The Best I Could (20 page)

From the instructions he gave us, we could not make head or tail of what he was saying. He was full of delusions by then. At one point, he was talking about hired killers from China who had come to murder Huang Na because of what her mother had done to some people in China. And since Ah Took knew what was happening, they made him strangle Huang Na and leave his fingerprints on her body so that he would not be able to squeal on them. They forced him to pack up the body and told him where to dump it. When we told him that the CCTV did not show any foreign killers at the scene, he replied that they were so good that they could remain invisible if they wanted to. Ah Took was giving us plenty of such obviously delusional stories, and all the time, he wore a smile on his face. When we asked him to clarify the statements he gave that he was the head of a gang and some other stories, we were unable to get proper explanations from him.

I knew my old friend Lawrence Ang was dying to cross-examine Ah Took because the prosecution had made him say so many incriminating things in his many statements. I don’t know why they had to record that many statements. I suppose it was a strategy to show the inconsistencies in his statements. Together with the enactment, there would have been too many things to explain. I felt that it would not help to put Ah Took on the stand because by the time the prosecution was done with him, he would be literally finished.

My assistants agreed with my assessment. Our defence was one based on diminished responsibility. The first, that he was suffering from a mental illness. The second was on causation—how the girl died, for instance, it could have been how she got into a fit, vomited and choked on her own vomit. We were going on two defences for which Ah Took could not contribute at all. As such, the best thing for him to do was to remain silent. In fact, I even consulted our psychiatrist, Dr Nagulendran as to whether I should put Ah Took on the stand. The doctor said putting him on the stand would not help at all. It was very sound advice. Putting Ah Took on the stand, we felt, would have done irreversible damage to his case. If by remaining silent, the judge drew an adverse inference, then so be it. A talking Ah Took would have been worse than a silent one.

During the case, many members of the public came to our office, wanting to sign a clemency petition. Seeing the interest the case had generated, we made many copies of the clemency petition for people to sign. Hundreds and hundreds of people streamed into the office to sign the petition. It was quite a nuisance, but we thought we should entertain them in our office as they were there to support our client. I was personally surprised that more than 30,000 people actually signed the petition asking for his life to be saved, especially when one considers the fact that Ah Took had no sympathy when the case first started. He was condemned long before that.

That’s why in cases such as this, I think the Singapore media must be cautious. They should not build up the hype, give sordid details and write reports that may create bias. All this can give the impression that the person under investigation has already been found guilty. This is exactly what happened to Ah Took. Even before the trial, people were saying that he was Huang Na’s killer and he deserved to hang. This is because too many unnecessary things were reported before the trial which created an unfair bias against Ah Took. In some ways when the trial ended and people started to say that he wasn’t so guilty after all, we felt that it was a sort of moral victory for our defence team. Finally, when the Court of Appeal gave its two-to-one verdict, with one judge saying Ah Took should only be sentenced to a maximum of one year, it was again a victory for us.

One last thing I want to mention about Ah Took’s case is that there were at least three workers at the Pasir Panjang wholesale market who came to see me personally on the condition that their names would not be revealed. They did not want to be subpoenaed as witnesses. They told me about Madam Huang and how she carried on with some of the men in the market. They confirmed to me that Ah Took had an affair with Huang Na’s mother and that she subsequently left him for his boss. They insisted that she went with many men, took their money and subsequently dumped them when she met somebody better. They added that Ah Took gave all his money to her and was practically her slave, running errands for her.

This news interested me because I wanted to explore whether Ah Took could have killed Huang Na out of hatred and anger towards her mother. After listening to the three witnesses on different occasions—two in my office and one outside as he did not want to come to the office—I went immediately to see Ah Took in prison. I told him what I had heard and asked him whether there was any truth to it and whether he was angry with her for leaving him for his boss, a richer man. He denied this, saying he did not have that sort of relationship with her and that they were just good friends. Ah Took, however, admitted that he knew that his boss was carrying on with Madam Huang and there were rumours that she was carrying on with other men at the same time.

Once my client denied having relations with Huang Na’s mother, I had to believe him rather than the strangers who had talked to me. Still, it was interesting to hear what people were saying. Sometimes, I wonder if there is any truth in what these people told me. Why would they bother to go out of their way to meet me, only to tell me lies? We can never fully understand people and their intentions.

Ramu Annadavascan had a history of bad blood with Kalingam s/o Mariappan. They often argued and fought over petty issues. At about noon on September 20, 1981, Ramu and a friend went to a coffee stall at a hawker centre to have a drink with Kalingam. Ramu and friend had beers while Kalingam had a stout. After their drinks, Ramu invited Kalingam to go with them to Changi Airport for more drinks. Terminal 1 was newly opened at the time and was a popular hangout for many Singaporeans. Kalingam initially declined but agreed after some persuasion. It would be the last decision he ever made.

The three men piled into a lorry which Ramu had borrowed from an uncle. On the way, Ramu had another argument with Kalingam and pulled over on a deserted track next to the East Coast Parkway. All three men got off the lorry. Ramu suddenly became violent, grabbed a rake from the lorry and hit Kalingam on the head with it. Kalingam stumbled, picked himself up and started to run. Ramu could not stop him but his 17-year-old friend managed to. Ramu caught hold of Kalingam and dragged him along the ground for a few metres. He then gave the rake to his friend who struck two blows on Kalingam’s face. Kalingam collapsed. Ramu placed his foot on Kalingam’s chest. Thinking that Kalingam was already dead, Ramu asked his friend to fetch some petrol from the lorry. He poured the petrol over Kalingam, lit a match and dropped it on him with the intention of disposing of the body by burning it. But Kalingam leapt up, howling in pain. He began to run around and set some bushes on fire. His time, however, was up and he died soon after.

Both men were eventually caught and convicted. Ramu was sentenced to death while his accomplice was ordered to be detained under the President’s pleasure as he was below 18 years of age when the offence was committed. (The President’s Pleasure Review Board is appointed by the Minister for Home Affairs to review the cases of underaged prisoners who have been detained during the President’s pleasure. The role of the Review Board is to assess the prisoners’ suitability for release and make recommendation to the minister.)

In the appeal against Ramu’s conviction, it was argued that it was never the intention of the accused to kill by burning. Ramu and his friend didn’t wait for Kalingam to die; they climbed onto the lorry and drove off. It was argued that there was an absence of common intention to cause injuries in the ordinary course of nature to cause death. It was also argued that by that time, the senior forensic pathologist, the late Professor Chao Tzee Cheng, had determined that it was the second blow from Ramu’s friend which was the fatal one. Finally, it was argued that at the time the men poured the petrol on Kalingam and set him on fire, they thought the victim was already dead. None of these arguments held and the appeal failed. Ramu’s death sentence was upheld.

That was the official version of this terrible murder. There are, however, a few things that I would like to add. I remember defending Ramu twice before. In the first case, he was charged with murder, but I managed to get the charge reduced to one of affray which is one of the lowest offences in the Penal Code. He pleaded guilty to the charge and was sentenced to a fine of $230 by district judge, Rahim Jalil. Shortly after that, he was charged again for assaulting a police officer during a Thaipusam festival event. I got the charge reduced for that too and he was fined $500. So, when he was charged and finally convicted of Kalingam’s murder, it made me reflect on my previous efforts in getting his earlier charges reduced. Did he feel that he was invincible and could get away again? It is one of those cases where I still feel a tinge of regret about doing the best I could.

There is another detail about this murder case that not many people know about. At the time of Ramu’s trial, the police suspected that there were more than two assailants. But since Ramu and his accomplice insisted that they were the only ones involved, the investigation stopped there. Many years later, I had a call from the registrar of the High Court informing me that a person in Queenstown Remand Prison who was charged for murder was asking for my services. The man had stabbed another person to death in a fight over drugs (ganja).

My first reaction was: “Look here, sir, you just cannot allow an accused person to decide who should be assigned to him. If you allow that to happen, you will find that the accused persons would generally want lawyers who are more reputed and well-known. Then what’s going to happen to those with less experience and who wish to practise criminal law? Where would they get their opportunities? This request would set a bad precedent.”

The registrar replied: “I am aware of that, Subhas, but he is turning down all the other assigned counsels and we do not want to prolong this matter. The case is long outstanding and before it blotches up our record, please do me a personal favour. Accept the assignment and go see him.”

When it was put to me like that—the registrar requesting a favour of me—I could not say no. I requested the letter assigning me to the case. I received it the next day, ironically thanking me for accepting the assignment as though I was eager to take it on. Whatever it was, I took the letter and wrote to Queenstown Remand Prison seeking permission to interview the man.

After taking his instructions, I told him what I thought—that there was a very good possibility of reducing the charge to culpable homicide. In all probability, he would get eight to 10 years if I succeeded in getting the charge reduced. I asked him if he would accept the reduced charge and plead guilty. He agreed to it.

As I was about to leave, I asked him, “By the way, why did you keep on insisting that I should defend you?” I may have done a few murder cases but I was not fantastic, especially at a time when I was just making a name for myself.

“Do you have some time?” he replied. “I’d like to tell you.” I said yes and sat down again. He asked me for a cigarette and we lit up a stick each. In those days, we could give prisoners cigarettes and we could smoke with them in the interview room. The situation is different now. No cigarettes are allowed.

He took a long puff on his cigarette and as he exhaled, he said, “You were the lawyer for Ramu Annadavascan?”

“Yes. All the more you should not have asked for me to defend you. I lost the case. He’s hanged and gone.”

“I’m aware of that. It was a very bad case for you. I’m not holding it against you. He was a friend of mine. Do you know the case where you defended him for murder? I was involved in that.”

I was astonished to hear this. “You were involved? How so?”

He just nodded. “Yes, I was.”

“Come to think of it, there was talk that there were four persons involved in that murder, but the prosecution just didn’t have evidence about the other two and so investigations were closed. How were you involved?”

He explained. “I was in the lorry which took Kalingam to East Coast Parkway. I didn’t know that Ramu and his friend were going to kill him. When they returned to the lorry, I realised that they had killed him but I kept silent as there was nothing more I could do.”

“Well, I guess you played a very minor role,” I said. “You did not take part in the murder.”

“I was the third person involved out of the four of us.”

I asked him where the fourth person was. His reply shocked me again. That person was the one that he was now charged with for murder. “What, you killed the fourth person?” I exclaimed.

There was some remorse in his voice. “Yes, we were good friends but we fought over some drugs.”

In the end, justice had caught up with the Kalingam murderers because the third person involved was being charged for the murder of the fourth person. It took a while but it eventually got there. I appeared before Justice Chan Sek Kiong, who was a High Court judge at the time, on a reduced charge of culpable homicide and put up a mitigation plea for this client. He was sentenced to eight years in prison. That was the end of the whole episode.

In my many years of practising law, I’ve come across some strange coincidences such as this where justice ultimately catches up with the bad guys. Somehow, if you are not dealt with by the court, you will be dealt with outside the court. It’s almost like a force of nature. In some way or other, punishment will be meted out.

There are people I’ve defended who have been acquitted and walked out of court free men and women. But in all honesty, they walked out free because the prosecution could not prove their case beyond a reasonable doubt. The court does not at any stage say: “I am discharging and acquitting you because you are an innocent man.” The statement is always: “I find you not guilty. Therefore I discharge and acquit you.”