At 9:15am, 15 minutes earlier than the usual time the court opens, court no.1 in the High Court building was already packed. At the entrance of the court room, I could see nothing but the backs of a dozen of very tall non-Chinese lawyers in their barristers' gowns or suits.
There they were, paying tribute to Mr Justice Colin Mackintosh. He passed away earlier this month in the United Kingdom from brain cancer. He was 58 years old.
I could hardly make out the words that the speakers were saying. Some 20 minutes later, when the memorial sitting was over, judges left through their special exits while the rest of the crowd came out the public entrance.
I lingered around outside and saw a few tearful women whom I recognise as the court clerks.
Hours later, I got given a copy of a message that was read out loud by Mr Justice Peter Line during the memorial sitting. It was a note that Mr Mackintosh wrote last autumn.
"Thank you from deep in my heart for your contributions to my life, for making my life in Hong Kong the joy it has been. So if any of you have any tears, wipe them away....
I have made so many good and dear friends here in Hong Kong. Some of you in particular have been so special to me that I feel, as I write this note, that it will be a question of me losing you rather than you losing me...What can be a greater tribute than to know that I am a better person for having known each and everyone of you. Please do not weep at my passing: just be thankful for my life.
All I ask of you is that you do not forget me, at least, not so quickly. Remember me in your thoughts and prayers, tell stories about me sometimes and laugh about me; and I ask you to accept my thanks in good heart...
The miracle of life is a circle of birth and death: it always has been and always will be. What we have to do is make the most of the time we are given...
If I have offended any of you either in my judicial capacity or otherwise, then I ask forgiveness. I am not perfect: I know that best of all. Let me tell you though, that upon reaching the pearly gates, if I'm lucky enough to get there, I shall ask for a voire dire before any judgement is made on my life. I will maintain that I was never properly cautioned.
Please go from here in good heart and make the most of life. I do feel I have been snatched from it slightly early, well, earlier than I and my beloved wife Jani had planned. I feel that I had more to do, more to achieve in life; more to do as a judge, as a husband and father, and hopefully as a grandfather, but there we are. The Grim Reaper does not work to order.
I have known for many months that my condition would be a difficult one to bear; that the risks were substantial: a bit like, I can hear the wags say, a bit like the chances of an acquittal before Mackintosh in the District Court.
...
I love you.
Remember me.
Goodbye
Colin
----
R.I.P
26/05/2011
17/05/2011
two more weeks
In exactly two weeks' time, I will stop writing for the Post. It 's not so much time for an eulogy but more about uncertainties.
Back to London I go to pursue something that I started almost three years ago. However much I have gained and learnt during my stint as a journalist, the decision to stay in Hong Kong in the summer of 2009 still feels like the greatest mistake of my life that has set me back.
Whether it was really a mistake hinges on my next job offer, at least in a simplistic way.
The past year or so was full of confusion and indecisiveness. The decision that I finally settled with is probably the best, and definitely the hardest. I hope I am not too naive to think that it will pay off when it may not.
Hong Kong is fiercely commercial. Money buys you happiness, full stop. Girls learn to be gold diggers ; old people who can hardly stand up straight scavange cardboard scraps for a living; people of all ages line up for hours to trade iPhones and ipads for quick bucks ; and now the retail chain that trades secondhand luxury products racked up the biggest IPO in the city's history, or something insane along those lines. Worst yet, the biggest selling tabloid newspaper in the city now routinely churns out articles promoting the worst traits of typical young adults of the city - not just being superficial but believing that it's the only way to be.
It has been demotivating to be on a blue collar wage. In the absence of good healthcare, it's damn scary to think that if I may be in a situation where I just don't have the money and die from otherwise treatable illnesses. It makes me wonder if I have been so naive all my life to not aim to sell my soul and make lots of money.
But then today, I saw through a court case where a men who, possibly suffering from untreated schizophrenia, shook his father and accidentally killed him because the old man bumped his head on something. The man was the primary carer of the old man, and was happy to look after him. But the family refused to send the old man to a nursing home so that they would not lose their source of income : the father 's disability allowance. The two men and the old man's wife just lived together in a shoe box until the incident. This kind of things is worth fighting for, and this is where society has failed us.
It's a very sad case. I was just glad to be in the courtroom so that I could put things about life in perspective.
Back to London I go to pursue something that I started almost three years ago. However much I have gained and learnt during my stint as a journalist, the decision to stay in Hong Kong in the summer of 2009 still feels like the greatest mistake of my life that has set me back.
Whether it was really a mistake hinges on my next job offer, at least in a simplistic way.
The past year or so was full of confusion and indecisiveness. The decision that I finally settled with is probably the best, and definitely the hardest. I hope I am not too naive to think that it will pay off when it may not.
Hong Kong is fiercely commercial. Money buys you happiness, full stop. Girls learn to be gold diggers ; old people who can hardly stand up straight scavange cardboard scraps for a living; people of all ages line up for hours to trade iPhones and ipads for quick bucks ; and now the retail chain that trades secondhand luxury products racked up the biggest IPO in the city's history, or something insane along those lines. Worst yet, the biggest selling tabloid newspaper in the city now routinely churns out articles promoting the worst traits of typical young adults of the city - not just being superficial but believing that it's the only way to be.
It has been demotivating to be on a blue collar wage. In the absence of good healthcare, it's damn scary to think that if I may be in a situation where I just don't have the money and die from otherwise treatable illnesses. It makes me wonder if I have been so naive all my life to not aim to sell my soul and make lots of money.
But then today, I saw through a court case where a men who, possibly suffering from untreated schizophrenia, shook his father and accidentally killed him because the old man bumped his head on something. The man was the primary carer of the old man, and was happy to look after him. But the family refused to send the old man to a nursing home so that they would not lose their source of income : the father 's disability allowance. The two men and the old man's wife just lived together in a shoe box until the incident. This kind of things is worth fighting for, and this is where society has failed us.
It's a very sad case. I was just glad to be in the courtroom so that I could put things about life in perspective.
15/05/2011
crisis
I have been free from dramas for so long. Today, a self-inflicted crisis hit hard.
Memory of an alcohol -fuelled night out is hazy. Patchy recollections of what exactly happened and the moments that I can recall are unpleasant.
It's one of those "I vowed I would never do it" incidents that shake the core of all beliefs and values. Something that has so far been so close to perfection, and an object of envy is now tainted.
What more am I capable of?
The body tells you one thing. Your mind tells you another. Words of resistence were reduced to nothing.
I don't even remember how I got here.
Then there was an apology, but I don't know what it was for, and I don't want to find out.
There was a crisis seven years ago. (God it has been that long.) It was someone's quest for truth that made me wish as I drove aimlessly that I would just end it all in a fatal car crash. It plunged me to such low and kept me there for so long.
Perhaps because of that incident that I now manage to be distracted, to act as though it's just another Sunday.
There were countless hours in despair, searching for answers, taking in those judgmental stares unaccompanied by words.
Then there was my own quest for truth that sent me off spiralling down, for years.
Last night was unexpected, unintended and smack of resistance that just didn't go far enough. My interrupted stream of consciousness still screamed out loud, but the voice just gave in in the weakened mind. Whatever justification that I can come up with will never be good enough.
Would lies become the truth for as long as they are not revealed as lies ?
Memory of an alcohol -fuelled night out is hazy. Patchy recollections of what exactly happened and the moments that I can recall are unpleasant.
It's one of those "I vowed I would never do it" incidents that shake the core of all beliefs and values. Something that has so far been so close to perfection, and an object of envy is now tainted.
What more am I capable of?
The body tells you one thing. Your mind tells you another. Words of resistence were reduced to nothing.
I don't even remember how I got here.
Then there was an apology, but I don't know what it was for, and I don't want to find out.
There was a crisis seven years ago. (God it has been that long.) It was someone's quest for truth that made me wish as I drove aimlessly that I would just end it all in a fatal car crash. It plunged me to such low and kept me there for so long.
Perhaps because of that incident that I now manage to be distracted, to act as though it's just another Sunday.
There were countless hours in despair, searching for answers, taking in those judgmental stares unaccompanied by words.
Then there was my own quest for truth that sent me off spiralling down, for years.
Last night was unexpected, unintended and smack of resistance that just didn't go far enough. My interrupted stream of consciousness still screamed out loud, but the voice just gave in in the weakened mind. Whatever justification that I can come up with will never be good enough.
Would lies become the truth for as long as they are not revealed as lies ?
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