In the courtroom the two sides present completely opposite stories. The prosecution leans on Sub‑Inspector Bennix’s testimony: a house‑help named Mukesh Thakur, who worked in the same apartment building, recruited three friends, drugged a nine‑year‑old girl and raped her. DNA from the four men matches, and the victim identifies them in the first line‑up. The twist comes when she tells the police that someone else – the security guard who works the night shift, Brahmanandam – was also with her after the four fled. Because the half‑hour between the assailants’ departure and Brahmanandam’s arrival is unaccounted for, the police add him as a “fifth” accused.
Gargi, terrified that her father’s life is being destroyed on a rumor, refuses to accept the claim. She turns to the ageing lawyer Bhanu Prakash, who, under pressure from his own bar association, steps back. Indrans Kaliyaperumal, a struggling junior who has never won a case, agrees to take the matter despite knowing it will cost him his standing with the bar. Together they re‑examine the evidence and discover that, just before the first identification parade, the child had been given a heavy dose of barbiturates – enough to cloud her memory. An expert confirms this, and the judge orders a fresh investigation and a second parade, this time in the presence of a senior official and with the victim’s father barred from the room.
When Indrans brings Brahmanandam to the prison for his version, the guard explains that he simply found the unconscious girl on the staircase, took her home, and reported the incident – a routine act for anyone on duty. The victim’s father, however, tells the court that his daughter cannot remember the day’s details and that he may have inadvertently influenced her identification. The judge, a pioneering transgender jurist, accepts this testimony and grants Brahmanandam conditional bail, warning that if the next parade again points to him, the bail will be revoked.
The case seems to settle, but the tragedy unfurls one more time. After a night of drinks, Sandra’s father, still drunk, admits to Gargi that he had seen the girl lying on the staircase that evening and that he kept the sight to himself. The revelation shakes Gargi, yet the court proceeds with the scheduled parade. The girl, still traumatised and still under the influence of the sedatives, again points to Brahmanandam as one of her attackers. This time the identification is taken as conclusive, and the judge orders his conviction.
The film closes with a mid‑credit scene that shifts the focus from the courtroom to the personal cost of the whole saga. Ahalya, the journalist whose sensational report first exposed Brahmanandam’s name, visits Gargi’s home during a modest rite of passage for Gargi’s younger sister. She confesses that her pursuit of a headline crossed ethical lines, compromising privacy and due process. She tells the young girl that being a woman is a continual fight, not a competition of wins and losses, and that true courage lies in standing up after being knocked down. As the camera pulls back, we finally see the victim herself, attending the celebration and smiling faintly, a symbol of resilience and a reminder that justice, however flawed, can still give a voice to those silenced.
