On a hot day in August, Singaporean police arrived at one of the city’s swankiest addresses, made their way past a miniature golf course in the courtyard, and charged inside. At homes across the city — always in the wealthiest neighbourhoods — similar scenes were repeating as police rounded up people suspected of belonging to a billion-dollar money-laundering ring.

Once upstairs, the officers banged on the bedroom door. When they entered, Su Haijin, a 40-year-old man of Chinese, Cambodian and Cypriot nationality, was gone. But not very far. On hearing the police, Su had hurled himself off the second-floor balcony, fracturing his hands and legs. Police found him hiding in a nearby drain.

The case, in which Su and nine others have been charged so far, has captivated a public wholly unused to seeing the insalubrious side of their country laid bare. It is not just the trappings of the S$1.8bn ($1.3bn) bust — gold bars, designer handbags, luxury cars, lavish property and digital fortunes — that have fascinated. Global banks, precious metal dealers, property agents and one of the country’s most famous golf clubs have also been sucked into the scandal.