Wang Qiaoling\'s battle to find missing lawyer husband, Li Heping

Wang Qiaoling has not heard from her husband Li Heping since he was taken away two months ago
 
Faced with injustice. there are many people in China who make a perfectly understandable choice: it is better to protect yourself and your family than to risk the wrath of the authorities by speaking out.
 
And then there are those who have nothing left to lose.
 
Wang Qiaoling has been warned by the police not to give interviews to the foreign media but has decided to ignore the threat that it will make her husband's case worse.
 
"If I don't step forward, who's going to speak for him?" she asks me. "I am his wife."
 
Ms Wang's nightmare began exactly two months ago, on 10 July.
 
 
Under suspicion
 
Her husband Li Heping, one of China's best known human rights lawyers, was picked up at his office by a group of plain-clothes police officers who then escorted him home.
 
"The door opened and several strangers came in," Ms Wang says.
 
"I didn't know what was going on. My husband also came in. He handed me his keys, and he was taken downstairs by two tall men."
 
That is the last she has seen or heard of him since.
 
Sixty-one days later and counting - long past China's upper limit of 37 days before the police have to charge or release a suspect - there has been no official notification of his whereabouts, his health and wellbeing or any details at all regarding the crimes for which he is supposedly under suspicion.
 
"I accompanied my lawyer to the Tianjin Public Security Bureau - as this was the one listed on the plain-clothes' ID - but none of the policemen there seemed to know what had happened," Ms Wang tells me.
 
"It's strange that more than 10 policemen from that bureau raided my apartment and took away my husband, and yet they pretend to know nothing about it."
 
The case is a clear example of how, despite the much-vaunted reforms made two years ago to China's Criminal Procedure Law - meant to bring the country more into line with international norms - little has changed.
 
Ms Wang's account swings from the terrifying to the bizarre - a Kafkaesque ordeal with a hint of the Keystone Cops.
 
At one point during the search of her home, after Mr Li had been taken away, Ms Wang says the police seemed to come to a sudden realisation that they did in fact need to follow some kind of procedure and, at the very least, her permission for their presence would be useful.
 
So they all trooped out of the apartment, knocked on the door, and asked her to re-open it.
 
"I told them 'Why are you acting now... I won't play along with your acting!"" she exclaims.
 
And so back the plain-clothes officers came and the search continued. They removed five boxes of books, three laptops, one desktop computer, some mobile phones and 10 USB memory sticks.
'Integrity'
 
Even the act of instructing a lawyer took Ms Wang almost a week because the first one she tried was himself taken away for questioning by the police the next morning.
 
201599_85457516_wangqiaoling.jpg (624×351)
 
Wang Qiaoling
Image caption
 
Wang Qiaoling has been warned by the police not to give interviews to the foreign media
 
In total, according to the figures compiled by the Hong Kong-based China Human Rights Lawyers' Concern Group, since early July more than 280 human rights lawyers and activists and some of their relatives and assistants have been either summoned for questioning, formally detained or simply disappeared.
 
Today 29 are thought to remain in custody. Fourteen of them, like Mr Li, are qualified attorneys.
 
"He has integrity," Ms Wang tells me, failing to fight back the tears.
 
"Sometimes, I would tell my son that you have to be happy, because every penny earned by your father is clean. I also tell my daughter, your father is missing because he speaks up for the rights of the weak."
 
Mr Li is a devout Christian and he has spent his career defending those persecuted by the authorities for their religious or spiritual beliefs, as well as those political activists and dissidents who dare to challenge the Communist Party's monopoly on power.
 
His clients have included other prominent lawyers, including Chen Guangcheng and Gao Zhisheng. He has received a number of international awards, such as the 2008 Human Rights Award from the Council of Bars and Law Societies of Europe.
 
But while Ms Wang has been unable to obtain any information about her husband's whereabouts, or the charges he faces, China's state-run media have been busy trying to convict him in print.
 
In articles printed in the days after the crackdown began and carried by a large number of Communist Party-run papers, his name is listed alongside eight other detained lawyers.
 
They were, the reports alleged, part of a "criminal syndicate" of attorneys who used their professional positions to "cause trouble" and to "disturb the public order".
 
 
 
民主中国 | minzhuzhongguo.org

Wang Qiaoling\'s battle to find missing lawyer husband, Li Heping

Wang Qiaoling has not heard from her husband Li Heping since he was taken away two months ago
 
Faced with injustice. there are many people in China who make a perfectly understandable choice: it is better to protect yourself and your family than to risk the wrath of the authorities by speaking out.
 
And then there are those who have nothing left to lose.
 
Wang Qiaoling has been warned by the police not to give interviews to the foreign media but has decided to ignore the threat that it will make her husband's case worse.
 
"If I don't step forward, who's going to speak for him?" she asks me. "I am his wife."
 
Ms Wang's nightmare began exactly two months ago, on 10 July.
 
 
Under suspicion
 
Her husband Li Heping, one of China's best known human rights lawyers, was picked up at his office by a group of plain-clothes police officers who then escorted him home.
 
"The door opened and several strangers came in," Ms Wang says.
 
"I didn't know what was going on. My husband also came in. He handed me his keys, and he was taken downstairs by two tall men."
 
That is the last she has seen or heard of him since.
 
Sixty-one days later and counting - long past China's upper limit of 37 days before the police have to charge or release a suspect - there has been no official notification of his whereabouts, his health and wellbeing or any details at all regarding the crimes for which he is supposedly under suspicion.
 
"I accompanied my lawyer to the Tianjin Public Security Bureau - as this was the one listed on the plain-clothes' ID - but none of the policemen there seemed to know what had happened," Ms Wang tells me.
 
"It's strange that more than 10 policemen from that bureau raided my apartment and took away my husband, and yet they pretend to know nothing about it."
 
The case is a clear example of how, despite the much-vaunted reforms made two years ago to China's Criminal Procedure Law - meant to bring the country more into line with international norms - little has changed.
 
Ms Wang's account swings from the terrifying to the bizarre - a Kafkaesque ordeal with a hint of the Keystone Cops.
 
At one point during the search of her home, after Mr Li had been taken away, Ms Wang says the police seemed to come to a sudden realisation that they did in fact need to follow some kind of procedure and, at the very least, her permission for their presence would be useful.
 
So they all trooped out of the apartment, knocked on the door, and asked her to re-open it.
 
"I told them 'Why are you acting now... I won't play along with your acting!"" she exclaims.
 
And so back the plain-clothes officers came and the search continued. They removed five boxes of books, three laptops, one desktop computer, some mobile phones and 10 USB memory sticks.
'Integrity'
 
Even the act of instructing a lawyer took Ms Wang almost a week because the first one she tried was himself taken away for questioning by the police the next morning.
 
201599_85457516_wangqiaoling.jpg (624×351)
 
Wang Qiaoling
Image caption
 
Wang Qiaoling has been warned by the police not to give interviews to the foreign media
 
In total, according to the figures compiled by the Hong Kong-based China Human Rights Lawyers' Concern Group, since early July more than 280 human rights lawyers and activists and some of their relatives and assistants have been either summoned for questioning, formally detained or simply disappeared.
 
Today 29 are thought to remain in custody. Fourteen of them, like Mr Li, are qualified attorneys.
 
"He has integrity," Ms Wang tells me, failing to fight back the tears.
 
"Sometimes, I would tell my son that you have to be happy, because every penny earned by your father is clean. I also tell my daughter, your father is missing because he speaks up for the rights of the weak."
 
Mr Li is a devout Christian and he has spent his career defending those persecuted by the authorities for their religious or spiritual beliefs, as well as those political activists and dissidents who dare to challenge the Communist Party's monopoly on power.
 
His clients have included other prominent lawyers, including Chen Guangcheng and Gao Zhisheng. He has received a number of international awards, such as the 2008 Human Rights Award from the Council of Bars and Law Societies of Europe.
 
But while Ms Wang has been unable to obtain any information about her husband's whereabouts, or the charges he faces, China's state-run media have been busy trying to convict him in print.
 
In articles printed in the days after the crackdown began and carried by a large number of Communist Party-run papers, his name is listed alongside eight other detained lawyers.
 
They were, the reports alleged, part of a "criminal syndicate" of attorneys who used their professional positions to "cause trouble" and to "disturb the public order".