On Tuesday (3rd), the final pleas from Hendrick Lui and Mike Lam King-nam, candidates for New Territories East, were processed. Hendrick Lui’s lawyer, citing a personal plea letter written by Lui, portrayed his tragic childhood in a broken family.

According to “the Witness,” which obtained the letter, Lui detailed his homeless life after his parents divorced, describing at least three years of his primary school life as “stepping towards darkness.” He was forced into child labor and physical punishment, endured hunger, and later lived in a children’s home before being adopted. Lui expressed that the despair felt by the current generation in 2019 “far exceeded the pain of his own childhood,” motivating him to become a social worker dedicated to “impacting lives with his life.”

Lui mentioned that his participation in the primaries was intended to exercise veto power, “in a very helpless and indirect way to impeach the Chief Executive,” believing naively at the time that it was legal. He also mentioned that during the years he was out on bail, he often suffered from insomnia and immense stress, feeling pain and guilt for increasing his family’s burden, and concluded by stating, “fully aware of the seriousness of the charges, I dare not underestimate the length of my sentence, but I remain hopeful, looking forward to repaying the kindness shown to me and serving disadvantaged communities in the future.”

Your Honor,

During this period of reflection, I’ve been thinking about how, coming from a single-parent family, being homeless, and often going hungry, I managed to overcome numerous setbacks to fulfill my dream of becoming a social worker. But ultimately, I ended up a criminal defendant, forever losing the chance to be a registered social worker.

Since my parents divorced when I was one, custody was granted to my father. Thereafter, I lived in various people’s homes, encountering both kindness and cruelty. My nomadic childhood is marked by memories of changing kindergartens twice and elementary schools at least five times. For at least three years of elementary school, I was stepping towards darkness.

For several years of my childhood, I had to endure and survive. Around third grade, I was forced to work as a child laborer and was often physically punished. In fifth grade, family upheavals forced me to drop out of school, and I endured hunger. In sixth grade, I couldn’t afford a winter uniform; friends on the street would jokingly comment, “Cool, wearing shorts in winter.” When I was sick, I couldn’t afford a doctor and would just drink warm water to keep warm. Eventually, even that wasn’t possible because we ran out of gas. One particularly vivid memory is of walking to school in the rain without an umbrella, getting completely soaked, and then being asked by classmates why I didn’t bring one—I just said, “I forgot.” Often, during recess or lunch, I would hide somewhere where no one could see me because I didn’t want them to know I had nothing to eat and didn’t want to see other students buying snacks. Perhaps years of mockery made me reluctant to explain myself to others. Eventually, a school social worker noticed my situation. Overall, in those darkest and toughest times, I still had a glimmer of hope that enduring might lead to a different future. Although it was tough, I was fortunate to meet some people who helped me, including school and social workers, elementary teachers, classmates, and their families.

From grades 7 to 9, I lived in a children’s home, which was like a haven for me, allowing me to finally leave my nomadic life behind. Even though I was a member of the cheerful home, I was stubborn, expressionless, reticent, and “not sociable,” which might have given others an unfriendly impression. That’s why one mentor often reminded me to “smile more.” Although I didn’t change much, I appreciate the support and reminders from the staff.

After grade 9, I was adopted and left the children’s home. I finally experienced the warmth of a family and grew up in love. Even though I added to my adoptive family’s burden, my adoptive mother gave me selfless love and acceptance. Despite my poor public examination results, she supported me to retake them, and I finally got admitted to the social work department at City University of Hong Kong. I’m grateful to Mr. Mok Hing-luen, who interviewed me and inspired me with his passion for teaching and bringing students to understand vulnerable communities, motivating me to aspire to “impact lives with my life.”

During my college years, I did several things I really wanted to do. I participated in community care activities, visited disadvantaged groups, interned at a youth outreach organization, and joined the editorial board at City University of Hong Kong, hoping to bring more attention to the voices of the grassroots. Looking back on that time, my biggest flaw was a lack of patience and being stubborn. I’m thankful for my classmates’ tolerance and apologize for any times my words did not consider their feelings.

After graduating in 2008, I became a social worker focusing on youth, especially serving marginalized teenagers. A profound realization was that many marginalized teens were also willing to volunteer. In my spare time, I led university students to distribute bread to the homeless, single-parent families, and other groups, and offered free tutoring to children from low-income families during Mid-Autumn Festival. Despite my many shortcomings and facing environmental constraints, I am grateful for the opportunity to fulfill my dream, which seemed utterly unattainable to my younger self.

In 2018, I enrolled in the Master of Arts in Christian Studies program at the Divinity School of Chung Chi College, The Chinese University of Hong Kong. During the interview, I said, “I am here looking for answers to change society” (as the social welfare sector also faces many issues). Unexpectedly, before I found any answers, the democratic movement sparked by the opposition to the extradition law amendment bill erupted in 2019. That year, the most heart-wrenching aspect was the number of people who took their own lives and went missing. I deeply felt the despair of this generation far exceeded the pain I experienced in my childhood. In 2018, I impulsively undertook a judicial review of the “co-location arrangement” without approved legal aid and later had to crowdfund to repay the costs in 2020. Upon reflection, my nature is rash, tending to take on more than I can handle.

At the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, while distributing pandemic supplies, I deeply felt the powerlessness, helplessness, and desperation of the people. I don’t know how many others shared my thoughts, wishing the authorities would stop and respond to public opinion. I participated in the primaries to exercise the veto power indirectly granted by the people, a very helpless and indirect way to call for the chief executive’s accountability to public opinion. Naively believing that exercising veto power as a legislator was lawful, I didn’t realize this action was illegal, nor had I heard any legal scholars or lawyers say it was against the law, which further misled me into thinking it was legal.

Since being released on bail, I’ve often suffered from insomnia and immense stress over the past few years. I now understand that vetoing the budget to impact the administration was a wrong idea, and I regret and apologize for it. As I count down the days to entering prison, I cherish every ordinary moment of daily life. I will remember the primary students I once taught. I volunteer at church, regularly collect and distribute bread to the homeless and single-parent families, and during festivals, I distribute mooncakes to cleaners and the homeless. I carefully comply with the bail conditions, and the thought of soon increasing my family’s burden fills me with immense pain and guilt. At the same time, I treasure these last moments with my family. Singing hymns with my adoptive mother will likely be my most precious and comforting memory. We often watch Korean dramas together, and one of my favorite lines is from “Stranger”: “Please believe that a sliver of hope is better than countless despairs.” Aware of the seriousness of the charges, I dare not underestimate the potential sentence, but I remain hopeful, looking forward to repaying the kindness shown to me and serving disadvantaged communities in the future.

Hendrick Lui Chi-hang