-By LeN Investigations Editor
(Lanka-e-News -30.June.2025, 9.35 AM) In the hushed corridors of Sri Lanka’s presidential residence—once thought of as a sanctuary of diplomacy and governance—new and disturbing allegations have emerged that point to a culture of unchecked violence during the presidency of Mahinda Rajapaksa. According to whistleblower accounts and preliminary legal petitions now being compiled, over 100 individuals, including senior judges, cabinet ministers, military officers, diplomats, and top-tier businessmen, were physically assaulted inside the walls of Temple Trees—some allegedly for hours on end.
What makes the claims even more explosive is this: a secret video recording exists. And it was reportedly made by one of Rajapaksa’s own sons.
Mahinda Rajapaksa, the once-powerful war-time President of Sri Lanka, is known publicly for his charisma, populist magnetism, and iron-clad grip on power. But behind closed doors, according to those now stepping forward, he may have been something altogether different: a short-tempered autocrat who weaponised his personal anger against those around him.
Insiders now allege that over a span of several years—primarily between 2006 and 2014—dozens of influential Sri Lankans were summoned without prior explanation to the president’s official residence. What awaited them was not a policy discussion or disciplinary review. It was, they claim, a barrage of verbal abuse, physical intimidation, and in many cases, outright violence.
Multiple sources confirm a similar pattern: a call or message from Temple Trees, summoning the individual; arrival at the premises under formal pretenses; and then a scene that might be more at home in a gangster film than a democratic republic.
“He grabbed my shirt collar, slapped me across the face again and again. I remember bleeding from the mouth. He accused me of betrayal, of being ‘ungrateful’,” said one of the alleged victims, a now-retired senior judge who spoke to Lankaenews under strict anonymity.
The alleged victims were not political dissidents or street protestors. They were, astonishingly, members of Sri Lanka’s elite—the very people one might expect to be protected by proximity to power.
Among the names now being compiled for formal submission to the NPP government’s transitional justice commission:
Dhammika Perera, one of Sri Lanka’s wealthiest businessmen, who allegedly endured a "half-hour interrogation-slapping session" over unspecified disagreements regarding state investments.
Milinda Moragoda- Pathfinder Think Tank Founder and Failed diplomat.
Ajith Cabral- Former Governor of the Central Bank
Wijeyadasa Rajapakshe, former Justice Minister and senior legal advisor, reportedly summoned and assaulted during a fallout over judicial independence.
Mervyn Silva, the flamboyant and controversial ex-Minister of Public Relations, apparently struck across the face for an unauthorised TV interview.
Ken Balendran, a Tamil businessman and media executive, reportedly beaten while being grilled about editorial directions.
31 sitting or former MPs, names being held for legal confidentiality.
18 senior judges, including two who went on to serve on the Supreme Court bench.
A prominent Muslim Cabinet Minister from Mannar, reportedly beaten with boxing gloves, used symbolically and physically by the then-President.
A former Foreign Minister and later High Commissioner in London, allegedly hospitalised briefly following the incident.
A geopolitical analyst and former Geneva diplomat, a known commentator on Tamil issues, reportedly "slapped until he collapsed."
“It was about dominance. He needed to feel feared,” said a former intelligence officer now in exile in Switzerland. “No cameras, no media. Just rage. And sometimes, his sons would be in the room.”
The tipping point in this sordid tale may be a grainy but unedited video file—now in the custody of an unnamed legal team. It is said to have been recorded secretly on a mobile phone by one of Rajapaksa’s sons, possibly during an attempt to document or even mock the incident.
Sources close to the investigation suggest that the video shows Rajapaksa berating and striking a well-known former military officer, who remained stoic and did not retaliate. In the corner of the screen, a male voice—believed to be the recording son—laughs quietly, remarking “Appachchi is going full Tyson today.”
Forensics experts are currently verifying the video's authenticity. The video, if proven legitimate, could shift the discourse from rumour to legal liability. It could also place members of the Rajapaksa family under criminal scrutiny.
Why did so few speak out?
One political analyst based in Colombo says, “In Sri Lanka, particularly during the war and immediate post-war years, people feared the Rajapaksas as much as they revered them. There was a mafia-style code of silence. You do not talk about Temple Trees. You don’t question the President’s temper.”
But things are changing.
The leftist-nationalist National People’s Power (NPP) government, elected on a platform of transparency and anti-corruption, has quietly acknowledged receiving a preliminary petition related to the “Temple Trees Assaults.” Internal NPP sources suggest a special committee may be formed to investigate, once more corroborated names and testimonies are collected.
“Government property was used for acts of violence,” said one NPP parliamentarian on condition of anonymity. “This was not a family home. Temple Trees belongs to the people of Sri Lanka. If even 10% of what is alleged here is true, then it is an act of treason against the republic.”
The implications extend beyond criminal assault. If state facilities, security personnel, and logistical budgets were used to facilitate these acts, it would constitute misuse of public funds—potentially violating Sri Lanka’s constitution and the Proceeds of Crime Act now under review by Parliament.
Sri Lanka is undergoing a radical political and institutional shift. With the fall of the Rajapaksa dynasty post-2022 and the emergence of Anura Kumara Dissanayake’s reformist wave, long-suppressed grievances are surfacing.
Lawyers working with NPP-aligned transitional justice platforms say at least 27 victims have begun preparing affidavits. One of them is a decorated Army colonel who was allegedly slapped for disagreeing with a presidential speech draft.
What is emerging is a picture of a presidency that blurred personal rage with public office—a cult of power where opposition was not merely sidelined but physically punished.
A leaked WhatsApp message circulating among legal circles shows a former cabinet member writing: “I thought I was the only one. But now I see there were dozens. We were all battered, humiliated, and silenced. Maybe this is our moment.”
Attempts to reach Mahinda Rajapaksa for comment were unsuccessful. His office did not respond to written queries. However, a senior member of the SLPP (Sri Lanka Podujana Peramuna), speaking off the record, dismissed the allegations as “political theatre.”
“This is a witch hunt. President Rajapaksa was a strong leader. If he raised his voice, it was because people failed him. But this business of slapping ministers? Come on.”
Still, within the SLPP, there are quiet murmurings of discontent. One younger MP was blunt: “It’s time we stop treating leaders like deities. If Mahinda did this, he must be held accountable.”
For the NPP government, the allegations pose a dilemma. Pursuing a full-scale inquiry risks igniting political instability, especially in the south where Rajapaksa loyalty remains potent. But failing to act would damage the government’s anti-corruption and transparency credentials.
Behind closed doors, preparations for a Parliamentary Select Committee on Presidential Misconduct are reportedly underway. And a private citizen's petition to the Supreme Court requesting a Special Presidential Commission has gained over 12,000 signatures in under a week.
In a nation where memory is often selective and accountability elusive, the Temple Trees saga may mark the beginning of something different: a long-overdue confrontation with the invisible violence that props up power.
If true, what happened behind those mahogany doors on Galle Road wasn’t just the unchecked fury of a man in charge. It was the weaponisation of the presidency against the very fabric of the Sri Lankan state.
And the people are finally ready to open the doors.
-By LeN Investigations Editor
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by (2025-06-30 04:08:46)
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