by CW Ullman
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“I cannot go with you,” the ambassador stated. “I will be in the crowd, but if I’m onstage, it will appear as though the U.S. Government is meddling in Thai politics. If it gets out of control, I’ve ordered the Marines, who’ll be dressed in civilian clothes, to bring you back here. They have worked out the logistics with Thanh.”
Little My Ling met with the planning committee, “Knights of the Fire Ring, you don’t have to go tonight -.”
Rusty spoke for the group, “Wherever you go, we’re there.”
She looked at Thanh, who said, “Forget it. You’re my brother’s daughter and you’re almost as big a pain in the ass as he was. Save your breath.”
At seven o’clock, the entire contingent left the embassy compound. When they stepped into the street, they were surprised to see so many ethnic Thai walking with the native Mani towards Assumption University. As the committee walked, they tried to stay incognito. Thanh overheard the conversation of some of the people.
“Did you see on TV? They’re expecting two million! Do you think the princess will be there?” two women exchanged.
Once they entered the campus the crowds were enormous. They picked up bits of conversation regarding the verdict, the abused, woman empowerment, and respect. “Respect” was repeated often. The police, arrayed in riot gear with shields, ringed the crowd. The U.S. ambassador was near the stage wearing a local cricket club hat. It took the contingent an hour to get from the edge of the crowd to the stage where Little My Ling stood alongside Di.u and Dao.
“Nothing like Orange County, huh?” Little My Ling kidded the girls. “If it gets crazy, stay with the Knights.”
Di.u said, “We’re fellow-girls. We’ll be with you.”
Little My Ling asked Thanh, “Where’s Somchai?”
“Nobody has seen him since the trial,” Thanh replied.
Little My Ling walked on stage, looked at the masses stretched further than the eye could see, and thought this was the diverse crowd her mother had hoped to assemble. She wanted to exhort them to take control of their lives, give them the tools and strategies to succeed, but did not know what to say. Her mother needed to be here to lead them and that was the realization that inspired her to begin.
“My mother is not here to lead you,” Little My Ling said into the microphone, her voice echoing. “She is not going to be here to act as the head of this movement. What my mother and Colonel Cin wanted,” a large cheer went up at the mention of her father’s name, “was for you to take control of your lives. The riot yesterday was not what my parents would have wanted.
“It will never change unless we stop the commerce of this country. Mass rallies do not change things; it takes daily action to let the government know what we want.”
While she was talking, the crowd seemed distracted and people were excitedly talking. Several were listening to handheld radios.
Thanh came onstage and whispered to Little My Ling,” Come here.”
They went behind a tarp where a television had been broadcasting her talk. The screen displayed, “A Special Bulletin,” as a news anchor announced,” We are cutting away from Assumption University to His Royal Highness King Bhumibol Adulyadej.”
The king, seated at his desk, spoke, “The last few days in Bangkok have seen many riots and deaths. These riots have caused our citizens to be afraid to leave their homes, go to work, or conduct business. These riots need to stop and the people responsible for these riots will be held accountable.”
Everyone gathered backstage assumed the king was referring to them.
“This is a matter that will be taken care of later. I want to address the people of Thailand about the cause of these riots. I know that people were moved by the testimony they’ve been hearing for the last few weeks regarding abuse of children. I have asked Prime Minister Chavalit Yongchaiyudh to form a commission to study this issue. In this great country our children should be safe at all times,” the king pronounced.
“In another matter, Mrs. My Ling Nyguen was found guilty of murder and sentenced to death. Our judicial system worked perfectly and honorably. I have taken counsel from leaders and spiritual guidance from our esteemed Buddhist Otamwam regarding this conviction. After much deliberation, and with the constitutional powers granted to the Monarchy, I have decided to commute Mrs. Nyguen’s sentence to time served in jail and parole her. Tonight Mrs. Nyguen is being released from jail. She is free to go home to her family.”
The crowd’s roar of approval was deafening.
The king continued, “It has come to the attention of the government that her victim had a history of criminal conduct and would have eventually been called to answer for these deeds. While I cannot condone the killing of anyone, I feel that Mrs. Nyguen has been punished enough.”
While he spoke, the television showed My Ling being released from jail and driven off.
“I have concluded,” the king intoned, “there is no purpose served in executing this woman or keeping her incarcerated. May God bless Thailand. Good night.”
“We have to go to the embassy,” Little My Ling demanded to the jubilant planning committee.
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Judge Ukrit sat in his home watching the king’s address, drinking brandy, holding a cigarette. His wife sat next to him.
“How do you feel about being overruled by the king?” she asked.
She was surprised by his answer, “I knew he would have to pardon her. Anyone who heard Nyguen and Ly’s testimony and the sentence I handed down knew it was unjust. The king’s pardon takes the decision out of the hands of the government and it puts him in a great, benevolent light with the people.”
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The planning committee found My Ling in the ambassador’s office. They welcomed and congratulated her for beating the government. The embassy staff brought champagne and they all toasted Tiger Girl. Thirty minutes into the revelry, the ambassador called My Ling and Little My Ling into a separate chamber.
“I don’t want to rain on your parade, but you know this is over?” he said.
“No it’s not. It’s just starting,” Little My Ling exclaimed.
“No, its over,” her mother seconded.
“It is an old political ploy” the ambassador added. “When an administration wants to quell a furor over something, the head of the government, in this case the king, declares how horrible the problem is and then appoints a panel of esteemed experts or statesmen to “study it,” the ambassador said using air quotes. “They print their findings and make recommendations that never become law. The government appears to be doing something, when in effect it does nothing. They satisfy the hysteria, sending everyone home and nothing changes. It’s business as usual.”
My Ling listened and walked to one of the windows where outside the throng was still cheering.
“The king and the government are smarter than I gave them credit. The king sabotaged everything,” My Ling stated.
“No, Mother, we’ll keep trying. We’ll keep talking about it,” Little My Ling urged.
“Don’t you see what has happened? If I talk to the press I just appear ungrateful and we lose the sympathy of the people. If I wait until the commission’s report comes out, the government can hold endless hearings that lead nowhere. All the while, the people have gone back home to their lives, their routines, and the government dodges a bullet. The people think it’s a win for them, but they’ve been outsmarted…we’ve been outsmarted.”
“What are you going to do, My Ling?” The ambassador asked.
“Tonight, nothing. Tomorrow, I want to talk to the people. Can you get press to come to the embassy tonight?” My Ling asked the ambassador.
She met with reporters in the office and thanked the king for his mercy. She was asked about her future plans and she indicated she would reveal them the next night at a rally at Assumption University.
The next day’s headlines inaccurately said “King Pardons Tiger Girl!” Technically, she was still convicted of
murder, a point not lost on the ambassador, who explained, “In Thailand, she’s a convicted felon.”
The article notified the public of the night’s rally at the university.
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Backstage at the rally she asked, “Has anybody heard from Somchai?” My Ling had hope Somchai, a Thai citizen, would address the mostly Thai crowd.
Instead, My Ling took a deep breath and walked onstage. Little My Ling looked on from the wings and was stunned to see the crowd had shrunk by eighty percent. The ambassador was right: the government was so confident there was not even a police presence. Over half of the native Southeast Asians had departed for their villages and were now largely replaced by ethnic Thai. Even the ranks of Mani were largely depleted.
Di.u watched My Ling and whispered to herself, “Fellow girl.”
“We are blessed tonight,” My Ling exclaimed to the crowd who cheered her. “Because Thailand is blessed to have such a merciful king,” eliciting another extended cheer. “King Adulyadej’s kindness was extended to me as I know it will be extended to the smallest and most vulnerable amongst us. The King has been on the throne since 1946 and he has been Lord Ruler over this great country longer than any other monarch in the world. He has seen prime ministers come and go and constitutions come and go, but he loves his people through all that time.
“While those governments or constitutions have not served the people and did not take care of the children, the good king of Thailand has been here to watch over his people…and the children. Thailand has rid itself of the deaf ministers who would not listen to our cries for help; Thailand has rid itself of constitutions that did not represent the will of the people, and Thailand’s loving king has been here to watch over us.
“He has been the one constant we can count on to do the right thing, because through all the changes, upheavals, riots, scourges and abuses the people of Thailand could always rely upon the most caring majesty to look after their needs.
“There have been commissions in the past to study other problems, and once the studies were finished, those governments frequently put the findings aside. Those governments went away because they were fraudulent, but not our king who has always been here.
“We know that when he speaks, we can trust him. We have faith in him to say what he means and follow through with real reform.”
The cheers turned tepid as the crowd mulled over My Ling’s words. They looked at one another and wondered what she was saying?
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As she spoke, a policeman in another part of Bangkok came upon a car that was abandoned on the side of the road. The car appeared to have been in an accident where it had been hit from behind. On the front seat headrest were spots of blood. When the policeman called in the license plate number, dispatch said it belonged to a Neelaphaijit, Somchai.
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“As my daughter said, we are all the joyful shadows that never leave; we have nowhere to go, because this is home,” My Ling finished and looked at the faces staring back at her.
For the first time she felt a separation from the people who had followed her on this journey. She delivered her Marc Antony speech and hoped it resonated. She looked to the sides of the stage and saw her contingent looking at her as if to ask, “what’s next?’ She did not know what was next, but a familiar foreboding came upon her. It was the same feeling she had holding Little My Ling as an infant, while watching her love, Cin, cross an open field. In the crowd she saw a woman with a fixed and vacant smile eerily similar to the smile on Huyen’s face when Cin was shot. My Ling’s legs suddenly felt heavy and stillness descended on the crowd.
She saw the Knights below her; Rusty’s face the most distinct. Briefly, he wore a similar expression as the day he threw her from the Enterprise. She looked offstage and saw the familiar faces of the people who had come all this way with her. The face of her older sister Trieu drew her eye. Trieu’s expression was anxious, reminding My Ling of the day she looked down from the helicopter some twenty years ago, when My Ling was eleven-years-old, and Trieu’s son, Tu, was in the middle of a road outside the gates of the compound. Trieu was at the side of the road paralyzed with fear, as a cannon was about to fire. Now, instead of reaching for Tu, Trieu reached for My Ling.
Her reverie ended suddenly, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the blur of someone rush the stage. Her nostrils were filled with the scent of Elvis as she felt the cat’s apprehension and reflexly reached back to hold her Elvis at bay. She wanted to hum “Adoration” to calm him as she heard shrieks rise from the crowd. She was slammed to the ground by a man and felt the heat of a something wet on her neck and face. She swiped her neck and saw her hand was smeared in blood.
Above her now was Thanh shouting, “It’s coming from the roof over there.”
“We have to get her offstage; she’s a sitting duck,” Chief Biwer urged.
“Is she hit? Is she hit?” cried Trieu.
“I don’t know, I can’t tell who’s bleeding,” Thanh answered. “Get Little My Ling out of here.”
“My Ling, are you okay?” Trieu asked.
My Ling could not move because of the man lying on top of her.
“I can’t breathe –.”
“We need to get her to a hospital. NOW!” Thanh yelled.
“Hey, Rusty, you have to get off her so we can move her. Rusty?” Thanh said.
“Charlie’s been hit,” Carlos yelled as he held Charlie. “Stay with me, man.”
“Rusty, it’s okay. We’re gonna take care of her, you need to get up,” Gaston repeated.
“Can I get some goddam help? Charlie’s bleeding bad,” said Carlos. “Charlie, keep your eyes open…hey…hey. Look at me. Who am I?”
“You’re Carlos,” Charlie whispered. “Where am I hit?”
“It’s not bad. It’s a million dollar wound. You’re gonna be okay. Can I get some fucking help over here?” Carlos yelled again.
“People, we gotta get off stage. We’re too exposed up here. Everybody grab somebody and drag them over here,” Chief Biwer said pointing to the wings.
Biwer grabbed Charlie by the arm and My Ling by the leg and backed up pulling them behind him. Carlos picked up Charlie’s lower half to help. Thanh grabbed My Ling and pulled her and Rusty.
As they took cover in the wings, the U.S. ambassador and a contingent of Marines from the embassy had secured the area. My Ling, Charlie, and Rusty were packed into an ambulance.
Thanh stood in the alley and watched the ambulance’s lights flashing, leaving for the hospital. He felt like he did when heard his brother had been killed. He gritted his teeth, wanting to lash out. A frustration he had felt with Cin was upon him again. He had argued with Cin as to the pointlessness of the war they waged. He asked Cin what had they achieved then and what had they accomplished now? Nothing, he thought. While My Ling had moved millions of hearts, she had not moved many minds. He wanted to grab someone and beat them senseless. He looked around for his gun when he suddenly heard the voice of Little My Ling over the microphone.
“Stay where you are…and listen,” she ordered. “Keep your places and be with your family.” She slowly scanned the crowd for a long moment and continued. “My mother has been taken to the hospital where doctors will tend to her. Now…” She was at a lost for words, until she saw a small girl from the Lotus Blossom in the audience and beckoned her onstage. The girl came up and stood next to Little My Ling who held her hand.
“I want you to hold the hands of your children,” Little My Ling stated. Mothers and fathers reached for their children. “All of you who came today without children, I want you to put your hands with those families.” A rustle was heard as thousands of people moved to join hands.
“We are here to protect those small hands that cannot protect themselves.
“My father once said that we are all someone’s child or someone’s parent. We cannot escape that we are always family. This bond, this unbreakable bond, is our foundation. No matter who is lost…there will
always be someone to take their place.
“This is not the end…it is the beginning.”
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This book was written using information gathered from Vietnamese immigrants who have taken up residence in Orange County, California. The stories they told regarding South Vietnam’s brutal demise following the fall to North Vietnam in 1975 were very helpful. While many Americans were glad to be out of South Vietnam, most were unaware of the million plus South Vietnamese lives lost after we left. The United States’ original stated reason for helping the South was to prevent it from being taken over by Communists. The U.S. effort was based on the “domino theory” which suggested if the Communists took control of Southeast Asia after the fall of South Vietnam then Communism would spread to Laos, Cambodia and Thailand. While Communism did not spread much beyond Vietnam something worse did.
Ho Chi Minh’s reign of terror throughout Southeast Asia is well documented in other books. He went to war in Laos, Cambodia, and had skirmishes with the Thai. In 1981, he entered into a war with the Chinese. He has been called the Joseph Stalin of Southeast Asia. While America was occupying Ho Chi Minh’s energies in the war between North and South Vietnam, he was not able to wreck havoc on the surrounding countries. Once we left, he was free to send arms and men into Cambodia and Laos destabilizing those countries. His involvement in Cambodia helped lead to Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge and the genocide of the Killing Fields.
The Vietnamese refugees who relocated to America were also helpful in describing their lives in the U.S., including their successes and gang problems.
