On October 8, 2025, the city-state of Singapore executed Malaysian national Pannir Selvam Pranthaman, aged 38, by hanging at Changi Prison. His crime: trafficking 51.84 grams of heroin—also known as diamorphine—into Singapore back in 2014. The execution, confirmed by both his family and activists, marks Singapore’s second hanging of a Malaysian for drug offenses in less than two weeks, highlighting the country's unyielding stance on narcotics and drawing sharp criticism from human rights observers and the Malaysian public.
Pannir’s journey to the gallows began on September 3, 2014, when he was arrested at the Woodlands checkpoint with heroin taped to his leg and concealed in his motorcycle. The Singapore High Court convicted him on June 27, 2017, sentencing him to death under the nation’s strict drug laws, which mandate capital punishment for trafficking more than 15 grams of heroin. Despite appeals and a clemency petition, Pannir’s fate was sealed, and his execution proceeded after all legal avenues were exhausted.
According to New Straits Times, Pannir’s sister, Sangkari Pranthaman, and Singapore-based activist Kirsten Han confirmed the execution, with Han stating, “Yes, he has been hanged.” The news sent shockwaves through both Singapore and Malaysia, especially as it came so soon after the September 25 execution of another Malaysian, K. Datchinamurthy, who was hanged for smuggling 44.96 grams of diamorphine. Datchinamurthy, who converted to Catholicism during his incarceration, was laid to rest in a Catholic cemetery near Johor Bahru, as reported by his family.
The back-to-back executions have ignited a firestorm of protest from activists and the families of those executed. On October 7, supporters held a candlelight vigil outside the Singapore High Commission in Kuala Lumpur, pleading for clemency and denouncing what they view as an unrelenting “execution spree.” Family lawyer N. Surendran told New Straits Times that “Pannir is the second Malaysian in less than two weeks to be executed. The Malaysian government must intervene with Singapore, as there are more Malaysians on death row.”
But the outrage hasn’t been limited to the Malaysian side. Amnesty International, a prominent global human rights watchdog, condemned Singapore’s continued use of the death penalty for drug offenses. In a statement issued on October 6, Amnesty called on Singapore to halt Pannir’s execution, describing it as “an unlawful execution” marred by “multiple layers of unfairness,” including what they allege are violations of international human rights law and standards. According to Amnesty, Singapore has executed 11 people so far in 2025, nine of them for drug-related offenses.
The controversy deepened as Pannir’s family accused the Malaysian government of failing to protect its citizen. Sangkari Pranthaman, his sister, voiced her frustration over what she saw as apathy and negligence by Malaysian authorities. She specifically targeted Deputy Home Minister Shamsul Anuar Nasarah, saying, “First of all, does the minister even understand this case before claiming that the information provided by Pannir had ‘no operational value’?” She further argued, “The Singapore court itself recognized that Pannir was merely a courier—not a mastermind or trafficker.”
Sangkari’s criticism stems from claims that Pannir had provided Malaysian and Singaporean authorities with crucial information about the drug syndicates that recruited and manipulated vulnerable couriers like himself. She lamented that “years of evidence and testimony that clearly point to the real recruiters and traffickers still operating freely in Malaysia” were dismissed. In parliament on October 7, Minister Nasarah stated that the information Pannir gave investigators “had no operational value,” and there would be no new investigation following a police interview with Pannir at Changi Prison on September 27. Sangkari called this statement “irresponsible and misleading,” and went further in her allegations, saying, “This is not just negligence; it smells of corruption and protection of criminal networks.”
She pointed to the arrests of two men, Shanmugam and Thinesh, whom she identified as recruiters for drug syndicates preying on young Malaysians from rural backgrounds. “These are the men who supplied and manipulated vulnerable people like Pannir. Yet instead of pursuing justice against them, the authorities are trying to silence the truth,” she said. Sangkari’s determination to keep her brother’s story alive was evident: “Malaysia failed to protect my brother—but we will not let his voice die with him. The truth about who really runs these trafficking syndicates will come out.”
The Malaysian government, for its part, has maintained that the courts found drugs on Pannir’s person and hidden in his motorcycle, evidence they say demonstrates he was not merely a courier. Minister Nasarah’s statement in parliament reiterated this position, underlining that the evidence did not warrant reopening the investigation, despite the family’s pleas and the attention drawn by activists.
Singapore’s approach to drug offenses is among the harshest in the world. Under its Misuse of Drugs Act, the mandatory death penalty applies to those convicted of trafficking more than 15 grams of heroin—a threshold Pannir’s case surpassed by more than three times. This zero-tolerance policy is credited by Singaporean authorities with keeping the city-state relatively free of drug-related crime, but it has also been fiercely criticized by international human rights organizations and neighboring countries, particularly when foreign nationals are involved.
According to UCA News, the recent spate of executions has focused attention on the plight of other Malaysians on death row in Singapore. Media reports indicate that at least two more Malaysians face execution for drug offenses, raising fears among activists and families that the “execution spree” may not be over. Advocacy groups like the Transformative Justice Collective, with which Kirsten Han is associated, have also highlighted Pannir’s transformation during his years on death row, noting that he became “a writer, poet and activist,” and helped others through an NGO he founded with his family.
Amid the controversy, Singaporean officials have remained steadfast in their defense of the mandatory death penalty. They argue that the harsh laws serve as a necessary deterrent to drug traffickers, protecting society from the devastating effects of narcotics. Yet, as the vigils, protests, and international statements show, the debate is far from settled. The pain and anger of families left behind, the persistent calls for reform, and the unwavering stance of Singapore’s legal system have all converged to make Pannir Selvam Pranthaman’s execution a flashpoint in the ongoing struggle between justice, deterrence, and human rights.
As the sun set over Kuala Lumpur on the night of October 7, candles flickered in front of the Singapore High Commission—each flame a symbol of hope, defiance, and remembrance. For Pannir’s family and supporters, the fight is not over. “We will not let his voice die with him,” Sangkari vowed, echoing the determination of many who refuse to let the last word be that of the hangman’s noose.