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  Copyright © 2010 Alan Shadrake

  Published in 2010 by

  Strategic Information and Research Development Centre No 11, Lorong 11/4E, 46200 Petaling Jaya, Selangor, Malaysia.

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  Perpustakaan Negara Malaysia Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Shadrake, Alan

  Once a Jolly Hangman: Singapore justice in the dock / Alan Shadrake.

  1. Justice, Administration of-Singapore.

  2. Law-Political aspects-Singapore.

  3. Singapore-Politics and government. I. Title. 347.5957013

  ISBN 978-967-5832-00-0

  Cover design and layout by Janice Cheong

  Printed by Vinlin Press Sdn Bhd 2,

  Jalan Meranti Permai 1,

  Meranti Permai Industrial Park,

  Batu 15, Jalan Puchong,

  47100 Puchong, Selangor, Malaysia.

  Preface

  It was never my intention to go to Singapore and write a book about its revered but much feared chief executioner or its justice system. I was invited by the Singapore Tourism Board and a glossy magazine in California to write a travel feature to tempt Americans to visit the city state. Writing about its bird park, night safari, orchid garden, the legend of the Merlion and historic hotels like The Raffles or The Fullerton was not my usual sphere of interest. The trip lasted only a week but, having an inquiring mind well outside my minders box, I soon had a feeling that I would never discover the true nature of this bland, authoritarian nation from a controlled tour like this. Reading its biggest daily, The Straits Times - which I discovered was mockingly called 'The Straits Jacket' - confirmed my thinking. It all appeared a little too clean, too efficient and just too damned perfect for my liking. It all reminded me of the Hollywood movie The Stepford Wives, about a town in upstate New York where everything was blissfully controlled - especially the beautifully turned out, seemingly perfect, clockwork women. Or a meal dreamed up by a chef who had forgotten to add the salt.

  I soon began quietly delving into the background of what became known as the Orchard Towers Murders. There were two suspects: a British millionaire financial adviser and his Chinese girlfriend who fled to Britain and then Australia. Around the same time, a young man named Nguyen Van Tuong, an Australian citizen, was about to go on trial and inevitably end up on death row for heroin trafficking. His execution was to stir anti-death penalty campaigners across Australia and threaten a major rift with Singapore. Some months later I decided to return and keep tabs on both these cases. An interview with Singapore's hangman who had been chief executioner for almost 50 years since colonial days was on my mind. It was a daunting task.

  But after months of relentless sleuthing I managed to find the man who had hanged an estimated 1,000 men and women mainly for murder and drug trafficking - and surprisingly get him to talk. It led to a meticulous search of legal files and archived cases going back to 1963 while interviewing abolitionists and lawyers involved in many sensational cases that largely went under-reported or not reported at all. The result is a unique glimpse into the deadly career of arguably the most prolific executioner in the world - a man who believes he has helped keep Singapore one of the safest places in the world. And something else. Something sinister: how the Singapore legal system works in secret and how politics, international trade and business often determine who lives and who dies on the gallows.

  This book would never have been completed without the invaluable help of many people. Perhaps the most important are some of Singapore's own human rights activists and abolitionists. There aren't many of them but their numbers are growing. These few brave men and women often met me in secret with a nugget of priceless information to help me unearth yet another hidden legal scandal relating to someone's demise on the gallows. They helped expose this nightmare account of what the authorities were afraid would leak out and damage Singapore's glitzy, squeaky clean image. Unfortunately, as I promised, I cannot name all of them. To reveal their names would mean jeopardising their futures at the hands the Singaporean government which cannot tolerate any kind of dissent or criticism. They could lose their jobs or even end up in prison - as many have done and still do all too frequently For those who insisted I never reveal their names for fear of retribution can sleep peacefully. One top lawyer, after an important secret meeting, looked into my eyes and said: 'I don't know you. You don't know me. Never contact me again!' Then he walked away We have never met or spoken to each other since.

  There are others I cannot name, including two former officers of the Central Narcotics Bureau, but wish I could. As promised they must remain anonymous as far as this book is concerned. But let's hope that one day in the not too distant future their names will be revealed and honoured. Some are parents of young children and I would not wish to endanger their livelihood, liberty or futures in the way many other dissidents and opponents of the government have been so appallingly

  treated over the years. Although she might have suspected what I was doing but did not know for sure, I must also thank an anonymous librarian at the National Library in Singapore, who helped me delve into archived records that laid the foundation for the eventual completion of this book.

  And then there are those I can name and do so proudly. Firstly, I would like to thank a rare young man with real guts - the lawyer M. Ravi, a stalwart human rights campaigner and activist, who fought three long battles to try to save the lives of three young men from Singapore, Malaysia and Nigeria and as a result became one of the most vilified citizens. He should be recognised as a hero and I would like to see his name one day on one of the streets running alongside the new Supreme Court: M. Ravi Avenue. Although I met him only once shortly before his death, I would like to thank one of Singapore's most illustrious human rights activists, Joshua Benjamin Jeyaretnam, or JBJ as he was affectionately known to his friends and supporters. Reading accounts of his fight for justice and decency during his entire lifetime inspired me to continue this quest. His brave, gutsy stance should also put his name on the list of Singapore's real heroes and another auspicious street. And then there is Alex Au, whom I first discovered on the internet via his blog, 'Yawning Bread', then in person for several important interviews. He is another fearless fighter for human rights and his lucid commentaries were a stunning revelation to me - and no doubt his sharp jabs at the system cause much pain to the authorities in Singapore. I would also like to thank Dr Chee Juan Soon, who has bravely gone toe-to-toe challenging Lee Kuan Yew for more than a decade and has been imp
risoned, fined or made bankrupt for his efforts to bring about peaceful, democratic change in Singapore. He will never be defeated. No matter how many times he is sent to jail or made bankrupt he will always stand on the moral high ground also bravely supported by his sister Siok Chin and his wife, Mae. And then there is the irrepressible lawyer Gopalan Nair, whom I am also proud to know personally, who emigrated to the United States and became an American citizen. He regularly attacks the People's Action Party in his blog 'Singapore Dissident' from California, and was arrested when he returned briefly in 2008, charged and jailed with insulting a public servant.

  Two families of loved ones who were hanged on questionable evidence by a corrupt police officer agreed to cooperate with me to add even more devastating information to this book. Vasu Mourthi, his wife and three daughters welcomed me to their home in Ipoh, Malaysia, and talked about Vignes Mourthi, a loving son and brother. All of them decent, hard-working people, their lives were shattered by what happened to Vignes and no doubt they will grieve his loss forever. The citizens of Singapore might possibly have all hung their heads in shame had they known the full circumstances of this young man's brutal end carried out in their name. The same goes for the family of Shanmugam Murugesu - his mother Letchumi Amah and his twin sons she helped raise in Jurong West, Singapore. She and his brave youngsters did not hesitate to attend protest forums for many others who ended up on death row after their personal bereavement.

  A Dutch social worker, Guus van Bladel, a permanent resident of Singapore at the time of Maria Krol-Hmelak's arrest and trial, was appointed her counsellor and allowed to visit her on a regular basis throughout her incarceration. He kept a diary of events, invited me to his home in Malacca and allowed me to record many piquant details of events that took place in the courtroom and even in her cell.

  It was Margaret John of Amnesty International who fed me with endless, extremely useful information and then, amazingly, connected me with the independent Malaysian publisher SIRD as the perfect vehicle for this book. Its director, Chong Ton Sin, is a dedicated campaigner for human rights and a stalwart abolitionist and met my proposal with great enthusiasm. I thank him from the bottom of my heart for bravely taking me on. I must also thank SIRD's editor, Ismail Gareth Richards, who patiently guided me through many literary and political minefields, kept me on track, constantly looked over my shoulder and corrected me in the nicest way possible when I had got it wrong. Janice Cheong, SIRD's talented designer, undertook the layout with patience and good humour and designed the splendid book cover.

  Last but by no means least - and strange as it may seem to many - I will be forever grateful for the kindness and hospitality of the star' of this book, Darshan Singh, executioner extraordinaire. To those who do not know him he is not the grim reaper of fantasy but a very likeable, down-to-earth man - like any other kindly father and grandfather.

  Although his calling was to kill people, he did not do so callously but with gentle kindness and concern. I came to like him quite a lot but not for what he did when he was master of the gallows.

  Alan Shadrake

  Kuala Lumpur, 15 April 2010

  Foreword

  Alan Shadrake's book, Once a Jolly Hangman, is a timely contribution to growing criticism of Singapore's shameful use of the death penalty. Once dubbed by The Economist as the world execution capital, Singapore is believed still to have one of the highest per capita rates of execution of any country worldwide, thus remaining totally out of step in the move regionally and internationally towards a death penalty-free world. A historic momentum is building from which Singapore chooses to exclude itself.

  Executions are no longer a matter exclusively internal to an individual country's criminal justice system. Executions are now squarely an international issue. A small but growing anti-death penalty group of Singaporeans along with international organisations are gaining an effective voice. Standards have now been set by the United Nations. The UN's 2008 resolution calling for a worldwide moratorium on executions as a step towards total abolition has been heeded by an increasing number of countries. Not so by Singapore, however. Over 420 people have been executed there since 1991, mostly for drug trafficking, for which there is a mandatory death sentence. A number of countries have mounted protests against the execution of their nationals in Singapore and cases have been raised at the highest level. The worldwide anti-death penalty campaign will not be deterred. Moreover, the struggle against executions also highlights Singapore's other human rights realities: the difficulties of acting in opposition to policies generally of the ruling People's Action Party, which has been in power over half a century; government control of the media and civil society organisations, thus curbing public debate and limiting independent monitoring of human rights; and restrictions on cause- related demonstrations.

  Once a Jolly Hangman unearths new or little-known information. The author argues convincingly that only those cases with possibly negative political or economic outcomes appear to have succeeded in preventing executions of foreign nationals. In contrast, he exposes the pitiful, hopeless situation of poor, uneducated or desperate drug mules with no important connections and the irony of Singapore's economic backing for the brutal government of Myanmar - the origin of so much of the drug supplies. Alan Shadrake's interviews with Singapore's executioner, Darshan Singh, provide eye-opener descriptions of actual executions. And he gives the reader insights into the efforts of Singapore's own small group of anti-death penalty campaigners, such as heroic lawyer and human rights activist M. Ravi, alongside whom we, on the outside, are privileged to work. And, importantly, the reader is brought close to the heart of the matter - to the anguish of the victims themselves.

  Amnesty International sees the death penalty as the ultimate torture, cruel, inhumane and degrading, prohibited by international human rights standards. It is a view now shared by an increasing number of governments, as they become convinced that executions are futile, do not solve crimes, have no particular deterrent quality, are more than likely to be imposed disproportionately on the marginalised in society, are irreversible, yet may result in executing the innocent. Moreover, executions add to a culture of violence by making state violence an acceptable way to deal with problems. The Singapore government's view is an exception to this now majority international opinion. Singapore's leaders cling to their outmoded arguments that there is no international consensus on the death penalty, that it is a deterrent, that it is used for only the most serious crimes, that it is not a human rights issue, that Singapore has a transparent and fair justice system, and that Amnesty International has got its facts wrong. They are arguments increasingly difficult to uphold in the face of world standards and trends.

  Margaret John

  Coordinator for Singapore and Malaysia

  Amnesty International Canada

  1

  Singapore On Trial,

  Verdict: Guilty As Charged

  The basic argument in favour of capital punishment in Singapore - and everywhere else it is practised - is that it maintains law and order, deters crime, prevents recidivism and is a just and proper punishment for heinous offences. Opponents say it does no such thing. It does not and never has deterred criminals any more than life imprisonment. More than this, they argue that capital punishment violates human rights, leads to executions of some who are wrongfully convicted and discriminates against minorities and the poor. This book exposes many cases where vulnerable young people, in all kinds of desperate situations, have committed crimes through fear and threats of death from drug syndicates who seduce them into becoming drug carriers. They are rarely, if ever, caught and prosecuted and in many cases have the money to buy their way out of trouble. In several cases I have investigated in Singapore, narcotics police, using well-paid informants, have helped 'load' the evidence in sting operations involving minor marijuana smugglers to ensure they end up on the gallows. In another case, a young man of 21 was hanged on the questionable evidence of a Central Narcotics Bu
reau officer who was later jailed for 15 months for corruption in another case. This case alone is a sound and compelling argument to abolish the death penalty in Singapore.

  Capital punishment, of course, has always been a very contentious issue in many parts of the world. Proponents discount any errors or occasional prosecutorial machinations as par for the course and argue that examples of something going wrong judicially are in any case rare. The Singapore attitude seems to be that it is better for all convicted criminals to be hanged rather than an innocent one go free. Arguments over the rights and wrongs of capital punishment have raged for centuries ever since the state killing of criminals and political opponents has been in vogue. It has been used by nearly all societies both to punish crime and to suppress political dissent. However, there has been a trend toward abolition in most part of the world over the past three decades. Today all European countries (with the exception of Belarus), most of Central and South America and about half of African states have either made the death penalty illegal or it is effectively not in use. Of all the regions of the world it is Asia that has most resisted the abolitionist wave. From the Middle East to Japan judicial execution remains a fact of life and death. But even here countries have not been entirely immune to abolition: in Southeast Asia, for example, Cambodia, Philippines and Timor-Leste no longer provide for the death penalty for any crime.

  Today, some 58 countries still use capital punishment. The death penalty is usually reserved as punishment for serious crimes such as premeditated murder, espionage, treason or as part of military justice but in some countries sexual crimes - rape, adultery and sodomy - also carry the death penalty. In China human trafficking and serious cases of corruption are likewise punished. In military regimes around the world courts-martial have imposed death sentences for offences such as cowardice, insubordination and mutiny.