security cameras have been turned over to the CID, staff gagged by lawyers, and the front desk now resembles a war bunker.
A hotel once known for romantic weekend escapes has, overnight, become a monument to law enforcement’s ugliest inner workings.
The irony? Guests who were sipping on coconut mojitos while bullets whizzed past now have quite the story to tell.
As things stand, this is less a legal case and more a surrealist painting.
The police are shooting the police.
The IGP is in jail.
A former minister is under investigation.
The media, somehow, still insists it was a routine drug bust gone wrong.
And the man who led the charge just surrendered four months after the incident without as much as a press release.
All roads lead back to the age-old question: who guards the guards when the guards are the ones pulling the trigger?
Tiran Alles, once the poster boy for "tough-on-crime" policy, now finds himself recast as a central villain in this political noir. His silence post-statement speaks volumes. A six-hour interview with the CID and no public comment? That’s not diplomacy—it’s damage control.
The CID, for its part, insists it is “leaving no stone unturned,” which, in Sri Lankan policing lingo, usually means they’ve already picked which stones not to turn.
Justice in Sri Lanka moves slower than a tuk-tuk stuck behind a pilgrimage convoy.
But this case—unlike so many others—has teeth. A dead officer. An international hotel. Multiple high-ranking police implicated. A minister under suspicion. And a public that is, for once, paying attention.
So will Neville Silva sing? Will Tiran Alles be charged? Will the IGP spill secrets from remand?
We can’t say for sure.
But we can say this: in the curious case of the W15 shooting, the real crime may not be the bullets fired—but the silence that followed.
-By LeN Special Correspondent
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by (2025-04-24 17:27:05)
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