It's Easy to Cry

by Subhas Anandan

  SEVEN

  PUSHED TO THE BRINK

  The case of Ong Pang Siew is a very unusual one. Ong Pang Siew met here in Singapore a woman named Xiu from the People’s Republic of China in 1997 and they married in 2002. They have a son.

  Xiu wanted to bring her daughter from her previous marriage to Singapore to study. Ong was very obliging. The daughter came and the whole family stayed together. Ong gave her all the fatherly support that he could think of. He looked after her financially and treated her like a daughter, always caring and supportive of her.

  Unfortunately, the marriage broke down when Ong found out that his wife was fooling around, going out late in the night to KTV lounges, and coming back with different men. Ong granted Xiu a divorce in May 2007 and left the family home. Xiu was given custody of their son. Ong was always very agitated at the fact that his ex-wife was not looking after their son properly. He found that she had no time to care for their son. She was spending too much time outside the home. While his 15-year-old stepdaughter from China could look after herself, the same couldn’t be said for the boy who was very young then. It also didn’t help that his ex-wife always made it difficult for Ong to see his son on weekends. Ong had to go to her workplace or to different venues on her suggestions to pick up his son. The situation made him very frustrated and angry.

  One weekend, when he wanted to see his son, he found out that his ex-wife had taken him to her workplace. Ong told her to bring the boy to the flat so that he could pick him up from there. She said, “If you are interested in seeing him, you come here.” She was very curt and slammed down the phone. Ong was angry. He cycled to her flat, the very place where he used to stay and found his stepdaughter there. She opened the door for him and they talked. What began as a normal conversation got so heated that he pushed her to the floor, banged her head against the floor and repeatedly shouted at her, “Who am I?” This was witnessed by a subtenant who came out of her room on hearing the girl’s screams.

  Ong then realised what he had done. He called his brother to say that he had killed his stepdaughter and that he wanted to commit suicide. He also called his employer and apologised for not being able to go to work. The subtenant called Xiu, who called the police.

  When the police arrived, they found him squatting by her body, crying and talking incoherently. His conduct showed that there was something mentally wrong with him. We were briefed to represent him. We requested a psychiatrist to examine Ong so as to ascertain whether there was anything wrong with him mentally. If so, we needed to know what mental illness Ong had.

  During the trial, the psychiatrist Dr Tommy Tan testified that he had diagnosed Ong as suffering from major depressive disorder. His report identified that Ong had many of the symptoms of major depressive disorder and qualified for the diagnosis. Of course, the psychiatrist appointed by the prosecution, Dr Jerome Goh from the Institue of Mental Health (IMH) came up with an entirely different diagnosis, saying that there was nothing wrong with Ong and that he was perfectly normal.

  Given those two different reports and that many of the other facts of the case were disputed, the charge of the crime should differ too. Justice Tay Yong Kwang decided to accept IMH’s psychiatric report; he convicted Ong and sentenced him to death. We had no choice but to take the matter up to the Court of Appeal.

  At the Court of Appeal, we put forward the same argument, explaining why Ong should not have been sentenced to death and arguing that the charge of murder was wrong. It should have been culpable homicide because he was suffering from Diminished Responsibility. The prosecution argued against us. They referred to the IMH psychiatric report and said that there was nothing wrong with Ong. Fortunately, the Court of Appeal agreed with our argument that Ong was suffering from a mental illness. In fact, it was the Court of Appeal that told the prosecution to look at Ong’s symptoms and the circumstances of the case.

  Looking at these various factors, the Court said, it should be realised that this person was actually suffering from Diminished Responsibility. The Court of Appeal also commented that Dr Tommy Tan was a much more experienced psychiatrist when compared to Dr Jerome Goh, who was younger and less experienced. Thus, Dr Tan’s report should not have been ignored. The appeal was allowed and Ong was ordered to go back to the judge that had initially sentenced him.

  At the sentencing hearing, the prosecution asked for life imprisonment on the basis that Ong was a very dangerous person who could not be trusted to behave himself if he was released early. Thankfully, the judge was not prepared to accept that. He accepted our argument that Ong had been behaving himself while in prison; he had been taking his medicines regularly; he had been cooperating with the authorities; and he was in remission and getting better. The judge then sentenced Ong to ten years’ imprisonment effective from the day he was arrested.

  His family was curious about what would happen to him. When I saw his ex-wife and son, she gave me a look that, if looks could kill, I would have been dead! I walked away, knowing that in our profession, you can’t please everyone!

  Ong Pang Siew was suffering from a disease — major depressive disorder — without realising it. As this disease does not manifest itself physically, those afflicted may not be diagnosed and get treatment early. Certain symptoms may appear but if you are not an expert or if you have not had any interaction with others afflicted with the disease, you will find it very hard to determine if a person has depression.

  Even those who were with Ong regularly, including his drinking buddies, didn’t realise that he was suffering from this disease. To them, Ong was a very happy-go-lucky person, who always seemed to be in a good mood, drinking a lot of beer. Although they did notice that he was losing some weight, and losing weight is one of the systems of major depressive disorder, nobody realised it at that time. He was dealing with multiple emotions — feeling sad, betrayed and depressed. So without any premeditation, he went and committed this crime. He released all his frustration on his stepdaughter who provoked him in a heated argument.

  What do you do in this situation? Our system recognises that Diminished Responsibility is a defence. One must be very careful to come to a conclusion that a person is suffering from Diminished Responsibility because the wrong analysis can lead to the wrong punishment. I ask myself, “Do I think Ong Pang Siew should go to jail for ten years, especially when he is suffering from Diminished Responsibility? Is our system sufficient to look after people like Ong?” These are some of the questions I keep on asking and I find no answers.

  Sometimes, I do think that even if an accused person is suffering from a mental disease, he or she should be locked up for good because of the violent nature of the offence. Sometimes, I feel that we have to be more understanding. We still have the McNaughton rule — when mental capacity is successfully raised as a defence either because the defendant did not know what he was doing or that it was wrong — which has been around for years.

  Once, in a jovial way, I asked the Law Minister, “Mr Shanmugam, why are we keeping the McNaughton rule even now?” He reflected that the last time he heard about the McNaughton rule, he was a student attending a lecture. I responded, “Exactly, so why do we keep it when the definition has become totally irrelevant?” He replied, “We have to look into it.” When he says he will look into it, he will really look into it.

  EIGHT

  AT DEATH’S DOOR

  I have just instructed Diana and Sunil to bring me the relevant files for the cases I want to discuss in my book. Without the files, it’s very difficult for me to write the details about the cases. Those files are either in the office or in the warehouse. While I wait for the files, let me tell you about a significant event that happened to me in December 2008, soon after I launched my first book.

  Vimi went on a cruise with her siblings. She had asked me whether she should go with them and whether I could manage without her for those few days. I assured her, “Yes, I will be fine. You should go have a break from me because you look a bit tired. Th
e cruise will cheer you up.” So she left.

  I was a little relieved as she was holding such a tight control over me, sometimes it’s so tight that I feel I cannot breathe. I thought to myself, “Ah, this is an opportunity to have some fun.”

  I spent late nights with my friends enjoying ourselves in harmless fun. We went to karaoke nightclubs and had late night suppers. I could come back at whatever time I felt like coming back because there was nobody waiting for me at home. The day before Vimi returned, my nephew, Sunil, suggested having a drink with another colleague. So we went to one of those bars near UOB Plaza and decided to have margaritas.

  The first margarita that came for me made me very unhappy because they used the wrong glass, there was not enough salt in the drink, and the margarita did not taste like margarita. So I told my colleague that the whole thing was wrong and started explaining to her how margaritas should be made. She spoke to the bartender about my displeasure. Soon after, a waitress came with a proper salt-rimmed glass. I took a sip and declared, “This is a margarita.” They didn’t charge me for the first one. I had two drinks and then decided to have one more, the last drink, they call it, “one for the road”. Sunil took me home. I didn’t have dinner because of the finger food we had with our margaritas.

  Early the next morning, I started to cough. I thought it was one of those things that come and go. So I went to work as usual. By the time I got home from work, the coughing had become more incessant and my son, who was at home said, “Pa, what’s happening? Are you OK?” I replied, “Ya, sure, I am OK”. Aware that he was going out with his friends, I assured him, “No need for you to cancel your plans. Don’t worry about me, son.”

  He was in his room getting dressed when Vimi returned. She put her luggage down by the door, looked at me and said, “What’s wrong? How are you?” I turned around, still coughing incessantly. I could see she was getting anxious. She knew that it was more than just a cough as I was wheezing as well. I am not asthmatic. She asked, “When did this cough start?” I told her it started sometime in the morning but it seemed to be getting worse. She asked, “What have you been doing?” Sheepishly, I suggested that I may be having a ‘gas problem’ and told her, “Uh, the maid gave me some ginger water and I also drank some Omum (Indian tonic).” Observing me further, she said, “This is not good. I don’t like the sound of your persistent wheezy cough. I think your heart is failing. You’re going to the hospital now!” With my usual shrug-off attitude, I told her, “No, don’t make a big fuss.” This time she refused to give in. She called Chechy, who was then an anaesthetist in Alexandra Hospital, and described my situation to her. Chechy said to take me straight to Alexandra Hospital. She said she was off duty but she would be there. She called her colleague to expect our arrival at the hospital and do what was necessary. Vimi and Sujesh rushed me there.

  By the time I got to the hospital’s A&E department, I was gasping for air and it was getting more and more difficult to breathe. I felt as though I was drowning; I didn’t know it then but my lungs were waterlogged. My heart was failing and my situation critical. It was decided that I had to be immediately admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) where I was infused with diuretic drugs to flush the fluid from my lungs to ease my breathing. I was also supported with oxygen. Quite swiftly, the medical team in the ICU were circling around me and suddenly I saw all sorts of tubes being inserted into me.

  Prior to this medical attention, the wait to be pushed to ICU seemed long and endless. I called my son over and said to him, “Don’t let this worry you. It is not a big matter. But, my son, promise me one thing as I may not survive this. Promise me that you must always listen to your mother and be together with her.” He assured me, “Yes, Pa, I will always be with Mummy.” I told him, “There is no need for you to remain in the hospital as you are of no help here. Why don’t you join your friends and keep your phone on so that you can be contacted any time.” He said, “I don’t want to go.” I insisted, “No, I think you better go because it would take your mind off things. I should be alright.” Then he left my bedside to be with his mother.

  I beckoned Vimi to come over. “Come, I want to tell you something.” She came close, leaned forward and I said, “I see your face in every rose, I see your smile in every cloud,” and then I dozed off for a while. I must have left my poor wife in a state of confusion. She wondered what that all meant as I have never been one for romantic words.

  When I awoke, I also noticed that my siblings and my sister-in-law, Syon, were waiting outside, too. They all looked very worried. As I was being wheeled to ICU, I held their hands, reassuring them that I would be alright.

  Chechy has always been emotionally very strong but my younger sister, Sugadha, is not. I could see tears in her eyes. I remember telling her, “Don’t worry, everything will be alright.” Then I saw my brother, Sudheesh, in the distance, looking calm and steady. He just nodded to me and I nodded back at him. We never have much to say to each other but our actions speak volumes. His nod to me was a signal not to worry and that everything will be all right. It also assured me that they were all there for me. For all the tragedies or near tragedies in our lives, I realise how lucky I am for having such a close-knit family with such a strong bond.

  I was thinking then, that if my late brother, Surash, was around, he would also be there. He would be standing close by without saying a word but exuding assurance that he was there for all of us. Unfortunately, this time, he was no longer around like he had always been for me whenever I was hospitalised. It had become a habit for me to turn around to see where he was. I still unconsciously look for him, only to realise that he is not around any more. That feeling of realisation, that he is not around, always makes me want to cry. We are all so close, he being the youngest in the family, made it even harder.

  I spent that night in the ICU which seemed like one of the longest nights in my life as I was not able to leave the bed at all — complete rest in bed. Miraculously, the next morning I felt a lot better. My lungs were clear again and I could breathe easily. By 8:00 am, I was getting restless from being constrained to the bed in ICU. As usual, I always like to negotiate with my doctors. I explained that if they wanted me to recover quickly, it would be best to send me to the ward. This is not an easy request for any doctor to accommodate but they relented when I agreed to wear a monitoring device on me so that they could keep full surveillance on my cardiac condition. My lungs were also cleared of fluid. By 9:00 am, with this gadget on, they allowed me to be in the ward. I called Vimi to inform her that I was in the ward and not in ICU which obviously surprised her. Seemingly pleased but her first reaction was, “Did you negotiate to leave or the doctor ordered it voluntarily?” That is how well she knew me. I laughed and said that I had negotiated but was prepared to wear the 24-hour cardiac monitor.

  The cardiologist said that I was lucky to have come to the hospital on time, that I would have died if I remained at home. Once again, Vimi was perceptive and did the right thing. I was on medical leave for some time.

  I asked Vimi, “Do you remember what I told you?” She said “Ya, it was so unlike you. You told me that my face is in every rose, my smile in every cloud. What was I to make of this? I thought you had a secret code to share with me at death’s door!” She mentioned that it was the first time she felt that I might not make it. After I was pushed to the ICU, she went outside, sat down and cried, something she doesn’t do easily even at the worse of times. And I said, “You have always accused me of not being romantic, but you see, at least when I thought that I was going to die, I did my best to please you!”

  NINE

  YOUR SMILE IN EVERY CLOUD

  March 2014. One of the side effects of dialysis is the occasional lack of appetite. Sometimes I tell Vimi, “I want to eat Japanese. I feel very hungry.” She would be so thrilled by the fact that I was asking for food that she would take me anywhere just to feed me. However, once the food is placed before me, I would not be hungry anymore. I would fee
l nauseous and Vimi would get upset that I was not eating. She would try to coax me into eating, insisting that I needed to eat to build my strength. She was afraid that if I lacked energy, I would not even attempt simple exercises like walking. So, I would force myself to eat. There is no pleasure and I would feel even more depressed. Vimi would try all ways to talk me out of it with her positive words and smiles. But it was hard although I wanted so much to do it for her.

  Another side effect is insomnia. I would sit in the living room, yawn, and feel very tired and sleepy. I would go into the bedroom. Vimi faithfully always accompanies me to make sure that I was tucked in properly and I would try to sleep. But I cannot sleep. I would lie awake from 10:00 pm till 6:00 am the next morning, just wondering what was going to happen to my life; and thinking of what has already happened. I think of the past; I think of the present; I think of the future; but it’s all muddled up. It’s also confusing and I know that I could sink low into depression again.

  I would be thinking of the future, then I would be thinking of the past, the happy times that I had and I would think, “You are luckier than most people in the sense that you have a good life, a good wife and son, good siblings, and good friends who stood by you. What else can you ask for? You can’t have everything.” Vimi reminds me, “When you were supposed to leave us in December and a doctor even recommended palliative care, we didn’t want to listen to him. We insisted that you get the best care till you were out of the woods. God doesn’t want you to die, not in December 2013. He has saved you for a particular reason. In time to come, you will see the reason, but in the meantime, you should not be depressed.”