Sentencing pleas in the Jimmy Lai case took a stark turn on day two. Two of Apple Daily's most senior executives—publisher Cheung Kim-hung and deputy publisher Chan Pui-man—laid bare the brutal reality of working under Lai's thumb.
Through their lawyers, Cheung and Chan described an environment where dissent was futile, orders were absolute, and resistance meant risking everything. Both painted a picture of powerless lieutenants dragged down an illegal path by a boss who wouldn't budge.
Defense counsel argued Cheung Kim-hung held the CEO title but lacked real authority. He could only execute the "mastermind's" orders—objection achieved nothing.
During trial testimony, both executives recounted losing their free will under Lai's command. On Tuesday, Chan went further. She revealed she'd considered quitting but couldn't afford to walk away because of her own medical need. She told the court she deeply regretted failing to hold fast to journalistic principles.
Lai's Top Gun
Cheung Kim-hung was Lai's number one. He'd jumped ship from Apple Daily back in 2005, only to return five years later and climb to publisher and CEO. But when the anti-extradition protests erupted, Cheung became what his lawyer called an "execution tool"—someone who could only carry out the boss's orders.
Yesterday's plea hearing revealed a telling example. Lai wanted to bring former US Army Vice Chief of Staff Jack Keane onto his interview show. Cheung pushed back, asking whether it "might be too sensitive." Lai ignored him. After the Hong Kong National Security Law took effect, Cheung tried again—this time urging Lai and colleagues not to break the law. The evidence speaks for itself: despite repeated warnings, Lai pressed on, only tweaking his methods slightly.
Defense counsel made it clear: Cheung wanted to limit the damage but had no real control. Yes, he held the CEO title. But actual power? Limited. He could only follow the "mastermind's" instructions and try to minimize the fallout from the coverage.
In court testimony, Cheung didn't mince words about being trapped. He called himself a "tool." Lai constantly issued editorial directives and had the final say on everything. Refusing wasn't really an option. Editorial autonomy existed only in the gaps—those rare moments when Lai hadn't issued orders. At the infamous "lunchbox meetings," Lai would spell out his political stance and tell everyone to fall in line.
About a month after the National Security Law came into force, both Cheung and Chan worried they were heading into legal danger. They opposed some of Lai's moves. Lai went his own way and dismissed their concerns.
Chan's Impossible Choice
Deputy publisher Chan Pui-man faced the same crushing dynamic. When Lai proposed using Apple Daily to mobilize a "one person, one letter" campaign urging Trump to intervene, Chan did raise objection. Lai pushed ahead anyway.
During her testimony, Chan revealed Lai went even further. He ordered her to compile a "Shit list"—a sanctions target list naming HKSAR officials and political figures. This dragged her beyond editorial work into outright political action.
The mitigation hearing added new details about Chan's predicament. Her lawyer said she tried blocking controversial articles from publication, had even considered resigning early to escape Apple Daily. But serious illness and mounting treatment costs trapped her. She faced financial hardship and needed the paycheck to survive. So she stayed.
Chan Pui-man expressed deep regret for abandoning journalistic principles. She'd wanted to quit Apple Daily, but mounting medical bills for serious illness left her no choice but to stay.
In her mitigation letter, she expressed profound regret for failing to stand firm on journalistic principles.
The pleas from Cheung and Chan expose the human cost of working under Lai's boulder-like pressure. Unable to uphold their principles, they were dragged onto an illegal path and ended up behind bars. Little wonder both pleaded guilty and turned prosecution witnesses against their former boss. After years of submission, testifying became their final act of resistance.
Lai Ting-yiu
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The most consequential national security trial yet to come is also the one with the most unanswered questions — and at the centre of it is a man who almost made it out.
Monday (Feb 23) was "Renri" (人日) — the seventh day of the Lunar New Year, meant to be a day of celebration for all people. But for the 12 defendants in the "35+ Subversion Case," there was nothing to celebrate. The Court of Appeal dismissed all their appeals against both conviction and sentencing in full. Unless they push it all the way to the Court of Final Appeal, this case is done. That brings two of the three major national security cases to a close — the other being the Jimmy Lai trial. What remains is the Joshua Wong case, expected to go to trial around mid-year. Like Lai's, it reaches into the highest levels of American politics, and it will almost certainly expose a trove of behind-the-scenes dealings that will shake Hong Kong to its core. The trial is close enough that the details don't need spelling out here. But one mystery absolutely does: Wong was once Washington's darling — so why did he never make it out, while his co-conspirator Nathan Law did? An investigative report by American journalists cracked open the story.
Wong's trial is the last big national security case standing — and the most explosive one yet. How did he never make it out?
Wong's role in the Occupy Central movement and the 2019 unrest needs no introduction. In June last year, while already serving a prison term at Stanley Prison on sedition charges, he was arrested again and charged under the Hong Kong National Security Law with conspiracy to collude with foreign forces to endanger national security. His second pre-trial review at the Magistrates' Court came on 21 November last year, with the next hearing set for 6 March; the full trial at the High Court is expected to begin around mid-year. This case carries weight every bit as significant as the Jimmy Lai trial — the spotlight it commands will be enormous.
The Charges Are Grave
The prosecution alleges that between July and November 2020, Wong — together with Nathan Law and others yet to be identified — conspired in Hong Kong to solicit foreign governments and institutions to impose sanctions against the Hong Kong SAR and the People's Republic of China, and to seriously obstruct the government in enacting and enforcing its laws and policies. The charges carry a potential sentence of life imprisonment. What exactly Wong and Law did, and which foreign officials were involved, the prosecution will lay out in full when the trial begins.
The public has long asked some uncomfortable questions. Did Joshua Wong ever consider fleeing before or after the National Security Law came into force at the end of June 2020? If so, why did it never happen? Did the US government try to help him get out? An investigative report by two American journalists answered part of the puzzle — and sources familiar with the matter, when contacted by Hong Kong media, broadly confirmed what it said.
Wong Begged Washington for Help
The night before the National Security Law took effect, Wong reached out through a senator's adviser to appeal directly to President Trump for help. At the same time, he sent an email to then-Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, explicitly asking to be helped to "travel to the United States to seek political asylum, by whatever means necessary". That email tells you everything. Wong knew exactly how dangerous his situation had become — and he was betting his future on American goodwill.
Around the same time, Wong arranged to meet two officials from the US Consulate General in Hong Kong at St. John's Building, directly across the street from the consulate. He made clear he wanted to walk in and seek refuge. He was turned away on the spot. When Pompeo saw the email, he consulted with his staff and arrived at the same conclusion: letting Wong through the consulate doors was simply not an option — Washington feared Beijing would retaliate by forcing the US consulate in Hong Kong to close entirely.
State Department officials went further, exploring a covert plan to smuggle Wong out of Hong Kong by sea — routing him through Taiwan or the Philippines before eventually reaching the United States. That option was killed too, on the grounds that any such attempt would very likely be intercepted by Chinese authorities, triggering a diplomatic crisis. When the accounting was done, American interests won out — and Joshua Wong was coldly abandoned.
By that point, Nathan Law had already made it out. Seizing Pompeo's visit to London, Law met the Secretary of State privately and raised the question of rescuing Wong one more time — and was once again turned away without sympathy. In September 2020, Wong was arrested on sedition charges and imprisoned two months later. Any remaining window for escape had sealed shut.
Law Moved Fast — and Made It
Nathan Law is named as a co-conspirator in the charges against Wong — meaning that if arrested, they face the same jeopardy. But Law proved far more calculating than Wong. Shortly before the National Security Law took effect, he quietly slipped away, eventually confirming his presence in the United Kingdom on 13 July 2020. He even staged a moment of wistful sentiment, declaring: "With this parting, I do not yet know when I shall return... May glory come soon!" — words that, in the circumstances, could not have sounded more hollow.
Same charges, same case — but Law ran, and Wong didn't. One man made it out clean. The other is still paying the price.
Joshua Wong — sharp-witted all his life — took one step too many in trusting the Americans, and that delay cost him everything. The US government, in the name of "national interest," discarded him without hesitation. As his trial approaches, the reality is this: placing any further faith in American support would be the last illusion he can afford.
Lai Ting-yiu
