SINGAPORE - Lawyer Too Xing Ji was in a taxi with a friend at dinner time when he suddenly broke down in tears after sharing his experience of representing a prisoner on death row.

This took place two weeks after Mr Too faced the Court of Appeal on May 23, 2019, and succeeded in getting a temporary reprieve for a drug courier on the eve of his scheduled execution. The client is still on death row.

On another occasion, Mr Too could not get a stay of execution for a client and was devastated.

His client consoled him.

The mental and emotional toll faced by lawyers and prosecutors was highlighted in January when Attorney-General Lucien Wong mentioned the various initiatives to support his officers’ mental well-being.

Prosecutors handling cases involving the death penalty are also scheduled for mandatory check-ins with an in-house psychologist.

In Singapore, the death penalty can be imposed for offences including murder, drug trafficking, use of firearms and kidnapping.

A spokesperson for the Attorney-General’s Chambers (AGC) said in response to The Straits Times’ queries that the mental health support it provides applies to any of its officers who may require it, and is not just restricted to death penalty cases.

In some instances, check-ins are mandated to ensure that officers get the necessary support.

“As the death penalty is imposed only for the most serious crimes, such as murder, prosecutors handling these cases may be repeatedly exposed to traumatic material,” said the spokesperson, adding these include violent and graphic audiovisual material.

The spokesperson said prosecutors in some cases may also have to interview grieving family members and guide them through the difficult process of testifying about the fatal incident.

Being able to consult a psychologist can help prosecutors deal with stress and negative emotions, the spokesperson added.

The spokesperson said: “Sometimes, officers do not realise that the cases they prosecute can have an impact on their well-being.”

Lawyer Eugene Thuraisingam said there is now a greater awareness of mental health issues, whether in the private or the government sector.

He said: “The AGC is like a very big law firm. Apart from remunerating their people well, they have to look after their people, so they realise this is one area which needs to be beefed up.”

Defence counsel who take on capital cases also face immense stress, as they carry the weight of potentially saving a client’s life.

Mr Thuraisingam said: “The pressure is there and you can’t afford to make any mistakes because it’s literally a matter of life or death.”

In a diary entry reflecting on his breakdown in 2019, Mr Too wrote: “Acting for someone on death row, the inevitability of relating to him as a human being, had taken a gigantic emotional toll on me that was for all intents and purposes, invisible, undetectable until it bursts out in torrents of tears that were no longer mine to retain.”

He wrote that as he tries to save his client’s life, he knows there would be someone on the other side whose professional duty was to challenge his case as best they could.

Mr Too shared his diary entry with ST, to give a glimpse into the emotional roller coaster he experienced then.

Mr Thuraisingam said the stress of preparing for a trial applies to both the prosecution and the defence. But for defence lawyers, the stakes seem higher.

“If you lose, it’s quite emotionally devastating to know that that’s it, it’s final,” he said.

He has regularly taken on capital cases since 2012.

At the time, he said, losing “wasn’t so bad” because there was a moratorium on judicial executions while the law was amended to allow for life imprisonment to be imposed when specific conditions were met.

After the new law kicked in, those on death row had their cases reviewed, and that was when the first few of his clients began facing imminent execution.

He said: “When you take on these cases, you meet with a client so often, you form a bond. You go through a full trial with them, seeing them every day, talking to them. You know their idiosyncrasies, they joke with you. And you form a relationship with them, and even with their families.”

Veteran criminal lawyer Ramesh Tiwary said that from the defence point of view, the stress comes from two main pressure points: the fact the client is possibly facing the gallows, and dealing with the client’s family.

He said: “You lie awake at night, wondering if there’s something more you can do.”

The first death sentence he heard being pronounced was in 1989, when he was still training to be a lawyer.

“When you get an acquittal, you heave a sigh of relief because you do not have to hear the words, ‘you are sentenced to death’,” he said.

Over the years, he has had his fair share of clients who have been sentenced to death. 

He said: “Each time, it hits you afresh. It’s almost like a new injury, you don’t get desensitised by it.

“The way I’ve dealt with it is to make sure that I’ve done everything I possibly could do. And I have to move to the next one. Because the next case deserves the same effort all over again.”

Mr Tiwary recounted how he used to say a quiet goodbye to several of his clients outside the old Changi Prison, when executions did not attract publicity like they do now.

“I hear the trapdoor open, and I would know that he has gone. And I would bid him farewell, and then I drive back.”

He added that because of the emotional toll, some lawyers stop taking on such work.

In 2022, Mr Too acted for death row inmate Kalwant Singh Jogindar Singh in an 11th-hour application for a stay of execution. The court described his efforts as “valiant”, but dismissed the bid.

After the hearing, he was allowed a phone call with his client, who comforted the lawyer.

He attended the funeral, which he said was one of the hardest things he had to deal with emotionally in his career.

He said: “You feel a mixture of immense sadness and also, oddly enough, a sense of conviction that, yes, I’ve lost this battle, but I don’t want to give up doing this. But it’s very, very hard.”

All three lawyers interviewed said they have not sought professional mental health support but decompress by talking to other lawyers or their family and friends.

Mr Tiwary said: “It is a kind of therapy. When you know that other people in your shoes also feel the stress, then you think, okay, I’m normal.”

Mr Too said he has a very good support network, and added that senior members of the Bar called him to convey their support after reading about his case in the news.

Mr Thuraisingam said he will always remember the ups and downs of the first time he got someone fully cleared of a capital charge.

In a nine-year saga, Nigerian Ilechukwu Uchechukwu Chukwudi was first acquitted of drug trafficking by the High Court in 2014, then convicted in 2015 by the Court of Appeal.

In September 2020, the apex court reversed its earlier judgment in a split 4-1 decision, after Mr Thuraisingam and his colleague presented new evidence to convince the majority that Mr Ilechukwu was suffering from post-traumatic stress symptoms when he lied to narcotics officers in 2011.

Another memorable client was drug trafficker Roszaidi Osman, whose death sentence was commuted to life imprisonment in a 3-2 decision by the Court of Appeal in December 2022.

The majority found that his major depressive disorder and substance use disorder had substantially impaired his mental responsibility for his acts.

Mr Thuraisingam said: “We feel a sense of warmth and accomplishment every time he sends us an electronic note from prison during festive occasions, never failing to thank us for the effort that we put into his case. That feeling makes the work and stress worthwhile.”