SUBHAS
ANANDAN
THE BEST I COULD
SUBHAS
ANANDAN
THE BEST I COULD
© 2009 Subhas Anandan and Marshall Cavendish International (Asia) Private Limited
First printed 2009.
Reprinted 2009 (three times), 2010, 2011, 2012, 2014
This edition published 2015.
Editor: Lee Mei Lin
Designer: Benson Tan
Published by Marshall Cavendish Editions
An imprint of Marshall Cavendish International
1 New Industrial Road, Singapore 536196
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National Library Board Singapore Cataloguing in Publication Data
Anandan, Subhas, 1947-2015.
Subhas Anandan : the best I could. – Singapore : Marshall Cavendish Editions, c2009.
p. cm.
eISBN-13: 978 981 4677 88 2
1. Anandan, Subhas, 1947-2015. 2. Lawyers – Singapore – Biography. 3. Trials (Murder) – Singapore. I. Title.
KPP11
340.092 -- dc22 OCN262489315
Printed in Singapore by Fabulous Printers Pte Ltd
To my son, Sujesh, who indirectly gave me the idea of writing this book, and to my wife, Vimi, who made it possible by typing out my rambling thoughts, crystallising my ideas and clarifying my writing.
I thank them both for always allowing me to focus on doing the best I can in my profession.
To my late brother, Surash, who left me without saying goodbye on October 31, 2000.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Foreword
Preface
THE MOULDING YEARS
The Base
Prefect
Raffles Institution
University Days
First Murder Trial
Becoming a Criminal Lawyer
Temple
Prison
Prison Intermediary
THE CASES
Magnet
Drugs, Stupidity and Abuse
Constance Chee
• The air stewardess who fell from grace
Took Leng How
• The man who should not have been hanged
Ramu Annadavascan
• A rake and the burning man
Nadasan Chandra Secharan
• Escaping the death sentence
Leong Siew Chor
• The body parts murder
Abdul Nasir
• A landmark case
Muhammad Nasir
• The 16-year-old lover
Anthony Ler
• That certain smile
Tan Chor Jin
• The one-eyed dragon
Chua Tiong Tiong
• Ah Long San
Pal (Milk), the Bookie
Johnny Tan
• The impersonator
University Martin
• The public prosecutor vs the bomoh
Public Prosecutor vs Heng Boon Chai
REFLECTIONS
J B Jeyaretnam and the Queen’s Counsel
Francis Seow and the Presidents of the Law Society
David Marshall and the Jury System
Keeping a Promise
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I started my law firm, Subhas Anandan, Advocate & Solicitor, with $500 given to me by my elder sister, Subhashini, who was then working as a medical officer. When I told her that I needed $500 to start it, she was surprised I could start a law firm with just that amount. I told her that the money was to open a current account so I could issue cheques. My sister, who is a very generous person, offered me more money. But I refused with a caveat—I told her that if I needed more funds, I would call on her. True to form, I did call on her generosity many times and she did not turn me down once. I don’t think that I have repaid all the money I borrowed from her yet.
On my first day of practice, my younger sister, Sugadha, who was then a relief teacher (she is now a reading specialist in the Ministry of Education with a Master’s degree in English), gave me a poster which read something like: Aim High, Aim Far, Aim for the Sky, Aim for the Stars. I stared at the poster and wondered at the audacity of my sister to think I could reach the stars. I was just hoping to make ends meet. Today, when I hit the headlines, I think of that poster and my younger sister. She had the courage to dream for me.
My younger brother, Sudheesan, who was then working in the Ministry of Defence did not say anything. He is the sort who will not interfere but you can be sure he will be there for you through thick and thin. I owe him my undying gratitude for all he did for me when I was in prison in 1976. He played football for Singapore and was the captain of the National Youth Team but this fact is not known to many.
My late younger brother, Surash, was then a well-known footballer in the early 1970s. He played for Singapore and made a name for himself. His only goal against West Germany in Tokyo was, at that time, the talking point in many a sporting function. He was one of my biggest fans as I was his. During my days in prison, I was known as his brother and I was so proud of him when prisoners came to talk to me about him.
My father was more a friend than a father. I recall when my own son was three years old, he was asked by some friends how he related to me and his answer was: “My father is, firstly, my best friend. Secondly he is my partner, and thirdly, he is my father, and sometimes he is my enemy.” I am glad I passed on my relationship with my father to my son.
To my mother, I was everything. She openly showed her bias and to the credit of my siblings, they took this without any grudges. To some extent, they were all quietly spoiling me as well when I was growing up. In fact, they are still spoiling me even at this age. In many ways, my mother was also everything to me. She did say that I made her cry the most but I also made her laugh the most. She was the only person who could make me do what I didn’t want to do.
When I was studying for my ‘A’ level and university exams, she used to sit with me to keep me company. Quite often when my friends felt I needed a break, they would come by around midnight with fried chicken and all sorts of other goodies. They would provide entertainment for half an hour before they left me with my studies again. My mother did not know at the time that the chicken was probably stolen from some neighbour. She used to say that part of my law degree belonged to her while my friends said that they were entitled to part of my earnings for the sacrifices they made.
The death of my father was a blow to me. I was not able to deal with it for some time. I had started to earn good money and I wanted to share my good fortune with him. I could only do it for a short time. I remember the pride and joy on his face when he got into my first Mercedes 280S. When I switched on the air-cond
itioner, he told me to switch it off. I asked him if he was feeling cold. He said that he was not but using the air-conditioner would increase the usage of petrol. I laughed and told him that I could afford it.
At the slightest excuse, he would ask me to give him a lift to meet his friends and sometimes he even requested me to drive one friend to visit another. I realised he just wanted to show off his son’s car.
My mother’s demise was more acceptable. She witnessed my marriage and had a few years with my son. When my wife Vimi confirmed her pregnancy, she rang my mother up to give her the good news. As usual my mother was lamenting about her ill health and wondering why she was still alive. She was in one of her depressive moods. On hearing the good news, she was delighted and even today, everybody feels that the birth of my son extended her life by another five years.
When she died, in some ways, we were glad because she was suffering a lot of pain and it was terrible to see her controlling her pain to make us feel better. She is the bravest lady I know. She took many a blow and came back stronger. I attribute this to her great faith in her God.
Apart from my family, there are many people who shaped my life and my character. It is practically impossible to name all of them and if I have inadvertently left out some names, please forgive me.
I grew up in the British Naval Base. My childhood friends were many and they had a good influence on me. Friends like Ah Teng, Ah Tee, Chee San, Poh Leong, Ah Soo, Chee Kok, Ramli, Ismail, Mohd Noor, Narainasamy, Ah Sai, Sai Chee, the late Lai Beng, Sivalingam (otherwise known as Mark, who first taught me how to drive) and many others. With these friends, I learnt the meaning of loyalty and realised that true friendship knows no boundaries.
In Naval Base School, I had other friends like Yusof (the last I heard he was in trouble and had run away from Singapore), Resman, Teck Boo, Hin Kiew (whose football wizardry was remarkable) and many others. Teachers like Mr Ngoh Cheong Hock, Mr Gabriel Pillai, Mr Oliver Seet, Mr Haridas and many other teachers also helped to shape me.
I would also like to acknowledge my brother-in-law, Bhas, and my wife’s brother-in-law, Nala, for all the medical care they gave me unflinchingly and, of course, for free. My sister-in-law, Nan, for being one of the first to be at my bedside whenever I was in hospital, my sisters-in-law, Syon and Justina, and my niece Sunita for always being there.
To Philip Ong, who ignored his busy work schedule in Shanghai to be at my bedside on the eve of my heart by-pass operation. He was, and always has been, a pillar of strength to me and my family.
My secretary, Sandra Cheng, for assisting my wife in liaising with the publishers. Thusita de Silva for his help to me in writing this book.
Last, but not least, to the late Justice M Karthigesu and Mrs Rathi Karthigesu I owe a debt for all that they have done for me.
Subhas Anandan
October 2008
FOREWORD
Strong friendships have been a very integral part in my brother’s life. Growing up in the British Naval Base workers’ quarters, he had the good fortune of having good friends in the different phases of his life. In his Naval Base school days, in Raffles Institution and the University of Singapore, Subhas had good friends that stood by him when he needed them. The friendships one makes growing up tend to mould the person one becomes. His growing up experiences with his friends, together with the love, support and guidance of our parents, have crystallised the adult Subhas. In his practise of the law, he had many successes and disappointments, but there were two very distinct phases in his life, and the law he loves passionately, that reveal the character of the man.
In the early years of his law practice, Subhas was framed by rogue police officers and incarcerated in Queenstown Remand Prison under the Criminal Law (Temporary Provisions) Act. Many people then deemed that his life was over. However, that was the period when special friends stood by him and worked tirelessly to get him released. Friends and neighbours, although frightened that they would also become targets of the rogue police conspiracy, still came out in large numbers to support the mass signature campaign to the Home Minister for his release. More than 5,000 signatories joined us in his release petition. Many others gave affidavits to support the contention that Subhas was framed and declared that they would go to court to testify if needed. Indefinite detention is a cruel sentence.
In the darkest hour of our misery, Subhas realised many things. Friendship is a crucible—friends are tested in crises. Most of his friends remained friends. Some, beyond our expectations, eased away, the fear of collateral damage haunting them. A few, to our despair, anguish and pain, gloated. But most of his tested and trusted friends stood by him and his family. They warmed our hearts and gave us courage and hope.
When Subhas was released early, he focused on his law practice. He and his partner, Mr M P D Nair, restructured their firm and took on many cases. In his practise of the law, Subhas showed compassion and empathy for the underdog. Many of the cases in this book testify to this. He has been there for people accused of heinous crimes who pleaded for help to clear their names. For many of them, Subhas the defence lawyer became their only friend. His practice blossomed and reputation as an excellent criminal lawyer grew.
The second milestone that shaped his life and his practise of the law was the death of our younger brother Surash, a chief steward in SIA. Surash died tragically in the infamous SQ006 flight that failed to take off from Taipei airport and crashed and burned on the runway on October 31, 2000. His colleagues who survived told us that Surash remained in the burning aircraft helping the passengers under his care to escape. Many survived, but Surash and others were caught in a blinding flash fire and perished. They found Surash close to his friend and colleague, Alfred, who also stayed back to help and made the ultimate sacrifice as well.
In many ways, Subhas reminds me of Surash. Both have the same fierce determination to complete their professional responsibilities. “Not on my watch. The best I could.” These were beacons to them. Like Surash, Subhas also cares for his friends and the people who come to him for help. Both of them had many friends but Surash was the more realistic one. He reminded us that all you need at the end are six friends to be your pallbearers in the Mount Vernon crematorium. Surash had more than a thousand friends in his final send-off.
Subhas is very different now. Many of his life experiences have tempered him, and the criminal cases he shares with us in this book reveal the tough, aggressive, brash, gentle, generous and kind nature of the man. He has always loved being a court-room lawyer, enjoying the cut and thrust of logic, evidence, and setting precedents. He now shares his vast expertise with many young lawyers, teaching and mentoring them. My son, Sunil, his legal assistant, is grateful to his uncle for the guidance and training. Both of them share a deep love of the law.
Friends there were many and many more will come into my brother’s life. He knows those who will stick by him regardless of the slings and arrows of misfortune. He is patient, listens well, and has become more compassionate and tolerant. His dry sense of humour and that rare smile that can light up a room is still there.
Our parents taught us well. They always reiterated, “Never forget the good that people have done for you and do your best to help them whenever you can.” The practise of law enables Subhas to continue doing this. All of us, his family and his friends in Sembawang and other parts of Singapore, wish him well and pray for his good health, happiness and prosperity.
Sudheesan Anandan
October 2008, Singapore
PREFACE
I have been asked many times why my son is not studying law as though it’s a given that he must read law. Some blame me for not encouraging him to be a lawyer while others accuse me of being indifferent. To me, it doesn’t really matter if he is a lawyer, a doctor or a salesman. He should grow up to be a good human being. A person who will have time and compassion for those who are less fortunate than him. I want him to have a life where he has time to stop and smell the flowers. I want his lif
e to be a journey of surprises and discovery, and not one where he is in a constant rush. Let him be anything he wants to be as long as he is happy. He should lead his life according to standards he sets for himself and he should not live to please others. He should have the discipline to resist evil and the same discipline not to overindulge. He knows my weaknesses and my strengths, and with that knowledge, he should be able to build his own strengths and discard what is not good for him. I have, to the best of my ability, taught him to differentiate between good from bad. You don’t need to be a lawyer to know that.
There is a long-standing TV programme in Singapore called ‘Crimewatch’. I remember watching it 10 years ago with my son who was then eight years old. Many of the cases shown in the programme were cases for which I was the defence counsel. Often, I would tell him, “Hey, that was papa’s case.”
One day, during the showing of a particular case, I got very angry because the police had taken credit for something they did not do. It was such an exaggeration and the police overplayed their importance. I told my wife Vimi: “You know, this is nonsense. Actually it’s quite shameful. What they are showing in this programme is nothing like what really happened. I think I should write to the papers to say that they are pulling wool over the public’s eyes.” The police did a good job in many cases but sometimes their exaggerations were a bit too much.
Vimi didn’t think I should send a letter. “Why don’t you leave it as it is?” she said. “Don’t go and antagonise these police people. Don’t you remember why you went to Queenstown Prison? It’s because you antagonised some of these people that you got into trouble. So, just leave them alone, please.”
My son had been quiet during my rant but he suddenly interrupted us. “Papa, all these people in these cases are your clients?” he asked earnestly.
“Yes, my son, most of them are,” I replied with pride in my voice, hoping my young son would be proud of his father and that I could inspire him into a legal career.
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