Chasing the Dragon (27 page)

When we got the vehicle registration numbers, we took a taxi to Sheko, where there lived a boy who owned one of the cars involved in the alleged crime. He worked in a button factory in Wanchai, so we chased back, located the button-holer, and asked him where he usually parked his car. “Usually in the Shaukiwan parking lot,” he said. But on the date of the crime it had not been there. Now we had a case; now we had witnesses.

All this fuss over such a minor case was unusual, and the Attorney General’s department was alerted. They sent counsel to conduct the prosecution. Usually in Magistrates’ Courts a police inspector fulfilled this function.

During a break in the case, the prosecuting counsel asked to speak with me. I had noticed him becoming more and more tetchy as the morning proceedings crawled along. He
was extremely annoyed at the detailed cross-examination by the defense and kept looking at his watch.

“Why are you two going to so much trouble for such a minor case?” he asked. “We should have disposed of it by now. As it is, we will have to continue into the afternoon; it is such a small matter anyway.”

I knew that I should not discuss this case, but I said, “Shouldn’t one present the best case possible in the interests of the defendant?”

“Yes, but why waste time on such a case at all?” he objected, very upset at spending his valuable time on a trivial affair.

“Because I believe the defendant is innocent,” I said.

He looked at me astounded. “That man has a record of a dozen or so convictions! Didn’t you know?”

“Yes, I know. But we are talking about today’s charges. I am sure he did not commit that crime.”

“Well, my dear,” said the barrister, patronizing me, “I’ve been in Hong Kong for six months now …”

This was one of the few cases I was involved with in which the defendant was found not guilty. But as a rider, the magistrate also handed a bouquet to the police, saying that they had done an excellent job and that the fact the accused had been acquitted reflected in no way adversely on their testimony.

So I was landed with Sorchuen. Praying in the cells after our first meeting had taught him that Jesus was alive, but he had yet to learn that the way to be His disciple was not by going to see
Legends of Lust
.

Following this case, David helped with several more and helped to pull off a legal first in Hong Kong. It was on the occasion when two Chaiwan boys along with some others were arrested for claiming to be members of a Triad society. The legal point was interesting: While you cannot be arrested for being a silent Triad member, you can be arrested for claiming to be one. For this reason, the police needed signed confessions for the charges
to hold up. The two boys had signed alleged confessions in the police station but later said that they did so under duress and that they were taught what to write. The others pleaded guilty.

MOTS (Member Of Triad Society) cases, as they were known, were usually rapidly dealt with, but this one became extremely complicated. Both the boys charged had become Christians a year previously; a number of us were praying that this trial would somehow glorify God. One of the issues in the case was indeed a spiritual one: To join and remain an active member of a Triad society was a self-commitment that could not be consistent with Christianity. To take part in a Triad initiation ceremony, there was bloodletting and an invoking of spirits, which the law recognized as evil by defining it as an indictable offence.

The police produced their expert witness, a 426 Redpole fighter. He got up in court and gave his evidence.

“I am a 14K office bearer. I say that according to Triad rules, you are always a Triad member—forever. You cannot leave the Triads. Even though I now spend my life giving evidence at police trials, I still remain an office bearer in the 14K.”

The case for the defense rested on exactly opposite assumptions. We claimed that our boys were no longer Triad members because they had renounced their Triad membership by being baptized as Christians. The boys stated in court, “Yes, we were Triad members, but we are no longer.” Our solicitor produced another expert witness, a Chinese language scholar, who pointed out that when the boys’ confessions had been translated as saying, “I am a Triad member,” the translation was open to question because there is no present or past tense in Chinese. We contended that what their statement meant was, “Yes, I was a Triad member; yes, I did join a Triad society, but now I am not actively involved.”

Then we produced yet another expert witness, Ah Kei, who held the same rank as the police witness in the 14K Triad society. He rose to his feet in court and said, “I too am a 426 Redpole of the 14K, but I’ve become a Christian. I have renounced my
entire gang; these two boys here on trial were my younger brothers. Since I have given up the gang, I have told the members that I no longer hold responsibility for them; if they want to follow Christ they can, or else they can go their own way.”

This clinched matters for the judge. He had been forced to spend hour after hour listening to talk of baptisms and conversions, whereas usually in Triad cases the accused were speedily found guilty or not guilty. He announced to the court, “I see no reason why a man should be branded for life; if he wants to change and become a Christian, then good.”

Then the judge turned and said, “And now, Miss Pullinger, it is your responsibility to see that they continue to follow what they are supposed to have confessed. Case dismissed.”

One of the reasons why there were not more acquittals was that people in Hong Kong were very unwilling to give evidence in court. There was a deep distrust of legal proceedings and a feeling that every case was rigged. Being a fervent believer in the fairness of the British judicial system, I tried to persuade them that if only they spoke for themselves or their friends with complete honesty, they were bound to be justified. The fact that so many cases went against them was largely due to their own apathy; they contributed to the inequities of the system they so berated.

Through attending so many court sessions, I began to notice some characters who seemed to appear with remarkable regularity. There was a little granny with a long plait down her back, a total of two teeth and a beautiful deeply lined and weathered face. She held what appeared to be a shopping list and sat in court each morning pleading guilty to at least 20 different hawking offences, all under different names. As each one was called out, she would raise her hand and squeak “
Yauh
,” meaning “I’m here,” and then mark off on her sheet of paper the amount to be paid. I discovered that this was her career; she no longer stood laboriously in the streets hawking her goods. Instead, for a small fee, she stood in for all her market friends at court so that they could continue their little businesses.

She had a male counterpart, a delightful 70-year-old man who squatted outside the courtroom playing cards with his mates. He knew exactly when to go in for his hearing, and every week he was there. The charges were read out: “Smoking opium and being in possession of instruments for doing so.” He nodded happily. “Fifty-eight previous convictions for similar offences.” He went on nodding and beaming. “One hundred dollars, or 50 dollars and one day in prison.” He looked as if he would explode with joy and walked out smiling broadly. I mentioned to Ah Keung, who was sitting with me, what bad luck it was that he always got caught.

“Oh no, it wasn’t an accident,” laughed Ah Keung. “He is an ‘actor.’ He is paid to be arrested by the drug den owners.” I learned that when the den operators were informed of a police raid, they closed the premises and left behind one old addict, who was then arrested and charged. Because of his age and number of convictions, he was given a minimum sentence. The den paid him 150 dollars for this and provided free opium, so he was able to indulge his habit and, after paying the fine, still make a small profit. The police were pleased, the operators were pleased, the actor was delighted, and Hong Kong’s arrest tally was impressive.

Ah Keung’s father was one of those who would have nothing to do with the courts. He asked me on one occasion to help his fifth son, Ah Pooi, who had been arrested for stealing a radio from an elderly man outside the Walled City. At the exact time, Ah Pooi had actually been inside the Walled City, talking to an old woman. The woman refused to be a witness, as her job was to sweep a gambling den. His father also saw two detectives take him away from there, but he refused to give testimony on behalf of his own son.

“
Pa mah fan
, don’t want to get involved, too much trouble.” Because he was involved in illegal gambling himself, and because the den had some arrangement with some policemen, he felt that keeping good relationships was more important than vindicating Ah Pooi. Nevertheless, he hoped that I would help his innocent son. I explained that because he was with-holding
the vital evidence, there was nothing I could do. He, however, had an unshakable conviction that I knew the judge and merely had to wink at him in court to free the boy. Had he known the judge, he would have winked …

It was a hard line to take. I had to be careful not to be eaten up with anger over the injustice when truth was rejected. I also had to avoid being used as a source of free legal aid by rascals who had no desire to change. In one case, a young man returned from seeing a solicitor I had recommended, complaining, “He is no good. He did not even teach me a story to tell in court. What a waste of money.”

Yet it was not a waste of time. Many people’s lives were touched through the legal cases, and if there seemed to be a lack of justification in earthly courts, there was a growing number of people who understood being justified in heavenly ones. A reformed criminal named Suenjai was a glowing example of this. He had led a straight life for 10 years, working very hard to support his wife and four young children. When he was arrested and convicted for a pick-pocketing charge, I was certain he could not have committed it. It was a particularly cruel blow for him to be imprisoned for a crime he had not done.

Suenjai’s wife contacted me, and I visited him in remand prison. He was an angry and bitter man. He wanted to talk about his retrial; I wanted to talk about Jesus. He did not want to be preached at and was still abrasive, so I prayed. Then he stopped raging and became calm. I had no Bibles with me, only a little booklet containing extracts from the Sermon on the Mount. I did not feel this was very suitable, as it did not contain much about God’s love and forgiveness or the means of salvation; it was mainly “good work” teaching. However, I had nothing else, so I left it for him to read.

When I next went to visit a small group in the remand center, Suenjai was sitting among them. I asked them, “Why did Jesus have to die?”

Suenjai answered straight off with a most academic reply: “Because it says, ‘Do not think that I have come to abolish the
Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. I tell you the truth, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished.’”
³

Suenjai had never been to a Christian meeting in his life and had only studied four years of primary school, but he had an amazing understanding of Scripture. Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount led him to belief. He asked Jesus into his life and received the Holy Spirit.

Shortly before his retrial, I asked Suenjai how he would present his defense. He said that previously he had been very angry and had lots of abusive things to say; he now decided not to present a defense apart from saying, “not guilty.” I began to advise him differently, but he stopped me short.

“It says in the Bible, ‘Simply let your “Yes” be “Yes,” and your “No,” “No”; anything beyond this comes from the evil one.’”
⁴
I said no more.

Suenjai was found guilty. Although I was convinced he had been framed and was serving 15 months for a crime he had not done, he remained cheerful and never stopped praising God. In fact, his neighbors who heard about his demeanor at the trial were so impressed that they organized a meeting in a resettlement block and asked me and some of the boys to go and tell them about this Jesus who could change a hard man’s heart.

One day Suenjai told me that he’d led 12 prisoners to Christ. I was a bit doubtful, as I knew that his theology was only based on three chapters of Matthew, a few visits from me and his own experience: He had never read
Personal Evangelism, Four Steps into Christ
or undergone a counseling course. So I questioned him about the circumstances.

“Well,” he said, “one night one of my cellmates woke up screaming. It was as if he had been grabbed by the neck, and he began to writhe on his bunk and suffocate. I could see that he was in the grip of a spirit and couldn’t breathe. So I got up and said, ‘Satan, in the name of Jesus, get out!’—nothing happened.
So I said, ‘Get out, I tell you!’ I made as if to kick the spirit and it left him, so he lay quite relaxed and peaceful. At that, the 11 other cellmates got up and asked me, ‘What was that? How did you do that?’ ‘That was Jesus,’ I replied, and they said they wanted to believe, too, so I told them how.”

Three days after his release, Suenjai’s wife ran away with another man and prostituted herself. Suenjai was then supporting and looking after eight children, as his widower brother was a drug addict with four children. He remained faithful in prayer, and in future meetings with his wife so impressed her with his compassion and forgiveness that she eventually came back to him. His family and friends despised him for the weakness of his approach to her. His behavior was particularly remarkable in view of the Chinese culture that demanded divorce or a savage beating for errant wives.

For some time he continued the prayer meetings in his 10-by-12-foot resettlement room, inviting all the neighbors. One ex-prisoner who attended explained, “I received Christ because I saw what happened to my friend after he believed in Jesus, and I couldn’t not believe.”

Not only did God work miracles in the hearts of criminals but also, on several occasions, He deeply affected others involved in the trial. When Ah Kit’s case had come up in court, Jean, myself and several members of our group went to listen. We prayed for a long time in the Spirit before arriving and also silently in the courtroom.