First, a sad story about a case my colleague is working on.  This 21-year old guy worked hard as a cook to save up to buy a $650 leather jacket.  He was walking on the street when two guys come up to him saying, “Give me the butter.” (referring to the softness of the jacket)  One of them puts a gun to his head.  The guy gives his jacket away and one of the two guys walks away.  The 21-year old then punches the remaining guy and starts to get the upper hand in the fight.  Unfortunately, the guy who walked away comes back with his gun and joins the fight.  The 21-year old runs away and the guy with the gun shoots him in the back, paralysing him from his chest down.  He is now wheelchair bound, cannot go to the bathroom by himself, and has lost most of the use of his arms.  He was engaged at the time of the shooting.  The shooter denied having done anything even after being convicted at trial.  There was no remorse until the judge started to break him down.  One former youth intern at CBC got upset at me when I wondered aloud how God could allow some of these people to go to heaven.  Oh well. 

Next, a tragically funny story on my case, also a murder.  This guy shoots his friend who went to a club to gamble.  Granted, the friend probably shouldn’t have had $10,000 in cash with him and probably shouldn’t have displayed it on the pool table at the club.  The cops arrest the shooter and ask him to give his side of the story.  The shooter admits to owning the gun and shooting his friend but claims that it was done in the best interests of his friend.  His story was that after they left the club, he saw a bunch of people swarming around his friend.  Being afraid for the welfare of his friend, he points the gun at the crowd and fires to scare them away.  Unfortunately he shoots his friend five times.  He also takes the cash from him.  When asked by the cops whether his friend said anything to him when the cash was taken from him, the shooter replies, “He said ‘Take it dog, and give it to my peoples.”  The next day, he changes he story and says what really happened was the following.  They were both leaving the club and the shooter was trying to unjam his gun that was jammed in the club.  So he points the gun sideways at his friend and tries to unjam it.  Unfortunately, it goes off five times.  When asked what his friend said, the shooter replies that he said nothing.  But the shooter did say that he apologized to his friend and told him he didn’t mean it.  The shooter had a partner drive a getaway car, a yellow Peugeot station wagon.  They would have gotten away if the driver did not cut off an off duty cop to pick up the shooter who was cradling blood-stained money as he entered the car.  The driver was also wearing a bright red and yellow hat and shirt.  I guess the dumb ones get caught.  

I was naturally drawn to play defensive positions in sports.  There’s something about being able to be aggressive and get away with it.  I used to shove opposing players out of my area when I played goalie – whether I had my pads on or not.  Once during a soccer gane, I made a slide tackle, won the ball, brought my man to the ground, and for good measure, pushed his face into the dirt.  

Forgive me Jesus, I was 15 at the time.

But I was actually competent on offense.  I could play point guard and quarterback.  I never had the strongest arm or the best dribbling skills but I had just enough to get the team down the court or field.  I relied on timing and positioning a lot.

I used to study basketball and football offenses.  Even applied this knowledge at work and church.  For basketball, I loved the Princeton and motion, flex offenses.

And for football, the triple option.  In my opinion, the most elegant of them all.

Usually implemented by the military service academies, it is designed to compensate for the generally less physically gifted athletes at those schools because of the post-graduation service requirement.  The offense, though, maximizes the strengths of those athletes – intelligence, timing, discipline, and grit.

In simple terms, the three options are in order – a direct handoff to the fullback, a quarterback keeper for a run, and finally, pitching the ball to a running back.  Passing the ball occurs but is rare in this run-based offense.

If you watch clips of it being played out – especially Navy and Air Force, it is a thing of beauty.  The quarterback has to be able to read and discern the defense quickly and know which of the options to play out.  It is truly like a beautifully choreographed dance.

And it works.

The academies can compete with superior teams.  They don’t win all the time but they put up a good fight in general.  Navy plays elite Notre Dame every year and it’s usually close.

I thought many of my colleagues in law enforcement fit within this model.  There is a premium on being able to read a situation quickly, assess correctly, and then choose the best way to respond.  True of both prosecutors and police.  Things can go south quickly and the ability to react is paramount.

Very Bruce Lee and John Boyd like but that’s for another day.

This man changed my life.  And the US military.  And the field of strategy.  And really, the world.

But few have heard of him.  I’ll briefly summarize some of his major accomplishments –  wrote the Air Force study on dogfighting, inspired the development of the F-16 and A-10, father of the OODA loop, author of his magnum opus Patterns of Conflict, heavily influenced the strategy behind Desert Storm.  

For a fuller understanding of this great man’s life, I recommend Robert Coram’s biography.  Better still, read his works – all available for free online.  Their concepts are applicable to any field or avenue of life.  

A fighter pilot by training (with no official kills, he probably had a few unofficial ones), he was such a good one, he would challenge anyone to beat him from a superior position within 40 seconds.  He never lost.

He was outspoken, principled, highly intelligent.  An engineer, warrior-philosopher, scholar, thinker, teacher.  Never really accepted or valued by his branch, the Air Force, he was “adopted” by the Marines.  At his funeral, the Marines pinned their Globe and Anchor to his casket, a rare honor for someone not their own.

I used a lot of Boyd in my work.  Primarily his focus on the moral, mental, and physical dimensions of conflict.  I also once advised the real life Law and Order SVU commander – a former Marine, math major, and a fan of Boyd.  He taught the OODA loop to his staff in the context of sex crimes investigations – to disrupt the loops of perpetrators.  He was pleasantly surprised when he found out that I too was a disciple of Boyd.  Unfortunately like Boyd, the NYPD, his own organization did not value him and he got pushed out.

I call Boyd my kids’ patron saint.  A true warrior in all forms of the word.  He saved countless lives with his work.

48K a year. 

That was my starting salary as a DA.  With loans and tithing to church.  Although many of my colleagues were good people and I’m friends with till this day, there were a few I could have lived without.  The worst there happened to sit in a row on our floor.  I used to daydream that in a fire, I would jam something in their door locks and enjoy the ensuing consequences.  I’m a Christian, not a saint and always a work in progress.  I don’t feel that way now – maybe let them toast a bit.  Still, it was said that it would be the best job I’d ever have.  I think that was correct.

This one is about what matters.

I once told a pastor friend in Boston that a biblical verse that spoke to me was from the 10th Psalm where there is an imploring to God to break the arm of the wicked and evildoer.  Like on other occasions, this was met with an uncomfortable response.  We can discuss and theorize all we want about the nature of good and evil, its origins, and what not but don’t ever fool yourself, there are wicked people out there – and not necessarily in places where you think you’d find them.  They must be stopped – often at great cost.  

But this is about so much more than justice.  This is about purpose and living for something bigger than oneself.  I realized the people I count most trusted and valued to me have generally lived for others.  That was also attractive to me in women.  I didn’t necessarily want Wonder Woman or Mother Teresa – those types are actually problematic – but it was about something else, maybe soul and spirit.  I told a church leader recently that I had no desire to be a martyr, I wasn’t that noble or sacrificial but I needed to know my life mattered.  How that all turned out, it is still being written.  

What we do in life echoes in eternity.  My cop friend told me about how he took down a pedophile.  I told my friend that while he couldn’t prevent past actions of this monster, he prevented more harm from occurring.  I also told my DA Chief it is difficult to impossible to quantify or measure the impact of our work.  Maybe we only find out at the end of it all – maybe never.  This also requires faith.  It applies to anything we set out to do – get a degree, pursue a calling, have a kid, whatever.  Just got to make sure it counts and what results is worth it.

David, on his deathbed, writes one more prayer of thanksgiving to God for his life.  It was a thing for sure – he experienced everything a human could possibly experience, to the nth degree.  He lived.  He made it through life without just surviving.  He made it count.

And I think that what matters.

(From the NYPD years)

When my son was dedicated at church with other babies, parents were to express their hopes and dreams for their children.

I wrote one line.

“May God give you a great journey and the strength to endure it.”

At the end of the day, that’s all a father can wish and hope for.  That his son’s life was worthy of songs and stories.

A while back, my daughter was telling me her 10 year old thoughts (10 going on 40).  Some of them are quite insightful (my daughter).  Others only work in a Disney cartoon.

I taught her that threats must be neutralized, taken out.  Threats cannot be reasoned with, therapised away, ignored.  No matter what people would like to believe.

I once almost dated this girl (gorgeous, Princeton, compassionate, a physician).  The sticking point – she didn’t believe that a loving God would send people to hell.  I had a different viewpoint, He didn’t send enough.  She was cute though.

Despite what people think, I really try not to hate.  But some people come oh so close.  That idiot Commissioner put officers’ lives at risk, endangered all of NYC.  Smug, rich, careless, a liar.  Hell hopefully for the carnage he tried to wreck on innocent lives.

But I hid those secrets well.  Endures till today.

Always special, never forgotten.  Even I had one.  The first time I saw her was like Michael Corleone meeting Apollonia – the thunderbolt.  Unfortunately, her parents were also like Apollonia’s and I didn’t quite have the Corleone empire and bodyguards on my side.  But I mean how cool would it have been to say that line about gaining a son versus losing a father?

She was a year younger, I took her to her senior prom.  Even wrote her a song – it was passable, but she liked it.  That summer was magical even though I had to sneak into her house to avoid her parents.  One day, her dad came home early and I had to escape by the backdoor.

Like many bittersweet stories, I lose her to California.  When you go up against California, you tend to lose out.  On our last night together, I give her a poem written by a gifted friend about summer nights and such.

A few phone calls here and there, a weird sequence of events, and we stop talking.  The following summer, I receive a long letter in her almost undecipherable writing.  I still have it to this day.

I’ve rarely spoken about her.  But when I told a friend who knows her sister, he was stunned and impressed.  She was a thunderbolt.

The boy asked me “Is Bruce Lee afraid of the dark?”  I said probably not, but he was afraid of something.  We all are.  He also said once unprompted, “When you put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle.” Appropriate for someone who has one of Bruce’s Chinese name’s characters in his own (振 or Zhen, meaning vibration or riser).  When he was born, I wore a Bruce Lee long sleeve T-shirt under my hoodie (No way as way, No limitation as limitation) with my Air Jordan Ones.  Dreams of a father.

Bruce’s teachings and example have affected me profoundly.  Such a difficult life and tragic end.  He was more than a man in so many ways.  A thinker, warrior, scholar, teacher, artist.  His movies aren’t half bad either.

I read somewhere that some people found him to be sometimes difficult to work with.  Racist undertones aside, are you kidding me?  The creator of Jeet Kune Do is expected to not be sometimes difficult?  A man who changed the world wasn’t easy?

I even quoted him once in a high level meeting – specifically his concept of the intercepting fist – strike when your opponent is striking.  My superiors wanted to play defense against another underhanded incursion into our business.  I told them to strike back instead.  It worked.

A closing fun fact, the other character in Bruce’s name (藩 or Fan (while not the same character as my last name (樊 also Fan) has the same meaning – barrier or fence.  Also, a few years ago, I learned that my maternal grandfather’s original last name was Lee (he was forced to change it after his mother remarried).  While there are a gazilion Lees in this world, still a nice connection.

Thank you God for creating such a great life.

(From the NYPD years)

People matter the most (Boyd – People first, Ideas/Process next, Technology last).  Place is a close, underrated, and missing second.  8 years ago, we drove back from Acadia National Park with ny daughter in utero, masquerading as bad potato chips.  One big move, two massive additions to the family (including the one masquerading as bad sushi), several jobs, a rude introduction to NYC politics, money, and pettiness later, I have mixed feelings about this stage of the journey.  In the preceding years, I’ve had to contemplate chaos, complexity, the role of time, and free will – on professional and personal scales.  And it is simplicity, order, and peace, both outer and inner, that are the elusive, difficult, but not unattainable goals.  Place plays a significant role in that pursuit.  I’ve lived in cities that worshipped power, money, achievements, and status – at the requirement of self-preservation, soul damage, and other unwanted effects.  Yet, I wouldn’t change anything, each stop so far taught and prepared me well for what is next – even a return to the area where I consider the once and future home.

In the US, everyone is equal, at least on paper.  But not in Malaysia, where if you’re a non-Malay, especially Chinese, you’re a second class citizen.  My parents had friends arrested in the middle of the night for some trumped up political charge.  If you think the police in the US are bad, check Malaysia out.  In fact, one of the reasons why I became a prosecutor and police advisor in the US, is because my opportunities to do so in Malaysia would be limited.

Regardless, I am proud to have been born and raised there (12 years). The best food in the world.  Two seasons – monsoon and hell.  Sea turtles, beaches, the rainforest.  Night markets, temples, caves.

A friend recently told me that one of his friends married her Malaysian husband because Malaysians seemed capable, passionate, and fierce.  Truth.  She forgot funny, intelligent, and humble.

Being Malaysian shaped my life.  It taught me how to work with different cultures. To learn to fight and live from a weaker position.  To punch above my weight.  To strive  to the end. To appreciate freedom.

Nonetheless, Tanah Tumpahnya Darahku.