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http://www.scribd.com/billhoner

Free Fall: True Stories from America and around the World
Bill Honer

Chapter15: Hong Kong, 1976- I become Addicted to Attending a Trial involving Conspiracy to
manufacture $2 million of Heroin.

I arrived at Kai Tak airport at seven in the morning. It was a spectacular day; the hills above the
skyscrapers of Victoria were bright green; the harbor was filled with junks and Star Ferries.
Taking a taxi from the airport, I proceeded to a hotel in Kowloon located in an office building on
Nathan Road that included three other hotels, along with a number of import/export companies.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, where I was greeted by a dimly lit room with soft red
and green lighting; there was a pungent aroma of Indian cooking. The eighth floor was the home
of the Happy Fortune Hotel. The lobby was almost as dark as the Indian floor, but lacked the
mysterious atmosphere of that establishment. A Chinese gentleman of indeterminate age stared
me, saying absolutely nothing.

“Hi” I said breezily, “I would like a room, please.” The clerk looked at my bearded appearance
and made a grimace of distaste. “Ninety Dollars!” he snapped. That amounted to eighteen dollars
in American currency; I did not care for the man’s less then congenial demeanor. “Show me the
room.” I said sharply.

The man slapped the bell on his desk. A maid soon appeared; the desk clerk barked something at
her and motioned me to follow her. The whole world was a bureaucracy, including the eighth
floor on Nathan Road. The maid opened the room for viewing; there was not much to see, other
than four walls and a bed. “Just like home.” I thought to myself, if home were San Quentin. At
least the street noise provided a certain ambiance. Sleeping in this room would be a real treat.

I returned to the manager to pay for the room; he accepted the money with his usual lack of
warmth. Later that evening, I made my way to “Chinatown,” which consisted of a midnight street
fair on the back streets behind Nathan Road. One vendor stood behind a huge vat of boiling
water, surrounded by a large table filled with a variety of seafood; the customers simply pointed
to the plates of their choice. The cook threw the contents of the plate into the boiling water,
scooped it out moments later, banging the plate down on the table. After finding a seat, I
proceeded to devour dozens of delicious shrimps. Following that, I walked over to a crowded
circle to see what the featured entertainment was for the evening.

It was a bizarre sight, a man was holding a snake and people were paying him to squeeze venom
from the snake’s mouth. Swallowing snake venom at two o’clock in the morning was not high on
my list of desired activities. I retired to my room.

The next morning was gorgeous. The sun was shining; it was a beautiful day to visit the Buddhist
monastery located on Lantau Island. I boarded the Star Ferry on the Kowloon side. The view of
Victoria was spectacular; there were many junks in the water with their colorful sails. The harbor
voyage was peaceful and relaxing, despite the inevitable crowds. Hong Kong is one of the most
densely populated places in the world.

The ferry stopped at other islands along the way, picking up and discharging passengers. Lantau
was the final destination. I boarded a bus to the monastery; some workers from central Hong
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Kong were also heading there. Lou read in a guidebook that it was possible to stay overnight at
the monastery; those who did often awoke early and walked to the top of the mountain to view
the sunrise over the South China Sea. After working in downtown Hong Kong, it was
understandable that some workers chose to spend vacation time in a tranquil setting that was
convenient and inexpensive. After leaving the harbor, the bus traveled through banana plantations
and lush tropical forests. The monastery was located at a high elevation, perhaps three thousand
feet above sea level.

It was early afternoon when I arrived. There was a light mist and a gentle breeze. As I walked
through the grounds, I looked through the temple entrance and observed a solitary monk
meditating inside the temple. Uncertain of the protocol for entering, I remained outside, sitting on
a bench and looking at the lush mountain side. Time seemed suspended. As I meditated, an hour
passed by quickly. I then walked toward the dining area, where I made arrangements for a simple
meal. It was hard to believe that millions of people were noisily going about their business just a
few miles away.

Hours passed before I returned to the ferry terminal. The trip back was very enjoyable; the
phosphorous in the water was an unusual sight; blue creatures seemed to be darting through the
water. I found myself mesmerized by the spectacular light show emanating from the sea.
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The next day,, I traveled to the other side of Victoria to Aberdeen, the junk village. Located
entirely on water; it was reported that some of its residents had never been on land, their entire
life spent on water. It began to rain heavily; this was not a good day to spend much time there.

I decided that going to the courthouse and attending a British trial could prove interesting way to
spend a rainy day. It was the worst appointed courtroom Lou had ever seen; it made the Brooklyn
Family Court look like a palace. There were plastic bags piled on the spectator benches filled
with everything from kitchen utensils to heroin. The judge and the attorneys were wearing the
traditional gray wigs. Three people were charged with conspiracy to manufacture two million
dollars worth of heroin.

When I arrived,, the jury was listening to the testimony of the arresting officers who described
how they found heroin in the apartment of Chong Li. Apparently Mr. Li had previously been
convicted of the crime and sentenced to twelve years in prison. The prosecution was now
attempting to convict the three defendants for being present in the apartment at the time the police
arrived. As Lou learned, having a key to premises containing illegal material is sufficient grounds
in Hong Kong for conviction. The defendants, two men and one woman, were Chinese. The
woman appeared frail, seemingly overwhelmed by the proceedings; the two men wore blank
faces devoid of emotion.

The jury was composed of six White and six Chinese jurors, with both genders equally
represented. The Clerk of the Court was Chinese, while the Lord Judge and the two barristers
were White. The testimony of the last detective ended and court was adjourned until the next day.

Given my graduate study in criminal justice, I was fascinated by the spectacle. I developed
sympathy quickly for the woman defendant; she seemed to have trouble understanding the
translator. I doubted her husband discussed his business dealings with her. She looked helpless
and pathetic. The prosecutor was quite beautiful; I could have enjoyed prosecuting her for several
hours, with or without the wig.
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The trial took most of the day. Afterwards, I went to a Filipino restaurant where the food was
exceptionally good. It was the first time I had tried Filipino cuisine.
“
The next morning, I bought the China News and immediately looked to see if there was a story
about the trial; I was not disappointed. The story was right there on the front page; it appeared
this was the second time the Colony was putting the wife, the boarder, and a merchant marine
sailor from Kwantung, China on trial for possession of heroin. The first one ended in a mistrial.
It was noted that Jason Greenly, a barrister with thirty years experience, was handling the
defense, while the prosecution directed by Jane Anster.

The weather was not promising for a visit to Macao or Sha Tin. I decided to continue following
the trial. Once again, I took the Star Ferry to Victoria and entered the courthouse; it was a good
solution for a rainy day. As the proceedings began, Lou felt the trial was taking on the
atmosphere of a desperate drama. The defense barrister first called the woman defendant to the
witness stand. He asked her to explain what happened; she answered in Chinese, her words
translated into English.

“My name is Long Li. I did not know what was going on. I smelled something strange and ask
my husband ‘What smell?’ He tell me pay no attention to his business. Then he give me money
and tell me go play Mahjong. So I go play; when I come back, I cook food and police come.” she
said.

“Did you help your husband make heroin?” asked the barrister.
“I do not know heroin; I only cook food and keep house clean.” she said.
“No more questions.” said the barrister.

What happened next was remarkable, clearly depicting the gap between the Chinese and British
residents of Hong Kong during the seventies. The prosecutor stepped forward and showed the
defendant photographs of her apartment. “Is that a photograph of your apartment?” she inquired.
“I do not understand photographs.” replied the defendant through her translator; this was
accepted.

“Do you have a key to your apartment?” the Prosecutor inquired.

“Yes” said the defendant. This was significant. Under Hong Kong law, persons can be convicted
of possession of drugs if they have a key to the premises where drugs are found.
“No more questions.” said the prosecutor.
The next witness for the defense was the lodger.
“What is your name?” asked the defense attorney.
“Queh” he said.

“Will you tell the Court what happened on April 25, 1970?” asked Greenly.
“My name is Queh. I live at the apartment where the drugs were found, but I knew nothing about
drug manufacturing. I pay three hundred dollars rent for a cubicle in the apartment; I am a teacher
and live a respectable life. I am a widower, that is all there is to say.” he replied.
“Were you in the apartment when the police came?” asked the attorney.
“Of course, I live there.” he answered indignantly.
“No more questions.” said the defense attorney.
The silver-wigged beauty of a prosecutor moved forward for cross-examination.
“You say you are a teacher, yet the school where you claim to teach was closed by the
government five year ago. Can you please explain to the Court how you are still able to teach at a
school that has not been open for five years?” she asked in a challenging tone.
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The defendant looked at her with mild curiosity. “The Government closed the school, but the
school continued as underground Chinese school.” he said.
This response went unchallenged; it seemed as though the underground activity in Hong Kong
went beyond the scope of the court.
The frustration was evident on the Prosecutor’s face; there was nothing to add.
“Do you have a key to the apartment on King Road?” she asked.
“Yes I do.” he replied.
“No more questions” she said.

The defense attorney called the remaining defendant to the stand.

“What is your name?” he asked.
“Le Chung.”, he said.
“What is your occupation?”
“Merchant seaman” he replied.
“Where do you live?”
“Kwantung Province, China,” replied the seaman.
“Why were you at the apartment?” he asked.
“Chong Li is a friend of mine. I went to visit him.”
“Did you know anything about the manufacture of heroin?” asked Jason Greenly.
“No, I knew nothing.” he said.

The lovely Jane declined cross-examination; the defendant had admitted he was present in the
apartment. Of course, it would have been better if he had possessed a key to the premises.
The next scene was dramatic; the husband of Long Li was brought shackled into the courtroom.
As soon as husband and wife saw each other, they began to cry. Both were probably about fifty,
with leathery faces and gaunt expressions. Chong Li took the witness stand in chains.
“What is your name?”
“Chong Li” he replied.
Long Li wept constantly throughout his testimony.

“You have been sentenced to prison for the manufacture of heroin. Is that correct?” asked defense
attorney Greenly.
“Yes” he answered.
“Did your wife know you were manufacturing heroin in the apartment?”
“No, I work alone; I did not want anyone to know what I was doing because I was afraid.” he
answered.
“No more questions” said Greenly firmly.
The Prosecutor then began her cross-examination. “Did you have a buyer for the heroin?”
“No” he replied.
“What were you going to do?” she asked.
“Find a seller, of course.” he replied.

“When the police came to your apartment, you lied to them. How do we know you are telling the
truth now?” asked the Prosecutor. He pointed to his wife and looked at the Prosecutor. “Look at
her! Look at her!” he screamed. “Do you think she knows how to cook anything but food?” He
flashed an angry snarl at the prosecutor that was powerfully dismissive. The prosecutor walked
away, waiving her arm in dismissal of the witness; she appeared somewhat shaken by the ferocity
of the chained prisoner.
The Judge’s reaction was interesting; he smiled with closed lips and stared at Jane, as if to say,
‘he does have a point.’
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It had been obvious to Lou that the Judge’s sympathies lay with the defendants. Although his bias
against the prosecution was subtle, it was present nonetheless. The prime suspect had been
arrested, convicted, and sentenced to twelve years in prison; the case against these three
individuals was weak. The first attempt to try them had ended in a mistrial. Perhaps the Judge felt
the matter should have been dropped at that point, although the merchant sailor looked as though
he could easily be on the wrong side of the law. However, the remaining two defendants appeared
to be most unlikely candidates for the drug trade. They gave every indication that a nightmare had
entered their lives from which there seemed to be no escape; the judge appeared to take pity on
them.

The remainder of the morning was spent dealing with procedural motions. The Judge announced
that summations would take place the following morning, and adjourned court for the day.
The weather improved; I visited the junk village in Aberdeen in the afternoon, spending the rest
of the day walking around, having a few beers, and eating some very good shrimp. It was a
relaxing afternoon.

I wanted to see the woman set free; she could not make heroin or arrange a drug deal with a gun
pointed at her head. If she walked free, I would be a happy man. Here is what I believe happened.
The husband and the merchant seaman were in it together. Perhaps Chong Li asked the seaman to
find a buyer. The wife and the lodger simply had the misfortune to be residents of the apartment.
I think the judge was disgusted with the case. The overzealous prosecutor, like others of her
breed, wanted convictions wherever she could obtain them. The jury appeared to be comprised of
middle-class persons, while the defendants were poor; that did not increase the prospects of an
acquittal.

It was hot and humid, but at least the ferry from Kowloon was not too crowded. I admired the
dark blue water and the sunlight shining on the skyscrapers of Victoria; it was a brilliant morning.
As I entered the courtroom, all the actors in the drama were assembled in their appointed places.
The defense attorney nodded his head in my direction. Curiosity had overcome British reserve as
the defense barrister had opened a conversation with me in the lobby. After explaining my
graduate studies in criminal justice, the barrister had become a bit warmer.

“The chances of acquittal are good if the judge gives the jury favorable instructions.” he said.
The trial resumed and the prosecutor began her summation to the jury.

“You have heard many inconsistencies that strongly challenge the defendants’ versions of events.
For example, Le Chung has testified that the slips of paper found on him were phone numbers of
bar hostesses; yet those same numbers corresponded to the serial numbers of morphine bottles in
the apartment.” she said.

Greenly rose immediately.

“Your honor, I don’t know what to say; this is most extraordinary. Although the issue of the
paper slips was raised at the first trial, it was never reintroduced as evidence during these
proceedings. I must ask your honor for guidance as to how to proceed in this matter since these
comments are highly prejudicial to my client and I have been denied cross-examination of any
witnesses testifying to the finding of evidence.” he implored.

I thought it would now end in yet another mistrial, with Judge refusing to allow the prosecution to
retry the case for a third time. Long Li and the others would go free. Within an hour, the Judge
declared a mistrial.
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I walked down to the harbor; sat on a bench, feeling happy, and watched the ferries and junks
pass by. I reflected on all the participants in the courtroom drama and realized I had been
provided with some insight into the culture of Hong Kong.

The next day I left for Macao; the jetfoil ride was a little bumpy, but it was a quick trip. When I
arrived, I took a short walk to the Chinese border. The border crossing was not open at the time.
The trial of the “Gang of Four” a pathetic political show trial that starred Mao’s wife, was in full
swing. I would have to remain in Macao, with its Jai Lai fronton, casinos, and dog racing.

The fronton was one of the finest in the world; I recognized one of the players from Palma de
Majorca. I bet on him and won a little money. That night, I treated myself to a special dinner at
the Hotel Central. After the meal, I took a stroll around the tiny colony.

By the next afternoon, I was ready to return to Hong Kong. The next few days were spent in the
area of Sha Tin, where monkeys roamed freely. I took the Kowloon railway to the Chinese
frontier, where I viewed the green mountains from a distance, wondering about life inside the
country denied to me. .