A Secret History of the Bangkok Hilton

by Chavoret Jaruboon

  Living together as a family turned out to be a difficult transition for the three of us. Nok and I fought a lot during the first few months. I guess it was because we felt estranged from each other. Nok is not the woman I used to know and love and I’m sure she feels the same way about me. Anyone jailed for as long as we were surely would come out impaired in some way.

  Things are better now. The relationship between Nok and me is platonic and we agree that it’s the best way for us to be together. Pin and I work while Nok does some household chores. Nok enjoys her morning routine of selecting an outfit for Pin very much and Pin likes to snuggle on her mother’s lap sometimes. I guess we can pass for an ordinary family of three.

  When talking to other people, I am sometimes bothered by thoughts that I might do or say something inappropriate or expose my past. Nok doesn’t talk much about what she has been through but her keeping quiet about it is a form of remembering.

  Apparently she wholeheartedly believes her 20 years in jail were justified and brought on by a transgression she had committed in her past life—the same nonsense that that doctor told me. For me, using karma to justify our ordeal is absurd. Amnat and his team framed us and we each wasted the prime years of our lives because of them. It is that simple.

  Nok is still adjusting, coping with irrational anxiety and forgetfulness. She can’t be outside late at night and rarely leaves the house on her own. We tried to fix this once with a stroll at a Tesco-Lotus store one evening. At about 9pm, she suddenly pleaded with me in tears to take her home or else something bad would happen to her. Pin and I looked at each other in confusion but we obliged to avoid making a scene.

  Signs of her problems became evident a long time ago. After the court hearings, she didn’t stay on to chat with her relatives who came to show their support. She felt she had shamed them and just wanted to go back to the prison. I think the prison also gave her a false sense of security. She would reminisce with me about her time with a group of cellmates who are close to her. She keeps in touch with them mostly over the phone as they are busy with getting their lives back together.

  I feel my fellow inmates at Bang Kwang were more honest about their flaws than many supposedly law-abiding citizens I have met on the outside. Everywhere I look now, there are people who try to make money through dishonest means. Changes have to come from the top down. The politicians must stop exploiting the government for personal gain. Then hopefully officers in the civil service and businesspeople will follow.

  Although I try not to dwell on the past, I can’t help but wonder was Mong the unnamed informant Amnat talked about? Did he supply Amnat with our information? If so, did Amnat use it to plot against us? I’m not sure if answers to these questions would ease our pain. I never entertain myself with thoughts of receiving compensation and neither does Nok.

  To my mind, there is no way to put a price on the time lost by two people locked away in their prime. I would rather that apologies were made to those who are suffering. I know what a betrayal it is to be wronged by the officers who have taken an oath to protect and serve you.

  Amnat, who framed us, passed away some years ago. The whereabouts of his accomplices are unknown and it isn’t my concern. I no longer want revenge but I’ll never forgive them. Many things in Thailand have improved much in the past two decades but I’m afraid the same cannot be said for the justice system.

  I hope my story will remind everyone that corruption in the police force is a longstanding problem in Thailand as I’m sure it has been elsewhere. I also would like to urge Thai police to recognise what a great responsibility they have and to live up to expectations. I sincerely hope that one day the Thai people can call them pupitak santirat (keepers of public peace) with less hesitation.

  I believe no judicial system in the world is flawless, whether here or in the west. I’m against the use of the death penalty anywhere in the world for this reason. There is always a chance, no matter how slim it is, of killing an innocent person.

  Chapter 8

  Love Behind Bars

  I guess it’s true when they say people find love in the strangest places. I would like to introduce you to a Thai woman named Narisa. She is one of the few people to make it their personal mission to help the inmates at Bang Kwang. During my last years there, I saw Thais picketing in front of the prison to protest against the death penalty from time to time but Narisa has done much more. She has been visiting Thai and foreign inmates for many years. She even fell in love with one, a German called Jacomo.

  What makes her even more special is the fact that she married him. Somehow they managed to have a wedding behind bars, even though the institution’s rules do not recognise romances that bloom there. I sat down with her to talk about her union with Jacomo and what motivates her to help those the general public view as undeserving. This is her story:

  When I was a child, I used to visit Buddhist temples with my grandmother regularly. While she chatted with her friends or monks, I played with the temple boys. Although running around with them in my long skirt wasn’t easy, I had fun. I grew up in a traditional household with three sisters and we were as polite as Thai girls should be, especially in the presence of adults. However, deep down I had a side to me that one might call adventurous. I wanted to know more and to get out of my comfort zone sometimes.

  I was a little girl in 1973 when the October bloodbath took place in Bangkok. University students and others demonstrated against the dictatorship near the Democracy Monument. I despised the soldiers who opened fire, killing dozens of protesters. It shocked me to the core and I no longer thought of my country the same way.

  I graduated from university in Bangkok with a degree in English and theatre arts. My first job was as a reporter at a Japanese news bureau in the capital covering politics, the army and foreign affairs. That time opened my eyes to aspects of my country that I had been ignorant of. I learnt about self-censorship and what the media can and cannot report on in Thailand. Although press freedom was limited, I felt very alive doing my job. I travelled a lot and to places where I couldn’t have gone otherwise.

  I visited army camps at the borders. Seeing how hard these soldiers worked changed my attitude towards them. They lived in bad conditions and ran the risk of stepping on landmines. I realised how fortunate I was and felt thankful for these brave soldiers. The villagers who lived near the border literally had to run for their lives dodging bullets when armed conflict took place. My heart ached for these people who had to deal with this every day. Those who had it the worst were the Cambodian and Lao immigrants. Some of them had nothing to sleep on but the bare ground. In the rainy season, they huddled under plastic sheeting that barely kept off the rain or the strong winds.

  This humbling experience made me more acutely aware of the ugly truth about some politicians who exploited government projects for monetary gain. I couldn’t help but feel disgust when comparing the soldiers and villagers to these corrupt people. They do whatever it takes to get what they want, which is either more money or more power, or both. Their greed seems to know no bounds.

  Working as a serious journalist can make you feel frustrated at the illnesses of society. I was made aware of inconvenient truths and it made me determined to change society. There was always one question at the back of my mind: what we are here for—to step over each other for transient wealth and fame? I don’t think either wealth or fame can make a person really happy.

  For as long as I can remember, I have believed that, besides my parents, there is something else that protects and helps me. I didn’t know what it was but I wanted to find out. I refused to think of life as a cycle of birth, study, work, marriage, ageing and death. Life had to be more than that, I thought.

  The chance for change came to me when I least expected it. On my way to a piano class, while passing through Siam Square, a little western girl said to me, ‘Would you lik
e to give a donation for love?’

  It was different from what I was used to hearing from temples where monks promise to improve everything about you in exchange for alms. I gave her a small amount and we began to talk about Jesus. Near the end of our conversation, she said she wanted to make sure that Christ would remain in my heart, so we prayed together. I forgot about the little angel until I received a letter from her. Soon after, I met with her missionary mother, who said to me, ‘Are you looking for freedom?’

  Her question struck a chord with me and she gave me a Bible. I was familiar with some of biblical verses from reading the works of William Shakespeare but none had left any real impression on me. Then while reading the Bible I found this, ‘Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty.’ Continuing slowly and attentively, I rediscovered what I had felt as a child: that something protects me besides my parents. That something is God and this realisation set me free from all my fears now that I knew where I had begun and where I would end. I believe God guides and has predestined my life.

  I decided to quit journalism to start a new life that would be spent caring for others. People who knew me were shocked because I was doing well at work but I don’t regret my choice at all. I joined a missionary group and it was an experience no amount of money could buy.

  As a full-time volunteer, I met troubled people from every walk of life, each with their own set of problem. They all seemed to yearn for the same thing: love from their loved ones or just from another human being.

  I realised that if I wished to change society, I had to be that change myself. After all, I have full control only over what I do. I think if I can inspire another person for the better, then it is worth it. You can never know how many lives will be changed by one good example.

  I became good friends with Susan ‘Dusty’ Aldous, an Australian co-worker, and we gave ourselves the nicknames Salt and Pepper. Together we worked with Thai officers from government agencies. We complemented each other really well. She is a westerner who can speak and read Thai and I am a Thai who can speak English. Our presence made people we worked with feel comfortable. We worked with youths at a drug rehabilitation centre in Pattaya, with school students and women who had escaped human trafficking.

  Once we were filmed by a television station and after that Kru Noi or Nuannoi Timkul, who works with underprivileged children, asked us to help out at her centre. We collected toys, dried food, rice and snacks for the children and gave centre a spring clean as well. The kids helped to repaint the place with us and we had great fun.

  Eventually I visited Bang Kwang with Dusty. She had been asked by a friend to visit an American inmate and I decided to tag along. The very name conjures up fear in people’s minds and Bang Kwang prisoners are perceived to be the worst kind of criminals. At first, I didn’t know what to talk about to them, for fear of making them feel awkward. However, it didn’t take me long to realise that they are human beings too. I don’t think we should ostracise them forever because of the mistakes they made.

  Papa Joe, an African-American, was the first inmate I befriended. He was later transferred to Klong Prem Prison in Bangkok. I knew some Mexican inmates there and we urged them to take good care of him. He served time there for a while before being sent back to America. He did a few months in a US prison before he was released. I never heard from him again.

  Some inmates were abrupt at first but when I saw improvements in them because of my persistence it was worth it.

  During our first weeks, the guards neither smiled nor talked to us. I think they acted coldly towards us because they didn’t know who we were or about the work we had done before. They probably thought we were spying on them to report their misconduct or something. I guess it was hard for them to understand why we had chosen to help the inmates. We gave the guards due courtesy and followed the rules in the hopes of being on friendly terms with them. Eventually I gave up trying to be nice and that was when an official asked me if I was feeling all right because I was very quiet that day. Then I knew we had won them over but they were too proud to come across as too friendly with outsiders.

  Once they had got used to us, we started to help the officers to communicate with the families of foreign inmates who came to visit. Most prison guards cannot speak English and this causes misunderstandings between them and the visiting families. Often they are seen as rude and unhelpful. We became unofficial interpreters at the prison, informing the families about prison regulations and protocols.

  While Dusty organised projects, such as giving glasses to elderly inmates and making improvements at the prison hospital with help from the authorities, I focused on visiting prisoners and providing interpretation. I also volunteered to be a co-ordinator between foreign inmates, their families and the embassies. The embassy staff didn’t visit prisoners as often as I did so it benefited all sides that I acted as a messenger.

  When I started going to the prisons, I was allowed to visit different inmates. In my opinion, the westerners are treated better than the Thais. There are many accounts of guards beating Asians while westerners are unlikely to become their targets because they have embassies to protect them.

  I was unfortunate enough to come into conflict with a guard who is known for being mean to the inmates and for not getting on with his younger colleagues. He said I had used a room reserved for embassy staff to visit a Polish man without permission. In fact, I had been asked by a representative of his embassy to talk to him so I had the right to use that room. The guard went on to lie that I had used the room to talk with Jacomo and had me banned me from the prison.

  I found out about his accusation when an officer handed me a paper to sign which stated that I had violated prison regulations by using the embassy room. I told him there was no way I would dignify the false accusation with my signature. I said, ‘May I ask if any of the officials who put their names to this serious accusation against me had verified it? If it is untrue, these officials will be liable for being false witnesses. Please take it back.’

  Jacomo was asked to sign a similar statement but he refused to do so. The officers never mentioned it again.

  I never thought Jacomo and I would develop a romantic relationship but if God hadn’t wanted us to be together, he wouldn’t have allowed us to get married inside the prison. I didn’t want to wait until Jacomo was free because that would be too long. More importantly, making our union legal makes it easier for me to represent him. It never crossed my mind that he might be using me. We decided to get married because it is what two people do when they love each other. Even though we haven’t known each other long or had physical contact, our feelings are real and mutual.

  ‘Don’t marry the person you can live with but marry the person you can’t live without’ pretty much sums up my feelings about him. Thank God the warden of the prison is open-minded and kind. Not only did he give us permission but he also gave us a blessing. It was the first time in Bang Kwang history’s that an inmate on death row had got married inside. I joked that Jacomo was a Dead Man Marrying.

  Jacomo is an honest, straightforward person and I think that is what landed him in Bang Kwang. He was living in Chiang Mai, where he ran a brick manufacturing firm, when he was arrested for murder.

  A Swiss friend, who was leaving the country, asked Jacomo to let another Swiss man stay with him. Jacomo was reluctant to do so as that man had a record of substance abuse. Eventually he agreed to put him up at his office, which was near his house. He didn’t pay much heed to the guest and allowed him to come and go as he pleased.

  There had been a fire at the office and it was being repainted. Early one morning, the painter called Jacomo over the fence of his house, saying there was something wrong with his guest. One of Jacomo’s feet had got burnt during the fire so he picked up his aluminium cane for support and went to the office. There he found the Swiss man curled up in a ball on the floor. He thought the ma
n was drunk and had passed out so he tried to wake him up to tell him to go to sleep in his bedroom.

  It turned out that he was dead. Jacomo called a Thai lawyer friend who suggested he call the police. He asked his friend to do it for him because he could’t speak Thai. After the police had investigated the scene, he went to the station to give his report and then went home.

  Two days later, he went to the police station to ask what he should do next and about the process of investigation. The police left him waiting until 10pm and then arrested him for murder.

  Of course, he was beaten during the infamous police ‘investigation’ procedures. There is no need to ask whether they demanded money from him and threatened him with all sorts of violence either. As a Thai, I’ve heard these stories too many times before. It is impossible that different people could come up with so many similar accounts of police brutality.

  At the time Jacomo had a casual girlfriend called Duang, who also worked for him. What he did not know was that she was seeing a policeman at the same time. She had told him the policeman was her brother. At the station, that policemen pointed his pistol at Jacomo’s forehead and tried to force him to confess to a crime he hadn’t committed. While Jacomo was in police custody the girl stole from his home.

  After being beaten up, he was left with a black eye and a broken nose. His Thai lawyer couldn’t do much to help him because he was under tremendous pressure from the local police. Jacomo had very few witnesses to testify in his favour. Some witnesses were bought off and turned against him. The few who spoke for him were threatened and one was killed. His embassy wasn’t helpful and just kept telling him not to worry.