Introduction
In the practice of law, we are trained to be objective. We review evidence, we analyse statutes, and we construct arguments. But there are certain files that land on your desk that strip away that professional detachment and leave you simply reacting as a human being.
The case of Ms Yuni Dwi Lestari was one of those files.
In April 2020, amidst the chaos of the global pandemic, I received an email from the Centre for Domestic Employees. Attached were photographs and a medical report that detailed a level of cruelty that was difficult to comprehend.
The Case Beyond Criminal Justice
The facts of this case were widely reported in the press, and for good reason, they were shocking. Ms Yuni, a domestic worker from Indonesia, had been subjected to horrific abuse by her employer. In one particularly harrowing incident, she was forced to strike her own teeth with a metal meat pounder fifty times. When her employer was dissatisfied with the result, she took the tool and struck Ms Yuni herself, chipping a tooth.
The state machinery worked as it should. The employer was prosecuted and sentenced to fifteen months imprisonment.
However, criminal justice, while essential, has its limits. It punishes the offender, but it does not necessarily repair the victim. Ms Yuni was left with physical injuries, psychological trauma, and a loss of income for the months she could not work.
This is where the civil law must step in, not to undo the past, which is impossible, but to restore some semblance of dignity and financial stability to the survivor.
The Gap in the System
When I reviewed the medical reports, I felt a profound sense of injustice. Here was a woman who had left her family and travelled thousands of miles to Singapore with a simple, noble goal, to earn an honest living. Instead, she was met with violence.
I took up her case on a pro bono basis because I realised that without legal representation, she would likely return home with nothing but her scars. The legal system can be intimidating enough for locals. For a foreign domestic worker who has just been traumatised, it is virtually impenetrable.
The Fight for Compensation
My colleague Charlotte Lim and I commenced civil legal action against the employer. Our goal was to seek damages for personal injuries, including the severe dental trauma and facial bruising, and for her loss of earnings.
It was not a straightforward process. We engaged in several rounds of intense negotiations with the employer’s lawyers. But we held our ground. We argued that the criminal sentence was not an end to the matter, the civil debt to the victim still had to be paid.
Eventually, we secured a settlement of the thousand dollars for Ms Yuni.
The Moment That Mattered
I remember the video call when we broke the news to her. She was working for a new employer by then. When I told her that the fight was over and that she would be receiving compensation, she became teary-eyed.
That moment of relief, seeing the weight lift off her shoulders, is why we do this work.
Reflections on Our Duty
I was quoted in The Straits Times saying: “I knew that, ultimately, no amount of money could ever compensate her for what she went through. But I still felt compelled to help her get a fair compensation because she came to Singapore to make a living and not to be abused.”
I stand by those words today. As lawyers, we possess a unique set of keys. We can unlock doors that are firmly bolted against the vulnerable. When we see someone slipping through the cracks of the justice system, technically served by a criminal conviction but practically left destitute, we have a moral obligation to use those keys.
Ms Yuni has since returned to Indonesia to be with her family. Her case serves as a permanent reminder to me that while the law is a profession, justice is a calling.
