Defense statement that was read by two anarchists who are defendants in last August’s riot case. They are currently awaiting the final verdict and sentencing. The plea has been printed and distributed here in Indonesia on the streets, including outside the court. The statements were also distributed at Homicide and Balcony gig (hardcore bands) in Bandung. Naufal and Adit have projected sentences of 2 years, 6 months, but it has not been confirmed yet by the judge. Adit already received 6 months for being an admin of Black Bloc Zone, he has further trials for burning a police station and for burning the Indonesian flag. Free the prisoners. Palang Hitam.
Pleidoi or defense plea of Naufal
To the Honorable Panel,
First, allow me to defend myself regarding the treatment I received from the police and the prosecutor’s legal assessment of my actions. This is a summary of the ordeal I endured from arrest to the present.
On 4 September 2025 at approximately 11 a.m., about 10 individuals approached me. They interrogated me about my actions, initially stating they would not detain me. After I admitted them, I was forced into a vehicle: my neck was choked, my head struck near the temple, I was handcuffed, and taken to Polda Jabar.
Upon arrival at the Criminal Investigation Building, I was seated on a sofa. I saw my friend Aditya with his head wrapped in duct tape. A person—identified as the Densus 88 commander—approached me, ordered me to stand, and asked, “You’re an anarchist, right?” Before I could answer, he punched my stomach hard, threw me back onto the sofa, and kicked the back of my head four times with his hard sandals. I was forced to stand with hands raised, threatened with further beatings if I lowered them.
Subsequent BAP sessions involved physical and psychological violence: head beatings with sandals, firearm threats, shouting, and intense stares. One session lasted four days and four nights without rest. I tried to correct inaccurate BAP statements—that the Molotov cocktails wrapped with firecrackers failed to ignite or cause damage, only breaking the bottles—but received threats like “If I’d seen you at the demo, I’d have killed you,” accompanied by pistol display and sandal strikes to my head.
I view this treatment and the mismatched BAP records as coercion—physical, mental, and psychological. I signed under duress.
During the trial, several irregularities stand out:
– The indictment is inaccurate: the six Molotov cocktails I threw at the DPRD gate DID NOT IGNITE, BURN, OR EXPLODE. I only targeted the gate.
– Arrest witnesses falsely claimed no violence occurred, despite the beatings I suffered, and provided incomplete, inaccurate evidence.
– They listed seized items as an iPhone, trousers, and shoes. In reality: Xiaomi Mi A1 (black), dark blue jeans, black-and-white Vans shoes, a Master CD (missing), stickers (pasted in the investigator’s room), and a transparent phone case (missing).
The events of 29 August 2025 were an outburst of distress, anger, and resentment toward a government that responded brutally to DPRD allowance increases, Affan’s death under police armored vehicle, similar cases involving Randi, Yusuf, Gama, the Kanjuruhan tragedy (135+ lives lost), and forced evictions in Bara Baraya, Dago Elos, Taman Sari, Sukahaji, and elsewhere.
From arrest to unreasonable demands, justice has never favored people like me and my friends.
If justice truly exists, I demand the fairest possible outcome. Whether acknowledged or dismissed as mere words in this courtroom, I ask: Why is damage to state property deemed more important than the taking of a human life?
In closing, I do not regret my actions—shared by all who participated amid the same distress and suffering. What I regret is the loss of freedom, happiness, personal space, time with family, and the disruption to my efforts to support my family’s livelihood.
Respectfully,
Mochamad Naufal Taufiqurahman
–
Pleidoi or defense plea of Adit
Your Honorable Panel of Judges examining and adjudicating this case,
I stand before the Honorable Panel of Judges today as a defendant, and at the same time as an individual who is fully aware that this case did not arise without a specific cause. What is being processed in this courtroom today is not merely my individual actions, but rather a political event born from the unequal relationship between the state and its people. This plea I present as my personal voice, yet it also represents the voices of many others who have never truly been heard by the state and its apparatus—except through batons, tear gas, water cannons, and criminal threats.
The events underlying this case occurred in August 2025, amid a chaotic and complex social and political situation, leading to demonstration actions across various regions in Indonesia. These demonstrations were initially triggered by protests against the introduction of new allowances for members of the House of Representatives (DPR). They were further fueled by increases in land and building taxes in several areas, as well as public dissatisfaction with the government’s performance in addressing economic inequality and the rising cost of living. In my view, the demonstrations that took place across Indonesia should not be regarded as criminal acts; they must be seen as the accumulation of long-suppressed anger and disappointment. One of the triggers of that anger was the brutal incident involving the late Affan Kurniawan, a civilian who was run over by an armored police vehicle. For me and many others, that event served as a stark warning that the lives of ordinary citizens can be easily sacrificed in the name of maintaining the state’s version of order.
What further inflamed that anger was the state’s response following the incident. There was no genuine transparency, no firm accountability, and no sense of urgency in delivering justice for the victim. The state appeared more preoccupied with calming itself than with listening to the people’s voices. In such circumstances, anger becomes an inevitable consequence. The demonstration on 29 August 2025 must be understood as a reaction to violence legitimized by those in power.
The case of the late Affan Kurniawan does not stand alone. It lies on the same continuum as numerous instances of enforced disappearances, violence against civilians, arbitrary arrests, and the criminalization of those who dare to resist. All of these reveal certain patterns: patterns in which power is always protected, while the people are expected to submit and remain silent. It is in such conditions that trust in the state and its institutions collapses, forcing the people to find their own ways to express resistance.
I participated in the demonstration on 29 August 2025 with full awareness. I understood that the state would not welcome this form of resistance. I knew that state apparatus would employ brutal and repressive measures against the protesters. I also knew that remaining silent would bring about no change whatsoever.
On 4 September 2025, I was arrested by the Indonesian Special Detachment 88 Anti-Terror Unit, along with several police officers, at my parents’ home. At the time of the arrest, around 10 a.m., I was asleep, and no one else was in the house. I was extremely shocked when someone suddenly woke me, and upon looking out the bedroom window, I saw several large-built individuals. Shortly afterward, one of them—later identified as a member of Densus 88—broke down the bedroom door. As I attempted to stand, he immediately struck me directly in my left eye, causing me to collapse. When my eye was hit, it felt as though a flash of blinding white light surged through my head—pulsating with heat—leaving behind pain and a reddened bruise. My head was then pinned between his knees on the floor, after which my hands were handcuffed behind my back using plastic handcuffs and a belt. Subsequently, my eyes and head were covered with duct tape, rendering me unable to see anything.
Interrogation began immediately, accompanied by repeated blows to my head and abdomen. While searching the premises and continuing the interrogation, they seized various items belonging to me as evidence. The items taken included: an entire bookshelf of my reading materials and posters, one CPU unit and two monitors, three laptops, two mobile phones, one motorcycle, one printer, eleven firecrackers, half a wardrobe of my personal clothing, and various other items that could hardly serve as evidence. In addition, they confiscated and acquired digital evidence in the form of emails and my Instagram account.
After approximately one hour of interrogation while they collected evidence, I was placed in a vehicle. Initially, I did not know where I was being taken. It was later discovered that I was brought to the West Java Regional Police Headquarters (Mako Polda Jabar), of course with my eyes still covered. Upon arrival at Polda Jabar, a second round of interrogation commenced, accompanied by continued beatings and several instances in which my head was covered with plastic for several minutes. This treatment caused my body to convulse and left me nearly suffocating. At that moment, I could think of only one thing: that I was about to die right then and there.
The preparation of the official investigation report (BAP) continued for days and even weeks. I was without legal counsel, my physical and psychological condition was disregarded, and I was beaten if my statements did not align with what the police or investigators desired. On one occasion, I was subjected to BAP for four days and four nights without pause, being moved between buildings and rooms—from the criminal investigation building to the cyber unit, from the general crimes sub-directorate to the state security sub-directorate. What particularly distressed me psychologically was that during the BAP process, the police deliberately kept a long rattan cane behind them, ready to leave red welts on my back whenever my statements failed to match their expectations.
The arrest was not carried out in the spirit of fair law enforcement, but rather in the spirit of control and silencing. From that point onward, I was no longer treated as a citizen with rights, but as an object to be punished as an example to others.
In these court proceedings, I feel that the law is more often presented as a formality than as a means of seeking truth. This case is treated as though it stands in isolation, detached from the preceding context of state violence. The narrative constructed by the public prosecutor portrays me as the sole perpetrator, without genuinely considering the social and political conditions that gave rise to the events. Yet true justice demands the courage to examine causes, not merely consequences.
As the Honorable Panel is aware, I have admitted to my actions of assembling and throwing a Molotov cocktail at the gate or fence of the West Java DPRD building. However, based on the actual facts and the testimony of other defendants, the Molotov cocktail I threw—as well as those thrown by others—did not ignite, nor did the firecrackers explode. This occurred because the area in front of the West Java DPRD building was already wet from prior water cannon spraying. Nevertheless, the indictment states otherwise: I am still accused of causing the fire at the MPR guesthouse as well as the Sambara restaurant, and I face a demand for three years’ imprisonment. A Molotov cocktail that failed to ignite is deemed a serious threat, while the armored vehicle that ran over a civilian has not been prosecuted with the same firmness.
The act I committed was not directed at fellow human beings, was not intended to cause injury, and did not result in actual damage. It was merely a political expression of anger toward a power structure that continually fails to listen to the people. Imposing a heavy criminal penalty for such an act demonstrates disproportionality and reinforces the perception that the law is being used as a tool of intimidation rather than as a means of justice.
Your Honorable Panel of Judges, as a human being, I am not immune to regret. I regret that as a result of this case, my studies have been disrupted and my future has become uncertain. I regret that my parents must bear fear, anxiety, and disappointment. This regret is genuine and personal. However, I do not regret participating in the demonstration, and I do not regret resisting injustice. I believe that silence in the face of violence is the most dangerous form of consent.
Today, the Honorable Panel of Judges stands at a decisive position. The verdict in this case will indicate whether the court still possesses the courage to stand on the side of justice, or whether it becomes part of the mechanism of silencing. Justice does not lie solely in the application of articles, but in the courage to acknowledge the imbalance of power between the state and the people.
Through this case, the state has taken much from me: freedom, education, time, and my future. All of this was taken not because I enriched myself or harmed others, but because I dared to say no to injustice. Yet there is one thing the state can never take from me: the conviction that resistance against oppression is a legitimate and dignified act.
In closing, Your Honorable Panel of Judges, I respectfully request that this case be decided with wisdom and moral courage. The state may imprison my body, but it will never be able to imprison the human will to be free from oppression.
NO ONE IS FREE UNTIL ALL ARE FREE!
Respectfully,
Aditya Dwi Laksana