The Angel of Bang Kwang Prison (15 page)

When I got home the house was in a terrible state. Surin, the owner, had decided to renovate so I arrived back, in my weakened state, to a construction site. I know I should’ve tried my best to ignore the mess and take a few days to recuperate in bed, but that’s just not me. I cleaned and scrubbed as best I could, without bursting my stitches. I couldn’t actually stand so I had to crawl around, for five hours. It was awful but I wouldn’t let myself rest. For one thing, there were cockroaches everywhere, so there was no way I wasn’t going to worry about them in the food, or the bins, or in my laundry. I even washed clothes and made the dinner, and seven days later I was back in the prison. I later wrote to my friend,
Anne
, who was to undergo an operation, and urged her not to follow my insane example, telling her instead that it was important that
she
rested when she came out of hospital.

Chapter Nine

Garth was a talented writer and penned articles for a magazine,
Farang
, which was set up for ex-patriots and travellers to Bangkok, from his cell in Building 10. He railed against the long prison sentences for addicts and wondered at how someone could be rehabilitated against taking drugs again, by dumping them in solitary confinement. He wrote these sweet words once:

Some of the guys I’ve been hanging out with here have illustrated that I can feel fortunate because I have the luxury of being the citizen of a country which has a treaty agreement with the Thai government that allows me the opportunity to return home very shortly. Even if it’s having served in these dank conditions for eight and a half years. They have a valid point, as most of these guys had been incarcerated many years before I walked through these gates, and many years after I’ve left they will still be wondering when they shall finally have the opportunity to return home themselves. I don’t have any witty, intelligent response to such tragic injustice.

Other than my luck at possessing a US passport, I’ve been blessed with something throughout the last six and a half years of this crisis which no one else here at Bang Kwang has had. All those years back, a striking Australian woman came to visit me and evidently saw something in me which even I hadn’t seen in myself up until the time I had inadvertently altered my personal fate. It had been a rather graphic dichotomy: amid the ugliest period of my life I’d been introduced to the greatest of it as well. I’ve written about her in past articles, and could write chapters of how our relationship has evolved. What I can’t write yet about is our future, which is soon to unfold.

What indeed was to be our future? After four years of visits, two of which were granted contact visits by the guards, allowing us to kiss, hold hands and eat together, Garth asked me to marry him on 5 August 2000. He gave me a ring that had belonged to his grandfather and I was proud to wear it. Things had changed legally due to that female inmate’s appeal against the one kilo clause in the treaty with America. Initially Garth was supposed to get the death penalty, but because he cooperated fully this sentence was reduced to life imprisonment, and now due to the female prisoner’s campaign, he became eligible to return to America after serving eight years in Bangkok.

Things certainly seemed to be looking up for us when we then heard about a mass amnesty on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee. Sometimes, on days of celebration, the Royal Family might decide to reduce the sentences of prisoners, as a gesture of goodwill. Word had it that foreign prisoners with a ‘number’ sentence, that is convicts with long and definite sentences of, say 30 or 40 years, could return to their own countries after serving just four years, while those serving life imprisonment could return after eight years. This became official news after a while, even to the point where the relatives of inmates were informed of early releases. There was great excitement throughout Bang Kwang as you can imagine, and many tearful phone calls were made home to ecstatic relatives. In the amnesty, Garth was given a number sentence instead of his original life imprisonment, which meant he could be out after serving four years, most of which he had already served by this stage. We couldn’t believe it, and started to make plans for a future that was suddenly more real than it had been all along. But, just as suddenly as our hopes were raised, they were suddenly dashed to the ground once more when the Thai officials decided to revert to the original sentences handed down, which meant that instead of considering him as an inmate with a numbered sentence, Garth was treated according to his life imprisonment status. This meant he would have to wait eight years before the process of repatriation could even begin.

It wasn’t just Garth who was affected; there were many other American convicts who had thought they would be back in America in the near future. The return of those extra four years was worse than any kind of short-lived torture. The men were striving to keep their sanity. Garth had already witnessed several other inmates lose their mind in Bang Kwang, and, consequently, had trained himself to approach each day as a learning experience. He was eating just enough to keep himself alive and disease free. The over-crowding of the cells meant that sickness spread like wild fire amongst the weak. With his embassy’s assistance he supplemented his daily ration of poorly cooked rice and cabbage with tuna fish. There was also the worry that he was still surrounded by drugs and users and, naturally, found it impossible not to satisfy his habit, especially since he had not received any help or rehabilitation in the prison system. In fact he had become hooked on heroin in order to cope with his dreadful existence in the prison. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. He had suffered a terrible blow when his beloved mother died in 2000, far away from his prison cell. He had also lost a couple of his cellmates, one to freedom and one to death, which I suppose could also be perceived as a freedom from the walls of Bang Kwang.

He had introduced me to Tom J. Auer, an Austrian convict, who had become a close friend of his. They had plenty in common; they shared a cell, drugs and a love for music. My heart sank when Garth first mentioned Tom to me. He said he was a Satanist.

‘Terrific,’ I thought, ‘that’s all he needs. Sharing drugs with the devil himself.’

Naturally, I envisioned a monster of a guy with horns and a dark, demonic character, and weakly responded to any funny stories that involved Demon Tom—that is, until I met him in the visiting area. He was lovely! He was tall alright, with a craggy face and soft, grey-blue eyes and a kind smile. I liked him and trusted him immediately. I didn’t actually visit him officially; all our communication was passed through Garth or made during brief interchanges in the visiting room. I remember writing once to Garth and remarking that if the Devil was so bad and strong, why did Tom also need to take heroin? He roared with laughter when he heard that and the next time our paths crossed at the prison he smiled mischievously and said, ‘Susan, I just need to be a heroin addict for a bit, and then I’ll stop.’

True to his word, Tom got clean and has been ever since, having no desire whatsoever for drugs anymore.

He was an artist and drew me a starfish one day, colouring it in with coffee. I reckoned there was a lot of sweetness underneath all that devil stuff.

I was delighted to be able to do him a large favour. His eight years were almost up and a couple of months before his release he heard I was going to visit my family in Australia. He asked me if I could bring him back an Akubra hat, as he wanted to be wearing one for his release day. I never thought to ask him how he knew about this famous accessory. Now, if you have ever seen an Australian drama set in the outback you will know this hat. They are a traditional Aussie hat since the early 1900s and are loved for their durability and comfort. They have an extra wide brim to protect against the scorching sun and heavy rain. Rachel Ward wore one in that famous Australian series,
The Thornbirds
, based on the Colleen McCullough best-selling novel. Anyway, Tom gave me the cash and I walked the streets of Melbourne determined to fetch him the best one for his money. I got him a chocolate brown one and chanced my arm at the shop’s till by looking for a discount since it was going to an inmate in Bang Kwang who had just obtained his freedom after eight long years. The girl looked bored and unmoved as she refused to give me or Tom a reduction.

Garth told me that he basically showered and slept in the hat after I gave it to him. I was so glad that I was at the prison the day he received his marching orders. I was standing with Garth and some others and watched Tom being escorted from the bowels of the prison to the entrance. He looking like a man who had been handed a precious second chance and his smile could be clearly seen from a distance. I couldn’t help giggling when I saw his ‘freedom outfit’ of long pants, boots, safari shirt and, of course, his Akubra hat. It was the first time I witnessed someone white leave the prison and I couldn’t contain myself. I ran through the beautifully, manicured bushes—possibly taking one or two with me—and I practically threw myself on top of him. We were both in tears and hugged one another. He kept saying to me, over and over again, ‘Susan, I’m a free man. A free man. I’m a free man.’

The guard coughed testily and looked like he was going to interrupt us but Tom just turned to him and firmly said, ‘No! I’m a free man now.’

The guard nodded sheepishly and backed off. Then he turned back to me and laughed.

‘And do you know what else Susan? God is my main guy now.’

He hugged me once more and went on his way, gaily waving to all and sundry. Fortunately, it wasn’t the last time I ever heard from him. Throughout the years he has sent me money and gifts for the inmates, especially Thais he left behind in Bang Kwang. He had the strength to deal with his past and embrace it. I knew that I could contact him if the need came up for cash for those he had chosen to support after his departure. There are others who don’t want to hear from me because of what I remind them of, which I completely understand.

Tom was one of the few success stories to come out of Bang Kwang. Dtui’s was a sadder story and I don’t expect everyone to understand why I befriended, and cared about, him. He was just out of his teens when he was arrested, with his pal, for several brutal robberies that involved their victims being badly beaten and even killed. I don’t condone his behaviour but I do believe in redemption, in people being worked on so they can have a second bash at life. When Dtui arrived in prison he had nothing. He was penniless so couldn’t afford to supplement the meagre and unpleasant food rations, or buy some bedding or toiletries from the prison shop. As a result of his stricken circumstances he ended up becoming a Samurai in the prison. The Samurai are like hired killers; they carry out the dirty work for the prison Mafioso or ‘Big Legs’ as they are known. The inmates who become Samurai are usually ‘prison orphans’. Their families have stopped caring for them and since they then have no ties with the outside world they have no hope and nothing to live for. Therefore, they don’t care about anyone or anything, including themselves. Dtui hung out with 10 other fearsome guys. They provided a kind of support system for one another. The 11 of them were heroin addicts and all shared the one needle which eventually led to Dtui losing his 10 mates to AIDS while he remained HIV positive.

He had a motto: ‘Evil never dies,’ but I found him to be inspirational. He was like a grasshopper; thin, wiry and was always jumping around fuelled by bags of energy. His enthusiasm was boundless and he became a close friend of Garth and me. Another close inmate friend taught him how to play and make guitars and they frequently had me search all of Bangkok for several ingredients and material. They planned to go into business together as soon as they got out. It was fantastic that he should find, within Bang Kwang, an alternative to a life of crime and something that he genuinely loved doing. Dtui differed from other Thais in that he was very confident. If I told him to let me know how I could help him he immediately told me what he needed. Other Thais probably thought him to be rude and cheeky but I found his assertiveness a breath of fresh air. He was very suited to westerners and enjoyed their company.

Garth and I wanted to try and get our hands on some Anti-Retroviral to treat his condition. He appeared to be in good health and I managed to have his blood tested where he was given a positive report. The company who made the Anti-Retroviral hadn’t yet sold the rights in Thailand and, consequently, thousands infected with HIV were dying. When it finally was made available in Thailand it cost $25 a month, which I just couldn’t afford, and it was restricted to a ‘lucky’ few. Dtui wouldn’t have qualified even if I had been able to buy it. All I could do was bring him in food and treats to keep him relatively healthy.

He, in turn, was able to reward our friendship with one great deed. Garth was in trouble for heroin possession in prison. He had been sent in a package and, according to prison rules, had signed for it before he could open it and see what it was. Dtui was permitted to go to court in Garth’s defence, to explain to the judge that he witnessed Garth signing for the package before he discovered what he had signed for, as was the norm. It would be fair to say that he got as much out of the experience as Garth did.

It was the first time in 12 years that he had been outside of the prison and he was like an over-excited child in the prison van. He gazed out the window for the entire journey, gasping over how much Bangkok had changed since he last saw it. He was equally fascinated by all the pretty girls he saw and the fashions of the day. He was also immensely proud that he could help his friends out. This may have been the first time that he was in a position to make a real, positive difference to someone else. I thrusted some chocolate cake at him, his favourite, as he was put in the van, and he almost inhaled it he ate it so fast.

He didn’t have an easy time of it in Bang Kwang but, if nothing else, he was a survivor. He had been seen injecting heroin by one of the Blue Shirts. These are the inmates who ‘assist’ the prison guards in their work. While some of them are really nice people and just want to get through their time in prison, some of them are unpopular, and for good reasons. Some abuse and capitalise on their position horrifically. This one guy began to hassle Dtui, wanting money or he would inform on his drug use. He constantly ambushed Dtui and roughed him over in his increasingly menacing demand for money. One morning the guy went too far and a very stressed Dtui reached the end of his patience; he lunged at the guy and, intentionally or not, killed him.