by CW Ullman
“Besides what he did to me, he killed the men who rescued me, then he raped Binh and Ha and shot them,” My Ling fumed.
“I get it, My Ling, you’re preaching to the choir, but that’s not the law. You have to mount a defense for what you did and justify it. If you run with the idea that he was a horrible person and should have died, they’re going to ask you one question.” He waited for her to compose herself.
“Why did I not go to the police?” My Ling answered.
“Exactly, and what are you going to say?” Somchai inquired.
She was fuming still as she mulled over an answer. “I thought he was going to kill me?” she offered.
“No, you were holding a .45 and he was unarmed. You thought if you let him live he would do to another girl what he had done to you and to the others,” Somchai explained. “You were trying to defend other girls, knowing his propensity for violence. You were acting in self-defense of future victims.”
“Do you think that’s going to work?” she asked.
“Do you have a better idea?”
Being imprisoned in jail with Somchai asking questions was starting to annoy her. She hated being locked up because it reminded her of the hold in the pirate’s ship. Listening to Somchai made her feel hopeless about the case and that the walls were closing in on her. She doubted the judge would believe her defense. It was obvious why she killed Montri, he was vermin and anybody in their right mind would have put a gun to his head Yes, it was retaliation, it was revenge, and she wanted to scream that. His blood was on her hands and she was proud of it.
“This is what you wanted. The time for cold feet has passed,” Somchai stated.
My Ling now worried she would never be able to tell her tale, and it was the telling of the full story that would put the burden on the government to correct the problems. If she won her case, the government would be virtually sanctioning the killing of men like Montri. If she were convicted after describing the horror of the entire experience, that injustice would resonate with the women. But would women push for reform? She was counting on women to ignite native people to fight for greater representation in the government. She was hoping for a lot and now wondered if it might be entirely too much.
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Thanh did not know how long five hundred thousand people were going to remain peaceful. The planning committee was doing everything they could to make sure that basic needs were met. Every day the committee was able to feed anyone who wanted to eat, thanks mostly to the Oklahomans and the Beach Rotary Club for organizing the food lines. The money donated from American friends of Charlie Palmer’s high school classmates from Cascia Hall Prep School provided the funds that were essential to the operation. Mike Wellington wanted to go home to Tulsa, but he was needed to keep things working properly. The Knights of the Fire Ring who planned to provide security for My Ling, instead found themselves manning the food stations, working the first aid tent, and helping mothers with babies.
Only Charlie had any prior experience with crowds of this size. When he was in the ashram, they had coordinated a festival for Guru Ji at the Houston Astrodome. Fifty thousand people came from all over America, Europe, Canada, Japan, and India. They had to provide three meals a day for five days. It was Charlie’s job to learn the most efficient way to feed the crowd. To prepare, Charlie researched several large organizations including the military, universities, government relief agencies, and the Red Cross. However, the most efficient organization was the Jehovah Witnesses. For over seventy years, they had held meetings where fifty thousand or more people would congregate. Charlie learned how to order the food, what to cook, and the number of tables, lines, and servers needed.
What made all of this work was the camaraderie that ran through the crowd and the servers. There were always enough tribe’s people who wanted to volunteer, no matter what the task. When Mike Wellington looked like he was going to pass out from heat exhaustion, Pear tribal women fanned him and put cold compresses on the back of his neck. Still, it was a culture shock for everyone who was from the United States.
“I just saw a guy take a shit in the middle of the street,” Ronnie informed Carlos.
“Was it Rusty?” Carlos chuckled.
Gaston found the older members in the crowd who had been in Southeast Asia when it was a French colony. He was able to speak French with elder Hmong, Montagnards, Mani, and relay requests to the committee and orders back to the leaders.
However, Thanh was aware of restlessness in the crowd, and did not know what to do about it until he had a casual conversation with the Americans.
Ronnie said, “The only time you can get this many people together and not have a riot is at a rock festival, like Woodstock.”
That was all Thanh needed to hear. He decided to move the crowd to acreage owned by the Catholic nuns and asked Little My Ling to speak and suggest some of the tribes perform musically. After the one o’clock meal, the crowd moved to Assumption University. Once they were assembled on the large field, a Buddhist monk opened the gathering with a prayer as Buddhism was the national religion. After the prayer, Somchai addressed the throng.
“I have just come from Tiger Girl and she sends you her love,” Somchai said into the microphone as it echoed across the field. The declaration caused a roar to rise from the crowd.
Within the throng of people were undercover police from the interior department, which had jurisdiction over the Thai police. They listed everyone who appeared onstage and recorded whatever was said. It was the first time anyone in authority had heard My Ling referred to as Tiger Girl. When the police chief heard the name, he surmised it was some kind of code, while the prime minister thought it was the name for a new political party. However, the chief and the prime minister both believed Somchai Neelaphaijit was behind whatever it was. He had been a pain to the authorities for years. His advocacy for rape victims and the abused Muslim minority were a constant source of litigation for the government. While he worked for his client’s freedom, he was viewed by the government as a subversive.
“Tiger Girl looks forward to her day in court so she can tell the full story.” Somchai continued, “It is the same story so many of you have suffered. It is the story that is still happening to young girls everywhere. Soon the whole world will hear that story.”
The next person to the microphone was the Pear tribe leader who had started the drum call in Cambodia. He stood still for two minutes with his arms raised over his head as everyone who had a drum drew it close. Earlier in the day, the nuns had invited the Buddhist to bring their mega drums and they too stood with arms raised, staring at the tribesman. The leader beat the drum and was joined on the next round by the others. The collective sound went on and on until the entire population of Bangkok leaned out the windows of their homes, businesses, and cars, or stood on their front lawns and listened to the rhythmic sonic booms.
After a half hour of steady drumming, they finished and cheered again. Then a small Vietnamese teenager came to the microphone and announced, “I am the daughter of Colonel Cin.” The audience gave a fifteen-minute standing ovation and when they quieted, Little My Ling said, “My name… is Tiger Cub,” which started fifteen more minutes of cheering.
When the police chief heard the names Colonel Cin and Tiger Cub he was convinced this was coded meant to disguise some kind of subterfuge. He would be on the lookout for a military invasion. He told the prime minister that the borders would need extra security in order to turn back military convoys ramming the roadblocks. He did not realize he had already been invaded.
“We have come here for my mother’s trial and we will stay until justice is served,” Little My Ling encouraged. “We are here in peace. We are here for Tiger Girl.”
Another extended cheer echoed loud enough to be heard throughout Bangkok.
“We come not to receive anything, but to give something. We come to share what we know, what we’ve learned, and what we can contribute,” Little My Ling intoned. Thanh, standing of
f in the wings, was surprised by her command.
“We know something that many people have forgotten: that life is filled with blessings. We come from the mountains as Degar.”
A small cheer went up from the group of Montagnards.
“We come from the river lands as Pear,” and another small cheer was elicited.
“We come from the forests, jungles and hills as Mani,” and because the Thai Mani were the largest tribe present, a louder cheer was voiced.
“We come to remind our friends in other countries who don’t look like us that laws need to protect us all.” Then after a long pause, Little My Ling finished with a full-throated shout, “All!”
The crowd stood and roared.
When the throng sat back down, she continued, “We are not asking for anything and we are not demanding anything, because in our long, proud histories we have never done that. We are here just to remind everyone that when we protect our children, we protect our blessings.”
“Buddha once said ‘We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves. We are the shadow of joy that has always been here.”
She paused for an extended time then announced, “And we will never leave.”
Her last words brought the crowd to their feet echoing her last words. The unified voice repeated over and over, “We will never leave.”
The chief of police who snuck into the crowd to get a sense of what was happening, felt threatened by the repeated slogan, “We will never leave.” His immediate thought was his police force had to break up the crowd by any means necessary and that the body count may stretch into the triple digits. He wanted control over this movement. Now was not the time to do it, but the next time they assembled, they would feel the full force of the Thai National Police.
The following day the headlines in Thai Rath, the Daily News, Khao Sod, and The Bangkok Post were “We Will Never Leave.” A picture of Little My Ling was on the front page of every newspaper followed by the question “Who is Tiger Cub?”
There was a dizzying array of misinformation. Depending upon the political stance of the paper, she was rumored to be a plant by communists, the Americans, the feminists, the Red Shirts, or the native Southeast Asians. No one on My Ling’s planning committee was prepared for the reaction Little My Ling’s speech would cause to the population of Bangkok. The impact of her talk resonated mostly with college students who left their classes to swell the crowds by another 150,000. The everyday working citizens were divided: men dismissed Little My Ling as a radical, while women were intrigued by what she had to say.
All of the attention that Tiger Cub had garnered was overshadowed the next morning by the release of her mother on bail of a million baht.
She stood outside the jail house and gave an interview to a handful of reporters.
“I want to thank the Thai Police for their good treatment of me while I was under arrest. I have nothing to say right now about my pending trial. However, tonight I will at Assumption University when I address my supporters,” My Ling related.
The reporters in attendance shouted questions: Who was she? Who was Tiger Cub? Where was My Ling from? Was she a communist? A feminist? Would she run for office? Was she being treated fairly? One of the tabloids asked if she was seeing anyone. She stepped into a car with Somchai and sped off.
In the car was also Little My Ling who just wanted to sit next to her mother and hold her hand. Thanh, Rusty, Charlie, and the publicist were also there.
“I heard you were a big hit,” My Ling kidded Little My Ling.
“Me?” Little My Ling faked shock.
My Ling rolled her eyes, “That’s what I’m afraid of. I want you to talk tonight before I address the people. Can you do that?”
Little My Ling brought a laugh to the others when she feigned shyness, “I don’t know, Mother. I’m not very good at giving speeches.”
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The conversation the chief of police was having in the prime minister’s office was much different.
“Tonight when they have their peace love-in, we’re going to run them out of the city!” the chief stated emphatically.
“That piece of crap Neelaphaijit…I’m telling you, he’s behind it,” the prime minister fumed.
“We’ll deal with him after the trial. But, nobody comes into my city and says they’re never leaving,” the chief threatened. “Screw that.”
“What do you have planned?” inquired the prime minister.
“After the speeches start, we’ll have men in civilian clothes in the crowd. They’ll start a disturbance, and we’ll have to respond. We’ll turn off the lights, speakers, break up the crowd, and arrest some jungle people for inciting violence,” the chief stated.
“I don’t want the attorney arrested; it’ll give him martyr status,” the prime minister countered.
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Chief Biwer called a meeting to discuss that night’s assembly. He worried there would be the chance for some home-grown trouble and wanted to inform the Americans. Thanh did not know how to prevent it, but My Ling thought she might have an idea and called tribal leaders into a tent to discuss it.
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“Spud, what do you think,” Mike Wellington asked, while looking at the night’s sea of people.
“It’s April and shit always blows up for me in April,” Charlie offered glumly.
“You noticed the cops?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, it seems excessive,” Charlie added. “Chief Biwer is out in the crowd with some village leaders trying to head off any problems.”
“Think it’ll work?” Mike wondered, making Charlie shrug.
After the sound check, My Ling surprised everyone by stepping to the microphone first. Chief Biwer walked through the seated crowd of over a million people spread throughout the field and up the grassy inclines of the bowl-shaped area. Ringing the whole assembly was a contingent of four thousand police outfitted in riot gear, spaced yards apart, prepared to wade into the multitude. On the roads leading to Assumption University were lines of police vehicles with another thousand officers waiting to descend.
My Ling offered appreciation, “I want to thank the Thai National Police for coming to our meeting tonight, to keep us safe.”
When she said the word “safe,” ten thousand people stood up and walked to the perimeter of the assembly. When they got to the edge of the crowd where the police stood, they collected in groups of two and three, and positioned themselves ten feet from each officer. These people in front of the officers were all girls between the ages of five and seven.
“We want to introduce our daughters to you,” My Ling announced.
For the next few moments the girls said their names in their native language. Earlier in the day they learned to recite “Welcome. Thank you for coming” in Siamese.
“These girls all have mothers,” My Ling’s voice echoed over the assembly.
At the word “mothers” ten thousand women rose up and walked to the perimeter, where they stood next to the girls. Roaming the crowd, Chief Biwer and a contingent of other spotters identified potential instigators and surrounded them with mothers who carried babies in slings, strung across their chests. The women standing on the perimeter also had baby slings and took the babies into their arms and stepped closer to the police.
“These are our babies, our daughters, and our mothers,” My Ling intoned. “We know that you are here to keep us safe from anyone who means to do us harm. Should anything happen to us, we know you will safeguard our littlest ones.”
“Ones” was the signal for the mothers to pull blankets from their slings, lay them at the policemen’s feet and place their babies on the blankets. The police instinctively backed up and looked at each other for clues as to what to do. The instigators in the crowd were surrounded by mothers with babies and could not start any brawls. Every newspaper daily was there snapping pictures. The television cameras filmed smiling children, smiling mothe
rs, and crying babies. One of the camera crews filmed policemen begging mothers to retrieve their crying infants.
The Thai police chief gave the signal for the instigators to start fights, but nothing happened. He left the vehicle to see why his orders were being disobeyed. When he arrived at the crowd, he saw the cordon of girls, infants, mothers, and roving camera crews. He recognized American actresses he had seen on movie screens and even more significantly, he received walkie-talkie messages from one of the instigators in the crowd, that Princess Bajrakitiyabha from the royal family, dubbed Princess Patty by the press, was in attendance.
As frustrated as the Thai police chief was, he was collected enough to know the political fallout from a full scale melee that would clearly be seen as initiated by his men. He gave the order for his men to stand down and promised himself to get rid of Neelaphaijit when the trial was over.
My Ling thanked the police, the chief of police, the mayor of Bangkok, the prime minister of Thailand, and the king. She welcomed the women from the royal family and turned the microphone over to Little My Ling. Her talk lasted for fifteen minutes and then she ceded the microphone to her mother who explained why she had come back to Thailand to face murder charges.
My Ling’s artifice was one of help. She wanted to help Thailand protect its women and children. She wanted to help Thailand take advantage of what the native populations could offer if they were allowed better representation in government. She wanted to help the judiciary see that an uneven application of the law created a frustrated population. She wanted to help the democratically elected Thai government understand that concentrating power in the hands of a few silences the voices of many creating resentment.
“We have come here to help our brothers and sisters who through no fault of their own might forget about us, the people who love to work; that love to clean houses, pick up trash, work the fields, sew clothing, cut the lawns and maintain the sewers.” My Ling continued. “We are your joyful shadows and in two days we want to celebrate the great country we live in.”
