Alan Shadrake's first attempt to talk to a state-sanctioned killer turned out to be a disappointment. Over beers in a Manchester pub, the British journalist tried to convince Harry Allen, Britain's last hangman, to shed light on the murky world of life on the gallows.
However, the executioner-turned-publican always stubbornly but politely declined to talk about his career as a hangman, refusing to break the oath he had made to remain silent about how the convicted were sent to their deaths.
Decades later and half a world away, it was with a sense of trepidation that Shadrake rang the door bell of a 10th-floor apartment. It was the home, he hoped, of the chief hangman in Singapore, where the death penalty is still imposed for murder and the trafficking of drugs in specific amounts. Shadrake was about to discover whether he would get the exclusive interview he had long yearned for, or whether his search for an intimate insight into life on the gallows would come to an abrupt end with a door slammed in his face.
Slowly, the door opened to reveal a pair of shining eyes.
'Yes,' the man said, he was Darshan Singh.
What followed was the first of many conversations about the men and women Singh hanged on behalf of Singapore, each interview delivering another anecdote from a life devoted to death.
On that October day in 2005, Shadrake not only gained entry to Singh's apartment and his vivid recollections from almost 50 years of dropping people to their deaths, he also set off on a path that would lead to a first-hand experience of Singapore's justice system. Shadrake, a 76-year-old great-grandfather who suffers from heart problems, will soon discover whether he will spend six weeks in prison and be required to pay a S$20,000 (HK$125,000) fine.