-The Five-Day “SECRECT Mission ” To Verify A Letter
(Lanka-e-News -18.Nov.2025, 8.35 PM) In the latest episode of Sri Lanka’s political tragicomedy—part thriller, part circus—the Criminal Investigation Department (CID) has reportedly packed their suitcases, polished their shoes, secured their per diems, and jetted off to the United Kingdom to verify what might be the most expensive piece of paper in Sri Lankan history: the infamous University of Wolverhampton invitation letter issued to former President Ranil Wickremesinghe.
The CID team—consisting of an Assistant Superintendent of Police, a squad of Chief Inspectors, and a couple of junior officers who no doubt felt this was the closest thing to a foreign scholarship they would ever receive—flew out earlier this week on a five-day official mission. Their target? Former Sri Lankan High Commissioner to London, Saroja Sirisena.(in picture)
The mission: To verify a letter that could have been checked by email.
For months, murmurs have circulated within Colombo’s political corridors that the Wolverhampton invitation was not merely a ceremonial nicety but perhaps the central axis of a 16.6-million-rupee foreign junket disguised as state business. That Ranil Wickremesinghe—proud owner of the “shortest presidency in post-war Sri Lanka”—might have stretched the definition of official work is hardly shocking. But that the CID has now effectively treated London like Negombo and embarked on what resembles a diplomatic pickup operation has caused eyebrows to shoot up across the political spectrum.
The investigation has become a symbolic theatre of state power: legal, political, and bureaucratic actors hurling procedural books at each other—while the public watches, bemused, wondering whether this is justice, revenge, or simply another episode of state-funded tourism.
At the centre of this unfolding drama stands Saroja Sirisena, Sri Lanka’s former chief diplomat in London. When Wickremesinghe visited the UK in 2023 to supposedly attend the Wolverhampton convocation, Sirisena was the High Commissioner. She witnessed everything from the arrival, to the protocol arrangements, to the infamous invitation letter allegedly prepared at breakneck speed.
The CID has now summoned her to the Sri Lanka High Commission in London—ironically the same building where she once presided with ambassadorial dignity—to record a full statement on her role in facilitating the visit.
While Sirisena remains in the UK for personal reasons following the end of her diplomatic tenure, sources say she was “surprised but not shocked” by the sudden emergence of CID officers in London. Given Sri Lanka’s political mood, former officials have learned to expect the unexpected: today an investigation, tomorrow a medal, next week an accusation.
As one insider put it:
“If you’ve served as a diplomat under any Sri Lankan government in the last thirty years, you should keep your passport ready, a lawyer on speed dial, and your files in a fireproof cabinet.”
The September 2023 visit to London—ostensibly for Ranil Wickremesinghe to attend a Wolverhampton University event—has always attracted curiosity. Photographs from the event were sparse. The itinerary was murky. And the level of state expense seemed grossly disproportionate to what many critics argue was a glorified graduation ceremony, no different from the countless convocations Sri Lankan parents attend every year armed with flowers and smartphones.
Yet, in the version submitted to the Treasury and Cabinet, the trip took on the weight of an official international engagement—complete with security, accommodation at premium London rates, entourage support, and assorted protocol requirements.
It quickly emerged that Ranil’s wife, Professor R. Wickremesinghe, was reportedly offered a position during the same visit. Whether this was academic, ceremonial, honorary, or a polite gesture remains a point of contention.
The CID now wants Saroja Sirisena to explain:
Who issued the invitation?
Was it officially endorsed?
Were diplomatic channels used appropriately?
Did the High Commission authenticate the event?
And was the President’s trip, in fact, a personal visit dressed up in official garb?
These are not trivial questions. And 16.6 million rupees is not small change—even for a state machinery accustomed to hemorrhaging public funds like a leaking petrol tank.
The Wolverhampton saga burst into life earlier this year when the CID arrested Ranil Wickremesinghe—an unprecedented spectacle for a former President who once commanded both Parliament and state machinery with clinical precision.
He was remanded, released, and continues to maintain that the trip was fully legitimate and approved by necessary authorities. According to his supporters, the investigation is nothing more than a political vendetta—an attempt by opponents to tarnish a former Head of State.
But the CID insists the case is built on solid financial grounds: the misappropriation of 16.6 million rupees in public funds for a trip with no demonstrable state benefit. They also allege that the official justification for the trip—the Wolverhampton invitation—was either partially fabricated, improperly endorsed, or manipulated to create an impression of official necessity.
The investigation has become a litmus test of Sri Lanka’s broader battle with institutional corruption: is the law genuinely being applied, or merely deployed selectively?
For ordinary citizens, the case resonates far beyond Wolverhampton. It taps into a larger frustration:
Billions lost in bond scams
Millions siphoned through state enterprises
Perpetual foreign junkets disguised as diplomacy
And political leaders who behave as though public funds are an extension of their personal wallets
So when a former President is hauled to court over a 16.6-million-rupee trip, many see it as a symbolic breaking point. A message—finally—that misuse of funds will not be ignored.
But others see a darker pattern: the weaponisation of law enforcement against political rivals, a rewind to old tactics used by government after government.
The CID’s sudden enthusiasm, the unauthorised foreign travel, and the apparent rush to pin responsibility all suggest that something more than legal principle may be at play.
As news of the CID’s London operation broke, phones across Colombo were buzzing as if the entire capital had been transformed into a digital fish market.
WhatsApp groups—ranging from retired diplomats to senior police officers to Ranil loyalists—were awash with speculation:
“Is the invitation real or fake?”
“Who signed it?”
“Was the High Commission pressured?”
“Why did five officers travel?”
“Is this the new foreign study tour for police officers?”
“Is this the government’s latest reality show?”
From the tone of these messages, one thing is clear: the CID’s London trip has become a national talking point.
Multiple sources close to the High Commission paint a more complex picture.
One senior diplomat (retired), familiar with how invitations are usually handled, remarked:
“If a university invites a Head of State, it follows strict protocol. A letter alone is not enough. There is diplomatic correspondence, verification, and scheduling. Everything is documented. If such documentation does not exist, it raises serious questions.”
Another insider suggested:
“There were concerns at the time about the speed at which arrangements were pushed through. The High Commission was not fully briefed. It looked like a private visit nudging itself into official territory.”
A police source, meanwhile, offered this gem:
“We are only following instructions. Where those instructions came from, please ask someone above my pay grade.”
Classic Sri Lankan institutional honesty.
Once the CID records Saroja Sirisena’s statement, the next steps could include:
verifying communication between Wolverhampton University and the Sri Lankan High Commission
examining the authenticity, authorship, and delivery of the invitation
tracing who approved the President’s expenditure
identifying whether any officials facilitated misrepresentation
and determining whether the trip was personal, official, or something awkwardly in-between
Depending on her testimony, the investigation could widen dramatically—pulling in officials at the Foreign Ministry, Treasury, Presidential Secretariat, and even Wolverhampton University.
If evidence supports the CID’s allegations, Ranil Wickremesinghe may have to face extended legal proceedings. If the evidence collapses, the entire episode could backfire on the investigators and their political patrons.
For now, the country sits back and watches, bemused. A nation battling inflation, unemployment, debt restructuring, and collapsing institutions is once again captivated by a saga involving foreign travel, political theatrics, and an expensive letter.
The irony is hard to miss:
A nation that once dreamed of becoming Asia’s Singapore is now watching five CID officers fly to London to investigate a single letter from a university, Inorder to provide furthur evidence to Judiciary.
And as the CID officers prepare to grill Saroja Sirisena in London for few dya, , one truth remains:
In Sri Lanka, no scandal is ever too small to become a national crisis—and no national crisis is ever too small to become a political war.
-By A Special Correspondent
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by (2025-11-18 15:06:54)
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