From The Times, UK
25 November 2005
Nation rallies to save the life of 'selfless' drug mule
By Richard Lloyd Parry
Time is running out for a man facing death penalty for ferrying heroin
to pay his brother's debts
Campaigners hand out leaflets during a vigil in Sydney as support for
Van Tuong Nguyen grows (REUTERS/WILL BURGESS)
SINGAPORE executes more people per capita than any other country so,
by local standards at least, there will be nothing remarkable about
the hanging of Van Tuong Nguyen. Just before 6am next Friday, after a
final meeting with his mother and his last meal, Nguyen will be
handcuffed and led from his cell to the execution chamber of Changi
prison.
Darshan Singh, the 73-year-old hangman, will place the hood over
Nguyen's head, the noose around his neck and spring the trapdoor. In a
46-year career, he has executed more than 850 prisoners.
In one respect alone this one will be unusual: Nguyen is an Australian
and, as he enters the last week of his life, the 25-year-old's
predicament has caused national indignation in his home country.
Australian activists have called for a boycott of Singaporean goods
and companies. Letters of protest have poured in to the Singapore
Government.
John Howard, the Australian Prime Minister, Alexander Downer, the
Foreign Minister, and the present and late Pope have appealed
unsuccessfully for clemency.
All this for a self-confessed drug smuggler whose name was unknown to
most Australians until a few weeks ago. In the past year there have
been a number of high-profile cases involving young Australians
charged with drug offences abroad, but in none of them have the facts
of the case been so clear — or so pathetic — as that of Van Tuong
Nguyen.
He was arrested at Changi airport in Singapore in December 2002,
carrying 396g of pure heroin. His full and immediate confession has
never been disputed by the defence, and the poignant details of his
wellintentioned stupidity are the source of much of the sympathy for
him in Australia.
He was born in a Thai refugee camp to a Vietnamese boat refugee, who
raised him and his twin brother, Khoa, alone. He grew up in Melbourne,
joined the Scouts, worked part-time at McDonald's and is described by
those who know him as a decent, cheerful and dutiful young man. He was
working as a computer salesman when his twin began to get into
trouble.
Khoa started taking drugs and ended up with two convictions and legal
fees amounting to A$30,000 (£13,000). It was to pay off his brother's
debts, Van Tuong Nguyen has always maintained, that he agreed to act
as a "mule" for a group of drug dealers based in Sydney.
Soon after he flew to Phnom Penh, the Cambodian capital, things began
to go wrong. Mr Nguyen was instructed to reduce the heroin to a fine
powder in a coffee grinder and strap it to his body in two slim
packages.
"I didn't really know how to go about doing that," he told the
Singaporean police. "So I just did what I thought would work."
On the plane one of the packages became so uncomfortable that he
pulled it off his abdomen and slipped it into his backpack. Changing
planes in Singapore, he passed through a metal detector, which was set
off by his metal-rimmed sunglasses. The guard who frisked him felt the
second packet strapped to his back.
"He asked me what that was and I replied, 'It's heroin, sir'," Mr
Nguyen said. "He asked me if I was sure. I told him, 'Of course'."
After his arrest he showed consistent remorse and co-operated fully
with the authorities. Information that he provided to the Australian
police led to the arrest of a drug dealer in Sydney. But Singaporean
law is clear and unbending: for quantities of more than 15g of heroin,
death by hanging is not the maximum penalty, but the mandatory one.
Darshan Singh hanged 138 people between 1998 and 2003, and 110 of them
were not murderers, rapists or gun runners, but drug traffickers.
Last year a UN report revealed that Singapore executes a higher
proportion of its population than any other country; 13.57 per one
million of population, compared with 4.65 per million in Saudi Arabia
and 2 per million in China.
The Think Centre, one of the city state's few anti-capital punishment
NGOs, asked: "If this inhumane practice is really a deterrent, how
come, after 40 years of executions, we still have the highest per
capita execution rate in the world, with the greatest known proportion
of these executions small-time drug mules?"
Mr Howard has appealed for mercy, but Mr Nguyen's supporters accused
him of expressing insufficient indignation. Having passively endorsed
the death penalty for the Bali bombers who killed so many Australians,
he is not best placed to denounce Singapore for the same sentence,
they say.
After a slow start, the Australian media is devoting great attention
to the story, especially to the anguish of Mr Nguyen's mother, Kim,
and to the twin, Khoa.
He wrote a letter to his friends and supporters that sounds very like
a final goodbye. "I've thought long and hard about the content, the
topics and the words that will fill this page," it reads. "Just know
that I'm thinking of you and praying for you every day . . . I love
you with all my heart, take care, be strong."
TOUGH JUSTICE
Flor Contemplacion, a Filipina maid, was hanged in 1994 for killing
another Filipina, provoking widespread condemnation
Chewing gum is banned, although authorities have allowed gum designed
to help smokers to quit
In May 1994, Michael P. Fay, an American teenager, was caned for car
theft and vandalism, despite pleas from the US Government that the
punishment was excessive
Litterbugs are made to pick up rubbish to rehabilitate and shame the
offender and deter others
Offences that can incur fines include jaywalking, spitting and failing
to flush a toilet correctly
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/
