A Secret History of the Bangkok Hilton (10 page)

Despite the sheer amount of injustice in the Sherry Ann Duncan case, I believe legacies remain that have lead to improvements in the Thai judicial system. At the very least, the police reopened the case and rectified the miscarriage of justice.

The harshest criticism of the Thai criminal justice system is reserved for the police force, which is viewed as incompetent and corrupt. The headlines about bad police never fail to shock and upset the public yet not a year goes by without talk of reform in the police force or another scandal. This is not to say that all police officers are corrupt and unethical in their conduct. To a degree, I can sympathise with good policemen who are discouraged by the unfavourable opinion of them that many people have, as prison guards are viewed as violent and corrupt too.

I’ve met killers who showed no remorse, boasting about the number of people they killed minutes before their execution. On those unfortunate occasions, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that the police arrested these psychopaths, making Thailand a safer place. I would like to believe that, with pressure and the watchful eyes of the media and concerned citizens, the police force would not allow a case like the murder of Sherry Ann to happen again.

Chapter 7

What life After Prison?

Many inmates in the Bangkok Hilton are adamant that they are victims of a crime rather than the perpetrators. They insist they were tortured by policemen until they confessed to bogus charges. It is unnerving to think that some officers, who are the first line of justice, could be wrongdoers themselves. Yet even today there is still one report after another of police who have behaved thuggishly.

In my role as a prison guard, I paid little attention to most of these self-proclaimed fall guys. That changed when news of a group of border patrol police who framed people for possession of narcotics made headlines in early 2008.

The police group in question, led by police captain Nat Chonnithiwanit, abducted people, physically abused them, extorted money from them, forced them to participate in undercover stings and charged them with drug offences. About 200 drug cases instigated by them were to be reinvestigated.

In December 2009, Nat and seven co-defendants were found guilty of extorting a 300,000 baht ransom from a woman they had abducted. They also threatened to charge her with having 800 pills of
yaba
(amphetamine). Each of them was sentenced to five years in jail and ordered to pay damages to her. At the time of writing, they are facing about 30 cases in all.

The scandal seemed to echo the story told by Pitak, who had done time in Bang Kwang. Pitak and his former lover Nok had been convicted of possession of heroin with intent to sell when they were a young couple. Each was sentenced to life in prison for a crime they insisted they hadn’t committed.

I visited Pitak and Nok to ask them about their story. You are free to make your own judgment. This is what Pitak said to me:

When children are being unruly, some parents warn them to behave by saying: ‘I’ll call the police to come and get you.’ To many Thais, the police are not only figures of authority but also of fear and disdain. To me, this notion is justified.

I used to work at a pier management company in the southern province of Trang. Fishing and transport boats operating in the Andaman Sea visited our pier for maintenance and repair. I wore two hats as a manager and head mechanic. Life was good to me then but my family hadn’t always had it easy.

During World War II, the Japanese soldiers arrived on a beach in Songkla in December 1941. My father co-owned a small factory and one day while driving a truck alone, he was ambushed by Japanese soldiers. They demanded the truck at gunpoint and forced him to work for them as a repairman. After the war was over, he was reunited with Mae. Although Por and Mae were neither highly educated nor rich, they always taught me to work hard towards my goals by being examples themselves.

So I did and by 1982 I had many friends and a steady well-paid job. One thing was still missing from my life: romance. Then I met Nok, who is of Hainan Chinese descent. She worked at a coffee shop in the city area of Trang. It belonged to her uncle and was one of many businesses her wealthy family owned. Although I was very busy at work, I couldn’t help but go to the shop more to get to know her. The 20 kilometres between my place and the coffee shop wasn’t a problem as I had a company car.

Years of being schooled in Bangkok made her more refined, chatty and sociable than the girls I had been used to. Although a
sao krung
(city girl) like her attracted admirers like bees to a flower, I had the edge in the form of company car.

When we were in the mood for a fun-filled night out, we went to Hat Yai in Songkla, the nearest place for such entertainment then. Nok and I communicated openly and we talked about the deeper things, including the fact that she had run away from a cheating husband in Bangkok. She had moved to Trang to think over her unhappy marriage. I knew she was on the rebound and might not take me seriously but I was glad to be with her nonetheless. We weren’t conservative and it didn’t take long before we were intimate.

One day I noticed she was preoccupied and asked what was bothering her. After a long silence, she said, ‘I’m not sure how to break it to you… Mong has been trying to persuade me to hold drugs for him and to pass them to his buyer.’

Mong was an acquaintance of ours from the coffee shop. He wasn’t fluent in Thai but I’m not sure of his origins. I knew him as a seller of cosmetics and clothing, which fashionable Nok bought regularly. She had also agreed to sell clothes for him at her uncle’s shop and the business was doing well.

She continued, ‘Of course, I said “no” but he is persistent. I fear repercussion if I continue to say no. I still have my dealings with him and I’m not sure what to do.’

I suggested she distance herself from him and let her relatives handle business with him instead. We never discussed it again.

That was when I found out he was a drug dealer but the revelation wasn’t a big shock to me. The smuggling of oil, rice, sugar and mineral rocks by boat was rife, among other vices, in Trang. I was privy to these illicit deals because of my work but I wasn’t interested in joining their ranks or playing informer for fear of retaliation. At one time, a man who claimed to be in charge of the entire smuggling ring had tried to persuade me to facilitate his business at the pier in exchange for a huge sum.

He said, ‘One call to my army friend is all it takes to solve every problem you might have with the police.’ He handed me the business card of a high-ranking army officer. I returned it and declined his offer as politely as I could, saying I already had enough on my plate. For all I know, he might have been bluffing.

The company I worked for ordered water tanks from a factory in Hat Yai. We advanced a cheque to the factory owner in June but by September still hadn’t received the order. I was asked to sort it out and decided to kill two birds with one stone: visit the factory and have a weekend with Nok in Hat Yai. Before we left Trang, Nok told me she was pregnant and I took the news as a good omen despite our affair. Little did we know that it would be the last weekend we would have to celebrate.

When we got there, the factory owner was away on business. His wife called him and said he would surely be back later and would meet me at my hotel the following morning. I checked into the hotel on Saturday, September 11, 1982. There was no sign of him on Sunday morning and I thought that either he was late or he had decided to stand me up. I went to reception to pay for the room while Nok waited on a sofa at the other side of the lobby. While I was checking out, I heard footsteps approaching me from behind. Before I could turn to face them, my wrists were grabbed and forced against my back. Handcuffed, I struggled to break free but there was very little I could do against the force of three strange men. The receptionist looked on in shock.

My heart sank further when I heard Nok cry for help. We were forced to walk in different directions. They pushed and shoved me to the car park where I was told to get into a black pick-up truck. My first thought was that they were kidnappers, because Nok’s family was rich, and I was being taken along as a bonus.

Blindfolded, I tried to remain calm but the darkness intensified my fear. Sweat ran down my face as hands pressed hard on both of my shoulders. I knew it was still daytime but I didn’t shout for help for fear of being beaten or killed. The abductors remained silent all the way. Finally, the truck came to a stop and the blindfold was removed. They manhandled me into a deserted hut in the middle of a rubber plantation and sat me on the floor, propped up against a wall.

One of the abductors, whom I later knew as Amnat, said, ‘We are plainclothes police officers and now you are in a property of an anti-drug agency.’

I was too dumbstruck to say anything back. Another man quickly brought out a bag full of white powder and a scale. He weighed the bag in front of me while the other took photographs of what was happening. Their movements were swift and in sync as if they had done this many times before. Amnat produced a piece of paper and told me to sign it. The moment my mind registered what was written on it, I was jolted out of confusion. It was a fabricated arrest report that said I had been found with heroin.

‘What the hell is going on? Why did you bring me here?’ I demanded.

Amnat, who was clearly the one in charge, said, ‘Just sign the damn thing and you’ll be sent to a police station or else…’

I replied, ‘I don’t know what’s in the bag but it’s certainly not mine. Why are you doing this to me?’

Instead of an answer he tapped at a pistol tucked into the pocket of his trousers. I didn’t need further persuasion. I learnt that Nok had given in as easily as I had. What else could we do?

On the way to the police station, I hoped the officers there would listen to me and believe that Nok and I had been framed. But, as a Thai proverb goes, we ran away from a tiger only to face a crocodile. The worst had yet to befall us. The clock said one hour before midnight when I was thrown into a holding cell. Within a few hours, my life had been turned upside down. There in the cell, I experienced some of the most confusing and desperate moments of my life.

An hour later I was taken out of the cell and into another room in the police station. I knew what was about to happen and felt so helpless. I was told to sign a blank piece of paper, which I was told would be my interrogation report. I said ‘no’ and within seconds I felt hard blows on my face. After having a go at me, they got creative. They stacked up chairs in a pile and forced me to stand on top of it. Together they kicked the stack so it would tumble down and my body would hit the floor. They laughed like children engaging in mischievous play. All the while, they lied that Nok, who was being kept in another cell, had already confessed to the crime. There were other forms of assault, including punches to my stomach and slaps to my face, but I don’t want to elaborate. Suffice to say that I didn’t sustain any permanent injury and I count myself among the fortunate ones. I somehow managed to endure the pain and refused to sign the paper they thrust upon me. The second night they took me out of the cell and subjected me to the same routine.

While Nok and I were on remand, our families were propositioned by several police officers, offering help in an exchange for hefty fees. They claimed they could use their connections with court officials either to guarantee bail would be granted or even to rig the court ruling in our favour. They were like vultures trying to pick shreds of meat from a dying animal. They seemed to work independently so I didn’t know who to trust. Even if I could somehow produce the money they demanded, there was no guarantee they would fulfill their promises. Nok’s family, however, spent a fortune on them.

Corrupt police officers continued to pressure me to sign the interrogation report but I refused to sign away my life. Obviously, they could put anything in it. When I thought they couldn’t go any lower, a man I remembered as one of the six abductors visited me. He said they could secure bail release for Nok and me if we helped them to catch two more people. He didn’t explain exactly what was required so I assumed they wanted us to act as bait to lure people into drug-buying stings while we were on bail. I had had enough of their callousness and said, ‘You scum, just leave me alone.’ He shrugged off my insult and said, ‘You’ll be sorry. Definitely will.’

At this point, Nok and I hadn’t been in contact with each other since the abduction and trust between us waned. My relatives started to feed me stories that Nok was involved in the drug trade while hers were pinning the blame on me. My family accused me of being infatuated with Nok when I defended her innocence but saying she was a drug dealer didn’t make sense. Nok’s family is wealthy and she worked for a firm on Bangkok’s affluent Silom Road before she got married. It didn’t add up.

Nok admitted to her family that she was three months pregnant. A child conceived outside wedlock when she already had a husband made our affair an utter disgrace. They scorned me for corrupting her.

My relatives urged me to sign the blank paper which was to contain the interrogation report. If I didn’t, they said the police would not process our bail requests. I finally gave in, however, to the emotional pleas of Nok’s mother on condition that she stop trying to persuade Nok to abort our unborn child. Nhe, Nok’s grandmother, was planning to hire a guard to smuggle in medication to Nok that could cause a miscarriage. Nhe believed the unborn child was a tua suai (jinx) which was bringing Nok great misfortune and by getting rid of it she would be freed.

I can only wonder now how different things might have been if both sides had got together and put our lawyers to work building our defence. However, given how ineffective our lawyers were, I don’t think it would have mattered. My family hired a lawyer through recommendation but he turned out to be a huge disappointment. He rarely visited me to discuss my defence and the one time he did he offended me greatly with a suggestion that he would compose my testimony to be in line with the police fabrication.

‘How can you represent me when you don’t even believe me?’ I demanded.

He replied: ‘It doesn’t matter what actually happened as it would be your word against theirs and whose words do you think the court will buy? Pointing out discrepancies in their report is your best chance. Or better yet you should plead guilty and get a smaller sentence.’

Given that I had already and regrettably signed the falsified interrogation report, I agreed to see what he could write for me.

Nok’s lawyer recommended that she plead guilty, adding that 25 years in jail would be the worst-case scenario. Her relatives, however, detested the idea of having the family name tainted by a conviction and insisted she fight the case and declare her innocence or else she would never see them again.

Our families and friends eventually gathered enough money and land deeds worth a few hundred thousand baht to meet the collateral demanded for our bail applications. However, we were denied bail as the charges against us were considered high priority and because the police in charge of the case objected. The court ordered that Nok be escorted to a hospital when she went into labour. I was to be tried as defendant number one, Nok number two.