The Last Executioner

by Chavoret Jaruboon

  I must have a passion for collecting things as I have kept every party invite I have ever received. I receive regular invites from the Canadian, English, American, Malaysian and Singaporean embassies. Some of them make me laugh as the spelling of my names varies drastically from embassy to embassy.

  They are not very wild parties—quite unlike the ones on the American military bases when I was a teenage musician. They usually start about 6.30pm and finish up just two hours later. The location can be the Ambassador’s residence or somewhere equally plush like the five star Shangri-la or Hyatt Erawan Hotel. I never really enjoy the food—the bite-size finger food usually leaves me hungrier after I have eaten it. However, I always enjoy tasting the different wines and being introduced to the other guests. I have always enjoyed meeting new people so this job suits me very well.

  Sometimes it comes in very handy, like the time when my daughter worked briefly for a photography studio run by a Taiwanese man who didn’t pay her as promised. I got on the phone to Chan, the Director of the Thai-Taiwan Business Association, who I had met at a party. He asked me for the studio’s phone number and a little while later my daughter received her wages. One of my favourite officials is Kate from the British Embassy. She once looked after me at a party and made sure to introduce me to everyone present. I knew her for a while because she is the one who contacts me about matters relating to the British inmates. I like her because she respects the Thai officers and is a good listener. You can have a proper discussion with her and so properly explain why you can or cannot help with a specific request.

  ***

  In the bigger picture I hope to be able to make a positive contribution to the Thai penal system. I collect as much information as I can so that I can present a history detailing the developments, the turning points and so on. Perhaps in ten years time there will be no death penalty, it will just be found in the history books or in the Museum belonging to the Department of Corrections where I help out as a guide at least once a month and lecture on the different stages of execution in Thailand, from beheading to firing squad to lethal injection. The government might decide that it has no right to take the life of a man no matter what he has done, because it is not a low life criminal, it is the government. Therefore, executing people should not be something that it condones. I have come to believe that severe punishment does nothing to solve the problem of crime but it should function as an extreme warning. I best describe it like this: You are two years old and you try to cross a busy street by yourself, almost ending up under the wheels of a car. Your mother grabs you in horror and slaps you several times to scare you from ever doing that again. There has to be consequences for committing a crime and there has to be deterrents—particularly for the ones who stop to think about what they are doing, or stop to plan a cold-blooded murder or rape.

  ***

  And now for the question that I am asked the most—do I regret being an executioner? I have given this a lot of thought and have even discussed it with Buddhist monks. Their opinion is usually the same; the convicts on death row are swamped in bad karma and the executioner is doing them a favour by sending them on to their next incarnation for the chance to redeem themselves.

  Things used to be a hell of a lot worse for convicts in Thailand. A long, long time ago a convict’s chest would have been ripped open to see if his heart was any different from that of a normal person and his skull would have been split open for the same reason, to look at his brain. I should mention that the convict was usually alive when this was happening. After his head had been chopped off it was jammed on to a long stick which was then put up in a public place as an example to anyone who was planning on committing devious deeds. I am quite sure that the Western world could also offer many examples of man’s inhumanity to man, then and now.

  I believe in karma, which can be bad or good depending on the individual. I never got any pleasure out of shooting people, or out of performing any other role in the execution process. It was my job. Did the World War Two pilot who dropped bombs create bad karma for himself? Or what about the American solders in Iraq? Should they be blamed for atrocities committed instead of the man responsible for sending them out there in the first place? Killing criminals troubled and depressed me. I always felt truly sorry for the condemned and things like Ginggaew’s prolonged dying will never leave me. It depressed all of us involved. Nobody looked forward to an execution. It was a duty to be carried out, and as such I wanted to do it to the best of my ability. You only create bad karma if your intention was bad. If I had enjoyed the killing I would be worried now, but my conscience is clear.

  Killing wasn’t easy. Generally speaking when we talk about jobs we are talking about something productive. Everyone likes to be proud of what they do for a living but obviously I couldn’t. During my years of execution some of the superior officers looked down on me. They assumed that I was full of ego because of what I did so they didn’t wish to add to my ‘arrogance’ by treating me in a civilised manner. I also use to sense awkwardness at parties that Tew and I attended. I could feel people catch one another eyes and gesture in my direction. People didn’t want to socialise with me because, like my father, they believed all prison guards to be stupid and brutal. However, I also saw an opportunity to change people’s view of executioners and therefore of all prison guards.

  I’m an unusual executioner in that I’m westernised to a certain degree; I play the guitar and I enjoy attending parties. If people were expecting to see a mad man thirsting for blood and brandishing a sword, then they were disappointed. If they were expecting me to spew forth hatred for criminals and their doings they were disappointed. I didn’t want their fear. I was an ordinary man whose biggest priority has always been my family. I never forget who or what I represent. The ones closest to me understood how tough I found the job and they were all I cared about.

  My oldest son would complain over the years when his friends clamoured to be invited to the family home in order to see me, the executioner, in the flesh. Luckily he is a grounded kid and would huffily explain that ‘executioner’ wasn’t my title or who I was, only a duty that I had to do infrequently.

  Then I found myself becoming a minor celebrity. Journalists, Thai and foreign, have sought me out to ask me about my job and Bang Kwang. One of Thai TV’s biggest personalities, Sawrayuth, understood my position immediately, which I really appreciated. He saw the job of executioner as being completely unwanted, depressing and thankless. He also said that he couldn’t understand how I managed to do it for so long. Students approached me for help on their theses concerning the penal system. That still happens today and I’m always happy to oblige. If they are especially lucky I will bring them back to my house and Tew will cook them a meal. What I don’t appreciate are the thrill seekers, the ones who just want the bloodiest and goriest details. They seem to think that I enjoyed it too.

  I even speak at universities to warn young people about the temptations that lie beyond the college campus. My father would have been proud of me for this—I think he would have liked me to have gone into teaching. It is unrealistic just to tell young people to say no to crime and spin them fairy tales about good and bad witches. You must arm them with knowledge and information about the many ways it is possible to break the law. My tales are full of blood and gore but it gets my point across much more effectively. I tried to make something good out of my years of executing people by talking about how bad things can get if you are arrested and sentenced to Bang Kwang. If I can save even some of my young listeners and persuade them against committing a crime, then it is well worth it. The kids always ask me how many people I have ‘killed’—not executed—or if I could execute a relative, which proves that they are only concentrating so much on my warnings against breaking the law!

  Tew always supported me no matter what I did but I knew that she looked forward to the day when I was no longer executioner. I know she used to wonder
why I didn’t push myself forward and try to ingratiate myself with my superiors but that was just out of loyalty to me. She always wished I was appreciated more and paid even more than that. I watched other men do it over the years—get involved with the office politics in order to get themselves ahead. Although to be honest it’s an expensive business, undertaking to keep a boss supplied in whiskey or his favourite tobacco. It might take years before it paid off. I did buy presents maybe once a year around New Year’s Eve which is normal Thai practice but some of the men would decide to lick ass big time and end up spending a fortune. Some of the more well-to-do would buy presents for the boss’s family. I found it entertaining. There was a lot of string pulling, especially in the earlier days. The Thai official system was very rooted in a patronage system. Who you knew or who you were related to was most important.

  ***

  Tew and I are together 40 years now, which was a lot of hard work on our part. She will say that she never experienced any difficulties when I was executing people. The neighbours all knew what I did and accepted it. In truth I don’t think she rushed to tell a stranger about what her husband did for a living. We have had a good life together and enjoy attending parties and socialising more than ever. Our biggest rows mostly took place when the kids were younger. Every couple’s relationship has an Achilles Heel. When I disciplined the kids Tew would sometimes want to throw in a few slaps where I felt a couple of stern words would suffice. Then the children would be forgotten as she went storming off in tears and I would be left feeling angry and guilty.

  Unlike some of my friends I was lucky to have a wife who never attempted to assault me or call me names no matter how mad she got. I would not have liked a dragon for a wife; I do not see the attraction of hot-headed aggressive women. I just prefer a quiet life as much as possible. I think the secret to a good marriage lies in establishing a good friendship with your spouse. If a prisoner boasted to me about beating up his wife or insulting her in front of his mates I would ask him if he could treat a friend like that, and the answer was always, ‘No way!’

  We are both immensely proud of our three children; we worked hard to ensure they received the best education that we could afford. I believe it is best to provide a child with as many choices as possible, and the sense to make an informed decision. And now we are grandparents and a new generation has begun again.

  When I first started with the prison we were given a small one storey wooden house nearby that used to be a barber shop. It was handy for work but the neighbourhood wasn’t great. It was bearable for the first while but the older my kids got the unhappier I became. I guess it reminded me of where I grew up and I just wanted something better for my family. Many of the prison officers also lived in the area and they would drink heavily after work so there was a lot of drunkenness. Some of their wives were a common lot and they would sit around playing cards or talking inappropriately in front of the children. Teenage pregnancy was prevalent, as if there was nothing else to do. These people had given up hope and just lived the lives of their impoverished parents.

  I didn’t want my kids picking up wanton habits like smoking, drinking and casual sex. They had to learn that there was a better way of living. I became determined that they get the best education that I could afford. It took a few years of hard saving for Tew and I but we eventually were able to move to another town house in the mid-1980s. We have been rewarded tenfold for our efforts; all my kids are doing really well and are completely independent of their parents, which means we have done our job properly.

  I have always been interested in politics, have even considered going into local politics, and make sure I keep up with news and events. If I did get involved I would concentrate on crime prevention, especially regarding young people. Crime prevention should begin within the small communities, making sure that our young people are aware of all the pitfalls that can befall them. Thailand doesn’t only attract thousands of tourists, but also thousands of foreign criminals. Young people should be well educated against manipulation to sell or courier drugs, as well as taking them. The police receive a cash bonus when they bust a drug case so they go out looking for naïve people who are in need of money. If someone tells you that they know how you could make some easy money, it could be a police officer waiting to trap you. Anyway it is just something I am thinking about for the moment.

  ***

  My mother is still alive. We have kept in touch more frequently since my father’s death. She is well into her 80s and has suffered a stroke and a bad fall. Tew and I visit her as much as we can but I think she is closer to my brother Oud. He has worked harder than me at building a relationship with her. Oud just retired recently from his job as prison officer at Kong Prem prison. We see each other pretty regularly. She enjoys my kids, especially my second son who knows how to charm her and make her laugh.

  I no longer play the guitar for weddings or parties but I still play it to relax me and when I am coerced at family gatherings. My taste in music hasn’t changed much since the 60s. I still revere Elvis, Cliff Richard and The Beatles. Over the years I added the Bee Gees to my prolific music collection. Tew constantly moans about dusting my records, CDs and now MP3 CDs. My favourite song to perform on the guitar has to be The Beatles’ ‘Yesterday’. I enjoy going to the cinema twice a month with my daughter. It is nice to spend some time with her and keep abreast of the latest movies, even though I remain unconvinced that they are better than the likes of Ben Hur or The Ten Commandments. Charlton Heston was always a particular favourite of mine. Having said that, I have to confess to loving Narnia and the Lord of The Rings trilogy!

  I have also developed a passion for history and when I can I love to settle into my favourite chair with a beer or a glass of wine and eat up political biographies from the likes of Gandhi and the Kennedy dynasty, as well as important Thais like Preedee Panomyong. I also enjoy reading about the key moments in the history of Thailand like why and how the special execution orders came about, and how Thailand moved from a monarchy to a democracy in 1932. Maybe I am a frustrated academic after all! I just want to keep my brain and mind active, there is always something new to learn.

  I don’t fret about getting older and I am not afraid of dying. I don’t know if that has anything to do with my career path. Death is inevitable. If I have a terminal disease I wouldn’t bother with any doctors. I wouldn’t allow my kids to spend money on trying to prolong my life. I have seen stricken families take out loans and sell their properties in order to be able to spend more money on medical care for an obviously dying relative. That will not happen to me. The thing is to die happy and not to leave any trouble behind for your spouse or kids to deal with. I have everything sorted and ready—I am a practical man.

  ***

  I am grateful to Bang Kwang for many things. It enabled me to educate my children and it changed the way that I looked at the world. I used to be the sort of person who sees an angry elephant instead of just a little ant but I have calmed down considerably. I have seen some terrible things which helped me to better appreciate the good things in my life, big and small. There is always light in darkness and none of us are here forever. This is my last personal duty to conclude, my own little book of which I am immensely proud. The years of keeping diaries and developing the practice of noting daily what I saw has finally paid off.

  My name is Chavoret Jaruboon. I was born into a broken family. My home was a stone’s throw away from a brothel and the smell of opium was heavy in the air when I walked to school each morning. I could easily have become a drug addict or an alcoholic.

  Instead, I learned how to play the guitar, listened to those wiser than me, and worked hard to give my family a better life. I could never have known, when I first took to the stage with my band, that I would be swept along with life’s changes and would become the figure I was at the ‘Bangkok Hilton’, that is, the man at Bang Kwang prison who would end the lives of 55
men and women; the last executioner.

  I think my father spoilt me a little. I always had more toys than my friends, including my cowboy-style shooter. I got to use a very different type of gun years later.

  My father, who gave me everything I could ask for. He was a teacher, and for a while I wanted to be one too, before I discovered the guitar.

  My brother, Oud, on the left, and myself as young boys.

  I didn’t have a sheltered upbringing. We lived between the wealthy and the poor, with the slum, brothels and opium dens at on end of the street and the big houses and gardens of the well-to-do at the other.

  I had a great time playing with various bands and being paid for the first time. A lot of the time our audience was made up of American soldiers taking a break from the war in Vietnam, and with my good English I made a lot of friends.

  Things were going really well when I started playing for the Mitra band at the Sorry About That Bar, a former skating rink. In the end my musical career was finished when I was called up to do my military service.