At midnight the Superintendent told some of the officers to fetch more spotlights and point them at the walls of Wing 6 and also at the security tower and outer wall. An officer had been sent out earlier to buy 15 lengths of rope which was then quickly cut up into smaller ropes of one metre long—homemade handcuffs. I just hoped we had enough. It was hard to be sure. When we broke in the number of protesters might undergo a radical change, with either a major increase as they united together or a massive decrease when confronted with armed guards, police and commandos. Three fire-fighting trucks arrived on the scene and were directed to park near Wings 4, 5 and 6. As I was also in charge of the prison clinic I was ordered by the Superintendent to take some of the police officers and station them on the second floor to prevent any inmates from 1, 2 and 3 from trying to escape. The clinic separated these three wings from the temple and as the temple was not a fortress of bars and locks, it was probably the weakest point on the prison grounds. If you got to the clinic undetected you would just have to scale the outer wall to freedom.
As we headed to the clinic a busybody inmate from Wing 1 spotted me and the armed officers through a window and started yelling to the others: ‘It’s the cops—and they’re armed!’
I rolled my eyes upwards and said to the officers, ‘Here we go.’
As I expected, the sick prisoners in the clinic were suddenly able to raise a raucous. If the prison staff were unpopular with the prisoners the police were really hated, as they were the ones who had put them in prison. A chorus of boos and cat calls filled the air, accompanied by the banging of chairs against bars. The police officers managed to look either bored or deaf. After a few minutes I decided I wasn’t having this and yelled out that if they didn’t shut up I was going to send their sick asses into Wing 6. It worked and most of them went back to sleep. I suppose they just felt they had to make a point, and by then they would have guessed that Wing 6 was soon to become a battlefield and sensibly preferred to stay in their sick bed.
Since nobody on the ground knew just yet what the suits were planning, rumours were flying back and forth between the police, prison staff and the army. It was a relief to be doing something at last and we were all on our second wind. The adrenaline was starting to build like it does before any fight. The most prevalent rumour was that Bang Kwang authorities were going to use the police force to charge the rioters at maybe 6am or 9am the following morning. Whatever the time, the protest was going to be over by noon.
At 12.30am the Superintendent upgraded all the police officers present to that of special warden. This meant that they now had the same power as that of a prison officer—they could shoot prisoners, if necessary. The inmates could be shot under three circumstances. Firstly, if a prisoner refuses to drop his weapon after he has been ordered to. Secondly, if a prisoner was trying to escape and didn’t stop after he had been told to. And thirdly, if three or more prisoners were attempting to open the prison gate, or if they were caught destroying prison property, or if they were assaulting officers or other prisoners—and even then they were only to be shot if they refused to stop what they were doing. However, shooting was not to take place unless the guard had received the go-ahead from a superior officer. This wasn’t a war; shooting was to be the last resort. The inmates were to be given the opportunity to stop whatever it was they were doing—it wasn’t like a Rambo movie, act first then talk later.
In Wing 6 the majority of the rioters were asleep after their long day. Just the leaders were still awake and discussing their strategies for the next morning. The prison officers used the break to practice with the nylon ropes; how best to tie it as fast and effectively as possible. The quiet didn’t last too long, as the singing and chanting began again around 2am. The rumour was confirmed that the strike would happen at 9am. It was perfect timing as the prisoners would be drowsy from lack of sleep and looking for their breakfast. We were to nab the ring leaders first, handcuff them with the rope and bring them straight to the solitary confinement cells. I managed to grab a few hours sleep myself. I was starting to see double at this point and knew if I didn’t close my eyes I would be useless the next day.
At 3.20am the inmates at Wing 5 joined with Wing 6 in hollering insults and throwing things from the windows. A couple of hours later no less than six fire-fighting trucks arrived; two entered the prison grounds while the others remained just outside the entrance. Both sides were busy with their preparations. The inmates gathered together all the bamboo, used to make furniture in the prison workshop, they could find, and started to sharpen it into spears and clubs.
At 7am the Governor of Nonthaburi and a deputy from the Minister of Interior arrived for the first meeting of the day. The inmates were aware that the officials had returned. They wrote a few letters, attached them to rocks and flung them down into the grounds. Some officers collected them and brought them to the attention of the Superintendent. One of the notes was as follows;
Wrote at Wing 5,
5 August 1985
Subject: Bang Kwang Inmates’ Request
Attention: The Government
No. 1: We want the government to arrange mass amnesty for us on the occasion of Her Majesty’s birthday on 12 August 1985. (Announcement about the amnesty must be publicised by the National Public Relations’ Department and in the presence of the media.)
No.2: The DOC must not punish us for this protest.
No.3: The Ministry of Interior must guarantee that there will be no penalty both in legal terms and house rules.
No.4. Give us your answer within three hours of receiving this letter or else we inmates will be forced to act accordingly.
We sincerely hope we will be granted justice as requested.
Best regards,
The inmates of Bang Kwang
Poor bastards!
At 7.30am the Director-General of the Royal Thai Police ordered the commandoes to prepare the tear gas for the strike. The megaphone was used again to ask the prisoners to end their protest peacefully and return to their cells, but the inevitable happened. All the locks on the cell doors were damaged and the prisoners who tried to obey the Superintendent were blocked from returning to their quarters. Instead they were handed weapons and threatened with death if they didn’t participate in the riot. They were the ones I felt most sorry for. Another letter was sent advising the authorities that the prison would be set on fire in three hours if they didn’t receive a favourable response to their request.
At 7.40am the protesters promised to stay calm and begged for food and water. The inmates in Wings 1, 2 and 3 were very quiet. They could see more from where they were and probably better understood just how many officers were located around the prison and how well armed we were. At 8am the national anthem rang out clearly as the protesters sang it loudly to impress upon us their patriotism, as if that would deter us from attacking them.
The media was buzzing with reports that there had been a battle during the night resulting in 500 prisoners in need of medical aid at the prison clinic. I don’t know who made that one up. But just after 8am, 20 more military police arrived with Uzi guns. Wing 2’s inmates were suddenly filled with a zeal for the underdog and starting hurling stones at the roofs of Wing 1 and 3 telling them to join the others in protest.
Some relatives arrived, oblivious to all the trouble, wishing to visit their loved ones. I don’t know how they hadn’t heard about what was going on. A sign was placed at the entrance declaring that visiting hours would be cancelled for the next 15 days. The crowd at the front gate starting to increase in number and anticipation. The last wing to join the protest was Wing 1, the wing that housed the criminals on death row. Then, at about 8.30am they started to destroy prison facilities and climb across the walls to 1 and 3, brandishing weapons. I always wondered why they waited so long to join in. They had already lost everything. Perhaps they were past hoping and didn’t see the point, and mor
e importantly, the amnesty would have meant nothing to them. The prison was in a bad state by now. Most of the offices and workshops had been damaged and stripped of equipment.
Just before 9am the first shot was fired, from the security tower. Rioters had run into the canteen in Wing 6 to take cover. An inmate was trying to dismantle the roof of his cell and the officer fired a warning shot, which startled him. He fell off the roof in fright.
It was Noi Gitsuwan, one of the ring leaders. The fall wasn’t big enough to kill him but he was hurt and unable to get to his feet. Some of his friends picked him up and carried him around the wing declaring him to have been shot. This angered their cell mates and they threatened to burn down the wing in response to this terrible shooting. They weren’t lying.
At 9.30am inmates in Wing 3 and 4 set fire to their respective workshops. Smoke could be seen escaping to the sky. Fortunately the more sensible inmates extinguished the fires before they could cause much damage. The men were next told to bring flammable substances and fuel to the factory in Wing 6. Another of the ring leaders, Jumroon Intanon, led his fellow protesters in setting fire to the factory in Wing 6. Smoke bellowed out of the windows. One of the fire-fighting trucks shot water across the top of the wing but it was no use, the factory was too far in. We couldn’t afford to lose the wing so we were very pleased indeed when a few prisoners approached the nearest fire truck to them and told the fire-fighters to throw the water hose across the wall to them. Jane Katigumjorn and his friends took the hose and immediately set about putting out the fire. After the riot, Jane and his mates were promoted to ‘assistants’ in gratitude for their help that morning.
At 10am the Director-General of the Royal Thai Police got on the phone to ask for more reinforcements. As a result, within 30 minutes, Montri Chomsakorn, the Police Inspector of the SWAT team, arrived in Bang Kwang with 40 officers. Another meeting was called between the suits. There were so many different groups of forces around the prison grounds they had to make sure that we were all working in sync with one another and knew what we were doing. The plan had changed again. 20 minutes later we heard that the SWAT and Commandoes were going to lead the strike against the prisoners. I assumed that the starting of fires had just worsened the consequences for the rioters. I was ordered along with a couple of prison colleagues to lead the SWAT and Commandoes in. They had been ordered to start ‘cleaning up’. Most of these guys had never been in a prison before and it is a big place when you see it for the first time. Only the SWAT, Commandoes and some police officers were allowed to use their guns. The rest of us were to stand by, ready. We would wait to see the reaction that the others got.
At 10.45am the two armed teams entered Wing 4 in a single file. They constantly fired their guns in the air to make as much noise as possible, causing a big distraction and letting the rioters know that we meant business. As was hoped, there was absolutely no resistance. The inmates started to fall back immediately. The elder inmates were so shocked that they stood still, unable to move. They had not participated in the riot, preferring to sit together away from the younger inmates. They had to be pushed and dragged by their wing mates. The guns continued firing, probably for the benefit of the other two wings, 5 and 6, where it was felt a stronger resistance would be waiting. Within 30 minutes the inhabitants of Wing 4 had completely surrendered, which meant that the prison chiefs were back in the fold.
The SWAT team assembled the inmates outside in front of their quarters and instructed them to drop their weapons on the ground so that they could be piled together in the centre. Then they were told to remove their shirts and lie face down on the ground with their hands behind their backs. Some of them were told to dismantle the pyramid of table and chairs, making them the first line up to be frisked. The prison officers who looked after Wing 4 re-established themselves at their posts and took over to let the SWATs and Commandoes continue on to the next wing.
The officer leading the two teams thought that all the commotion might have scared the men in 5 and 6 into giving up their futile fight, so he wanted to give them a final opportunity to co-operate. He sent for the megaphone and told these inmates in 5 that he wished the riot to end as peacefully and orderly as possible, reminding them that how it ended was completely up to themselves.
‘We would ask you to do the following: first drop your weapons, come outside to the front of your sleeping quarters, and remove your shirts. Second I need you to lie face down on the ground and place your hands at the back of your necks. Lastly I want you to know that after we have searched every individual you will be sent back to your cells where you will be supplied with food and water. If you do not comply with my instructions we have no alternative but to deal with you in a forceful matter. I sincerely hope that it doesn’t come to that’.
Above our heads two Thai army helicopters circled the prison, ready to help.
Well, I must admit that I, for one, was very surprised when the inmates booed back their response and I’m certainly not naïve after all my years working in the prison. The noise from Wing 4 would have had me running scared if I was a prisoner in 5 and 6. I heard afterwards that a lot of people out on the streets assumed that the prisoners were dying in their hundreds when they heard the volume of gun fire. However, maybe the booing was all for show for the TV cameras and onlookers. When the armed forces moved into Wing 5 and started shooting up another racket the inmates surrendered without a fuss. It took even less time and effort than Wing 4.
The megaphone was used again with the same request for Wing 6. At 11.45am the armed teams moved in and started shooting into the sky for effect. Most of the inmates there surrendered. They were told to sit and wait by the factory that they almost succeeded in burning down. There were a couple of complications with this wing so it was decided to push on to the first three wings and end their belated and half-hearted rebellion. In less than 40 minutes Wings 1, 2 and 3 were back to normal without any trouble. I really think it was just a break in routine for these particular wings but they knew that nothing was going to come of it.
Back to Wing 6. We knew that seven armed convicts were hiding out in the attack of Wing 6. I was to lead the SWAT and Commando teams upstairs. The convicts were trying to set fire to some mattresses and black smoke drifted out through the cracks in the roof. This prompted the teams to act quickly as we certainly did not want any unnecessary deaths on our hands, or the loss of a precious wing. Our superiors had plenty to be concerned about. If a man died during the riot at this point the blame might easily fall on us, whether it was because his cell mate burnt down the prison or not. The media were watching. A riot had to be contained but we also had to be conscious of the prison’s image that was being transported into the nation’s homes via TV cameras. 24 cells on the first floor were swiftly cleared. We would have been badly stuck for space if anyone had succeeded in burning down a wing that day. The prison was already over-crowded enough as it was.
Just as I stepped onto the last stair, I noticed some footprints on the wall to my right, in cell 37. There was a small door on the ceiling which electricians used to reach the wires in the attics. The lock on this door was broken so it was obvious that the prisoners had used this door to get into the loft. The head of the team gave a silent signal, sending two armed officers to quietly check all the cells on the second floor. They returned giving us the all clear. The leader muttered into his walkie talkie, asking for a ladder to be brought up. Just seconds later, one of the electricians appeared, smiling nervously, with a bamboo ladder which was placed against the wall by the attic door. He fled the tense room and I was waved aside out of harm’s way.
The same two guys who had checked the cells were sent again to walk the corridor between the cells. This time they fired their weapons into the ceiling as they walked up and down. It was like something from an Arnold Schwarzenegger movie. Within seconds of the shooting I distinctly heard footsteps moving rapidly over our heads. Suddenly there was
a crash as one of the inmates fell through the ceiling into the corridor. The floor of the attic was made of wood that was old and rotting. It had just given way. I had initially thought that he had been shot. While I had turned to see him land on the ground the rest of the team had charged up the ladder and there was a terrible commotion as the guns just kept shooting. The noise was deafening.
The one who fell raised his hands in the air and begged the officers not to shoot him. He was trembling all over and when I looked in his eyes I saw the fear that is in the eyes of every prisoner on death row when they realise that their time is up. The SWAT guy handcuffed him and asked him how many were still upstairs. Seven was the reply. Just then there was silence above and the head of the SWAT team shouted, ‘Cleared’. It was over. I knew that this meant there were seven dead men in the attic but I just couldn’t bring myself to climb the ladder to see for myself.
This might sound strange coming from an executioner but it goes to show that I had no interest in blood and gore for its own sake. Like most people I shied away from climbing that ladder just to gawk at seven dead men. Instead I moved gingerly around the cells, offices and workshop, checking out the damage done.
A lot of furniture had been destroyed, especially in the fire in the factory/workshop. There was also a small flood in the factory. There were plastics bags full of shit and piss in the alley of the cell building, since the toilets had run out of water the previous night. They had also served as obstacles to officers entering. Needless to say the place stank worse than usual. The offices had been almost destroyed, with the furniture removed, papers strewn everywhere and documents set on fire. The vegetable plot was a mess, the whole area looked like a war zone, but at least the situation was under control again.
The Last Executioner Page 14