On Tuesday, Interior Minister Rana Sanaullah sat in front of a long queue of cameras and confirmed the fears clouding many a mind. Something clearly did not add up in the “mistaken identity” vendetta weaved by Kenyan police authorities on the heels of the gruesome murder of renowned journalist Arshad Sharif. However, if a member of a sitting cabinet feels confident in tugging at the loopholes, asserting that “prima facie, it (was) a targeted murder,” the tragic death, being yet another incident of a journalist paying the price of telling the truth, becomes as plain as a pikestaff. In their earnestness to deflect the blame, the Kenyan authorities overlooked several hanging ends. What about the so-called stolen car already recovered by the time National Police had dispatched a guerrilla squad to tail Mr Sharif’s vehicle? Why was he shot from side and front (as opposed to back) with bullets fired at close range? It has been a couple of weeks since one of the most loved talk show hosts unwillingly jumped off the grid, but people still miss his heartfelt, humbling salutations. Far more disturbing is the eerie sense of uncertainty about what dire circumstances forced a Pakistani national to lose his trust in the motherland and take a plunge into the far-off Eastern African waters. Did Kenya, a country marred with widespread violence and an utter breakdown of law, enthuse more confidence in safeguarding his life? The puzzle still needs a few pieces to present a coherent picture. As far as political fires as concerned, every leading party is running up and down the stairs; eager to place the blame parcel in front of the enemy’s camp. Seeing through the investigation would serve the best interests of not just the government but all quarters involved. Politicised fury and the tendency to stroke personal egos aside, the sovereignty of an entire country and its ability to protect its citizens are at stake. If Pakistan does not put up a strong fight for Mr Sharif today, there’s no telling what anyone else would contemplate to silence or subjugate another voice of dissent. However, whatever becomes of this probe into the whys and wherefores cannot bring a slain husband, father and son back to his dear ones. Their tear-brimmed eyes echo the same question that has become the defining principle of journalism in Pakistan: Do members of the press sign a death contract when they decide to stand in the line of fire, determined to report the truth come what may? *