The Last Executioner (8 page)

The bullets had penetrated his back and he stood almost as if he was sunk into a last embrace with the cross. His neck and head had fallen back as if he was looking skywards. The scene was grotesque. For six minutes after the shot a gurgling was heard from his corpse; the soul was taking its time leaving his body. Sane was protesting and defiant to the bitter end. The escorts untied him and lay him fast down on the ground. The blood seeped out of him on to the floor. I could also see blood on the cross and on a couple of the sand bags. His fingerprints had to be collected again to verify that the right guy had been executed.

Afterwards, Mui was interviewed by a newspaper and the journalist asked how he felt about Sane. He was definite in his reply.

‘Over the last seven years I’ve seen more than a hundred convicts who have been sentenced to death but I have never seen such a mean and cruel felon like he was. No matter how much people kill, when they meet the Chaplain they pray and ask for forgiveness. Some are so upset they can’t even stand when they hear the execution order and we have to put them in a wheelchair. Sane was an unapologetic bastard.’

Chapter 6

15 June 1972.

At 3.30pm Jumras Janopas, the Commander of Wing 1 at Bang Kwang, had three convicts brought to the Security Tower for their execution. They had all been sentenced to death by the Supreme Court in 1971. They had appealed to have the death sentence overturned and then had to wait nine months to hear that their appeals had been rejected because of the severity of their crimes. This was faster than the norm, which was usually a 12 month wait.

This was my first time to be an escort. I hadn’t been expecting to play a part in the proceedings. My boss, Prayad Loharatana, the head of the custody section, had sent for me at 6am that morning. I wondered if I was in trouble and hurried over to his office. I quickly checked to see if my uniform was neat and knocked on his door. He bid me come in and close the door.

‘Chavoret we have one today. Could you be the escort? We’re short of staff.’

I stared at him.

‘But sir I don’t know how to be an escort. I’ve never done it before.’

He shrugged impatiently saying ‘There’s nothing to it. Just walk behind the older guys and do what they do. Look we’re really short of staff, are you going to help me or not?’

I had made an impression on my superiors by trying to calm Sane down. At the time I thought that I had simply reacted instinctively to an angry man in distress. However, with hindsight I wonder if I was showing off again. I would never lick up to a boss or kiss ass. I don’t believe it is necessary if you can prove that you are a good steady worker with initiative.

I felt I was being tested to see if I would rise to a challenge. I had never believed myself to be particularly good at anything. I had done alright at school but not enough to be a teacher. I played the guitar in plenty of bands but never excelled as a musician. I knew a bit about medicine but not enough to be a doctor. Being part of the execution was a serious undertaking. I had heard that some prison officers had fainted at their first execution. But it was also a career move, a reflection that my boss saw potential in me and felt he could trust me with more duties. How many people turn down their bosses when they are personally complimented for their daily performance with an opportunity to take on more responsibility? I looked my chief in the eye and said yes.

Being an escort can be a tricky business. It’s probably one of the most emotional roles in the whole process of execution because you personally pick up the prisoner from his cell. In other words, you are death’s messenger. Then you can end up spending a lot of time with the prisoner before he dies. When it is time the escort brings the condemned into the execution room and ties him to the cross. After the prisoner has been confirmed dead by the doctor it is the escort who unties him and lays him down on the floor. Even the executioner does not have to see the body after he has done his job.

The other officers and I went in to Wing 1 to pick up the prisoners. As usual there was a tension in the air as the other death row prisoners wondered if they were to be collected too. It was a bleak day outside with dark clouds almost falling out of the sky under a weight of gloom. I cannot pretend that it is an easy thing to do, to make that walk with my colleagues past frightened faces until we reach the ones whose time has run out. The first two that we picked up looked at us in sheer panic when we stopped outside their cell. They knew that something was up because earlier they had been put in the same cell—partners-in-crime were never locked up together. We let them say their goodbyes to the other inmates who looked stricken on their behalf.

***

By this time, I had made a point of finding out more about the prisoners doomed to die. This case was pretty awful. Somsak Patan and ‘Piek’ Twat Sutakul had happened upon Supapun Ratanataya, a young librarian from Thammasart University, who was visiting Sammuk Mountain in the province of Chonburi with her boyfriend. The couple was set upon by these experienced and hardened men. First Supapun’s boyfriend was forced to watch her being raped by the two men. Then Supapun had to watch her boyfriend being killed before she too was finally murdered. The case was well-known and had shocked the country with its brutality. But this wasn’t the reason for their execution; they had committed plenty of murders before this.

The third convict to be executed that day was 34-year-old Jaroen Yimlamul who had murdered a farmer in Lopburi Province and stolen all his livestock of cows and buffaloes. He had also killed before.

There was a very official reception waiting for the men in the security tower. They were met by the prison’s Superintendent Slab Visutthimuk, the head of the prison hospital, Sujarit Phamornbutr, the Inspector of the Department of Corrections, Prasert Mekmanee, head of the vocational training centre; Prayad Loharat, chief of the custody section, and lastly there was a guy representing the Governor of Nonthaburi.

At 3.45pm their fingerprints were taken for the records and their last meals were placed in front of them. All three dinners of soup, fruit and dessert remained untouched. This was typical. I can’t imagine that I would want to eat a few minutes before I was going to be executed, though the meal was a lot better than the normal fare suffered by the prisoners. The Chaplain Phramahasai read some Buddhist teachings to them. Somasak was Islamic so he washed his feet, face and hands and then knelt down to say his own prayers. They were then offered pencils and paper to write to their families. Jareon refused to write anything. He chain smoked while the other two accepted the stationery and briefly thought about what they wanted to say.

Somak wrote to his mother and youngest brother to tell them they were always in his thoughts. He also asked them to pick up his body within 24 hours of his death as keeping with his faith—the prison had a special arrangement with an Islamic organization and ensured that the convicts’ and families’ wishes were carried out. His faith also prevented him from donating any body parts unlike Piek who was donating his eyes to the Thai Red Cross and his body to the Faculty of Medicine at Siriraj. Consequently his note was to tell his family not to collect his body. Doctor Sujarit Pamornbood had campaigned for and instigated this practice but after receiving a huge amount of criticism the prison authorities decided to discontinue it shortly afterwards. It didn’t seem appropriate to be asking someone to make a donation of their organs when they were trying to cope and prepare themselves for their imminent death.

After that all they could do was wait. By then Piek had banished his fears and was in exceptionally good form. He laughed and joked with the prison officers. He answered all questions put to him, confirming that he had actually killed 27 people. He challenged the other two to see if they could beat that figure. However, Somak admitted to killing only nine and Jareon admitted to four murders. Then Piek went one better and sang to the officers ‘Rak Jak Daungjai’ (Love From My Heart).

At 4.30pm Jareon was placed in the wooden cart to make the journey from the tower to the execution room. This cart was more like a wheelbarrow with a chair propped up on it. Mui was still the executioner then. He fired the Bergmann gun which sent five bullets into the back of Jareon’s heart, killing him instantly. At 5pm it was Somsak’s turn and he was wheeled off to a similar fate. Piek never looked frightened or troubled, even when Somsak was taken away. He continued to chat as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Finally at 5.30pm I got him into the cart. As I pushed him down the path he burst into song again, singing ‘Pee Boon Noi’ (I’m Unlucky) to us officers. One of the officers asked Piek if he would appear to him in a dream and give him the lottery numbers. This is a Thai belief; when someone you know dies they can visit you in your dreams and pass on useful information like the lotto numbers which is a serious business in Thailand. There are all sorts of monks and gurus who claim they can help you with lotto numbers and as a result they can count big gamblers among their many followers.

Piek told my colleague that he would help him out in exchange for the officer making a merit for him. The prisoner waved gaily at all he passed and just before I pushed him into the room he asked us all to look after his friends who were serving life sentences—we were to give his mattress to Jare his cell-mate. Like the two before him, five bullets were used to kill him. He had amazed me with his attitude. His execution was probably the easiest that I had ever been involved with. It was the only time that I asked a condemned man if he really did commit the crimes he was charged with, which proves how relaxed he looked to me. I felt that he knew his chosen life style was always going to bring him to this point, and so here it was—pay-back time. He had become addicted to playing god with other peoples’ lives but it was always going to end badly for him. He was happy to go; it was only fair after all he had gotten away with. But don’t get me wrong, I didn’t admire him for it.

Both Piek and Somsak were only 26 years old when they were executed. They could have lived their lives differently and make their parents proud. I didn’t feel sorry for them, they had committed terrible crimes—36 people were dead because of them. What they did to that poor librarian and her boyfriend was horrific. They were pure evil. I believe there are truly bad people who can never be cured of their desire to do depraved things. I don’t think prison will make them any better than they are, and yes, I believe this type of person deserves to die.

Chapter 7

My career went from strength to strength and soon I had become an experienced officer. I had seen death up close, and learned to deal with it, how best to help carry out the cold and calculated executions. It was the way to get the job done. I didn’t think about the condemned that much, and I didn’t pity them. They were just as cold and pitiless when they took the lives of the innocent.

31 May 1972.

The bus-stop in front of the Olympia building on Rama IV Road, Bangkok.

The number 76 bus stopped and there was the hustle and bustle of people getting off and on. Three men watched one well-dressed woman laden down with bags as she jostled to get on the bus. Sanong Phobang slipped his hand into her handbag and tried to grab some money. As she was about to step on to the bus, two men, Thanoochai Montriwat and Jumnian Jantra, pressed against her on either side. Jumnian nodded at Sanong Phobang, who proceeded, from behind, to open up one of her other bags. Suddenly a male passenger shouted from the bus;

‘You’re being pick pocketed,’ and pointed to Sanong. The three men were furious and Sanong roared at the other two:

‘GET HIM!’

Jumnian attempted to climb up the window of the bus but the driver had started to accelerate away from the stop. Unfortunately the three men were able to jump on the back and charged upstairs. The bus stopped 200 metres down the road at the Sala Daeng Junction. Jumnian ran to the front of the bus to prevent the passenger, Boonyarid, from getting off. Sanong followed him and then removed a small knife from Jumnian’s back pocket. He brandished the knife over the heads of the frightened passengers as he closed in on Boonyarid who sat petrified in his seat. Then, understandably, it got too much for him and he decided to make a run for it. With his eyes on the knife in Sanong’s hand he raced to the front where he was duly grabbed by Jumnian who held him by the collar, allowing Sanong to stab him once in the chest. Even as Boonyarid was falling to the ground the three men had jumped off the bus and ran, not one passenger hampering their escape in any way.

Thanks to the amount of witnesses the three men were arrested within a fortnight, over three consecutive days. Jumnian, Thanoochai (or Daengyik) and Sanong were caught respectively on the 8, 9 and 10 June. They confessed that they and other groups had targeted bus passengers as they got on or off a bus, and they also admitted to beating up, even killing, anyone who told on them.

While they were being investigated in custody two passengers from another bus came forward with fresh allegations. At 6pm, 28 April 1972, the three suspects had been on the number 18 bus attempting to pick pocket a Thai-Chinese woman. Her husband, Sanan, spotted what they were up to and gently chided them saying, ‘Brothers you can’t do this.’ Again the robbers responded with rage. Sanan had been standing downstairs with his wife near the door. One of the men grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him off the bus and on to the road side where they all started to thrash him. Somehow Sanan managed to get to his feet and started running down the street with the three in angry pursuit. He hadn’t got a chance—they soon caught up with him and stabbed him. He collapsed and died in front of a restaurant near Soi Phayanark.

Thongyoo Gerddee was on the bus and witnessed the whole episode while Prom Yimprasert told the police that she recognized the three as soon as she saw their photographs in the newspaper. They had been standing with her and her husband at the bus-stop before the number 18 appeared.

The three men denied murdering Sanan. Jumnian did admit that he had been previously arrested and charged with stealing and assault. Thanoochai admitted that he had served a prison sentence of one year and four months for stealing and knowingly buying stolen goods. Sanong admitted that he had been previously arresting for stealing. However, all of this confessing did not save them. The prison received a summary execution order from General Thanom Kittikajorn on 19 June which said that their repeat offences showed the men to be inordinately cruel and beyond respecting the law, therefore they must be punished by execution. That was how I got to know them.

The men were being held at Lumpini station and the police there had them on suicide watch. They were each in a cell of their own with their own officer who stayed with them 24 hours. They were allowed no contact with the world outside before the announcement—no visitors, no newspapers and no pencil and paper. They kidded with one another, flicking rubber bands through their bars.

Sanong grew cocky and told the police man who was guarding him; ‘Since we are about to leave here I want to level with you bro. I have pick pocketed over a hundred times.’ The guard replied by asking him how many men he had killed. Sanong’s face darkened and he ignored the question. He turned away from the guard and said: ‘The worse case scenario is that I’ll be jailed for 20 years, but if I behave and receive a pardon I’ll be out in no time.’

At noon on the day of the execution a crowd gathered outside the police station. The officers were distracted with trying to keep order, which allowed Sanong’s wife, Somkid Lareuang, and her aunt Jumpee Chanamit to sneak in to find Sanong in his cell. Sanong was agitated when he saw them. The three prisoners could hear the crowd and the noise and it made them nervous. Sanong asked them what was going on outside. Jumpee told him that it was just some people having trouble with the police. He told his aunt to help Somkid bring up their son and give him a good education. They were interrupted by an officer who ordered the women to leave the station. Jumpee broke down in tears and had to be helped out by her niece. Sanong called after them not to worry, that a 20 year sentence was the worst that could happen.

A few hours later, at 3pm, officers marched into the three cells and handcuffed the men before escorting them outside to three separate police cars. The men looked visibly frightened now and Thanoochai’s voice shook as he asked an officer where they were being taken to. The officer refused to answer him or even look at him, which told the men all they needed to know. They paled and Jumnian’s legs went from under him. He and the others were held up by their arms and led out to the cars. There were six police officers for each prisoner and car. The leading car in the convoy sounded its siren while police jeeps brought up the rear.

At 3.30pm the convoy stopped at Wat Larnboonna Junction on Ngamwongwan Road. The car that held Jumnian had broken down. Jumnian had also fainted again and had to be carried to another car. He fainted again in the five minutes that it took to reach the prison. At 3.35pm the convoy reached the prison gates. Superintendent Slab Visutthimuk ordered the execution team to make the necessary preparations. Mui had already left for his dormitory and had to be quickly summoned back. The prison had provided him with a room and it wasn’t too far away. At 3.40pm the prisoners were escorted by police officers and prison staff to the security tower. They were joined there by the Chaplain who read them Buddha’s words. Sanong, who was Islamic, asked the monk to do an Islamic ritual while Thanoonchai and Jumnian looked on miserably.

An officer brought them three glasses of iced water which the men ignored. After the Chaplain had finished the prisoners were offered paper and pencils to write to their families. Juminian wrote:

‘Don’t follow in my footsteps. I have to pay now for all that I have done. I hope you stay well and happy.’

Thanoonchai wrote to his mother: ‘I didn’t know what was happening. I wish I could see you now. Please take care of my children and my wife.’

Sanong wrote one line to his family: ‘Goodbye, I have to pay for my sins now.’

The Superintendent read out the summary execution to the seated men. Suddenly it hit the three of them that this was it. Thanoochai fell out of his chair and screamed for mercy.

‘Please don’t kill me sir. Let me see my mother first, she knows people, let her help me, please let me see her!’

The prisoners hugged each other and cried like children.

Mui cycled into the prison at 3.50pm and headed to the execution room to check on the gun. Finally at 5.25pm the other escort and myself led Jumnian out of the tower and over to the execution room. Nobody spoke. I think I half expected him to faint but he didn’t. He had resigned himself to his fate and was like ‘a dead man walking’. We had blindfolded him at the gazebo and when we reached the room we firmly secured him to the cross. The screen was pulled forward, and the gun adjuster, Sawaeng Puangsoodrak, stepped back from the gun to let Mui take his place. Mui readied himself over the Bergmann and waited for the flag to drop. He fired one shot, which sent eight bullets into Jumnian’s back. He died instantly.

I headed back with the other escort to collect Thanoochai. He blanched when he saw us but didn’t try to resist as we brought him out of the tower. However, all hell broke out at the execution room. He shocked me by suddenly tearing off the blindfold and shouting out for his mother. He kept insisting that his mother be allowed to see him as she could save him because of who she knows, and implored us not to kill him. All the time he was shouting his pleas his eyes roved around wildly searching for his mother but of course she wasn’t there. She was probably in her kitchen praying for him. The staff just stood there staring at him in horror. He really seemed to think his mother was going to appear and save him.

Then he remembered his friend who had gone before him and began to call out for Jumnian.

‘Nian! Are you in there? Answer me man. Do you hear me? Answer me you asshole. Are you dead? Why don’t you answer me?’

The silence was almost cruel, as if he was being taunted in his madness on top of everything else. I briefly wondered if some fool had told him something to get his hopes up—just tell the officers that your mother knows some government official and they will have to stop the execution. A split second passed and Thanoochai realised that Jumnian would never reply to his shouts, followed by the realisation that it was also too late for him. He crumpled to the floor in front of the execution room, surrounded by staff, and began to cry quietly. I had to do something. I signalled the other escort and we helped him to his feet. All his fight had gone now, but he still had not lost hope. As we half dragged, half carried him into the room, he still called out for his mother;

‘Please help me Mom, please help me.’

It was tough to witness, but we had a job to do, with another execution still to be done. That was all I could allow myself to think about—we had orders and orders have to be obeyed. Also I was very aware that we were being watched by our superiors and their superiors. Thanoochai started to struggle when we got to the cross and I had to think quickly. It would be better for all of us, not least of all him, to get this over with as fast as possible. I grabbed my handkerchief out of my back pocket and shoved it into his mouth. I didn’t want to add further to his or our distress so I didn’t want to put him in a head lock or handcuff him. He became enraged and fell to the floor once more, rolling around trying to dodge us. It took four of us to get him standing in front of the cross again. Then I pushed my knee into his back to force him against the cross so that we could bind him to it. One guy tied his hands up around the cross; another guy tied his waist while the other escort and I tried to stop his squirming. Only when he was completely secure did he finally shut up.

At 5.40pm Mui fired 12 bullets into Thanoochai.

I was glad to be able to leave the room with the other guard to pick up Sanong. The couple of seconds of fresh air was like a balm to my aching head. Sanong didn’t give us any trouble at all. He walked obediently into the execution room, his head bowed by the guilt for his past actions. He didn’t acknowledge anyone or look for sympathy. It took just seconds to tie him to the cross. He died at 5.57pm from 12 bullets.

By the time Sanong’s body had been removed to the morgue, the room stank of blood, sweat and gun powder. There was a lot of blood from each of the men all over the floor and the sand bags. Unfortunately the floor is never cleaned immediately after a shooting. Sand is just thrown down to blot up the puddles and left there overnight for the inmates, who are in charge of the room, to tidy up the following morning.

***

We were all emotionally drained and were more than glad when our shift was over that day. To alleviate tension, or guilt, a few of us went for a drink afterwards. Mui, as usual, was long gone. He always left immediately after the prisoner was confirmed dead. Thanoochai’s outburst dominated the conversation. We agreed that his reaction was completely understandable and natural—everyone is afraid of dying. Some of the men wondered why we didn’t see more convicts crack up in the execution room. After a while we moved on to other things. Some of the men believed the execution room to be full of ghosts. More than once officers had gone in to investigate noises or were convinced that there were a couple of people walking around the room, only to find it empty. One of the guys needed to grab forty winks a while back and had sat down to take a nap outside the room. He slept soundly until he was woken up by someone, who wasn’t there.

Early the following morning Thanoochai’s mother arrived to pick up her son’s body. She asked to see the head of the custody section, Prayad Loharatana. She told him that her son appeared in her dreams the previous night and told her that he had lost his shoes. The chief summoned me and told me to take care of her. She was trembling and pale and I asked her how I could help her.

She replied: ‘Officer, I dreamt about my son last night. He was crying and when I asked him why he didn’t answer. He just stood there and then blood started to ooze out of every part of his body.’

She broke down and sobbed at this and I just kept patting her on the arm until she was able to speak again.

‘He told me he lost his shoes and asked me to get them back. He just kept repeating that. I don’t really understand but I’m afraid he won’t be able to rest in peace, which is why I need your help.’

I assured her that I would help in any way that I could and that I would be in touch. I asked the inmates who were in charge of removing the shackles from the prisoners after death, cleaning the body and putting it into the coffin. The bodies were kept in the Buddhist temple where they were collected by the relatives. Sure enough, Mhong, a former undertaker, saw Thanoochai’s shoes and fancied them for himself. Since Thanoochai wasn’t an inmate of Bang Kwang his shoes were much nicer and in better condition. Normally the dead inmates’ shoes would just be discarded but Mhong thought that would be a terrible waste. He took them, cleaned them thoroughly and left them out to dry in the sun.