I knew Darshan from before my time in prison. He had married a Muslim woman and converted to Islam. I recall him telling me that when we were alone I should address him only as Darshan. When I saw him in the superintendent’s office, I knew there were problems.
The superintendent asked me, “How are things now that the inmates are not going to the yard?”
“It’s very bad,” I replied gravely. “Do you know that friends are fighting amongst themselves in the same grille? If you don’t do something about it, the situation is going to explode. Prisoners are going to get violent. It’s terrible for them to be confined for more than 23 hours of the day. All you need is for someone to instigate another and things will turn violent. And before you can act to control any outbreak of violence, it may spread all around.”
The superintendent nodded in agreement. “Yes, we are aware of what is happening and we are very worried,” he said. “That’s why we want you to talk to the two gangs involved in the stabbing incident. We want you to try to solve this matter. They will listen to you.”
“I can’t,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “Look, I’ve been trying to tell the police and the authorities that I have no connections with gangs and I am neither a triad member nor a gangster. Now you’re asking me to mediate a settlement and say that I can solve the matter. I would be sending the wrong message to the police and the CID. They’re bound to turn around and say that they were right all along about me—that I was connected and was placed high in the underworld. No, I can’t take that risk. I don’t want to do it.”
The superintendent studied my face for a few moments before he spoke. “Subhas, you’ve been here for the past few months. They have been talking about your release and that the CPIB (Corrupt Practices Investigation Bureau) is investigating. They even said that the minister is going to release you but nothing is happening. We feel that you’re going to be here for many years. So, you might as well help us and help the prisoners and be their boss here. This way, everyone will be quite happy with your role and you can help us solve a lot of problems. The police are not going to know about it and if they do, we will tell them that we asked you to do it as the prisoners respect you as a lawyer and wanted your help to solve their problems. We will make sure that there is no connection made to you.”
I thought for a while about what the superintendent had said. I was inclined to trust him as he was an upstanding person. Many of my friends in the prison were suffering because of the recent clamp-down. It was also true that there had been rumours about my imminent release but I was still in prison. If I was going to be in prison for a few years as the superintendent said, I might as well make myself as comfortable as possible. You could say it was a survival instinct. I agreed to help.
After leaving the superintendent’s office, I was taken back to the grille. I asked Anthony who the chiefs of the two gangs—Gang 18 and Gang 24—involved in the stabbing incident were, and I was allowed to go to their grilles. I told the prison officers to let out the heads and deputies. I spoke to the gang leaders separately. I told them: “This matter must be settled. It is not going to do anybody any good.” Their response was that they had to meet their ‘important’ people before they could make such a decision. I asked for their names and six prisoners from each gang were released on my request.
All eight members from each gang were sent to two separate locations in the yard to deliberate the matter at hand. I asked the superintendent if he could provide them with coffee as I knew they liked to drink coffee when they had such discussions. Coffee was a treat in prison and given to prisoners only on festive occasions. The superintendent smiled. “Coffee is your personal request, isn’t it?”
I laughed. “So, are we getting our coffee?”
He arranged for coffee to be brought for all of us. We had cigarettes as well. There were plenty of contraband cigarettes in the prison, enough to pass around. The discussions which I helped to mediate took two days. At the end of the second day, the gang leaders came to an agreement and said there would be peace. Gang 18, whose leaders had been stabbed, gave their word that they would not retaliate, at least not in Queenstown Remand Prison. But they added that all bets would be off when they were transferred to Changi Prison.
I agreed and went to look for the superintendent and told him: “Sir, this is the position. They have given me their word that there will not be any fights here. There will be no more stabbings. There will be peace, but this will only apply in Queenstown and they are not going to give such an undertaking if they get transferred to Changi Prison. There could be a fight there.”
He looked pleased. “As long as they don’t fight in Queenstown, who the hell cares what they do in Changi Prison? That’s not my problem, Subhas. So, can you trust them to keep their word?”
“Yes, I can.”
The next day, the prisoners were allowed back into the yard. Extra guards were put on duty and I was told that some of the guards were armed and prepared to shoot if necessary. As the days passed without incident, the guard alert was slowly relaxed and, with that, the matter was settled. I learnt one thing: when gangsters give their word, they keep it. There was a lot of honour among them. I can’t say the same about present-day gangsters. I’ve met some of them. They would sell you for a few dollars.
Life was a routine in prison. Many of the remand prisoners would seek my legal opinion. It was then that I realised that if any prisoner was not pleased with his lawyer’s work, all he needed to do was to condemn the lawyer. Word would get around and nobody would engage his services. During my time in prison, many lawyers were mentioned. I won’t tell you their names, but I did feel that their bad reputations were justified as I knew for a fact that they did not work hard for their clients and were more interested in the money they could make from them.
On many occasions, I would sit with the inmates to discuss their cases. It kept me in practice and alert. One day, as I was sitting in the yard having my customary cigarette and reading the newspapers, a prisoner came up to me. I asked him what he was in jail for.
“Well, they claim that I’ve committed seven murders, over 90 robberies, also extortion and many other offences,” he replied as if he was listing out his lifetime achievements.
I was curious. “So, did you do all that?”
He laughed out loud. “Yes, lah, I did all that but sir, I’m very lucky they don’t have enough evidence to charge me. None of the witnesses will come out.”
Through conversations with prisoners like him, I found that many of them were actually guilty of the offences they were alleged to have committed. That’s why when I was asked, after my release from prison, whether I would lobby for the abolition of the law that allowed people to be detained without trial, I said no. But I believe the authorities must have enough safeguards to ensure that this legislation is not abused. Many people were surprised at my response as I had been detained under the same law. I am being very practical about it as I’ve had first-hand encounters with prisoners remanded for wrongdoings. These prisoners are very happy to be there and not to be hanged.
I must cite one particular case from the 1970s (there were a few versions that I heard from some of the protagonists who were in Queenstown Prison at around the same time as I was). The case involved two women teachers who had kidnapped an intellectually disabled Indonesian boy. Because the boy was regularly picked up from school in a Rolls Royce, they decided he was worth kidnapping. However, they were not sure how to do the deed and engaged the help of a person called Ricky who agreed to kidnap the boy for a ransom of about $1 million. Ricky, who was just a salesman at the time, enlisted the help of Ah Lek, a man with underground connections.
After the boy was kidnapped, Ah Lek guarded the boy while Ricky demanded the ransom of $1 million which was eventually settled at $500,000. When the money was collected, the kidnappers kept their word and dropped the boy off unharmed on Old Upper Thomson Road. The money was shared between the teachers and the men. The three main pr
otagonists, however, told Ah Lek that they received only $100,000 and gave him $10,000 as his share. They then shared the rest of the money amongst themselves. This was a very large sum in those days, when nice houses with gardens could still be bought in many parts of Singapore for less than $100,000.
The women resigned from teaching and started a company that financed hire-purchase loans for cars. Ricky, on the other hand, bought a flashy car, wined and dined, and gambled. He soon lost his money. With no remorse, he approached the two ex-teachers for more money. They gave him some money and he squandered that too. He went back to them again but this time they refused him. He threatened to confess to the kidnapping and expose them. Not knowing what to do and wanting to continue their legitimate business, the women approached Danny for help—the same Danny who had set up the stabbing incident in Queenstown Prison. Danny sent his men to threaten Ricky into silence but Ricky didn’t comply. Instead, he did a very stupid thing. Realising he couldn’t take on Danny and his gang, Ricky immediately thought of Ah Lek. He told Ah Lek that the ransom money had actually been $500,000 and the teachers had taken most of it.
“They are doing so well and when I asked them for some money, they refused to give it to me. I think you should ask them for your full equal share,” Ricky said.
Ah Lek was hopping mad. “How dare they cheat me!” he shouted.
He immediately sought them out. The women again approached Danny for help, claiming that Ah Lek was extorting money from them. Danny went to Ah Lek who said to him: “Look, I am not Ricky. You can’t just push me around. What gang do you belong to?” Danny and his gang identified themselves and they decided to have a ‘settlement talk’.
All this time, Danny and his gang did not know that it was a kidnap case and ransom money that was being discussed. Danny thought that it was a case of extortion and protection money. When they sat down to talk in a coffee shop, Ah Lek asked Danny why he was interfering. He related the kidnapping incident. He felt he had been taken for a ride and wanted more money from the women. Word soon got around in the underworld that there had been a kidnap and the kidnappers and others were sitting down to talk. Someone leaked the information to the police who arrested the whole lot, including the ex-teachers. After interrogating them, the police found that the women, Ah Lek and Ricky had committed the act of kidnapping and that Danny and his gang were trying to extort protection money from them. All of them were detained. The women were put into Changi Prison. Ricky, Ah Lek, Danny and all the others spent more than 12 years in remand.
It was Ricky who narrated this story to me in prison. Ah Lek shared a different version with me and of course, Danny also had another story. But after putting all the various pieces of the story together, I decided that it all started because of Ricky’s gambling habit. No one would have been caught if he had not gambled away his share and demanded money from the women that second time.
A few years after my release from prison, an attractive woman came to see me for my services. Her friend had been charged with kidnapping a very wealthy man for ransom. I went to see her friend, the accused, in prison and she said to me, “This is the second time, you know. I think the police will not give me any chance.” She then told me what had happened.
“I know,” I replied. “Ricky, Ah Lek, Danny and all the others were in prison with me.” On hearing that, she treated me like an old friend and pleaded with me. “Can you do me a favour? Please ask the judge to give me the death sentence.”
I explained that as her lawyer, it was not possible for me to plead with the judge to grant her a death sentence. However, she insisted and I told her, “In that case, I am going to discharge myself. You can ask the judge for the death sentence yourself.”
I stood up as Justice Kan Ting Chiu, the presiding judge, walked into court. I said that I had to discharge myself as I could not comply with my client’s instructions. He looked at me as though he knew what the problem was. He said, “Alright, you’re discharged.” I left the court and I believe she did ask for the death sentence. Justice Kan sentenced her to life imprisonment. She is presently in Changi Women’s Prison. For all her misdeeds, I thought she was a brave woman to ask for the death sentence.
THE CASES
Magnet
Drugs, Stupidity and Abuse
Constance Chee
Took Leng How
Ramu Annadavascan
Nadasan Chandra Secharan
Leong Siew Chor
Abdul Nasir
Muhammad Nasir
Anthony Ler
Tan Chor Jin
Chua Tiong Tiong
Pal (Milk), the Bookie
Johnny Tan
University Martin
Public Prosecutor vs Heng Boon Chai
TEN
MAGNET
Unlike civil cases, criminal cases can have severe penalties for those who are convicted. When your clients face the death penalty or life imprisonment, it makes you focus your mind and efforts. I had my first taste of this with Tampines Raja. The primary job of criminal lawyers like me is to ensure that the accused receives fair and just treatment. To do that, I need to have a full grasp of all aspects of criminal law.
I think you need to be a different breed to be a criminal lawyer, especially in Singapore, where many lawyers seek to specialise in areas that are more lucrative. There are only a few lawyers in Singapore who specialise in criminal law. I think there may be about 200 lawyers altogether in Singapore who take on criminal cases even though it is not their area of specialisation. These lawyers may be helping a family friend or doing some pro bono work or perhaps have been assigned to a criminal case by the State.
It is often said that people who want to engage a lawyer to handle a criminal case should not get one whose primary practice is something other than criminal defence. This explains why I get a large number of cases and I am featured in the press very often. I can’t help it if editors like to devote column space to cases involving murders, sex crimes and crimes of passion. The exposure is not something I seek consciously, but some of the cases I am involved in understandably generate a lot of interest in the media. I have no control over that.
For example, in June 2007, I was assigned by the State to act for Tan Chor Jin in his appeal against his death sentence for killing nightclub boss Lim Hock Soon. Tan had requested that I conduct his appeal after he unsuccessfully defended himself in the capital trial. The State assigns lawyers to those charged with capital offences if they cannot afford a lawyer’s fees. Tan’s wife had also asked me, separately, to defend him, but as the State had assigned the case to me, Tan’s family would not have to pay my fees. Instead, the State would cover my fees.
Tan, also known as the One-eyed Dragon because he is blind in the right eye, was sentenced to death for discharging a Beretta pistol with intent to injure Lim Hock Soon. If Tan had asked for me to defend him in his original capital case, I wouldn’t have accepted. I knew Lim casually and I would have felt uncomfortable having to cross-examine his wife during the trial. Such a situation would not arise in an appeal as no cross-examination of witnesses is required. I only have to look for loopholes in the judgement and the applications of law to argue the case in Tan’s defence. The One-eyed Dragon’s appeal is described later in this book.
I am known to take on complicated cases, with a degree of success. I do get sentences reduced on appeal because my experience allows me to spot errors in judgement. I also know enough of the law to get charges amended. This is not the easiest thing to do in Singapore courts, but the numbers are increasing especially with the new Chief Justice Chan Sek Keong on board. Perhaps it’s my track record that makes me a sort of magnet for accused people from all walks of life. I also have a reputation as a fighter. I fight for my clients till I’ve exhausted all possible legal avenues and usually myself in the process.
Over the last three decades, I have defended many, many different kinds of people, some of whom were accused of the most heinous crimes. Some may have been guil
ty of what they were charged with, some probably weren’t, but I never take the high moral ground when it comes to defending an accused person. I always accept or reject cases on a case-by-case basis. To me, there can be no other way if you respect the law and believe that everyone deserves a fair trial regardless of how serious a crime has been committed. If I pick and choose my clients, I believe my practice will fail because people will start to lose faith in me. For instance, they wouldn’t call me out for drinks to discuss their problems, as some do, and eventually retain me as their lawyer if they didn’t have this faith in me. I’ve become friends with many of my clients even after I’ve lost their cases. Like Tampines Raja, they see that I do my best for them and their appreciation is heartfelt even when the prosecution’s case is stronger and they are found guilty. It’s quite well-known in legal circles that my health is not the best and I’m beset by a variety of ailments. I have a team of four specialist doctors at Gleneagles Hospital who keep me going. I take about 30 pills a day, including vitamins and supplements. In my trouser pocket, I also carry a little bottle containing a white pill that when taken will prevent my heart from seizing up. Knowing about my ill-health, some of my clients who have been sentenced to death have offered me their organs. Anthony Ler, with his signature smile, offered me his kidneys before he was hanged.
The Best I Could Page 11