Interning at a law firm definitely has its perks. For instance, you get to go to work dressed all decent and proper, striding towards the central business districts of Singapore as if you're one of the real professionals. You toss your hair, toss a condescending non-smile to all those you deem too lowly to deserve a true professional's attention, toss the super-exclusive electronic key-card at the gate to board the elevators.. There's a lot of tossing involved in this job. Not too much difference from professional wankers. I walk among the rich and powerful and I work among the devious and morally-corrupt, and all this magic happens right in the UOB Building. I feel as if I'm being rocketed right to the top of the world as the elevators propel me onto unimaginable heights.
All figuratively speaking, of course. I work on the 24th floor so it's pretty imaginable. I spend my days researching Acts and law-y definitions, and draft a letter or two once in a while. Pretty tedious work, but it gives me the opportunity to come into contact with hands-on legal work. Ironically, I'm not even sure if I'm legally allowed to work there, given my foreigner-without-a-work-pass status. There was a space for one's work-permit number to be filled in on the application form, but I just defiantly crossed it out and refused to acknowledge its existence. They must have turned a blind eye because they didn't want to let such an adorable, handsome, sexy guy like me (note the complete lack of sarcasm in my tone) get sent away cause of a little thing like legality. Besides, which law firm has ever let law get in its way.
In my very own Ally McBeal moment, I went down to the Singapore High Court for the very first time in my life. First time I've been to any court, actually. This is one of those moments and places where I'm so glad I walked in on my own, for the other alternative would be to get arrested and dragged here by pesky police officers, even though I know I look positively fetching in a pair of handcuffs. Perhaps I've been too misguided or deluded by legal dramas, but the entire structure of the High Court was a huge surprise to me. For some reason I was expecting a lot of old mahogany, wooden posts, a lone marble statue with some inscription about the upholding of justice. You know, the typical imposing, awe-inspiring architecture that just makes convicts throw themselves onto their knees and beg for mercy.
In actuality, the High Court was a behemoth of steel and glass, coolly efficient and sterile, just like how you'd expect a modern Singaporean design to be. A huge expanse of space, countless motion-detecting escalators arranged in neat parallel rows, glass, glass everywhere. A lawyer-mentor from the firm showed me around the building, explaining that both the Supreme Court and High Court are housed in this building. The Supreme Court tries appeal cases, and passes judgements on whether a trial's procedures were upheld correctly and justly, while a High Court actually tries cases.
"There's a trial going on here," rasps my lawyer-mentor. "We can go in and take a look. Make sure your phone is switched off, and bow down when you enter."
When he says bow down, I was picturing him maintaining a 90-degree bend all the way to his seat. I was fully prepared to do that, except what he meant was bow down once to the judge, and then straighten up and walk to your seat like you're afraid to even fart. Sure, I can do that too. Enter. Bow. Look at the faces of everyone who just turned to look at you. Act like you're supposed to be there. Clench asshole tightly. Walk to bench. Sit. Relax asshole. There, we made it.
The defendant is a young Chinese male, of perhaps twenty-five. In my stiff fear of the judge's power to throw me into jail for contempt, I make slow, deliberate movements. Don't give the guards any reason to suspect that you're attempting anything funny. I take in my surroundings and once again notice how much glass there is around me, realizing that it's probably bullet-proof to protect the honorable judge from any assassination attempts by the dangerous, scary public. It's not enough that we have to go through airport-level security when you enter the building, nooo the judge must be assassination-proof at all times.
Through the prosecutor's questioning, I pieced together the facts of the case. Mr Phua, the defendant, was arrested at the Singapore border, after arriving from JB. He was found with over 1000g of heroin and a box of sleeping pills. He claims that he was merely helping his friend, Ada, transport a box of sleeping pills into Singapore, and did not know that the other boxes contained heroin. I was taking it all in, the tv-caliber of the case, the high of being present at my first trial, that I never even realized how serious it was until my lawyer-mentor whispered to me that the penalty for drug-trafficking was death by hanging.
I reeled for a moment. This young man, sitting not five meters away from me, had a defense as flimsy as an anorexic woman in a hurricane. The burden of proving 'ignorance of fact' was on the defendant's shoulders. In layman's words, the guy's screwed. And by screwed I mean dead.
It hit me so hard, how terrible and dark this all was. I was in the presence of someone about to be executed. Could I really go into criminal law, and stomach this? As a prosecutor I'd be fighting to have them killed, as a defense attorney my failure would lead to my clients being killed. I had always been an advocate of capitol punishment, for there are those sicko-rapist-murderers who deserve nothing less than death, but can I really accept the execution of the perpetrator of a victimless crime? Drugs, like prostitution, only comes into contact with you when you want it to. To me, executing someone for the possible future effects of his cargo is like arresting someone for throwing out a banana peel. You know what you're doing is wrong, and someone could slip, hit his head and die, but you're not really a murderer, are you?
I walked out of High Court a little shaken and a little concerned. I'm forced to reevaluated all my motivations towards studying law. What am I really doing this for? Because if it's just for the money, I could never be able live with myself for fighting and winning a war with rules I can't stand behind.
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