Once a Jolly Hangman (11 page)

As anti-government feelings were increasing and with an election coming up the following year, Prime Minister John Howard would come under fire as a result of another interview I obtained - this time with Mike McKenna, a reporter from The Australian with renowned criminal defence lawyer Subhas Anandan. During the interview Anandan, perhaps indiscreetly, revealed one of Singapore's best-kept legal
secrets - that there is no separation between the executive and the judiciary He said that if the Australian government had intervened in Nguyen's case the moment he was arrested his life might have been saved. The charges could have been reduced at executive government level with a little tweaking of the facts as had been done in several of the cases I investigated. The inference was that, although Howard was aware of the legal nuances of Singapore law to enable this, he was not interested in saving the Melbourne man's life at any cost. During the interview Anandan criticised Australia's eleventh hour tardiness in coming forward only after every legal process had been exhausted, including an appeal to the President for clemency. He described it as

being 'like visiting a patient in hospital when he is already dead'.

What was never revealed after Nguyen's arrest and during his trial was that he had set out on his ill-fated trip completely oblivious to the fact that he was walking into a carefully laid trap. His activities as a drug trafficker were already known to Australia's Federal Police drugs unit even before he left home. Nguyen was shadowed everywhere he went the moment he agreed to take on the perilous assignment. Knowing his plans in advance, they watched him leave his home in Melbourne early that December morning for the airport where he bought a return ticket to Phnom Penh via Singapore. He was watched closely when he arrived at Changi airport. Singapore's Central Narcotics Bureau agents knew he was coming, too. Then he was watched boarding a connecting flight to Cambodia. The Bureau immediately called their counterparts in Phnom Penh where the close surveillance was taken up by undercover agents instructed to gather every bit of information about his movements, where he went, what he did and everyone he met. According to Nguyen's confession, the plan was to take possession of almost 4 kilograms of heroin from the syndicate in Phnom Penh. They would first meet at the Lucky Burger restaurant, identifying each other with pre-arranged code words.

Although he did not have a criminal record Nguyen had already attracted the attention of Melbourne police. He frequented sleazy bars and nightclubs in Melbourne and began dealing in drugs with his twin brother. Khoa, a heroin addict and convicted drug trafficker, was also suspected of being involved in organised crime and a marked man under almost constant police surveillance. In 1998 he attacked a teenager with a samurai sword, seriously wounding him over what was believed to be a turf war. The case did not come to trial until 2002 by which time Van was in custody in Singapore facing the death penalty. Khoa was sentenced to three years in jail for the attack. His 17 year- old victim ended up in a wheelchair and spent months in hospital undergoing a series of operations. Khoa, the court was told, had left home against his mother's wishes, abused drugs and alcohol and gambled.

The AFP has a well-established special liaison system with their counterparts in Singapore, Cambodia, Vietnam, Indonesia, Brunei, Laos and the Philippines with a declared aim to make Southeast Asia
drug-free by 2015. Exchanging vital information about the cartels and their mules is a vital part of their operations. The carefully kept secret as to how Nguyen was caught red-handed was revealed to me by a newly retired CNB officer. I always had a nagging feeling that the real story had not been told. It took many phone calls and visits to bars where I learned some CNB officers hung out.
Finally, I was introduced to my informant who was prepared to talk on condition of anonymity. We met at an Italian deli restaurant at the Rail Mall on Upper Bukit Timah Road for lunch on a quiet afternoon. After assuring him that I was not wired nor had a hidden tape recorder, he told me that although he was still with the bureau when Nguyen was arrested and did not work on his particular case he knew all its inner workings. It was no chance happening or just bad luck on his part. He was caught through a carefully planned, top secret operation. The AFP knew all about the drug run. Both Khoa and Van had been under surveillance, using undercover agents, paid informants and tapping phones for months. The object was to identify everyone involved and all their cross-border connections. No one was completely sure where Nguyen was going or who he would be dealing with once he left Australian shores. The syndicates plan might be changed at any time. And Nguyen might have changed his plans and bring the drugs into Singapore instead of Australia.

The surveillance operation became more complicated when Nguyen suddenly decided to visit his ancestral homeland, Vietnam, for the first time. His mother had escaped with her husband in a perilous boat journey when America's war finally came to its ignominious end. He was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and the family moved to Australia when he and twin Khoa were tiny tots. This was his first trip abroad since then and the closest he had been to Vietnam. Van arrived in Phnom Penh just after midday on 3 December 2002 and immediately checked into the $50 a night three-star Cara Hotel in the city centre. Then he headed for a pre-arranged venue, the Lucky Burger restaurant at 3.00 p.m. the next day. Van told his Singapore interrogators that he was taken to a garage where he was questioned by his new suppliers. They were suspicious of him, too. In true Hollywood movie style, he was ordered to smoke some heroin to make sure he was 'for real'. He claimed he refused and only obeyed them when they
threatened him with an iron bar. He also claimed they had to show him how to crush rocks of heroin and safely strap the powder concealed in packets to his body. He was then told to meet them at the same fast food restaurant again six days later, 10 December. He had time on his hands so he decided to fly to Ho Chi Minh City for some sightseeing and buy some Christmas presents for his family and friends. According to his statements he bought the company of prostitutes but claimed he did not have sex with them. As soon as he checked into the airport to fly to Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnamese undercover agents were also on his trail keeping him under surveillance but with orders not to arrest him under any circumstances. No one could be sure what his motives were in going to Vietnam or who he might meet there. 'He was watched everywhere he went', said my informant. 'He didn't suspect a thing'. As it turned out Nguyen's trip to Vietnam was an innocent excursion but it caused him to miss his appointment by one day. They were furious but accepted his excuse. He was then introduced to the consignment of heroin, returned to his hotel and divided it into to two packets weighing almost 2 kilograms each, then strapped them to his back.

He was so nervous on the flight to Singapore that one of the packets strapped to his back became loose. When it slipped off his back and fell into the aisle when he went to the toilet, he became even more nervous. He must have felt certain he was being watched - if not by an undercover agent, then a member of the syndicate ensuring that
he completed the transaction. He eyed the passengers on his way back to his seat wondering which ones, if any, were watching him and why. 'One of our men was actually sitting just a few rows behind him', said my informant. The day after Nguyen's arrest, the Central Narcotics Bureau issued the following statement:

On 12 December 2005 at about 19.45 hours, as part of stepped-up security checks at all checkpoints, CIAS Auxiliary Police at Changi International airport, conducted a routine check on a 22-year-old male Vietnamese of Australian nationality at the boarding gate. Upon checking him, they found a packet of heroin weighing about 382 grams strapped to his back. He then informed officers that there was another packet of heroin in his hand-held haversack bag. Upon searching the haversack, a packet of heroin weighing about 380 grams was seized. The case was then referred to CNB for investigation. The male Australian is a salesman and was transiting Singap
ore on his way to Australia. He
will be charged in court for possession of a controlled drug for the purpose of trafficking. Under the Misuse of Drugs Act, a person who is found guilty of possession for the purpose of trafficking in more than 15 grams of heroin will face the death penalty. The seized drugs will be sent to the Health Sciences Authority for analysis of the weight of the controlled drugs. In view of the current global situation, enforcement agencies at all entry and exit points are working closely together to step up security inspections of all persons, goods and vehicles entering or leaving Singapore. As a result, drug traffickers can also expect to face a heightened gauntlet of security checks and measures at our entry and exit points.

According to court papers, the money Van Nguyen claimed he was being pressured for totalled only $25,000. Khoa's urgent debt was a mere $12,000. By his own admission Van could earn $25,000 a year in a regular job. It seemed very small money to risk one's life for. It seemed an unlikely story. I was introduced to the former CNB just as I was completing research for this book. I wanted to dig deeper into the Nguyen's inexplicably dangerous drug run. Was he really such a hapless, desperate mule or someone trying to get into the big time with Khoa? There was no real defence except some wrangling over legal technicalities: were his rights infringed when he was interrogated without a lawyer present; should the mandatory death penalty apply in his case; did his five separate statements amount to a confession? Was the CNB derelict in not informing the Australian High Commission earlier of his arrest? Is execution by hanging cruel and unusual punishment? The arguments were dismissed by the trial judge and later by the three court of appeals judges. He had been caught red-handed. He had admitted the crime. He would be hanged. Nguyen was moved to a cell on death row as soon as he returned from the Supreme Court on 20 October 2004.

Cameron Murphy, President of the New South Wales Council for Civil Liberties, revealed what he calls 'Howard's death penalty shame'. After his government was defeated in the 2006 election and Kevin Rudd became Prime Minister, Murphy wrote this on NSWCCL's official website: 'After two years, the Australian government has finally released confidential documents about Australia's death penalty policy. The Freedom of Information documents show that the Howard government deliberately set out to undermine Australia's opposition to the death
penalty. Australia has an international obligation not to expose any one in any circumstances to the real risk of
execution. What these confidential government documents show is that since 1998 Australia has been deliberately breaching those obligations'. Murphy went on to point out that: 'In the late 1990s, the Howard government decided that Australia could assist in foreign death penalty cases without a guarantee that no one would be executed. This violates Australia's international obligations and was a significant break with past practice'. Elsewhere
Murphy pinpointed the way that
the confidential internal documents show that the Howard government made a conscious decision to 'revise' Australia's universal and consistent opposition to capital punishment 'in light of the governments strong stance on terrorist offences'. Australia has a longstanding principled opposition to the death penalty. Australia respects the right to life of all individuals - no matter their crime. We should not be assisting in the court cases of people who could be executed. The confidential documents show that the government had flawed legal advice stating that Australia's human rights obligations do not extend beyond our borders or beyond individuals in the custody of Australian agents overseas. This advice is clearly wrong. It is inconsistent with Australia's obligation not to expose anyone in any circumstances to the real risk of execution. Following the government's legal advice to its logical conclusion, it authorises AFP and ASIO officers to assist their foreign counterparts in violating human rights - so long as they do it abroad and their counterparts are the ones detaining the victims. We welcome the new openness of the Rudd government and thank it for finally releasing these documents. Australians need to know how their government makes decisions - otherwise we cannot participate in public debate in a meaningful way. It's how a liberal democracy should work. We will also be asking Attorney-General McClelland to release publicly the flawed legal advice, so that it can be examined by legal experts.

When Howard was being urged in parliament to try to save Nguyen, he replied: 'I have told the Prime Minister of Singapore that I believe it will have an effect on the relationship on a people-to-people, population-to-population basis'. He did not say prime minister-to- prime minister, government-to-government or business-to-business relationship. Howard rejected calls for trade and military exercise
boycotts against Singapore, one of Australia's strongest allies and trading partners in Asia. He only said that the execution should serve as a warning to other young Australians. 'Don't imagine for a moment that you can risk carrying drugs anywhere in Asia without suffering the most severe consequences'.

8

Final Destination

It was just another Friday morning. Singapore was just waking up, getting ready for work and preparing for the crowded trains and highways to get them to their offices and factories. Few were aware that the life of Nguyen Van Tuong was about to come to a brutal end at the age of 25 just as the sun rose on a new day. But where was the man who was to hang him? Darshan Singh had seemingly vanished from his home in Woodlands. He had not been seen for several days. The rumour mill was grinding out the story that he had been sacked for breaking the Official Secrets Act in talking to me. Soon after I had exposed as him as the much-feared executioner, his normally quiet neighbourhood was suddenly besieged by television crews, reporters and photographers anxious to get another interview, another photograph. They had camped out in the street below Darshan Singh's 10th storey flat. He could not go out for fear of being followed and badgered for more of his secrets. He was afraid of being filmed every time he showed his face. At 3.00 p.m. on 30 November, two days before the execution was scheduled to take place, plain clothes officers from Changi picked up Darshan Singh and his wife and took them to a furnished flat in a guarded compound adjoining the prison where guards and their families reside. Only a few hours earlier Darshan Singh, very distressed at having his world turned upside down, told me he had complained to the prison governor that he was unable to move outside his home without being followed everywhere by Australian and international paparazzi. To avoid further embarrassing revelations, the authorities decided that he and his wife should be moved to avoid an
'unseemly' convoy of the world's media following him to the prison the morning he would hang Nguyen.