On 30.06.2025, the Supreme Court permitted M3M Group (M3M) the substitution of provisionally attached property under the Prevention of Money Laundering Act (PMLA) with alternate unencumbered assets (specifically — unsold commercial units from their flagship real-estate project). Interestingly, the Enforcement Directorate (ED) raised no objection. Instead, it acceded to the arrangement, subject to a series of nine conditions. These included the submission of a no-encumbrance certificate, an undertaking not to alienate the property, disclosure of funding sources, and full cooperation with ongoing investigation (a detailed enumeration of the conditions can be found here). Noting that the relief was confined to the facts of the case and not to be treated as precedent, the Court allowed the substitution to proceed.
In this essay, I pose a perhaps more philosophical concern that the Court’s substitution order in M3M raises. My only intention is for readers to reflect on a set of broader institutional questions: who, in practice, is actually in a position to benefit from this kind of judicial relief? Under what conditions does such a remedy become feasible? Is the availability of substitution shaped less by law and more by the capacity to access it?
Relief like this is not casually stumbled into. It likely requires seasoned legal teams, prior negotiations with the ED, and a capacity to marshal unencumbered assets at short notice. Is it fair to assume, then, that only certain kinds of accused with the backing of professionals and reputational capital can even attempt to propose such arrangements? Could it be that the very possibility of substitution is already filtered through resources and influence?
One might wonder how this plays out for the vast majority of individuals caught in the PMLA’s dragnet. When property is provisionally attached, is there usually any room for negotiation? Or does the process operate with a kind of automaticity? If so, does it mean that in select cases, this rigidity can be reinterpreted, massaged, or worked around? Is this simply good lawyering and responsiveness to context? Or does it risk creating two parallel enforcement experiences?
Is it possible that perhaps a certain posture helps too? That accused persons who arrive in court not just with clean assets but also with a narrative of cooperation are more likely to be accommodated? And if so, how many accused are in a position to even construct that narrative? Can individuals, with no resources to spare and no reputational leverage to lean on, realistically expect to be seen in the same light?
Should we then be asking whether discretion in anti-money laundering enforcement inevitably maps onto economic hierarchies? Or is that too cynical a reading of what courts try to do when confronted with complex, case-specific hardship? Perhaps the Court in M3M was simply responding to an unusual situation, with appropriate safeguards and no intention of setting precedent. But even if that being so, might its decision shape the expectations of similarly placed parties going forward? Could it quietly shift the boundary between what is impermissible and what is practically negotiable?
It is worth reflecting, too, on what this means for the ED. If substitutions become a viable option in certain cases, would that alter how the ED approaches attachment decisions? Would it create informal room for flexibility, for strategic consent, for behind-the-scenes negotiation? And if so, is that consistent with the PMLA’s stated architecture of rigidity and uniformity?
To conclude, the Supreme Court’s decision in M3M opens up more than just a procedural exception. By extending such relief only to those with resources to navigate its complexities, it casts a shadow over questions of equal access. These concerns, I submit, though wrapped in the caveat of non-precedential value, demand a closer attention.
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