Why was Hamit's mother remanded in custody? Müge Anlı's justice or criminal justice?

The mother of 18-year-old Hamit, who is searching for his father, was remanded in custody a few days after a television broadcast. In my view, this is a severe measure: the alleged offence on which it rests is debatable, its grounds are weak, and it is disproportionate to the expected sentence. The rapid succession of the broadcast, police custody and pretrial detention also creates the impression that the decision was influenced more by television and public opinion than by the standards set by law.

Hamit Yorulmaz lives in Torbalı, a district of İzmir, and has thalassaemia. He needs a stem cell transplant to survive, and to find a suitable donor he needs to reach his biological father.

His mother left him with his father when he was 3; he grew up with his paternal grandmother and grandfather. A DNA test when he was 14 revealed that Mehmet Sağbaş, who had raised him, was not his biological father. The paternal relationship in the civil register was consequently removed.

In late September 2026, Hamit turned to the programme Müge Anlı ile Tatlı Sert. He said that his mother and maternal uncle knew who his real father was but would not tell him. His mother, who joined the broadcast by telephone, said her son could learn his father's name by bringing a lawsuit. The prosecution treated the broadcast as a report of a suspected crime; less than a week later, the mother was remanded in custody.

The Torbalı Chief Public Prosecutor's Office opened an investigation on its own initiative (ex officio), without waiting for anyone to lodge a complaint.

Three offences were alleged against the mother. The first was altering or concealing a child's parentage (Turkish Criminal Code, TCK 231): keeping the child registered as another man's child despite knowing the real father, and concealing the truth for 18 years. The second was breach of obligations arising from family law (TCK 233): leaving Hamit at the age of 3 and allegedly rejecting him because of his illness. The third was failure to fulfil the duty to assist or notify the authorities (TCK 98): withholding the father's identity when Hamit needed a donor to survive.

The uncle was accused of making threats (TCK 106): the allegation that Hamit was threatened while searching for his father.

The allegation that the mother rejected Hamit because of his illness during the divorce proceedings comes from Mehmet Sağbaş, who raised him. The threat allegation rests on Hamit's own account.

Whether the offence of failing to fulfil the duty to assist or notify applies here is debatable. It punishes failing to help someone unable to look after themselves because of age, illness or injury, or failing to notify the authorities immediately; leaving an injured person on the road is a typical example. Withholding information does not readily fit that pattern.

On 5 October 2026, the duty criminal judge of peace ordered the pretrial detention of the mother, Nihal Beyit. The uncle, Mehmet Yorulmaz, was released under judicial supervision, meaning conditions such as reporting to sign in. The reasons for the decision were not disclosed; however, the statutory rules on pretrial detention indicate to a considerable extent what it might have been based on.

Pretrial detention is prohibited for minor offences. Under the Turkish Code of Criminal Procedure (CMK 100/4, prohibition of pretrial detention), detention cannot be ordered for offences carrying a maximum sentence of no more than two years. Failure to fulfil the duty to assist or notify and breach of obligations arising from family law each carry a maximum of one year. The basic form of the offence of making threats also carries no more than two years; this is why the uncle was not remanded in custody.

That leaves the parentage offence. Altering or concealing a child's parentage carries one to three years' imprisonment. The detention is most likely based on this offence.

Suspicion of an offence is not enough on its own. The law (CMK 100/1 and 100/2, grounds for detention) requires a strong suspicion of an offence as well as a risk of flight or tampering with evidence. In her statement, the mother identified a man as the father. According to those who have seen him, the man looks like Hamid with a beard. The judge may have wanted to prevent him from contacting the mother before he could be located.

In my view, detention is a severe measure in this case. There are three reasons: the underlying offence is debatable, the grounds for detention are weak, and the measure is disproportionate to the expected sentence.

Under the Turkish Civil Code, the husband is legally the father of a child born during marriage or within 300 days of its termination (TMK 285, presumption of paternity). According to press reports, Hamit's mother was married to Mehmet Sağbaş when Hamit was born. In that situation, registering the child as Sağbaş's child was not a deception by the mother, but an automatic consequence of the law.

A child born within marriage is entered directly into the husband's family register without any declaration or involvement by the mother. This rule also applied when Hamit was born. Today registration is even more automatic: for a baby born in hospital, the healthcare institution itself notifies the civil registry of the birth (Population Services Law, Article 15, notification of births).

This does not mean that a married mother can never commit this offence today. It can still be committed through oral birth declarations for births outside hospital, swapping babies, registering someone else's child as one's own, or conduct that prevents the true parentage from coming to light. But a registration that the law makes automatically cannot be imputed to the mother as a crime.

The Court of Cassation has also ruled along these lines. A woman who had a child with another man while living apart from her husband, and whose child was registered as her husband's, had been convicted of altering the child's parentage. The Court of Cassation's 11th Criminal Chamber overturned the conviction (case no. 2021/10029 E., decision no. 2024/6251 K.): the woman had no intent to alter the parentage, and the registration had been made under the statutory presumption.

This approach is also consistent with the law as a whole. Having a relationship with someone else during marriage, that is, adultery, is not a crime in Türkiye. The Constitutional Court struck down Article 441 of the former Criminal Code on male adultery in 1996, and Article 440 on female adultery in 1998, as contrary to the principle of equality. The current Criminal Code likewise contains no offence of adultery; adultery is only a ground for divorce (TMK 161, adultery). When the law does not punish the relationship itself, it would be contradictory to treat the legally required registration of the resulting child as the husband's child as a crime by the mother.

Nor is Hamit alone. There may be many people in society registered as the children of their mother's husband rather than of their biological father. Treating each of their mothers as a criminal suspect fits neither the purpose of the law nor social reality. The legal route for such situations is clear: actions contesting paternity and actions to establish paternity (TMK 286 and 301).

That leaves the possibility of "concealment", meaning the mother's failure to disclose the real father's name for years. But whether silence, or withholding information, constitutes this offence is also debatable. Legal scholarship defines concealment as conduct preventing a child's true parentage from being legally established. The first requirement for detention is a strong suspicion of an offence; when the elements of the offence are so debatable, fulfilment of that requirement is debatable too.

The risk of evidence tampering is not very convincing in this case. DNA is the strongest evidence of paternity, and the mother cannot tamper with it. She has already provided the name of the person sought. No concrete fact indicating a risk of flight has been made public.

The law is clear: detention cannot be ordered if it is disproportionate to the importance of the case, the expected sentence or the security measure (CMK 100/1). The parentage offence carries one to three years' imprisonment. For someone with no criminal record, suspension of the sentence or deferral of the pronouncement of judgment are strong possibilities. Judicial supervision measures, such as a ban on leaving the country or a reporting requirement, would have served the same purpose; that is exactly what was done for the uncle.

We do not know the judge's reasoning. But the timing is striking: the broadcast was treated as a crime report, police custody followed within days, and pretrial detention immediately thereafter. Cameras followed the suspects being taken into custody, their behaviour was discussed on screen, and anger over "why haven't they been detained?" grew on social media.

In my view, this picture reinforces the impression that the decision responded more to public expectations than to legal standards. Yet the judiciary's role is precisely to uphold those standards against such expectations. If the decision is challenged, the judge reviewing the challenge will have to answer these questions.

No. Although the events took place years ago, for the mother the limitation period has either only just begun or has not yet started.

If proceedings for an offence are not brought within the statutory period, they can no longer be brought; this is the limitation period for prosecution. The Turkish Criminal Code, however, provides a special rule for children (TCK 66/6, limitation of prosecution): where an ascendant such as a mother, father or grandmother, or someone with authority over a child, commits an offence against the child, the period begins when the child completes the age of 18. The law recognises that a young child cannot take action against a relative who harms them.

For altering or concealing a child's parentage (TCK 231), the limitation period is eight years and begins when Hamit completes the age of 18.

The position is different for breach of obligations arising from family law (TCK 233). The allegation that the mother left the child falls under the first paragraph, which concerns duties of care, education or support. This form of the offence can be investigated only upon the victim's complaint, which must be made within six months of learning of the act and the perpetrator. The real question is not limitation, but whether Hamit has lodged a complaint.

As for making threats (TCK 106), limitation is not an issue because the alleged threat occurred recently.

The law refers to the day on which the child "completes" the age of 18, rather than "turns" 18. This can also be read as meaning that the period begins only upon entering the age of 19; the result for Hamit is unchanged. The uncle is not an ascendant, so this special rule does not automatically apply to him.

In this case, television prompted judicial action. The judiciary made the decision, but in television's shadow. The real problem is that the boundary between the two is becoming blurred in the public mind, and punishment is being sought as the answer to every problem.

The programme's contribution is real. Hamit had been searching for his father since he was 14, yet there was no known investigation before the broadcast. A few days afterwards, the prosecution acted, the gendarmerie took statements from many people, and the mother provided a name. For a young person racing against time, that speed cannot be dismissed.

But the cost of the method is real too. The suspects were judged live on air before their statements had even been taken. Allegations about the mother's private life and behaviour during police custody were shown on screen despite being unrelated to the offence. Yet a fundamental legal rule is clear: no one may be considered guilty until a court's judgment becomes final.

When an injustice comes to light in Türkiye, the first question is often "Have they been detained?" Many issues, from neighbour disputes and family disagreements to debts and social media posts, become criminal cases. Society's sense of justice seems to be satisfied only when someone goes to prison.

There are understandable reasons for this. Civil proceedings can take years, while a criminal investigation sometimes produces results within days. Police custody and pretrial detention are visible, make the news and appear on television. The date of a paternity hearing, by contrast, attracts nobody's attention.

But criminal law exists to punish offences, not to solve the underlying problem. Criminal proceedings look to the past: who did what, and what punishment should they receive? Hamit's question looks to the future: who is my father, and can he give me the bone marrow that could save my life?

The anger on social media at the uncle not being detained reflects the same outlook. Yet pretrial detention is not a punishment; it is a temporary measure used to prevent flight or the destruction of evidence. Punishment is imposed only at the end of a trial. Treating detention as an advance payment of punishment erodes both the suspect's rights and justice itself.

The Turkish Civil Code gives a child the right to ask a court to determine who their father is (TMK 301, paternity action). Since Hamit is now an adult, he can bring this action himself. This was also what his mother said during the broadcast, and it was not legally wrong.

In these proceedings, the court can order a DNA test for the person believed to be the father. Under the law, parties and third persons must consent to examinations necessary to establish parentage that pose no danger to their health; if the defendant refuses, the judge may deem the expected result to have been established against him (TMK 284, procedure in parentage cases). The Turkish Code of Civil Procedure goes further: everyone must submit to blood or tissue sampling to establish parentage (HMK 292, examination to establish parentage).

The name provided in the mother's statement is an important lead, but proves nothing by itself. Paternity is established only through a DNA test and a court decision. Statements collected in the criminal case may serve as evidence in the paternity action; the criminal case may speed up that route, but cannot replace it.

Keeping his mother in custody gives Hamit neither bone marrow nor a father. Even if the father is found, only tissue compatibility tests can show whether he is a suitable donor. No one can be forced to donate stem cells; that depends entirely on the person's conscience and consent.

What Hamit really needs today is something else: a swiftly progressing paternity action, a search for a suitable match in the national stem cell donor pool (TÜRKÖK), and support in securing a regular blood supply. None of these comes from a detention order.

We are right to ask the question in the title. What has happened in Hamit's case looks more like justice driven by television and public opinion than criminal justice.

The offence underlying the mother's detention is debatable in light of the statutory presumption of paternity. When adultery is not a crime, the legally required registration of a child from that relationship as the husband's child cannot be treated as a crime by the mother; the Court of Cassation has ruled accordingly. The risk of evidence tampering is weak, and the expected sentence is not severe enough to justify detention. Yet the broadcast, police custody and pretrial detention followed one another within days, in front of the cameras.

It would be unfair to ignore Müge Anlı's contribution: she made Hamit's voice heard and prompted the prosecution to act. But a television programme may report a suspected crime; it cannot declare anyone guilty or determine the standards for detention. The moment television enters the courtroom, justice becomes a spectacle, and Hamit may once again be its real loser.

Unless we abandon the habit of looking for a prison sentence in response to every injustice, the line between television justice and criminal justice will continue to fade. Criminal justice is justice only when it operates according to the standards set by law.

There is no final judgment of conviction against the accused persons; they are presumed innocent until the proceedings have concluded.

Av. Eray Karınca