Three Months Out

Three months ago on a warm sunny day I took the tentative steps out of incarceration to meet the extended arms of my two sons. It was the first time I was able to embrace them in 40 months and Mastercard never failed to remind me how priceless that was and how eternal it would be. We enjoyed an extended brunch and extensive conversations after the meal. I was filled with a quiet joy and gratitude. In the period I was inside they have both graduated from university and have embarked on meaningful careers. It was a relief as well to see that they were able to chart their own paths in life as grown men. My gratitude also stemmed from the fact that they were there to greet me when I stepped out. For some other inmates they did not even know where they would spend the night on the day of their release.

Before I stepped out of prison I was brought to see the superintendent of the prison for a full twenty seconds. He informed me that I was being discharged and asked if I had anything to say. Then I was waved off. This scene was a repeat of my one-month meeting which lasted a few seconds longer. This was the epitome of perfunctory. Some days later I watched a documentary series about the prison system in Singapore and there was a whole episode on inmates finishing prison sentences. The prison officers interviewing an inmate about his post-release plans which struck a chord. Weeks before he was discharged the inmate was questioned about his family, his place of residence, any potential job offers and much more. The officers offered him pamphlets with information about social services and other assistance. It was impossible not to notice the vast contrast.

After discharge I gingerly reentered the real world. The first week out I started to contact friends who had already known my plight. Some of them had even taken the time to visit me or write to me in prison during the past years and to whom I am indebted. A few of them offered much more than commiserations. My old business partner extended a short term consulting contract to me to help his new fund write up the business proposal and presentations. A fellow countryman let me use his office and facilities in the financial district without charge. Others offered money all of which I politely declined. However I was most happy to meet up with them over a meal or coffee. Coffee was literally and figuratively intoxicating. I had been so starve of caffeine for so long that a cup of latte would give me a buzz lasting hours. The coffees I had with friends were also bewildering as I learned about what they had done and the many things I had missed. These are the moments where I became alive again. Contrary to what was predicted by fellow inmates I did not binge eat everything nor binge watched the shows I missed. Until today I have yet to taste a banana or crab meat nor found out what happened in the last season of Game of Thrones.

After this I moved on to friends who may not have known my plight. I began from my social media account where there were numerous messages which said “Happy Birthday” or “Merry Christmas” in 2019, and again in 2020 and 2021 and 2022. I never saw these messages until today and never replied to them. There were some who expressed their concerns. Perhaps I was hurt in the riots of 2019 or defeated by Covid in 2020. They never got an answer until today. I frequently started my replies with: “I am sorry I am responding to your message three years late but I have a valid excuse.” Humor was my way of showing them at least my mental health was intact. Almost every phone call I had with friends lasted more than an hour. Some went longer than that. I made sure they were seated before I revealed the news as to why I had disappeared lest anyone be injured. The conversations inevitably centered around everything that happened to me in the past years and what it was like inside Hong Kong prisons. I did clarify that Hong Kong prisons are nothing like what was depicted in Hollywood or even Hong Kong movies. Thankfully there was little danger of physical violence or abuse. My biggest challenges were rather the following: Overcoming the monotony of life inside; and accepting that I was immured despite not doing the crime. Since my discharge I decided not to suppress news regarding my incarceration. In this digital age Google would be more than capable of serving up information about my plight. I would much prefer that I, rather than a search engine or rumor mill, deliver the news to my friends.

There were other reasons for me to reconnect with friends: On one hand, I wanted to reconnect and announce my reemergence into the real world; and in another I hoped that I could serendipitously find opportunities to restart my career. The law of averages predicted that there would be naysayers although I have yet to speak to anyone who told me straight out that they did not believe I was innocent. But sometimes actions spoke louder. There was a fraternity brother I have known since my university days when we lived in the same house. One of our common friends had suggested I contact him to work together on a project. I did as told and was surprised to receive a terse message from him stating that he refused to entertain any business dealings as he stated that by association I would taint his lifeline. I accepted that possibility and offered to just chat about anything except business. He never replied. There was another business friend who questioned as to how I did not know the investment scheme was fraudulent. Both of them had read the trial judge’s verdict which was replete with errors in my opinion. However for them that was the only one that mattered.

A few friends tried to mollify me by offering the usual bromides such as to put this behind me and move forward. My response was always that I would do so if it would let me. For some others I found it humorous when they went straight from hello to conversations about gossips and current happenings, oblivious of my absence of almost four years.

Some of the responses were unexpected. There were those who knew of a friend or a friend of a friend who suffered incarceration and recounted similar stories. I was nonetheless grateful for the lessons I gleamed from those who suffered. Amusingly almost all my Korean friends knew someone who went to prison. I was only too aware that Korea has more former presidents incarcerated in prison than most countries. This is one of my wishes for our own leaders in Malaysia but which has yet to transpire. One friend told me to beware of those who would perversely gloat about other’s misfortunes for no good reason. Fortunately I have yet to come across such persons. More than a few pointed out that logically it did not make sense for someone like me who managed over US$100 million of assets before the conviction to risk a crime for a mere US$2 million. I secretly thought perhaps for US$200 million or US$2 billion. Others said it did not matter to them even if I did the crime because I had already been punished and we should leave that behind. Again the problem was that society at large would not let anyone forget.

There were those I tried to contact but was unsuccessful despite a few attempts. I would probably never know whether they were truly that occupied or if they were simply avoiding me.

I continued this effort up till today, a few friends at a time. At the back of my mind I definitely felt the uneasiness associated with being a convicted felon. Having attended the same prestigious schools as my friends we were all supposed to be successful, big swinging dicks in our respective industries and in a sprint to make our mark in this world. It was hard not to feel the humiliation from such a precipitous fall. I have to say that the worry was largely unfounded as most of them were gracious and welcoming. Almost everyone offered to help in one way or another.

This exercise turned out effectively to be a friend filter. Those who cared about me will always have my back. Those who did not probably did not matter. At the age of 57 it was perhaps time for a pruning of my social network. I will be frank. I am bad at accepting. It was hard for me in the throes of this dramatic change to take inventory and navigate a clear path forward. Nevertheless I endeavor to chart my own course. I also realized that words of support are just like monopoly money which one cannot use as legal tender. It is all up to me and myself to face the challenges ahead.

There were a few ideas which crossed my mind. Prior to prison I had been a volunteer tutor for students from welfare families. I enjoyed that and believed I may have a knack at teaching. I had since applied for teaching positions in local universities. We shall see what would come out of this. I have also applied for jobs in consulting to hopefully continue my affinity to help companies and their leaders grow and prosper. I coined the corny phrase: 2C’s for 3C’s. The first two C’s are coaching and consulting and the latter three stood for college, companies and careers. Maybe it would catch on.

For me writing was more than a disporting activity. It allowed me to learn empathy and self-reflection. I directed all that I have contacted to this blog site which hosted all the writings from while I was inside. I have since cleaned up all the articles and will upload a few more in the future. Many suggested that I should write a book about my experience. Some offered advice about reestablishing my career to be a Life Coach or YouTuber to share the lessons and stories. I may give this a try. What took me by surprise was when one of my friends formally extended a contract for me to write a book which I accepted. He was gracious enough to also commit to donate portions of the proceeds for charities which would help prison inmates. The pressure is on and it is now a commitment. Going forward I will be directing most of my effort into finishing the book. I am writing this book for several reasons: It will hopefully help me pay bills, I am not going to lie; I do find writing to be cathartic; and finally I wanted to tell the world my side of the story and not have whichever judges’ verdict define who I am.

Every week since my discharge I had returned to visit different prisons to see friends I have made while inside. Except for one all of them were foreigners who did not have visitors for years. There was not much I could do except talk to them behind the plexiglass screen and bring them books and other sundry items. I hope to do more.

I established a daily routine where the mornings were spent at home thinking, meditating and writing. In the afternoon I was usually in the office in the financial district for more writing and meeting people. I had since met up a few times with my Legal Aid-appointed solicitor and barrister as they prepared for my appeal. I went back into sports as well and have played in a few football matches. I am happy to report that I survived the running and training but my shoes did not. I also continued my practice of reading and learning and even started to acquire new languages.

A week ago I received news that my appeal hearing has been scheduled for mid February, 2023. My last appeal hearing which was aborted was in January this year. Effectively I would have waited more than a year to have a hearing which should not last more than 2 hours. I have disagreements with my lawyers on the two grounds which I am arguing but we now have time to sort this out. I was reminded of the phrase “Truth has legs”. We may wait a long time but truth will eventually come out.

With that, I end with these beautifully crafted words of T.S. Eliot:

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought