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It has been seven years since Suciwati, a petite, soft-spoken yet bravely determined woman, lost her activist husband to a poisoner.

Her two children, Suu Kyi, 9, and Allende, 12, named in honor of the Burmese opposition leader and Chile’s slain socialist president, respectively, wait with her for word of who ordered the murder of their father, the rights activist Munir.

Not a single day goes by, Suciwati says, without the family hoping to receive the justice and answers they deserve. Who killed Munir, they want to know, and why?

“I told my children everything they need to know about their father’s case, they understand what is going on. The government owes us an explanation,” Suciwati said.

Arsenic in the Air

Munir, 38, was a prominent critic of the Indonesian security forces, which are often blamed for the deaths and disappearances of scores of activists during the Suharto regime. When the long reign of the New Order ended in 1998 with Suharto’s forced resignation, Munir worked hard to uncover past atrocities. His mission over the years earned him many enemies.

While flying from Jakarta to Amsterdam aboard a Garuda Indonesia flight in September 2004, an assassin slipped arsenic into Munir’s drink and he died en route. The brazen murder drew expressions of outrage from the United States, the European Union and the United Nations .

Since Munir’s death, Suciwati has traveled to Australia, the US and Europe, asking officials, lawmakers and human rights investigators to keep the heat on Jakarta over the murder.

President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono appointed an independent fact-finding team, which concluded in June 2005 that along with two Garuda airline officers, individuals from the National Intelligence Agency (BIN) had orchestrated the Munir murder.

“President Yudhoyono is ‘selling’ Munir’s case to make himself look good,” Suciwati said bitterly.

Prosecutors eventually accused Muchdi Purwoprandjono, a former deputy director of BIN, of ordering the killing out of anger over Munir’s criticism of his leadership of the Army’s Kopassus Special Forces unit.

Muchdi was acquitted by a Jakarta court in December 2008 despite the fact that there were phone records linking the two suspects. The acquittal was upheld by the Supreme Court and no further judicial review has been filed by the government.

The only conviction in the case came in December 2005, when a Jakarta court ruled that Pollycarpus Budihari Priyanto, an off-duty Garuda pilot aboard the ill-fated flight, slipped the arsenic into Munir’s fruit juice. During the trial, it emerged that Pollycarpus had links to BIN and had discussed the murder plot via cellular phone with Muchdi, when he was deputy chief of the spy agency.

“Officials and political leaders in this country have no idea how it feels to have lost a husband and a father. Maybe if this happens to them, then awareness and empathy will exist,” Suciwati said.

Not willing to give up on justice for her husband, Suciwati has attended at least 240 “Thursday demonstrations,” weekly gatherings of activists and loved ones of missing activists who dress in black and stand in front of the presidential palace, their silence a plea for justice.

He’s Not Alone

Munir is perhaps the best-known example of Indonesia’s bizarre judicial system. But his case is hardly unique.

The lack of clarity for victims goes all the way back to the mass killings of accused members of the communist party in 1965, missing activists from the New Order era, the four students killed at Trisakti University in 1998 and victims of the riots that plagued Jakarta that same year. These are all ghosts from a past that Indonesia refuses to face.

The lack of political will and a corrupt judicial system are often blamed for sluggish law enforcement in these cases. However, law enforcement seems only too eager when it comes to petty crimes involving the poor.

Why Go After the Little Guy?

In December 2009, a grandmother in Banyumas, Central Java, was charged with stealing three pieces of cocoa fruit; she served 18 days under house arrest before receiving a suspended sentence. The woman returned the fruit and apologized for the theft.

Others have been jailed for stealing a watermelon, petty gambling or lifting a t-shirt off a clothes line

Seemingly frivolous cases like these seem to flood court dockets, prompting mixed reactions from legal experts. Some say these cases are not worth the time, while others say all laws must be enforced.

“It is of course much easier for judges to punish petty crimes because poor people won’t flee, or lie to judges, or destroy evidence like big fishes do,” said Benyamin Mangkudilaga, a well-respected retired judge.

According to Benyamin, out of respect for justice, petty crimes should be punished. “Crime is crime, no matter how small,” he said.

However, he agrees that officials should work harder in solving big cases such as corruption, drug smuggling and terrorism.

Topo Santoso, a legal expert from the University of Indonesia, said that judicial officials feel comfortable and safe going after petty crimes.

“Not too many people in this country would risk losing their jobs by upholding the law,” Topo said, “because they have worked hard, jumping through political hurdles to be in their positions to begin with.”

There are plenty of reasons for Indonesians to be angry about messy law enforcement, especially on cases involving officials and political figures.

Gayus Tambunan, the former mid-level tax official who was found to have amassed more than Rp 100 billion ($11.6 million) in bribes, made headlines last year when it was revealed that he had bribed his way out of detention many times. But few of those who benefitted from bribing him for tax relief have been brought to justice.

Former Democratic Party Treasurer Muhamad Nazaruddin is now on trial for rigging a tender worth Rp 4.3 billion for the construction of an athletes’ village for the Southeast Asian Games.

He skipped town for several months just ahead of a travel ban, then said he would blow the whistle on numerous senior Democratic officials. Back in custody, little has been heard of his sensational accusations since he returned .

Suciwati and her two children are willing to wait for however long it takes to finally receive a measure of justice. She is seeking access to intelligence files that may provide new evidence to reopen the case and bring Muchdi back to court.

Other documents — incriminating phone records that were not fully consid e red in the first trial — have been lost by the police, she said.

But Suciwati, a one-time labor organize r , refuses to give u p .

“Hope is like a candle, however small, it lights up the dark,” she said.