A puff on a joint – then six months of forced rehab in a concrete cell

Kim, a young professional from Singapore, began using cannabis during a turbulent time in her family life. Although her personal circumstances improved, her drug habit persisted, and her social circle became predominantly composed of fellow users. With a dependable local supplier, Kim found herself in a position where her friends asked her to procure cannabis for them.

“I never marked up the price; this was just friendship,” Kim explains. “I was helping them buy something we all used anyway.”

However, in Singapore, which has some of the strictest drug laws globally, the consequences of such actions can be severe. Under the law, selling, giving away, or even possessing specific quantities of narcotics is classified as drug trafficking, a serious felony.

Things took a dramatic turn when one of Kim’s friends was apprehended by the Central Narcotics Bureau, revealing Kim as the supplier. Following a thorough investigation, which included examining her phone, another friend was arrested, and Kim herself was charged with drug trafficking.

“I was wracked with horror,” Kim recalls, her voice shaking. “To be charged with trafficking? That was overwhelming. I felt complete and utter fear about what would happen next.”

While areas around the world, such as numerous states in the U.S., have decriminalized recreational cannabis use, Singapore maintains a zero-tolerance policy. Possessing just 15 grams of cannabis leads to an presumption of trafficking, and possession of 500 grams or more can result in a mandatory death penalty.

Recent cases have intensified the controversy around this policy, including the recent execution of a 64-year-old man for a heroin-related charge. Still, the Singaporean government remains tight-lipped about the current number of people on death row.

For Kim, while execution isn’t on the table, she faces a long prison sentence. “The minimum sentence would be five years, but the worst-case scenario could mean up to 20 years,” she estimated.

As she awaits judgment, Kim’s friends have already faced their consequences. They were classified as drug consumers rather than traffickers, leading to a starkly different outcome—they were sent to the Drug Rehabilitation Centre, where they will spend six months.

When someone is caught using illegal substances in Singapore, they undergo risk assessments to determine the likelihood of reoffending. Only those considered low-risk may remain at home under community supervision; the others, including first-time offenders, are mandated to undergo rehabilitation.

The Drug Rehabilitation Centre (DRC) is a stringent establishment that feels more like a prison than a rehabilitation facility. With barbed wire, CCTV systems, and vigilant guards, it starkly contrasts with the softer, private rehab centers often seen elsewhere. As of December 2023, nearly 4,000 inmates were housed there, with 1 in 8 being women.

Inmates in Institution S1, where Kim’s friends reside, are subjected to a harsh regimen, sleeping on thin mats without beds and sharing cramped cells. “While we aim for rehabilitation, it’s still a deterrent regime,” explains Superintendent Ravin Singh. “We don’t want to make your stay too comfortable.”

Every day, inmates engage in educational programs designed to motivate them to avoid drugs in the future. Lau Kuan Mei, the Deputy Director of the Correctional Rehabilitation Service, states, “The objective is to inspire inmates to renew their lives without drugs and to address negative associations with substance use.”

Jon, a 20-something inmate nearing the end of his six-month stay, has been selected to speak about his experiences. He reflects on the lessons learned, particularly how to manage triggers that could lead him back to methamphetamine—a potent stimulant commonly misused in Singapore.

“I remember my mom’s words when I was taken away: ‘Learn your lesson, pay your dues, and come back clean,’” Jon says. As he prepares to reenter society, he expresses excitement but also anxiety about facing the possibility of relapse. “In here, you’re locked up, away from drugs,” he admits. “But once I’m out, the temptation might be challenging to resist.”