Final Nail in Hong Kong's Freedom: China Jails Jimmy Lai for Daring to Speak

Paul Riverbank, 12/17/2025 Press freedom icon Jimmy Lai’s conviction under Hong Kong’s sweeping security law signals the city’s stark transformation—his fate now emblematic of eroding rights and the high cost of dissent in a place once renowned for open debate.

Lai, once a billionaire publisher and a vocal supporter of democracy, has become the latest symbol of Hong Kong's vanishing freedoms. On Monday, a judge delivered an 800-page explanation—Judge Esther Toh’s words echoing through a hushed, guarded courtroom: Lai “harbored hatred” for Beijing, she noted. The particulars? Among them, 161 articles from the now-defunct Apple Daily. To the authorities, those stories—headlines sharp and, yes, sometimes angry—amounted to collusion with foreign powers, a risk to China’s national security.

But for Lai’s family, scattered now between Canada and the United Kingdom, justice was never on trial. Too many moments, they say, have pointed away from fairness. “They made an example out of him, plain and simple,” his niece Erica Lepp says. “No one expected a fair fight.”

Sebastien Lai, watching events unfold from London, says the ruling is nothing more than an exercise in punishment. “You read their verdict—there’s nothing there but words they didn’t like. The law was bent to silence him.” Claire Lai, Jimmy’s daughter, calls her father’s case a barometer for fear. “They fear what he stands for, even now. We stand by his innocence.”

The charges themselves stretch back to 2020, the city still raw from the protests that spiraled through 2019. With the National Security Law’s arrival that summer, Beijing’s grip tightened in earnest. Once, activism in Hong Kong meant banners, rallies, argument. Now, it means risk. After Apple Daily was forced to close, dissenters melted away—some crossing borders, others simply vanishing from view.

News from inside Lai’s cell comes in fragments. He’s lost more than 20 pounds; always tired. Diabetic, with a heart that falters, he missed court appearances not by choice but by necessity. Somebody covered his cell window; outside, the summer sun bakes the concrete, but his corner of the world sits in a perpetual dusk.

Globally, responses ripple—sharp words but, so far, little movement. “The UK condemns the politically motivated prosecution of Jimmy Lai and calls for his immediate release,” Britain’s Foreign Secretary, Yvette Cooper, announced. U.S. President Donald Trump—his style less formal—said, “I spoke to President Xi about it, and I asked to consider his release. He’s an older man, and he’s not well. So I did put that request out. We’ll see what happens.” Canada’s Minister, Anita Anand, went on record: “Canada condemns the politically motivated prosecution of Jimmy Lai under the National Security Law in Hong Kong.” She spoke of worry—about Lai, and about all the quiet, closing doors in the city.

Erica Lepp, reflecting from abroad, sees more than just the fate of her uncle. “This feels like the final nail for what Hong Kong once was—a place of questioning, a home to different views. That’s gone. The freedoms aren’t what they were.” Lai’s possible life sentence is set to be determined in 2026, but the conversation has moved beyond just the matter of one man.

Sebastien Lai didn’t mince words in a recent letter: “Imprisoning a British citizen like this makes dialogue impossible. My father must be released before anything real can change. Otherwise trust is empty.”

In Hong Kong, there’s less open talk about democracy these days. Still, Lai’s story survives—carried by his family, championed by supporters, measured out in editorials and parliamentary statements. It’s become both warning and rallying cry: once, the city was known for its openness. Now, speaking plainly can cost everything. In the end, Jimmy Lai’s ordeal reminds us what’s at stake—when words are deemed dangerous, and when the cost of expression is measured, not in ink, but in years lost behind bars.

In the cramped quarters of a Hong Kong detention cell, sunlight doesn’t find its way in anymore. The man inside, Jimmy Lai, is 78 and remembers the city lit with neon signs, newspaper stands on every corner, and the tenacity of a people who didn’t use to be afraid. Now, his world shrinks each day—there’s talk of heart troubles and a fight with diabetes; his family hasn’t seen him up close in years.Lai, once a billionaire publisher and a vocal supporter of democracy, has become the latest symbol of Hong Kong's vanishing freedoms. On Monday, a judge delivered an 800-page explanation—Judge Esther Toh’s words echoing through a hushed, guarded courtroom: Lai “harbored hatred” for Beijing, she noted. The particulars? Among them, 161 articles from the now-defunct Apple Daily. To the authorities, those stories—headlines sharp and, yes, sometimes angry—amounted to collusion with foreign powers, a risk to China’s national security.But for Lai’s family, scattered now between Canada and the United Kingdom, justice was never on trial. Too many moments, they say, have pointed away from fairness. “They made an example out of him, plain and simple,” his niece Erica Lepp says. “No one expected a fair fight.”Sebastien Lai, watching events unfold from London, says the ruling is nothing more than an exercise in punishment. “You read their verdict—there’s nothing there but words they didn’t like. The law was bent to silence him.” Claire Lai, Jimmy’s daughter, calls her father’s case a barometer for fear. “They fear what he stands for, even now. We stand by his innocence.”The charges themselves stretch back to 2020, the city still raw from the protests that spiraled through 2019. With the National Security Law’s arrival that summer, Beijing’s grip tightened in earnest. Once, activism in Hong Kong meant banners, rallies, argument. Now, it means risk. After Apple Daily was forced to close, dissenters melted away—some crossing borders, others simply vanishing from view.News from inside Lai’s cell comes in fragments. He’s lost more than 20 pounds; always tired. Diabetic, with a heart that falters, he missed court appearances not by choice but by necessity. Somebody covered his cell window; outside, the summer sun bakes the concrete, but his corner of the world sits in a perpetual dusk.Globally, responses ripple—sharp words but, so far, little movement. “The UK condemns the politically motivated prosecution of Jimmy Lai and calls for his immediate release,” Britain’s Foreign Secretary, Yvette Cooper, announced. U.S. President Donald Trump—his style less formal—said, “I spoke to President Xi about it, and I asked to consider his release. He’s an older man, and he’s not well. So I did put that request out. We’ll see what happens.” Canada’s Minister, Anita Anand, went on record: “Canada condemns the politically motivated prosecution of Jimmy Lai under the National Security Law in Hong Kong.” She spoke of worry—about Lai, and about all the quiet, closing doors in the city.Erica Lepp, reflecting from abroad, sees more than just the fate of her uncle. “This feels like the final nail for what Hong Kong once was—a place of questioning, a home to different views. That’s gone. The freedoms aren’t what they were.” Lai’s possible life sentence is set to be determined in 2026, but the conversation has moved beyond just the matter of one man.Sebastien Lai didn’t mince words in a recent letter: “Imprisoning a British citizen like this makes dialogue impossible. My father must be released before anything real can change. Otherwise trust is empty.”In Hong Kong, there’s less open talk about democracy these days. Still, Lai’s story survives—carried by his family, championed by supporters, measured out in editorials and parliamentary statements. It’s become both warning and rallying cry: once, the city was known for its openness. Now, speaking plainly can cost everything. In the end, Jimmy Lai’s ordeal reminds us what’s at stake—when words are deemed dangerous, and when the cost of expression is measured, not in ink, but in years lost behind bars.