Forget You Had a Daughter - Doing Time in the Bangkok Hilton (23 page)

I left Karolina on her own to find out that having no men was the very least of her problems. She received a
35
-year sentence.

Court appearances took place each month and I prayed that the trial would be over soon. Amnesty was part of the everyday con- versation, like food or who was sleeping with whom, or who was being punished for what. Everybody talked about possible pardon. It was something of a preoccupation and then, ultimately, an obsession. How would it affect our sentence, we wondered? What would the amnesty grant you? How much longer will you have to serve? We ate the same food.We asked the same questions. We tried our best to pretend our lives were going to get better. But I knew that if I did not receive my sentence soon then I would be excluded from any amnesty.

If an amnesty were given there were four levels of reduction of sentence. All prisoners had to be sentenced. After that, most of them would be eligible for an amnesty if one were granted.The King of Thailand together with the Department of Corrections decides which cases will be granted amnesty and whether drug cases will be included.

To gain a reduction in sentence, all prisoners had to pass a series of tests, in Thai, in order to gain a ‘class’. Six months after sentenc- ing all prisoners took amnesty classes, which increased the level of reduction that could be granted. For example, three classes could

give anything from a half to a one-fifth reduction of sentence; two classes and they might receive one-third or one-sixth off their sen- tence; while one class equalled a one-seventh reduction. If a prisoner failed to attend a class she received one-eighth of a reduction. Nothing was ever certain with amnesties though and if one were given there was never any guarantee that all cases would be included.We lived on amnesty possibilities and speculation.

If you were friendly with an officer, bribes often helped. Prisoners had to learn the Thai National Anthem and rehearse several sets of rules:

five teachings of buddha

Do not kill animals. Do not commit adultery.

Do not steal. Do not lie.

Do not drink alcohol.

five duties to be observed

Be kind to everything alive.

Help yourself and be law abiding.

Do not be obscene.

Be honest.

Do the right thing and think of good things.

ten prison rules

No opium, marijuana or any drugs.

No intoxicants.

No escape equipment. No gambling or games.

No weapons or sharp objects.

No rotten food. Nothing valuable.

No pets.

No explosives.

No newspapers or diaries.

four things to do

Eat to sustain life. Have good karma. Respect the laws. Respect every officer.

six duties of a good citizen

Obey the laws.

Pay taxes.

Protect the country.

Education is compulsory. Protect public property.

Observe the traditions and customs.

six vices to avoid

Don’t drink alcohol.

Don’t go out late at night.

Don’t indulge in pleasurable activities.

Don’t gamble.

Don’t have bad friends.

Don’t be lazy.

1994
had passed into
1995
, which had passed into
1996
, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. I put my hands around my head and screamed inside at another year of my life posted missing. I couldn’t put my loneliness to one side; it was there all the time, growing like a tumour.

All I wanted was to be sentenced, regardless of the severity, then I would find the time to take at least one of the classes needed to grant a reduction in sentence. If I received a life sentence – or worse, the death penalty – I would have to appeal, and that would

mean I wouldn’t be finished with court and I wouldn’t get the amnesty. It was a medieval way of treating people. I had been in this hole for years and still had no idea when I would learn my fate.What a circus.

Deep down I always had hope that I would be treated leniently. But I also learned that false hope is much worse than no hope. When you are a prisoner, everything you experience takes on a completely different meaning to similar experiences on the outside. I listened, and constantly looked for information on who might be getting out, who might be getting pardoned or even who knew how to work the prison system expertly.

I saw myself reflected in all these instances, hoping especially in the case of a pardon that I might be next. I prayed not to be given the death penalty and prayed hard that the trial would be over soon. I wished Robert would just plead guilty so that we could get on with our sentences.

It would have been easy to lose my mind in there; many women did. And the only things keeping me alive were the letters I received from outside and my family photographs. Sometimes, before lock-down, I would run my fingers across the surface of each picture or letter.The contours of each face came alive and the words came to life through the ink. I put them down. LardYao was nothing but darkness and shadows.

ten

Art of Survival

Dear Mum and Dad

The Thais told me
29
February was a very good day to be sentenced on. Leap Day is considered very auspicious here and I was hopeful of a positive outcome. Bangkok was shut down for the Euro/Asia Summit meeting and the day was declared a national holiday. John Major got the lucky day for himself. My sentence date was brought forward…

Sandra

Letter home, March
1996

‘Termination of life,’ says the judge, almost imperceptibly. I have been sentenced to death.

The next few minutes are a blur. I am in shock.
My parents will not be too happy about this
, I think to myself.
How can this man sentence me to die? Surely it is up to them whether I live or not?They have given me life and they should decide when it can be taken away.

I look across the Thai Criminal Court and it is swimming with faces that I do not recognise. My legs buckle beneath me and my heart is racing.‘No,’ I gasp,‘it’s not possible.’ My bones and flesh are exhausted.

I can see Robert’s face but he refuses to look back in my direc- tion. It is
28
February
1996
, the day someone has decreed that my life will be taken and the day Robert has been found ‘not guilty’. I have waited three years for this day and when I hear he has been

acquitted I stand, dumbfounded.The expression of disbelief on his face shows he is as stunned by the verdict as I am.

From behind me I hear a voice.‘No,’ she shouts. It is the voice of a reporter. ‘No,’ she says again. ‘The judge reduced it to life, then cut it to again to
25
years for trafficking.’ Her voice trails away…

Twenty-five years!
Thank God!
I barely hear a word of what the judge is saying and I am desperately relieved he has not upheld the death penalty for me. The court has lifted the charges against Robert and I whisper to myself,‘That is so unfair.’ Robert refuses to look at me.

I am taken from court to where crowds of reporters stand outside waiting for a picture or a quote.‘It’s not fair,’ I say,‘it’s not fair. It’s really so unfair. I feel terrible for my parents. Robert is the one who lied. I told the truth all through my trial. How can I get

25
years and he gets set free?’

For the last few years I had been attending court and now I had finally been sentenced. But I was still confused.Was I supposed to be
25
times more evil than Robert? Yes, I was guilty, but so was Robert; and he would be leaving Thailand an innocent man. It was a farce.

Although I was distraught my lawyer, Khun Tawitchai, had promised me the minimum sentence when I met him in LardYao a few years earlier and now he had delivered.At least someone was true to their word.There had been so many lawyers showing up at prison with all kinds of promises – ‘I’ll get you bail’, ‘I know the judge’, or ‘I’ll get you six years for this’ – that I didn’t know who to trust.

Khun Tawitchai, at least, was honest. ‘I think I can get you the minimum sentence,’ he said.‘If you get more than 25 years I won’t charge you for my time.’ He was barely in his twenties, had very recently finished university and spoke virtually no English. He had never dealt with a serious case before. I liked him immediately.We struck a deal that he would be paid after sentencing, but if I got

sentenced to more than the minimum then he would have worked for nothing.

For two years he showed up at the prison before every court appearance, never missed a hearing and came to see me the day after every court hearing.At the beginning of the trial I had been accused of carrying
102
grams of pure heroin, which I denied, rather than the original
89
grams.Anything above
100
grams and the law calls for the death penalty or life imprisonment. During the opening stages of the trial it was revealed that a British

Embassy employee had tipped the Thai authorities to look out for Robert at the airport.The prosecution had finished its evidence in
1994
and the trial had been adjourned to allow defence docu- ments to be translated into Thai.

In January
1995
I had finished testifying and was no longer

required in court. I had to wait for Robert to finish his testimony and for the outcome of our trial.According to newspaper reports following the verdicts, Jean Sharpe, of the British Embassy, said she was ‘glad’ for Robert and his family at his acquittal, although she confirmed that drugs liaison officers attached to the British Embassy had alerted the Thai authorities to his alleged activities. By the end Khun Tawitchai had earned his £1,000 fee. My dad duly paid up.The ironies escaped neither of us, and once again I wished I had just asked my parents for the airfare home in 1993.

The procedure in Thailand when someone on a serious charge is found ‘not guilty’ is for the prosecutor to appeal the verdict.The prosecutor is given
28
days to file the appeal and it normally takes at least another
12
months before the appeal court hear the case. I returned to Lard Yao believing that Robert would have to spend another year behind bars before he tasted his freedom.

Around this time there had been a plague of head lice in prison and everyone had been ordered to cut their hair short, to prevent it spreading. Normally, to have very short hair was a pun- ishable offence because the tomboys were seen as troublemakers

who didn’t fit the prison description of orderly looking inmates.

I had already cut my long, blonde hair into a much more severe, cropped style and had started dyeing it black, which helped me blend in with the Thai prisoners.The day following my sentence I felt utterly lost and deflated.The only thing I seemed to be able to take control over was my hair. I had most of it shaved off and re- dyed it pitch black.Almost instantly I felt better equipped to deal with the coming decades. I counted them out: two more decades. It sounded barely possible.

‘I cook for you, Sandee,’ said someone. Or, ‘I do your washing for you, Sandee.’ My radical new look had an amazing effect on the Thai girls, who thought I had turned into a tomboy. They thought I was looking for a prison ‘wife’ and would have done almost anything for me in return for a bit of sex on a Sunday after- noon. I decided I’d better grow my hair long again; I preferred doing my own washing, thank you very much.

A few days later a guy I had never met before, from Scotland, showed up at Lard Yao to see me. He was hyperactive and he danced around the visiting room, shouting about how awful everything was.

‘I’ve got a car outside,’ he said,‘I could just drive you off in it.’

I couldn’t quite figure why he had come up to see me. All of a sudden he pulled out a small camera and it started flashing. The mad Scot found himself surrounded by guards and he suddenly lost his bravado and looked scared, but he wasn’t as worried as I was. I knew it would be me who would pay for his stupidity and I told him to give them the film from his camera.

‘Will they put me in prison?’ he shouted back at me as he was being ejected from the visiting room. I was told I would not be allowed any visits for the next month. The following week, though, I was called to the visiting room.

‘Why were those reporters outside the gate yesterday?’ asked a guard escorting me. I hadn’t known there had been any reporters outside.

‘You are a liar,’ she said turning away.

I stood shaking my head. I had been called many things in Lard Yao but no one had called me a liar. My problem had always been telling the truth even when it meant I might end up looking foolish or get into trouble. I was shocked and when I walked back into the prison after the visit I felt lower than ever before.There was no real explanation for it. Who was this guard? She meant nothing to me yet she seemed to have a more profound effect than the rest of the guards combined.

Suddenly the military uniform she was wearing brought back memories of the military massacre I had witnessed in
1992
. It was a brutal realisation and the weight of my sentence hit me.These people had total control over my life and I was scared. Like a dark

cloud, the crush of depression descended. Finally they had won; they had beaten me.

There is a famously memorable scene in
Midnight Express
when Billy, the young smuggler, loses his senses completely and attacks Rifkin in a frenzy of violence. The scene culminates with Billy biting the tongue out of Rifkin’s head. It is a brutal scene, but essential because Billy has finally snapped.The Turkish prison has finally beaten him. He has lost his mind.That morning I felt like Billy Hayes. My spirit had been broken and privately I admitted defeat.

For the first and only time in LardYao I sat behind the toilets all afternoon and cried. It was as if all the things I’d ever known and learned no longer made sense, and I sank deeper and deeper into the gloom. I don’t know how long I was there, in this terrible black vortex, and I don’t know how I got out but I had never experienced anything quite like it.