I am 46 years old this year. I was remanded in custody in October 2022 for burglary.
Growing up
I was born in 1976, and my family lived in an old housing estate on the eastern part of the Kwun Tong District in Kowloon. I have three older sisters and one older brother; I am the youngest. Because both of my parents worked when I was little, they didn’t have time to take care of me, so I stayed at my grandmother’s house. However, my grandmother was very strict, and I was often physically punished or left without food, which made me want to rebel from a young age.
My family could be described as a triad family. My uncle was a triad boss, my brother-in-law was a triad leader, and both my brother and cousin were also members of the triads. From a young age, I was surrounded by triad members, and both my uncle and brother-in-law also sold drugs.
During school holidays when I didn’t have to go to class, I would return to my parents’ home, where I was very happy because many people would take me to the park downstairs, and I could eat snacks and drink soda at the local convenience store for free. This was because the area was full of triads, and the people who took me out to play were the so-called “bad boys” from the neighborhood. So all the food was free. I clearly remember seeing my uncle at home using a matchbox to smoke something off a piece of silver paper (later, I learned it was heroin — the “chasing the dragon” method).
I thought it was very strange back then, wondering what my uncle was doing, and he looked very comfortable and seemed to be enjoying himself. When I moved back to live with my parents in Form 1, I was very happy because I finally escaped hardship and could live well. Maybe my mother felt guilty for not spending much time with me when I was young, so she spoiled and indulged me, never scolding or punishing me even when I made mistakes. This made me even more out of control. I skipped school all the time and was eventually expelled. Not only did I stop going to school, but I also spent every day hanging around basketball courts and arcade centers, where I met a group of delinquent friends. By age 14, I even joined a triad. I idled my time away daily, eating, drinking, partying, chasing girls, and getting into fights.
At 16, an older friend handed me a cigarette and said it would make me feel really good and high. I knew it was heroin mixed with tobacco. At that time, the types of drugs available were quite limited: “fut” (heroin), cough syrup, marijuana, and heroin (“bak fan”). I hesitated, but with a big group of boys and girls around, I felt I would be laughed at for being a coward, so I tried heroin for the first time. It made me feel detached and calm. After that, I started using with the group every day, and even my girlfriend at the time took drugs with me.
About half a month later, one day when I didn’t feel like taking drugs, I realized that I was already addicted. The withdrawal symptoms were unbearable — my whole body ached, I shivered and sweated cold, and saliva and mucus kept pouring out. But after a few hits all the pain immediately disappeared. At that point, I needed money every day to buy heroin, and the money my parents gave me was never enough. I started stealing from home, while my girlfriend, in order to afford her own heroin usage, became a call girl — what people called “running private sessions.” I relied on the money she earned that way so we could continue taking drugs together. That kind of life went on for about a year, until my girlfriend eventually left me.
After that, I started selling drugs for others. I earned about HK$20 per small packet of heroin and could make HK$2,000–3,000 a day. Then, in 1995, I was arrested by the police and sentenced to a detention center.
Inside the Center I didn’t turn over a new leaf — I kept getting into fights. After being released three years later, I knew I could never touch heroin again, but that didn’t mean I stopped using drugs altogether. I just wanted to avoid the painful withdrawal of heroin, so I began taking methamphetamine, commonly called “ice.” At my worst, I once stayed awake for a whole week, taking “ice” daily without rest.
Adulthood
In 2000, I met my ex-wife. We got married because she became pregnant, and in 2001, our daughter was born. At first, I still stayed home every day, but I continued taking drugs. Later, I met another woman at a disco and started a relationship with her — I was still taking “ice” at that time.
Eventually, I returned home only once or twice a week. The rest of the time, I was with this woman, using drugs and going to discos. That lifestyle was expensive, so I turned to burglary again. Each time I committed one, I earned enough money to fund my drug habits, eating, drinking, and entertainment for a while. Making money that way felt too easy, so whenever I ran out, I went out to steal again. In 2004, I was arrested by the police for burglary and sentenced to two years in prison. During that time, my wife filed for divorce, but she still brought my young daughter to visit me every day — and I was ungrateful for it.
When I was released in 2006, my daughter, ex-wife, and mother came to pick me up. That very night, I went out drinking with my old drug-using friends and took drugs again. At that time, it was trendy in nightclubs to take “K” (ketamine) and cocaine. I sank deeper again, doing “K” and “coke” every day, but the costs were extremely high. Later, I joined some friends in processing drugs again. Each time, we took two to three kilograms of cocaine to a hotel and cooked it into crack cocaine. We then packed and sold it to small-scale dealers. With the money I made, I spent every day taking cocaine with a group of women — I would spend tens of thousands of dollars daily. But in 2007, while making drugs in a hotel, my friends and I were arrested by the police for drug manufacturing.
Fortunately, after being remanded for three months, the charges against me were dropped due to insufficient evidence. Two of my friends, however, were sentenced to 18 years in prison. Yet, even after such a close call, I didn’t cherish the chance I’d been given. The moment I left the courthouse, I started using cocaine again. Forty days later, out of money, I joined a friend in committing another burglary. But during the act, we were caught red-handed by the police. While I was on remand, my father passed away due to illness, and I couldn’t attend his funeral. I cried deeply at that time. Later, I was sentenced to two and a half years in prison and was released in 2010.
My ex-wife had already remarried and was pregnant. At that time, my daughter was only nine years old, and she told me she wanted to live with me. But I refused, thinking that staying with me would harm her. I deeply regret that refusal now (but that’s another story). After being released, I worked hard to make money and was determined to quit drugs. Of course, the way I made money was still through shady dealings — vice, gambling, and drugs. I rented a private residence for HK$40,000 a month, drove a car worth over HK$900,000, wore watches worth hundreds of thousands, and dressed in brand-name clothes from head to toe. Because I made money, I was always surrounded by people, calling me “brother” and following me wherever I went.
Later, I met a woman at a nightclub. At that time, I had both luxury cars and beautiful women — everything a man could want. This lifestyle lasted for three years, until my girlfriend, who worked as a model, had her management company arrange for her to pursue a career in mainland China. I couldn’t go with her, so she went alone.
Over time, her trips back to Hong Kong decreased — from twice a week, to once a week, to not even once a month. Eventually, I found out she was seeing a wealthy second-generation heir in China. Around the same time, I lost a substantial amount of money in a failed drug business partnership. The betrayal from my girlfriend and the financial loss left me feeling dejected and defeated, and I sank into drug use once again, returning to my old lifestyle: taking cocaine with several women every day.
The more I descended, the more pleasure I seemed to feel. Cocaine really does burn through money like burning silver paper. In just 10 months, most of the money I had made before was gone. So I turned to burglary once more.
Each time I committed a burglary, all the money I earned went to drugs and women. Six months later, after another burglary, I was again arrested by the police. In 2014, I was sentenced to 16 months in prison and released in 2015, after which I continued my drug-fueled lifestyle. In 2017, I was sentenced for drug possession. I was released the following year, but continued taking drugs and was recalled back twice. Every time I got out, I would return to drugs. To get quick cash for my habit, I committed crimes continuously — sentenced to six months for theft, and 16 months for another burglary.
Prison, my second home
In 2021, after being released again, I still kept using drugs. By October 2022, I was once more arrested by the police for burglary. Over the past decade, I’ve been in and out of prison so often that it feels like prison is my real home. Every year, I would find myself back inside, and many correctional officers recognized me by face. Even fellow inmates who hadn’t been released yet would meet me again when I returned. Being imprisoned and released became routine — nothing unusual.
From 1995 until now, I have been imprisoned more than ten times and have a long list of criminal records. Almost every offence I committed was to get money for drugs. Since childhood, I grew up around the triads and saw them use drugs, so I thought drug use wasn’t a big deal — the real problem was not having money for drugs. When I was using, I was always surrounded by people, male and female, getting high together. I felt like I had many friends and girlfriends. Even in prison, I had many friends. We often discussed our money-making plans for after release, arranging to work together in drug trafficking or other illegal activities, and also planning to take drugs together. In prison, I would bump into many people I had met during previous sentences, because there are many others like me who are constantly in and out of jail.
Living a ‘colorful’ life
Back in 1999, I once trafficked 200,000 ecstasy pills in Sichuan, China. I was very lucky that nothing happened to me because the drugs were not in my possession but with a couple from Sichuan. I was taken to a public security station for questioning, but after they verified that I didn’t know the couple, I was released. When I returned to Hong Kong, I continued living what I thought was an exciting and colorful life. Drug trafficking, burglary — all sorts of shady dealings — I didn’t think there was anything seriously wrong with them. I used to believe that if I wasn’t doing it, plenty of other people would. In my mind, I was no different from someone working an honest job — they put in their time and effort to earn money, while I took the risk of being arrested or imprisoned to earn mine. Everyone had to pay some kind of price.
What I did was high-risk, but that also meant high returns. A regular job could never earn me enough to support my drug habit and my lifestyle of eating, drinking, and having fun. The things I did, though dangerous, could bring me in a day what others might earn in a year. As Andy Lau’s character said in the movie Protégé, there was a line that really spoke to people like me: “I never forced anyone to take drugs — where there is demand, there will be supply. They want to buy, so I sell. I’m just doing business.”
I am an uneducated man with little knowledge. To have money for drugs, to satisfy material desires and my way of living — if I didn’t do illegal things, what else could I have done?
Note: This letter has been translated from its original in Chinese. Switch language to read the original letter.