Hard truths in hard lands

In Malaysia the penal code is extremely stiff—you own drugs, you get a death sentence. Own guns, same thing. Any news reports of (very rare) armed robberies in the 90s—usually with nothing more sophisticated than farmers’ shotguns— invariably ended with the bandits shot dead by police. None ever made it to court.

As a young advocate practising in Borneo, i stayed as far away from criminal law as i could—but sometimes it came to me.

A civil claim over a pretty large debt was withdrawn after the boss’s secretary had her arm hacked off with a katana in a busy coffee shop—no one was ever arrested and she was given a very handsome severance package. Yes i used that loaded word.

Non-gangsters like me would routinely carry a machete—together with some gardening tools, for an excuse—in our cars… because you never knew.

Nothing ever happened to me but another lawyer i used to work closely with was shot point blank in the face by an illegal immigrant wielding some kind of handmade single-shot pistol—which could as likely have blown off the assailant’s hand. Lim was handling the divorce for the wife of a prominent local businessman. That settlement also ended up fast-tracked. The assassin was apprehended but would not give up his client. He was executed a couple of years later, taking his secret to the grave.