My elder sister was always very supportive of further education. She advised me to go. My mother, however, was not so keen on it as she knew that I would not be able to live on my own without her cooking. I believe that deep inside she was also concerned that I would return with an English girl. Anyway, as I still had friends at university, I continued to frequent the campus. One day I met Professor S Jayakumar, dean of the Law faculty then and the present Deputy Prime Minister of Singapore. He called out to me, “Hey, Subhas, what are you doing here? You should be doing your pupilage.”
“Yes, but I don’t have a place to go.”
“What do you mean? Did you speak to Mr Yang?” he asked. Mr Yang was a law faculty officer who was supposed to arrange for pupilage for everyone.
“Well, I didn’t want to bother him.” I didn’t want to tell the professor that I had been thinking of going abroad for further studies.
He seemed a little agitated. “What are you talking about? Come with me.” He led me to his office and made me sit in his room. I must say that he was very kind. He ordered a cup of coffee for me. He even told me that I could smoke if I wanted to. Then he coaxed me. “Look, Subhas, you must do your pupilage, you know. You must get called to the Bar. After that you can decide what you want to do. First things first, you know.”
“Okay, but I have not got a place,” I replied.
Without any hesitation, he picked up the phone and called Chan Sek Kiong (now Chief Justice of Singapore) who was then a partner with Shook Lin & Bok. He said: “Sek Kiong, I’ve got this guy here who has just finished his law and says that he’s got nowhere to do his chambers. Can you take him in? He’s very intelligent but prone to getting into trouble. I hope you can help him.” After a few minutes, he put the phone down and said to me: “Okay, I’ve got you a place with Mr Chan Sek Kiong, a senior partner with Shook Lin & Bok. He’s prepared to meet with you tomorrow. Most probably, he’ll take you in. So please go down there tomorrow for an interview and hopefully, pupilage under him.” A little reluctantly, I agreed.
As I walked away, he called out to me. “Subhas, for goodness sake, wear a tie for the interview, OK?” I smiled at him and assured him that I would wear a tie. I think if he did not say that to me, I would probably have gone in a T-shirt.
The next day I met Mr Chan at Shook Lin & Bok. He seemed a very unassuming man and even appeared shy at times. “So you’re the man Jaya talked to me about yesterday,” he said.
“Yes, sir, Mr Chan. I was there when he was talking to you.”
“Don’t call me Mr Chan. Just call me Sek Kiong. What is your area of interest?” I told him that I liked criminal law. He said: “Well we don’t have criminal law here but law is not all criminal law. You’d better learn something else also. When the time comes, you can go and follow a criminal lawyer and get some criminal law experience. I’ll arrange for it. In the meantime, I’ll be your master.”
Thinking I would have to report to work in a week or two, I asked him, “When do I start?”
“What do you mean? You start right now. Go and sit over there.” I must have looked disappointed because he asked me, “Why, do you have another appointment? Do you have other plans?” Of course I said no and went to my table. That was how I started my chambers with Chief Justice Chan Sek Kiong.
At that time, the most senior partner in the firm was L P Thean. He went on to become the Justice of Appeal. After retirement, he joined KhattarWong as senior consultant. Today, I too am a senior consultant with KhattarWong along with him and Amarjit Singh, a former Judicial Commissioner. Even now, I may be talking with some junior lawyers in the firm and L P Thean will call out, “Hey, you rascal, come here. Are we having lunch tomorrow?” After he chats with me and leaves the room, everyone will look at me. I’ll say to them: “You know, he can call me anything he likes because he was one of those people who shaped me in Shook Lin & Bok.”
One day during my pupilage, L P Thean asked me, “Hey, aren’t you interested in civil work? Don’t you want some jam on your bread and butter? Don’t you think you should do some civil litigation?”
“No, lah, L P, with my criminal law I think I can have enough jam,” I said proudly. “I hate to do all these civil matters. Very boring.”
He promptly replied, “Okay, I will not bother you anymore with this work but just think about it.”
Pupilage under Chan Sek Kiong was very interesting. He was not a demanding pupil master. He was prepared to teach you everything that you wanted to learn provided you wanted to learn. He was not the type of person who would whip you into shape because if you didn’t want to learn, that would be your problem. He made it very clear that if you showed interest in something and wished to discuss it with him, he wouldn’t hesitate to sit you down and explain it to you. I tell you, this man really knows his law very well. He is such a learned person in law. You can ask him anything under the sun—from equity to trust to criminal law—and he would have an answer for you. If he didn’t have an answer, he would give you the source where you can find your answer. He is a very brilliant man.
When he became a High Court judge, I appeared before him twice for two Magistrate’s Court appeals. Knowing that he was sitting as an Appellate Judge, knowing that he was my master, and also knowing that I had always given him the impression that I was a lazy pupil, I made sure that he was aware that I was, by then, a changed person. Each time when I appeared before him, I was thoroughly prepared with my arguments and I won the appeals on both occasions.
Years later, when L P Thean also became a judge, I had to appear before him on a civil matter. I got a judgment before the registrar in the High Court and the other side was appealing against the registrar’s decision. I argued against the other side. Justice L P Thean looked at me and listened to me. I did not know what was running through his mind, but I was very conscious of the fact that I had told him once a long time ago that I was not interested in doing civil law and that I could make enough ‘jam’ doing criminal work. I did not know if he remembered our conversation. Finally, he dismissed the appeal with costs. As we were leaving the High Court, he looked at me and smiled. Knowing L P Thean, he would have remembered everything because he has a very good memory.
I am one of the fortunate few to have had the likes of Chan Sek Kiong and L P Thean help me in my formative years as a lawyer. In many ways, both of them left a good impression on me. Contrary to some people’s thoughts that he was ashamed to have me as a pupil, Chief Justice Chan has, on many occasions, introduced me to others as his pupil. I like to believe that he’s done that with some pride.
Subhas and his father (1956)
Subhas, left, with his father and siblings, Sugadha, Surash and Sudheesan (1958)
The Anandan family. Seated from left: Surash, father, Subhashini, mother and Sugadha. Standing from left: Sudheesan and Subhas (1962)
Subhas, at 15 years old, with his mother (1962)
Graduation Day (1970)
Subhas with his elder sister, Subhashini (1975)
Subhas with his red Sunbeam, outside the family home in Kampung Wak Hassan (1975)
Subhas and his mother in their Kampung Wak Hassan home (1982)
Class of 1962, Naval Base School. Subhas is standing at the back row, third from left.
Subhas at a farewell party organised by his classmates of Naval Base School before he left for Loyola College, India, in 1963.
Before Subhas’ departure for India. Standing from left: Chong Thee Kow, Cheng Lai Beng, Ramli, Chye, Mohd Noor, Ah Sai and Philip Pang. Seated from left: Chee Kok Meng, Ismail, Choy Sai Chee, Subhas, Wong Ah Soo and Narainasamy (Sam)
Another studio photo taken before Subhas left for India in 1963. Standing from left: Choo Poh Leong, Chong Thee Kow, Sandanasamy and Lee Chee San. Seated with Subhas is Michael Then.
Hanging out in the fields of Naval Base with friends. From left: Chong Thee Kow, Bernard Pereira, Michael Then, Choo Poh Leong and Lee Chee San (1963)
From left: Bernard Pereira, Ch
oo Poh Leong, Lee Chee San, Michael Then, Subhas and Chong Thee Kow (1963)
Surash, 8 years old, with his first collection of medals and trophies, and already showing potential of much more sporting achievements to come.
Subhas with his trophies for overall junior champion won in Secondary 4 at Naval Base School (1962)
University of Singapore Football Team (1968). Standing from left: Sudheesan, Mansor Marican, Ng, Chan Keng Fook, Rajayah and Lai. Front row from left: James, ‘Tiger’, Pak, Subhas and Gan.
FIVE
FIRST MURDER TRIAL
My family left the Base in 1971, about a few months after I was called to the Bar. As my father had retired, he was no longer entitled to living quarters there. We moved to Kampung Wak Hassan, not far from the Base, where my father bought a house with a small garden. The walls of the house were half brick and half wood and the roof was made of zinc. It took a long time to get used to the sound of raindrops hitting the roof but it eventually became therapeutic. We missed Block 9 but were intent on adapting to kampung life. We embraced the spirit of gotong royong, the Malay concept of doing things together and helping each other in the spirit of goodwill.
The Malays are generally very simple and humble people. They treated us very well, but they sometimes held us in awe because of the careers we had fashioned for ourselves. My elder sister was a doctor in Singapore General Hospital, I was an advocate and solicitor, my younger brother Sudheesan was then a senior officer at the Ministry of Defence, my younger sister then a schoolteacher and my youngest brother Surash later became an air steward with Singapore Airlines (he died in the SQ006 crash in Taipei on October 31, 2000). The kampung folk came to us with all sorts of problems including legal, medical and financial issues, and we helped them as much as we could. They often showed their gratitude by giving us food and drinks. During Hari Raya, our house would be filled with festive kuih and cookies, ketupat and satay. We used to invite our friends from the Base to celebrate with us.
One day while I was in the shower, Sudheesan yelled to me that there were people in the house who wanted to see me. He told me that he thought they were there to discuss a murder case. I was excited and quickly finished my shower. For me, to be briefed for a murder case was the ultimate. I went to the living room trying hard to look nonchalant even though I was trembling with excitement inside. I saw that my mother had already given them tea and made them comfortable. There were three of them—the elderly father of the accused and two others who were relatives. I was told that the accused had been charged with murder and was held in Queenstown Remand Prison. They wanted me to defend him. I told them I was new at the Bar and may not have the necessary experience to do a good job.
The father smiled. “I can’t afford a senior lawyer, Mr Anandan,” he said.
“The state can provide one free of charge,” I replied.
“I’d rather have you,” he said. “The state’s lawyers are probably not so experienced either.”
We discussed fees and he agreed to pay a sum that was equivalent to what it would take some of my classmates working in established law firms nine to 12 months to earn. It was also agreed that they would go to my office in Winchester House to sign the Warrant to Act and to pay a deposit for my services. Winchester House and the Singapore Rubber House flanked the famous Change Alley, which was like a labyrinth in those days, swarming with sailors, tourists and locals looking for bargain goods. Change Alley opened to Raffles Place on one side and Collyer Quay on the other. The site where Raffles Place MRT station is today was then an underground carpark below a public park with fountains and a huge floral clock. I had my office in Winchester House around the time of the infamous Robinsons fire when the department store was razed to the ground. On the Collyer Quay side you could see sampans and bumboats plying the open seas, gleaming in the sunshine.
So I had my first murder brief and capital case—defending a man called Tampines Raja who was charged with the murder of someone known as Beatle Raja. Because I was from Sembawang, I came to be known as Sembawang Raja. It was a tremendous feeling to be taking on the case though, after a few days, I realised the enormous responsibility that came with it. The only penalty for the crime was the death sentence and I had been entrusted to save Tampines Raja from this fate.
I went to Queenstown Remand Prison to see Tampines Raja for the first time. I sat in the visitors’ room with my clerk. Tampines Raja was a young, cheerful man who had turned deadly for a moment at Beatle Raja’s expense. I didn’t know much about Beatle Raja, but as his nickname suggested, he must have been a Beatles fan. When I introduced myself to Tampines Raja, he smiled and said that he had heard about me. In fact, he may have been the person who started calling me Sembawang Raja. I took his instructions and asked several questions, some of which he could answer and some which he couldn’t. I went back to Queenstown Remand Prison many times to discuss his defence with him.
His case was heard in the High Court before two judges, Justice A V Winslow, the presiding judge, and Justice T Kulasekaram. By then, jury systems had been abolished in Singapore. The deputy public prosecutor was Lawrence Ang, who had been my classmate in law school. It was also his first murder case. We were friends and I knew he would be fair and reasonable. The proceedings went on for a few days and one incident stood out for me. While cross-examining one of the prosecution witnesses after a weekend break, I put a question to him alleging something he had said in his examination-in-chief the previous week. The judges couldn’t remember whether he had said it or not as their notes did not mention the facts I had alleged. Nothing in the DPP’s notes reflected what I was alleging either. Justice Winslow asked me what my notes said and I replied that I don’t take notes. Justice Winslow smiled and said he had noticed that. “Well, Mr Anandan, it looks as though it’s a battle between your memory and all our notes,” he said.
I remained silent. Justice Winslow was a great judge. He called for the notes of the court recorder whose job was to record everything in verbatim in shorthand. I told the recorder roughly when the witness was supposed to have said what I was alleging. The verbatim notes showed that I was right. Justice Winslow decided that their notes were useless and that they would rely on my memory from then on.
Unfortunately, Tampines Raja made a mess of his evidence. He departed from what we had discussed he was supposed to say. After his testimony, we made the final submission but I knew I had lost the case even before the verdict. While waiting for it, I went to see Tampines Raja in the lock-up cell of the High Court and asked him why he had changed his story. He looked at me sheepishly and told me that he had discussed his defence with his fellow prison inmates and they thought that the original version was not good enough. So, he amended and embellished it. I was very angry as our defence was based on the truth and the facts supported it. “You’re a fool,” I said angrily as I knew what the consequence would be.
Not long after that, Tampines Raja realised the seriousness of his error when the judgment was delivered. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. It was the first time I heard a death sentence being passed. It was extremely disconcerting to hear the judge pronounce it in such an emotionless way, as if he was proclaiming that the next day would be a holiday. We had to stand up when the death sentence was passed and my knees were trembling. It was sad to hear one human being being told by another that he had to die. As soon as court was adjourned and the accused taken away, the family and relatives sitting in the gallery came running out screaming and wailing. The women fell at my feet and started to cry, repeatedly asking me what had happened and what had gone wrong. Some were blaming me. I was angry and confused, but most of all, I was dejected. It was a terrible experience. That night I got completely drunk and didn’t go home. I had lost my first murder case.
SIX
BECOMING A CRIMINAL LAWYER
I believe the changes in local criminal law have made things advantageous to the prosecution. Though there is a “presumption of innocence”, according to ou
r Constitution, the man in the street cannot be blamed if he thinks that he has to prove his innocence in court. The law is lopsided. So many aspects of the criminal law are loaded against the accused. The Constitution says one thing but in practice, it’s different. The courts must also be blamed for this sad state of affairs. They rarely interpret the law in favour of the accused, though I feel things are slowly changing. One day, we may still have justice in the true sense of the word. Justice must be compassionate and it must be fair. It must endeavour to seek out the truth. It must balance the rights of the accused and the protection of society.
I argued the appeal of Tampines Raja in the Court of Criminal Appeal. The panel of judges comprised Chief Justice Wee Chong Jin, Justice Tan Ah Tah and Justice Freddy Chua. They were the most senior judges at the time. I was told I was the youngest lawyer to have ever appeared before the Court of Appeal. I was also told that Chief Justice Wee grilled the younger lawyers especially hard and I was prepared for the worst. That day in court, I was on my feet for nearly an hour; those 60 minutes were among the longest I’ve ever been through in court. Surprisingly though, the Chief Justice did not go after me. Instead Justice Tan, who was reputed for protecting young lawyers from the Chief Justice, gave me a hard time. Chief Justice Wee actually took pity on me and started to protect me from Justice Tan. It didn’t make a difference though. To crown my humiliation, the deputy public prosecutor was not even asked to answer my submission. The appeal was dismissed and the conviction was allowed to stand. Tampines Raja was one step closer to the gallows.
The Best I Could Page 7
