DS joined the police as a messenger in 1935 and became a constable in 1936. Between 1941 and 1945, he left the force to run transportation and other businesses on the Mainland. He rejoined the force after the Second World War came to an end. In 1956, he was promoted to the rank of detective sergeant and became the station sergeant of Yau Ma Tei Police Station before he took early retirement.
During his time with the police, he was attached to a number of Criminal Investigation Departments (CID) in districts on the Hong Kong Island and in the Kowloon region. These included the densely populated districts of Wan Chai, Sham Shui Po, Wong Tai Sin and Yau Ma Tei, all of them hotbeds of vice, gambling and drug activities. Triads – the criminal gangs that controlled such activities – were willing to offer any advantages in a bid to obtain protection from law enforcement officers.
Police officers who had been sweetened with bribes would tip the triads off about police raids and other threats to their criminal livelihood, and would conveniently turn a blind eye to their many illegal activities. Such dealings suited both sides admirably. DS saw an awesome opportunity to get rich beyond the dreams of avarice.
By 1968, DS was over 50 and had been with the police for 23 years after the war ended. Enveloped as he was by a culture of greed, he no doubt felt that collecting advantages was just a run of the mill affair – a mutually agreed and convenient way of oiling a few squeaky wheels. So it may well have come as something of a shock to him when, at around 11:00 am on 18 December, while on duty, he was abruptly informed by his superior that the Anti-Corruption Branch wanted him for an interview. His superior officer did not explain why.
At 5:30 pm the same day, he duly reported to the Anti-Corruption Branch and found himself face to face with five senior officers. They questioned him on his lavish lifestyle and his sources of wealth. It soon occurred to the senior officers that he controlled more than HK$3 million in assets including land, premises and bank deposits in his own name and those of his wife and a girlfriend. To put such a sum in context, the monthly salary in 1965 for a primary school teacher started at $300, a roast pigeon cost $5.50 and the asking price for a large shop premises in Happy Valley was $120,000.
His alleged wealth was thus practically beyond belief. According to the Anti-Corruption Branch’s reckoning, his wife had never worked, his children were studying, and his police job was the family’s only source of income. After allowing for daily expenses and tuition fees for his children, he would have been able to save at most $140 per month. That meant that he could have saved a maximum of about $50,000 during his time with the police. To compound matters, he travelled a lot and was also supporting a girlfriend. He could not have accrued such massive assets merely by way of his police salary.
All along he had been very frugal was his explanation. He did not shoulder the expenses of a second home and on his travels he would stay only with friends. That was how he had managed to save so much over the years, he claimed. He further claimed that his assets also came from his Mainland businesses conducted during the war, including the sale of houses and land, as well as by selling goods vehicles through his transportation company.
It should be noted that in the 60s the Prevention of Corruption Ordinance was still in force and it was not an offence to fail to give a reasonable explanation of why assets were disproportionate to official emoluments. DS calculated that the Anti-Corruption Branch could at most subject him to disciplinary action for failing to declare assets – something that he should have done under police regulations.
The Anti-Corruption Branch could not obtain from him any statement that might forward the case. Nor could they collect any other evidence of corrupt conduct. The investigation had in effect come to a dead end. The only resort was for the Deputy Commissioner of Police to order him to take early retirement. In fact, he resigned of his own accord in August 1969. At the time of his retirement, he was only 51 and he used his pots of money to set up a securities investment company.
In the 60s and 70s, corruption involved chiefly civil servants. Cases such as the one involving DS were proving particularly tough to crack. Even if individual officers were believed to have acquired enormous wealth from corrupt activities, there was no easy way to gather evidence and trace witnesses from so many years back. A lot of information would likely have been destroyed, and it would be difficult to find witnesses who could provide reliable testimonies. Given both evidence and witnesses had faded into the distance, many unscrupulous officers found that they could get off scot-free with their corruptly acquired wealth.
Following legislative amendments in 1971, however, Section 10 of the new Prevention of Bribery Ordinance (PBO) clearly stated that if any person who, being or having been a government employee, possesses assets disproportionate to his official emoluments shall, unless he gives a reasonable explanation for them, be guilty of an offence.
The ICAC was set up on 15 February 1974, operates independently and separately from any Government departments. The ICAC replaced the Anti-Corruption Office of the police, and was the dedicated agency to combat corruption in both the public and private sectors.
Section 10 of the PBO had given Hong Kong a fresh lease of life in its fight against corruption. Now, when investigated by the ICAC, defendants were required to explain the source of their assets to the satisfaction of the courts. Section 10 of the PBO was indeed both apt and timely, and resulted in a number of corrupted Government officers to be successfully prosecuted by the ICAC in the 70s.
DS was a prime example. Given the amended legislation, he would find no avenue of escape when the ICAC tracked down the full details of his long past misdeeds.