Not Risking Death
I have acted for a slew of African accused that arrived on our shores. All of them were charged with drug trafficking pursuant to section 39B of the Dangerous Drugs Act 1952 (“DDA52”). It is an offence punishable with death. A sizeable number of my clients were caught at the airport entering Malaysia with luggage containing, amongst other things, items in which drugs are hidden inside, with the occasional swallower. A swallower is the type of drug mule that hides the drugs in capsules he swallows and stores in his stomach until he has to defecate it. These are what I call fish in the barrel cases. The facts are short and straightforward; there is little time, too few characters and the barest sliver of space available for reasonable doubt to arise. Their defences are usually held to not raise any reasonable doubt. The most common narrative by the accused for “airport cases” are that they came to Malaysia on account of some business. They were asked a favour by Chief, their boss/uncle/etc., who requested they bring some common items (e.g. soap, shoes, powder tins, a small bag) over to Malaysia as a favour to give to their employee/nephew/etc. Inevitably the latter is nowhere to be found when the accused arrives and, of course, Chief is uncontactable. There are variations to the narrative but this is the DNA. The Malaysian police are not flying to the relevant African country to verify the accused’s story. Since there is no one to support the accused’s narrative whatever explanation the accused gives will inevitably be considered a bare denial or an afterthought. This narrative has failed time and time again. The local cases are replete with examples of that. Then there are the fish in the pond cases. These are where the accused is either arrested in open space, a house, or an apartment, for example; situations where the accused is not completely boxed in time and space, and there are more characters around. An example of such a case is when the accused is caught as part of a raid by the police. There are often many officers brought in for a raid. It is also interesting how sometimes there are as many versions as there are officers about how the raid took place, which raises serious issues about what actually happened. That was the situation one of my Nigerian clients faced. I will call him Obu. He was charged with 39B for a bag of drugs found in an apartment which had at least three other Nigerians with him at the time of arrest. For some reason, three of them were not charged and Obu was left to defend the charge alone. There were sixteen officers that comprised the raiding party, bearing heavy firearms. Now the thing about Obu was he was unlike any of my previous African drug-offence-related clientele until that point, and even until today. The reason for that was because he was highly educated, which was unusual to me. All my other African clients were of low education. Most finished primary but did not go on to secondary school. Their English was rudimentary. All were poor and clueless. None spoke well. Desperation exuded from their pores. They were simple folk sent on a fool’s errand caught in a hangman’s noose because their lives are cheap and the law unforgiving. Obu was different. He was intelligent, articulate, and cultured. He was an economics graduate. His story went like this: An employment agency in Lagos told him they secured him a job in Malaysia as a finance executive in a Malaysian company. He paid their agent fees. They sorted out his visa and flight over. When he arrived in Malaysia, he met with an agent who took his passport on the pretext of sorting out his work permit. He booked a hotel room to stay so he could rest and be ready for his job. When Monday came, there was no such company and so, no job. He called the agent who did not respond and could not be located. Obu was screwed. He only had enough money for a week at the place he was staying. After that he had no more money. He went looking for work but he was not taken seriously because he had no passport. It did not help that he was Nigerian. He said he could not even get to the point to show them his credentials. Most of the time they refused to let him in. He said after staying in Malaysia he saw that he should not have come because we do not like his kind here. He resolved to find legitimate work so he could save enough money to buy a flight ticket home. Although Obu knew of other Nigerians in Malaysia, in his first week he understood what his countrymen were infamous for, so he stayed away from those crowds. He said he did not want to be associated with them or hang out with them lest he be caught for something they did. But then he could not get into the expatriate Nigerian circles in Malaysia either. Since Obu could not get a job, he decided to trade. He borrowed money from a moneylender at an exorbitant rate to buy items to sell such as pens, belts, lighters, etc. at mamak shops, eateries, and open stall areas. Sales were tough. “If I sold fifty ringgit worth in a week, it’s like Christmas.” He slept wherever he could; alleys, under bridges, and anywhere he found shelter and security no matter how fleeting. He showered in public toilets. used the toilets in malls. Obu did that for almost a year then gave up. All he managed to do in that year was pay back the interest of the sum he borrowed. Since doing things the legitimate way was not getting him anywhere, he decided to bite the bullet and look for fast but risky money. He would do what he
