Susanna Liew, addressing television cameras outside Kuala Lumpur’s High Court last month, described the moment as a “historic and emotional milestone.”
“Today… the High Court has delivered a judgment of what we have long believed: that Pastor Raymond Koh was a victim of a grave injustice,” the 69-year-old stated, her voice wavering.
It marked a stunning, hard-won legal victory in a case that had become one of Malaysia’s most perplexing mysteries.
Nearly nine years prior, her husband was abducted in broad daylight by masked individuals, an event captured on CCTV that captivated the nation for years.
The high court determined that the elite Special Branch of the police had taken Raymond Koh, holding both the police and the Malaysian government accountable for the country’s first enforced disappearance case to be adjudicated in court.
For years, Ms. Liew tirelessly sought answers regarding her husband’s fate, transitioning from an ordinary pastor’s wife to a fervent advocate.
While the precise motive behind her husband’s abduction may remain uncertain, two independent official investigations concluded that the police viewed the pastor as a threat to Islam, Malaysia’s majority religion.
Speaking to the BBC following her court victory, Ms. Liew emphasized her unwavering pursuit of justice.
“A voice [inside me] said… ‘So they took him in secret – I will let the whole world know’.”
On February 13, 2017, shortly after 10 a.m., Mr. Koh departed his family home to meet with friends.
As the 63-year-old drove from his residence in a quiet Kuala Lumpur suburb, a convoy of SUVs and motorcycles intercepted his vehicle.
Masked men clad in black emerged. The sound of shattering glass filled the air as they broke a window of Mr. Koh’s car and forcibly removed the pastor. They placed him into one of their vehicles and drove away, also taking his car.
The abduction occurred in mere seconds. The event was so dramatic that an eyewitness driving behind Mr. Koh later testified that he initially mistook it for a movie scene.
In the ensuing days, Mr. Koh’s children went door-to-door, searching for clues related to their father’s disappearance. They discovered that CCTV cameras from two homes had captured the entire incident.
Upon viewing the footage, the family recognized that it was no ordinary abduction. It was meticulously planned and well-coordinated. Furthermore, they had not received a ransom note or any communication from kidnappers.
Months earlier, in November 2016, an activist named Amri Che Mat from the northern state of Perlis had been abducted in a strikingly similar manner.
Mr. Koh’s family brought the matter to the media, and the CCTV footage quickly went viral after being published online by a local newspaper.
The public demanded answers, and Malaysia’s Human Rights Commission—an independent body established by parliament—launched an investigation. Subsequently, the government initiated a separate investigation.
Many speculated that the Special Branch was responsible. However, the police denied involvement, with its chief urging the public to “please shut up” to allow for a peaceful investigation into the disappearance.
Months later, after conducting their investigations, the police asserted that a drug trafficking ring had abducted Mr. Koh. Separately, they arrested an Uber driver for kidnapping him—a charge that was eventually dropped. The rights commission, in its final report, later deemed both leads as not credible.
Meanwhile, Mr. Koh’s disappearance took a toll on his family.
Ms. Liew sold handcrafted jewelry to make ends meet, while relying on her savings and donations to support her youngest daughter’s university education.
She said she had expected sympathy from the police. Instead, on the night she reported her husband’s disappearance, she said she was questioned for five hours about whether Mr Koh had tried to convert Muslims to Christianity. “I was very traumatised.”
Her interrogator later testified during the rights commission’s investigation hearing that he had been instructed by his supervisors to pursue this line of inquiry because Mr Koh was a pastor.
In 2011 Mr Koh had been accused of apostasy – a crime in Muslim-majority Malaysia – when he organised a party at a church which some Muslims also attended. He was investigated by Islamic authorities but no action was taken. He and his family have always denied that he was trying to convert Muslims.
In the years after Mr Koh’s disappearance, Ms Liew said, she felt that “the police were not forthcoming with their investigation and even, at times, they were hindering us from finding out the truth and produced red herrings”.
The family has long maintained the police’s theories were attempts to cover up their role in his abduction.
The BBC has asked the Malaysian police for a response to these allegations. They have yet to reply.
As the search for answers dragged on, everyone in the family began experiencing depression, Ms Liew said. She still suffers from panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorder.
But then, there was a breakthrough.
Late one night in May 2018, a man showed up at the house of Norhayati, the wife of Amri Che Mat, the activist who had been abducted in 2016.
Identifying himself as a police sergeant, he delivered shocking information: the Special Branch had indeed kidnapped her husband and Raymond Koh.
The police believed Mr Koh was trying to convert Muslims to Christianity, he said, and that Amri Che Mat was spreading Shia Islam, which is banned in Sunni-dominant Malaysia.
The police sergeant said he wanted to tell Ms Norhayati what happened, as he felt what the Special Branch did was wrong.
Ms Norhayati’s account of this confession was investigated by the human rights commission and eventually ruled as credible. While the sergeant later denied he made the confession, the commission found his denial to be full of inconsistencies.
Then, there was the gold-coloured car.
A witness to Mr Koh’s abduction recalled seeing a gold-coloured Toyota Vios – a similar car was spotted near Amri Che Mat’s house prior to his disappearance. The police sergeant also mentioned a gold-coloured car’s presence in both abductions.
Investigators for the rights commission traced that car to a man in Kuala Lumpur who worked for the Special Branch.
In April 2019, the commission concluded the Special Branch was responsible for the abductions of Raymond Koh and Amri Che Mat. It said the two men were “targeted by religious authorities and the police over allegations that they were involved in matters against Islam in Malaysia”.
The report stunned the Malaysian public, with some demanding accountability. Months later, the government launched its own investigation, which was made public only after Ms Liew and Ms Norhayati sued for access.
The government’s investigation came to a similar conclusion, blaming “irresponsible rogue cops”.
Its report also named a “main person of interest” – a senior Special Branch official, Awaludin bin Jadid, who headed the unit tackling social extremism. It noted he had “extreme views” against Shia Islam and Christianity and, in public speeches, portrayed them as threats to Islam.
The BBC has attempted to contact Mr Awaludin, who is now retired, for his response to these findings. We have yet to receive a reply.
Mr Awaludin previously denied he had anything to do with Amri Che Mat’s disappearance, and also alleged the government task force that produced the report was “biased” against him.
In 2020, Ms Liew launched a civil lawsuit on behalf of herself and her missing husband against several top police officers, the Royal Malaysian Police and the Malaysian government.
She held them responsible for the forcible disappearance of Mr Koh – which is the abduction and concealment of his whereabouts – and demanded they reveal his location.
Last month, a High Court judge found that among the named police officials and the Royal Malaysian Police, “one or more” of them were responsible for Raymond Koh’s abduction and a “conspiracy resulting in harm”.
Since these were public officials acting under the state’s authority, “the government must answer for the resulting harm” and thus was “vicariously liable”, the judge said.
Besides awarding several million ringgit to Ms Liew for emotional distress, the judge ordered that 10,000 ringgit (£1,830; $2,385) be paid to a trust for each day of Mr Koh’s disappearance until his whereabouts are disclosed.
To date this sum has surpassed 32m ringgit, and the final figure is expected to be the largest payout in Malaysian history. The trust’s money, which will be paid out only once Mr Koh’s whereabouts are disclosed, will likely go to Ms Liew and her children.
Ms Norhayati, who also launched a lawsuit, won her case and received several million ringgit in compensation.
But the government is appealing against these verdicts, arguing there are “issues related to financial obligations” and that it needs to “uphold the principle of universal justice”.
It has also said the police are continuing to investigate the abductions.
The BBC has asked the police for comment on the verdict. They have yet to reply.
Ms Liew hopes the government will drop the appeal. “I would feel very tired if I have to do this all over again,” she told the BBC.
The family is already worn down from “the uncertainty of not knowing where Pastor Raymond is… it’s like we are frozen in grief and we can’t move on”.
“If we know that he’s dead and have his body, at least we can bury him and we can move on. But right now, we are in a limbo. We don’t know – is he dead or alive? – and this takes a toll on us.”
Ms Liew choked up at the thought that her husband may be dead. “It’s going to be very hard to accept that,” she said, adding she “wants to hope” that her husband is alive.
But time is helping the family to heal. Inspired by counsellors who helped her through her depression, Ms Liew has been training to become one herself.
Telling her story has also been a “catharsis”, she said. Over the years, as she travelled the world to raise awareness of her husband’s case, she became an outspoken critic of enforced disappearances. In 2020 the US awarded her an International Women of Courage medal.
“I never expected that I would be at this place. Eight years ago, I was just a housewife and a quiet person,” she said.
Ms Liew has also reached a turning point on a more personal level – she has forgiven the men whom she believes took her husband.
During the trial, as she watched the lawsuit’s defendants take the stand, at first “I felt like squeezing their necks. I was angry with them”.
“But I noticed that when I came face to face with the main suspect – I felt no hatred… I want to be really right and pure before God, and not have any shadow or darkness in my life.”
Forgiveness, however, does not mean she will stop her pursuit of justice.
She is now calling for the authorities to set up a disciplinary body to monitor police conduct, as well as a commission of inquiry and a task force to track down every single person involved in her husband’s abduction.
Until now, none of the police officials named in her lawsuit have been arrested or punished. One of them has been promoted.
“What we really want is for the truth and justice to prevail, for the perpetrators to be brought to justice, and for us to have good closure,” she said.
“That means, we want to know where Pastor Raymond is.”