The Last Courthouse

The turn of the 1960s marked a drastic shift in the scale and intensity of the war in Vietnam. U.S. involvement gradually escalated during the JFK and LBJ years, with increasing troop deployment and bombardment across the country. While troops mobilized, my Grandma, Bui Thi Ngoc Dung, began pursuing higher education. Born in 1945, she grew up as her family relocated repeatedly, from central Vietnam to coastal cities such as Tuy Hòa and Nha Trang—following her father’s work and the shifting conditions of the country. Despite the instability outside their home, her family maintained a sense of normalcy. Life was not luxurious, but it was steady enough to allow her to remain in school, sometimes under circumstances that contrasted sharply with the realities faced by many others during the war. After passing the Tú Tài Examinations in 1966, my Grandma applied to study law in Saigon. Out of nearly 10,000 applicants, only around 400 students were selected to form that year’s cohort.

“Ông nội của bà là bảo bà nội hiền quả phải học để có hiểu biết”

“My grandpa said that I was too docile and needed to arm myself with knowledge.”

In her third year of law school, while still pursuing her degree, she returned to Huế to be married, finishing the year through documents and assignments that family members brought from Saigon. In 1970, for her fourth and final year, Dung enrolled at a university in Huế. During this time, she prepared for and took her final examinations, all while weeks away from giving birth to her first daughter. Shortly after giving birth, Dung began interning while also raising my aunt (born 1970), my uncle (born 1972), and my father (born 1974). After three years, she successfully opened a small office providing legal services while also teaching a 12th-grade class at the same time. Every time she went to argue a case, she would take her class to observe the hearing. As a young, female attorney, Dung often came under scrutiny.

By 1974, the situation in the country was becoming more severe. Following the Paris Peace Accords in 1973, direct U.S. military presence left the country, while North Vietnamese forces continued to pressure the government in the South. As thousands began migrating further south to avoid the incoming conflict, pregnant with her fourth child, my grandma accepted a job at the last criminal court of Quy Nhon.

“Cái tình hình là nó đang chuyển sự rất là nặng, nhưng mà mình đã nhận tiền rồi thì phải đi”

“The situation was deteriorating rapidly, but I had accepted the case, so I had to go.”

By the time she finally won the case, war had arrived.

"Bà mà đi xe hơi về Tuy Hoà đi sát quần, phía trước là pháo, phía sau là pháo, và cháy khắp nơi."

"On the car back to Tuy Hòa, I was surrounded by the army, with artillery in front, artillery behind, and fires raging across the landscape."

She then traveled to Nha Trang, where Dung embarked on the last departing flight to Huế, where the Northern People’s Army had not yet reached. Yet she was not yet safe.

"Trên máy bay về Huế, thì là về tới sân bay, thì đã tiếp quân lực, xe tăng đầy hết rồi, bà không biết cách nào xuống, tưởng là không về được với con cái."

“When I arrived in Huế, the airport was already overrun with troops and tanks. I was unsure how to leave the airfield and feared I would never return to my children.”

Luckily, she managed to return home to her family, who had been preparing to evacuate to the South. Yet before they left, Dung stopped at the court in Huế.

Then Dung went with her family to Da Nang, where she prepared to leave for Saigon. Yet the bus meant to take the family south was overcrowded, and so they had to stay until the next morning. In a stroke of luck, they had missed the very bus that was hit en route to Saigon. By the time they finally arrived, everything had changed. With the new regime, Dung’s certifications were void, and she began working other jobs to provide for the family. While it was short-lived, her career as a lawyer witnessed the reversal of a regime and the shift of a society.