Gathering Faint Lights into a Torch in the Long, Dark Judicial Night, We Need You! — JRF Expands Recruitment of Pro Bono Attorneys

NT$50,000 Bail and Exit Ban for a Minor Offense—Yen Hsin-yin / Member, Pro Bono Attorney Team

It started with an emergency accompanying-interrogation on April 29. In the afternoon, I received a call stating that a citizen was being held at the Special Police Corps headquarters. Before leaving the office, I called the citizen held at the headquarters; his voice sounded steady and calm. Upon arriving at the scene, I learned that this citizen was actually a college student in his final year.

The student looked very composed and showed no trace of panic during our conversation. He said he had jumped onto a legislator's car. After he jumped on, the legislator's car windshield seemed to have cracked. Because the situation was chaotic, he wasn't sure, nor was he sure if other citizens were blocking or jumping onto cars, because his only memory was jumping onto the car to block it, being dragged down, and then being stepped on and trampled several times on the ground—by a police officer. When asked why he blocked the car, he said, "I hope the legislator goes inside to attend the meeting; I want to save Lin I-hsiung." At that moment, I thought this kid had a hidden touch of emotional depth, keeping a soft heart beneath such an expressionless face.

The process of recording the statement at the Special Police Corps headquarters was quite peaceful. Whatever the student said, the police recorded. Even regarding the abrasions on the student's face, the police proactively asked how the injuries occurred and willingly recorded the process of the student being trampled by the police. After finishing the statement, the senior police officer earnestly told the student: "Our stances and positions may differ, but our ideals are not necessarily different. You just need to know how to protect yourself and not get hurt."

However, after being transferred to the prosecutors office, things turned out completely different from what I had imagined. In many people's eyes, I am very junior—just a minor figure who has practiced for four years. But I truly never expected the outcome to be so unexpected.

Upon arriving at the Taipei District Prosecutors Office, I met many lawyers representing other transferred citizens, as well as students' parents. My colleague's client had just finished prosecutorial interrogation and was granted NT$10,000 bail. Comparing this to the previous day's dispersal of citizens on Zhongxiao West Road where several people were also granted NT$10,000 bail, my colleague, the student's parents, and I estimated preparing around NT$10,000.

The student's parent was a highly educated intellectual. You could feel his anxiety—how could anyone not be anxious when their beloved son was detained at the Taipei District Prosecutors Office? Yet his attitude remained steady and calm, constantly thanking me, a junior lawyer, and even asking about legal fees. I replied that we are pro bono attorneys, to which the parent responded: "I know you are pro bono attorneys, but I also feel that if one has the ability, they should pay attorney fees, leaving the opportunity of unpaid services to those in need."

Turns out, like father, like son—top-tier at hiding emotional depth.

Entering the interrogation room, the prosecutor's attitude couldn't be described as terrible, but it was not very pleasant. For example, when asked if we had any objections to the police interrogation record of the legislator's driver, we hadn't even seen that police interrogation record, yet the prosecutor failed to present it, merely hastily reading the gist of the record. Fortunately, this kid reacted quickly, grasped the main points, and answered on target.

When asked why he jumped on the car, the answer was the same: "I hope the legislator continues to stay inside to attend the meeting; I want to save Mr. Lin I-hsiung." The student explained very clearly that at the moment he jumped on the car, he only hoped the legislator would stay to attend the meeting; even if he later thought about it possibly infringing upon the legislator's freedom or causing damage, he had not thought of that at the moment he jumped on the car. When asked if I had any objections to add, I elaborated slightly on the student's remarks: "Prosecutor, the student is very innocent and perhaps a bit impulsive, but his intention is very simple—he just hopes the legislator will stay to attend the meeting to save Lin I-hsiung. At the moment of jumping on the car, there was no intent to infringe upon freedom or cause property damage..." Before I could finish my sentence, the prosecutor interrupted me: 'Counselor, how can you say there was no intent to infringe upon freedom or cause damage? How could that be possible? But I will still note down what you said.'

The prosecutor presented evidence photos: 'Take a look, at 12 seconds the car window isn't broken, but at 24 seconds the car window is broken. You say you didn't carry a weapon, I don't believe it.' Then should the prosecutor shoulder the burden of proof to explain where the weapon is? My client came empty-handed; if he had carried a weapon, it should have been seized and detained upon arrest, shouldn't it? If he had a weapon, how could evidence collection recordings and photos fail to capture it? Since when does a defendant have to prove their own innocence?

Finally, the prosecutor asked the student whether he pleaded guilty or not guilty. The student remained silent for a long time. The prosecutor unpleasantly said, 'If you don't speak, I will note that you decline to speak. Fine, there is heavy suspicion of a crime and a refusal to plead guilty, and there is a necessity for detention... NT$50,000 bail, with an exit ban.'

Only a few seconds passed between the prosecutor stating 'necessity for detention' and 'NT$50,000 bail,' but during those few seconds, countless thoughts of what I would say if detention were ordered had already flashed through my mind.

No detention, bail granted—did I feel a sense of relief?

Not at all. NT$50,000 bail was already a heavy bail. How so? The two previous Banking Act cases resulted in NT$8,000 bail for one and NT$10,000 bail for the other. I don't know which article of the Banking Act applied, but those carried fixed-term imprisonment of over three years and under ten years. In contrast, the student's charges were interference with freedom—carrying imprisonment of under three years, short-term imprisonment, or a fine; and property damage—carrying imprisonment of under two years, short-term imprisonment, or a fine. From the March 23 Executive Yuan dispersal to the recent Zhongxiao West Road dispersal, the highest bail amount was just over NT$30,000. Furthermore, my colleague's previous client who also jumped on a car received only NT$10,000 in bail. Requiring NT$50,000 bail for a minor offense—I don't know how despicable the prosecutor thought my client was.

Moreover, even though the student holds U.S. citizenship, he is still a student with all his family members in Taiwan; where on earth could he run off to? What on earth is the necessity of imposing an exit ban?

Today, the student's family has an okay financial situation, and the NT$50,000 bail could be paid immediately. If the student came from central or southern Taiwan with a family financial situation like mine, terrified out of his wits and too scared to let his family know, how on earth could he ever scrape together that NT$50,000 bail?

From walking out of the Taipei District Prosecutors Office yesterday until this morning, I kept wondering whether I had said or done something less, leading to such heavy bail and such an exit ban. But I recalled the retrial (Geng-Ba-8) of the Hsiu Tzu-ch'iang case, where we also worked so hard and did so much, yet the judge still told the public defender to persuade the client to plead guilty, still ignored our arguments, and still sentenced him to life imprisonment. Perhaps, sometimes things are just like that; you can only blame yourself and your client for bad luck. Perhaps one day, we will no longer have to pin our hopes on luck. Perhaps that day will come.

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Are We Truly a "Democratic Taiwan"?—Lin Chia-ju / Member, Pro Bono Attorney Team

On the afternoon of April 29, I received an ad-hoc call from the Judicial Reform Foundation to support a citizen who had been arrested without a lawyer, and to provide pro bono accompaniment during her interrogation. From 4:00 PM until nearly 11:00 PM, the interrogation concluded at the Special Police Corps headquarters, and she was immediately transferred to the prosecutors office, where questioning ended around 12:00 AM. Several of her comrades were waiting outside, and the group was each released on NT$30,000 bail.

One of the women was a long-haired artist with a physical disability (her left leg was a prosthetic) and a clarinet teaching instructor. Because she sat in a flower bed and photographed the protest scene, she was stopped by the police and then forcefully dragged away. Along the way, a police officer stepped on her hair, and she cursed, "Damn it! Don't step on my hair." She was arrested for the offense of "insulting a public official or public office."

Another woman wanted to circle around on the sidewalk; a police officer pushed her down, causing abrasions on her arm. When she stood up again and the officer pushed her once more, she crossed her arms to resist and was accused of pushing the police. Several police officers swarmed forward and grabbed her. Feeling exhausted and crying out hoarsely, she desperately bit the back of a police officer's hand for two seconds in an urgent attempt to make their hands let go of her body. She was arrested for the offense of "injury."

Several clients were arrested by the police around 1:00 PM for various reasons, while several pro bono attorneys rushed over upon being notified. Upon arrival, my fellow pro bono attorneys and I stayed there to accompany those citizens—our newly acquainted clients.

Time ticked away second by second, but the police officers seemed to simply leave us hanging there without any interrogation or signs of preparation for recording statements. Several times during the process, we asked the police officers whether recording could begin, only to receive the reply that they were waiting for the "official report" (so-called 'evidence') from the Zhongzheng First Police Precinct.

Following my repeated inquiries, the interrogation at the police station finally began around 9:00 PM, because "word had it"... the "official report" had arrived. What kind of official report takes eight or nine hours after an incident to be completed? And it was brought in hot off the press only after we had sat in the interrogation room for about half an hour....)

Then, around 10:00 PM, that police officer came in for a confrontation. The time and location completely differed from what my client stated, yet he insisted on filing charges and left half an hour later.

At one point, police officers claimed that according to "internal regulations," they needed to use ink to take fingerprint impressions of "all ten fingers" of these citizens, even citing Article 205-2 of the Code of Criminal Procedure. I subsequently rushed over to question them: regarding today's charges (insulting a public office, biting a police officer), where is the 'necessity of collecting fingerprints as evidence'? Only then did the police somewhat reluctantly tear up the fingerprints they had already taken. However, earlier, an elderly elder from the公民投票平權聯盟 (Alliance for Referendum Fairness in Taiwan), along with other citizens I hadn't seen, may have already had all ten fingerprints taken and photographs snapped (the three-angle kind).

U.S. counter-terrorism only requires your two thumbs, yet the Republic of China now severely infringes upon human rights—what kind of "terrorists" are they trying to punish?

The handling police officer during interrogation chatted with us while we waited, and even advised my client to quit smoking, drink more water, drink more lemon water, and apply facial masks, explaining that he had only slept three hours over the past two days and maintained himself this way. The police officer accompanying me down the elevator at the prosecutors office, when I questioned with frustration that "this scope of law enforcement crackdown is far too broad," softly replied that the crackdown scope was indeed far too broad, turning back to give me a helpless smile.

Stepping into the interrogation room, that young woman was already handcuffed (this was the first time I defended a client in handcuffs, as I had never defended defendants of 'heinous crimes.' Although, I didn't quite understand how the young woman sitting right there could possibly be so heinous).

When our interrogation concluded, the last young woman, unable to contact her family members, used spare change inside the enclosure to make a public phone call to a friend, trying to scrape together the bail amount.

Her comrades who were arrested together waited for her on the benches outside (they had just met today and didn't have each other's phone numbers). The artist girl said to me: "I know they want to intimidate us, but we're heading right back to Ketagalan Boulevard afterward."

I left my phone number with her, telling her I was heading home first to feed my cat, which had been hungry for eight hours, and to contact me anytime if anything came up.

For as long as I have practiced law, this was the first time I walked into the bail room of the Taipei District Prosecutors Office at midnight, the first time I defended a vulnerable criminal client (categorized by property status), the first time I felt the helplessness of defending justice (whether from empathetic police officers or defense counsel), and the first time I felt so genuinely that........... this country has truly lost its mind!

Everyone is truly exhausted! But you cannot simply criminalize people just because "shopping or attending cram school" is inconvenient!

Are we truly a "Democratic Taiwan"?!