The Last Executioner

by Chavoret Jaruboon

  Soon after, representatives from the Italian and American embassies arrived to check on their nationals. However, no foreign prisoners had been harmed and they only stayed for about an hour. They would have taken worried phone calls from the families in their respective countries and would have had to personally check it out. Certainly there was no point in trying to ring Bang Kwang as most of the phones had been pulled out of their sockets and we were just too busy to be answering phones anyway. The extra forces started to pull out at about 2.30pm. The SWATs and Commandoes were the first to leave. I shook the hands of the guys I had been dealing with and they wished me luck with the restoration job. They didn’t envy my job one little bit.

  That evening, at about 5pm the Director-General held a press conference.

  ‘Everything is now under control. The SWAT and Commando teams advanced into Wings 4, 5 and 6. The leaders in Wing 6 attempt to resist. They had armed themselves from the prison workshop. They also tried to set the building on fire. Therefore we had to use force and, as a result, seven inmates died. We believe that 50 inmates were responsible for starting this riot and they are currently being kept in solitary confinement. A full investigation is being undertaken and a penalty will be meted out to these inmates according to their contribution to the protest. We estimate that the damage to the prison is in the region of 7 million baht.’

  A journalist asked what was happening to these inmates in the meantime and he replied; ‘Well, we are feeding them and making sure they have plenty of water. They were all very hungry. The inmates who look after the cooking for the prison are housed in Wing 4 and once that wing decided to get involved in the protest they didn’t do any more cooking.’

  Another journalist asked about the rumour that a lot of prisoners had hung themselves when the armed forces moved in. The Director-General replied that he hadn’t seen any evidence of this yet.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned we had to use force. Therefore any resisting prisoners were going to be shot. This use of force had the approval of a committee which consisted of the Director of the Metropolitan Prison Guard Force, the Deputy Minister of Interior and the Director-General of the Royal Thai Police, and myself, of course.’

  Afterwards a couple of members of the SWAT team gave an interview and said that three inmates were found hanging in the attic of Wing 6. They had died from their own hands since the armed forces would never kill someone in this way.

  ***

  Normal visiting resumed within a week. The prison made that a priority because we understand how important visits are for the relatives, as well as the inmates. The inmates and officers worked together to fix the broken machinery and furniture and all in all it took about a month to complete the repairs. We used money generated from within the prison, like the shop, and also applied for some money from the government. The biggest interior decorating consequence was that the tables in the canteen were set into cement and covered with stones—there would be no more pyramids built with their help ever again.

  The 50 prisoners deemed responsible had to wear leg irons and they were left in solitary confinement for three months. They were lucky, it could have been worse—at the very least landing back in court before a strict judge. The Superintendent decided to show them mercy and spared them any further punishment. Section 317 of the Correction Act entitled the Superintendent to let a prisoner go relatively unpunished if the prisoner commits certain types of offences—like vandalising prison property, a minor physical assault or carrying cash. He explained that if they went to court they could be downgraded, which would mean they wouldn’t have a hope in hell for the next Royal Pardon. So you see we do have a heart! That evening I was disappointed to see some of the police officers slap a few of the inmates about the head. The prison staff would never indulge in that kind of behaviour, especially when dealing with prisoners who are chained and subdued. There is just no need for it.

  It was the officers in charge of each wing who frisked the rest of the inmates after they surrendered. As there was more than a few thousand this took a while.

  There were plenty of weapons to confiscate, though we were assured by more than one guy that the weapons were mostly about protecting themselves from other inmates—the men weren’t as unified as they had appeared to the media and us. The usual suspects took advantage of the chaos to continue and expand the usual power struggles. Some men just need to always be fighting.

  The prisoners began to feed the officers information as to who was involved in the riot and who did what. Quite a few of these inmates, now happy to redeem themselves and return to our good books, offered to help with an initial clean-up that evening. They followed our orders and directions without a whimper. I think we were all as tired as each other. I certainly could have done with a few days off but we were too short staffed and the Superintendent really wanted things to return to complete normality. My kids thought they were never going to see me again. They hadn’t seen me in two days and I got a great reception when I finally returned home for a few hours sleep before my next shift.

  Three months might seem like a long time to leave the men in solitary confinement but we had to be seen to take their disobedience seriously. Although several of them told me that they preferred solitary confinement to living in the wings—each man has his own toilet in his cell and it would have been a relief to have some time to be alone. They could also relax as they were safe from gang fights and bad-tempered bullies. However, they couldn’t get too lonely as they could still hold conversations with their immediate neighbours. When the 50 returned to their wings there were no hard feelings between them and the staff, and life just continued on as normal. Thankfully, that was the last riot in the prison.

  Not surprisingly, Bang Kwang and Klong Prem cancelled their Visiting Day, which was a great pity for all those inmates who benefited from the day and never caused any trouble. Tew was not too happy either as it meant the end to her working away from the home. The kids and I had been at her to give up the food stall and she compromised by telling us that she would when the prison didn’t need her anymore. It had been a bit of extra money for us but I much preferred knowing that she was at home for the kids.

  Chapter 13

  Executions were always worse when the condemned was a woman.

  Samai Pan-in was charged with drug offences and sentenced to the death penalty on 5 June 1998. She had built up quite a criminal record, with 12 previous charges and her final arrest was the last straw for the authorities. Her death took place on 30 June 1994 when she was picked up by officers from the Narcotics Control Board. Six people were arrested that day after police had been watching a house in the Bangken district of Bangkok that was known to be central to a local drug smuggling operation. Prasert Piyaranga bought heroin from Somporn and delivered it to Somjai Thong-O, the woman of the house in Bangkok.

  On the day of her arrest, Somjai’s daughter rang Pan-in to tell her that Somjai wanted to see her. However, when Pan-in reached the woman’s house she wasn’t there. A neighbour told her that she was visiting her daughter so Pan-in hitched a ride to the daughter’s house. The doors and windows were closed and Somjai walked around it to see whether mother or daughter was about. As she approached the front of the house a man stopped her to ask who she was looking for. When she told him that she was looking for Somjai he revealed himself to be a plain clothes police officer and showed her his badge. He proceeded to search her and found 130,000 baht in her bag, in 1,000 baht banknotes. The officer asked her why she was carrying so much money and she told him that Somjai was going to borrow the money to buy a flat, as her house had recently burnt down.

  Several more officers appeared and she was escorted into the house and up the stairs to where Somjai and her family, Malee, Den and Aroonsak were pouring heroin into plastic tubes. The police had told them to pose specially for photographs. They had already confessed everything to the police. 14-
year-old Den, a neighbourhood boy who was hired to help pour the heroin into tubes and sometimes distribute it, had disclosed his helping out and he confirmed Pan-in’s involvement. He was sent to a young offender’s correction centre. His father had already been arrested for drug smuggling a few years before but because he couldn’t handle life in Bang Kwang he committed suicide by hanging himself in 1991. His sister Malee was sentenced to 50 years in prison and his other sister Aroonsak was sentenced to life imprisonment along with his mother Somjai. What a family! Pan-in denied all charges and was denied bail. She was sent to the Central Women’s Correctional Institution in Lard Yao to await her trial.

  Further investigation uncovered how the gang bought heroin from a drug lord in the north of Thailand. They usually procured between 15 to 20 bags at a time and then the heroin was poured into tubes, which took some time but was something that a child could help with. Pan-in would then bring the tubes to dealers in the Klongtoey slum community. She had been doing this for so long that she was well-known and had her own special name, ‘Lady Mafia of Block 4’. Officers had been watching the 53-year-old for sometime now. She was skinny and just over five feet tall, with short dark hair, and constantly maintained innocence of any drug-dealing. She stubbornly fought her case through three different courts until 5 June 1998 when the Supreme (Dika) Court found her guilty and handed out the death penalty. She had 60 days to submit her petition for amnesty, which was subsequently rejected over a year later on 26 October 1999.

  It was rejected because of her 12 previous arrests, which proved to the courts that she had no respect for the law, and also because her testimony was found to be based on lies. Therefore, on 23 November 1999, Prime Minister Chuan Leekpai informed the Interior Ministry to direct Sawat Songsampan, Director-General of the Department of Corrections, to carry out the death sentence as Pan-in’s petition had been rejected. The following morning at about 10.30am the execution team and I were told that we would be executing a female. There were also two other executions lined up that day. Tapoyho was charged with illegal immigration and with carrying out a violent murder. Prayuth Polpan was sentenced for being an accomplice to a murder, attempting another murder and for being in possession of an illegal fire-arm.

  These two were already seated side by side when Pan-in arrived at Bang Kwang in a police van around 3pm. Six female officers from the female prison escorted the trembling woman to her seat. She didn’t fully understand what was happening. She glanced around at the other convicts and at our own prison staff. A small crowd had gathered because of her sex and notoriety. After a few minutes she breathlessly asked the nearest female officer why she had been brought here. The officer looked genuinely upset.

  ‘We were ordered to bring you and your papers to Bang Kwang but we weren’t told why. But we have just been informed a few minutes ago that you are to be executed here today.’

  Pan-in burst into tears. The convict Prayuth who was sitting next to her was touched by her tears.

  ‘Don’t cry’, he said, ‘Tapoyho and me are going to be executed too. We did wrong and now it’s pay back time. What did you do?’

  Through her sobs she gasped, ‘White powder. But I really didn’t think I was going to be executed.’ She continued to weep into her hands.

  One of our officers intervened.

  ‘Sister, the other officers and I have to do our job. I am deeply sorry for you but there’s nothing that can help you now. Please stop crying and try to gather yourself together.’

  She tried to catch her breath and asked the officer if she could have a word with her daughter. He shook his head sadly, ‘I’m sorry but you are forbidden to use the telephone at this point. Though, when they have taken your fingerprints you will be provided with a pen and paper. That’s the best we can do.’

  She pleaded that it would just take a few minutes but he explained that it was out of his hands, that only the Superintendent or a superior officer from the DOC could authorise her to use the phone.

  At 4.30pm an officer arrived from the Criminal Record Department along with three female officers. Pan-in begged them to call her daughter as they took her photograph and fingerprints. Nobody met her eye or headed for the phone. Then she was taken away to change from her skirt into trousers. On her return she wrote her letter. She was an uneducated woman who had led a tough life and her blunt letter lacked warmth and sentiment;

  ‘Kids, stay away from drugs. Take me as an example of what not to do. All the money I made from drugs I spent on the trial. It’s not worth it. I must say goodbye now.’

  One of the female officers helped her to compose it and she wrote slowly while constantly dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

  The execution order was read to the three convicts. Only Pan-in showed any emotion, the other two stared at the ground, utterly resigned. No one ate their last meal. They just sipped their water quietly. Pan-in appeared cried out at this stage and she asked for a glass of alcohol. The escorts smiled kindly and said no. He offered her a cup of coffee instead. She shrugged.

  ‘No this, no that! You know, you guys could show a little mercy to me for the last time.’

  Eventually she accepted the coffee and even a cigarette. A little while later she ate an orange that one of the female officers gave her.

  Then it was time for the last rites. Two female officers lifted Pan-in up by both her arms and brought her to the abbot. The officers looked worse off than their charge. They were visibly sweating and their hands had a slight tremor. They had obviously never escorted anyone to the execution room before. Pan-in was to be the first that evening and the two guards looked in confusion at each other. Pan-in was the only person who was oblivious to their discomfort. As they made to bring her over one of the Bang Kwang guys lightly touched one of them on the arm and asked if he could take over. The women smiled in thanks and relief, and quickly stepped aside. Two men took their place.

  To ease the usual tension, one of the escorts joked with Pan-in and asked her would she permit him to be her last boyfriend? She giggled and asked how he could love such an old woman as herself who was also a prisoner. She linked her arm with his and stretched up to plant a kiss on his cheek. The officers and witnesses who followed behind applauded her actions and new-found composure. She beamed at their appreciation.

  At the gazebo she was blindfolded and placed on a chair unshackled. Female prisoners are never shackled. At 5.40pm she was tied to the cross without a struggle or a sound out of her. She had adjusted herself to her fate and was ready. When Rangsan Muangjareon let down the red flag I shot seven bullets in to her. She was dead at 5.45pm. I counted and picked the seven shells up from the floor and shouted ‘clear’ to the others to let them know that they could bring in the two men. At 6.13pm 13 shots killed Prayuth by my hand while Topoyho was shot simultaneously by the second gun. The other executioner that day was my unfortunate colleague Prayuth Sanan, the officer who is currently awaiting trial on death row.

  Pan-in was divorced with one son and two daughters. She and her children lived with her sister. Her son was unemployed while her daughters were students. Everyone thought she made her money from selling second-hand clothes in the flea markets. I was told her sad story over the dinner that the team shared after the executions. Gomol Yimpenyai from the Criminal Record Department of the Royal Thai Police explained how she was involved in international drug smuggling, something that she had steadfastly refused to admit. As I have already said drug-crime is taken very seriously in Thailand, more so after 12 previous arrests. Perhaps Pan-in could have supported her family selling clothes in the markets, but she chose another route and became only the third, and last ever woman to be executed by gun in Thailand. She risked everything for her kids and consequently deprived them of something essential they needed the most—her.

  Chapter 14

  One of the most difficult aspects of facing an execution is the waiting. It
must be torture for most of the condemned; knowing they will soon die, but not knowing exactly when. Their fate looms over them like a shadow of death, and their every waking moment must be filled with anxiety. The waiting must seem to go on forever, but will never last long enough, before, with a sudden burst of fire, it is all over.

  It is something removed from normal life, where the killing of another person is never set to strict rules and protocol. From the cases that I have seen, and the people I have put to death, I have learned that in the world at large, someone’s life can be taken away so suddenly, without warning, or ceremony. This is a disturbing thought.

  One case in particular, later in my career, highlighted this fact to me and showed just how quickly death can come.

  ***

  At around 4am on the morning of 18 August 1998, Athip Ingaew and his wife Ganya were already at work, collecting latex from the trees on a rubber farm. The early morning is the best time to collect the rubber because the temperature is much more suitable. The rubber trees will release white latex then, which is considered the best quality rubber of all. The husband and wife were working on separate rows, scraping each tree and attaching a little cup to the trunk to collect the precious commodity. The farm belonged to another couple, Niyom and Pen Kongtago, and was situated in the province of Chumporn. In the twilight Ganya heard a sound and looked up in surprise. She could just make out the approaching figure of a man. He was nearer to Athip and she quietly called to her husband. When he turned around to face the man the visitor produced a gun and aimed it at Athip. Before the couple could respond, Ganya watched her husband fall to his knees as a single shot rang out, sounding vulgar in an otherwise peaceful scene. Forgetting herself, Ganya screamed out and ran to her husband who had crumpled down to the ground and was now motionless. The assailant was about three metres away as Ganya reached Athip and she found herself peering at him against her better judgement. The sun had not risen yet but she could make out his face in the light from the small lamp attached to her helmet.