by Colin Martin
I explained everything over and over again, in the smallest of detail. The interrogation went on and on for hours. But there were a few things I kept from them.
I didn’t tell them who Chuck really was, because I’d promised not to involve him if possible. The Aussie expat who’d given me O’Connor’s number also wanted his part kept quiet, so I said that I’d just phoned O’Connor’s house on the spur of the moment. It was a lie, but only a white lie. I kept my word, and that was more important.
Once the police captain was satisfied that he knew everything, he reached over to his fridge and took out two tins of beer. As we drank, he congratulated me on catching O’Connor and for being so clever as to trap him with his own trick.
He asked me to wait at the tourist police office to make a preliminary identification. He said his officers were checking their files for any other complaints against O’Connor, Mitch or the boss of OCS. I knew him in all three guises, so if a charge came up under any of his names I could identify him.
In the meantime, I went out and had something to eat in the restaurant next door. I sensed no problems.
I thought they would charge O’Connor with fraud or theft, or force him to repay the money in order to get some cash from me. I phoned Nanglung and told her I wouldn’t be home for another few hours.
When I went back into the tourist police, O’Connor had been brought back from the cells and was being questioned. I’d given the police O’Connor’s cheques. He was busy explaining to the police where he’d got them.
When it came to the last cheque, he said, ‘This is from my partner, Mr Brett Holdsworth.’ Then he turned, pointed at me, and added, ‘And he killed him!’
Everyone in the room looked at me.
I knew that O’Connor would try to worm his way out of it any way that he could, but I hadn’t expected him to accuse me of murder.
‘What the fuck is he talking about?’ was the first thing out of my mouth.
I’d already told the police that Holdsworth had attacked me, that we’d had a fight and that he’d run off somewhere. I explained that Holdsworth wasn’t O’Connor’s partner, he was his bodyguard. Nobody was dead, or even hurt – although they had tried to kill me. There had been no murder. O’Connor was lying.
But he insisted.
‘He killed my partner,’ he said. ‘And I can prove it. I’ll show you where he’s hidden the body, if one of his gang hasn’t already moved it.’
O’Connor explained that I’d kidnapped him and his partner while he was at a business meeting with a man named Bill Turner. He said that I’d demanded ten million baht, and when he’d refused to pay, I’d killed his partner and then forced him to take me to his apartment, where I’d stolen the three cheques.
He then claimed that I’d held him and his wife hostage until he could take me to his bank in the morning. He said he wasn’t a criminal – he was a businessman.
I tried to interrupt a few times but the police told me to be quiet and let him finish. They listened attentively to him.
It was at this point that I began to worry and fear for my own safety.
The police asked him how I’d killed his partner.
‘He beat him up, then gutted him like a fish,’ said O’Connor.
The police next asked him where the body was.
‘His gang dragged the body off into the woods,’ he said. ‘If you give me a road map, I’ll show you.’
A road map was found, and O’Connor pointed to a spot on it.
‘That’s where he did him,’ he said.
I didn’t pay much attention to where O’Connor had pointed. I just thought he was playing some kind of game. The police next asked me where I’d stopped the car, but I didn’t know.
They asked could it have been the same place that O’Connor had pointed to?
I told them that I didn’t know that either. How would I? I had simply pulled over for a piss. I didn’t mark it on a map.
They were now suspicious. I could tell from their body language that they certainly didn’t believe me. And the more worked up I became, the more their suspicions were aroused. I tried to calm down.
Eventually the captain said that they’d have to check out his story. After all, murder is a serious charge.
I had no problem with that. If the police wanted to waste their time that was fine by me.
I was taken back into the police captain’s office, where he told me if there was anything I wanted to tell him, now would be a good time.
I told him I had no idea what O’Connor was playing at. Yes, I did fight with Holdsworth, but I hadn’t killed anybody. In fact, he’d tried to kill me! I still considered myself lucky he hadn’t succeeded.
The captain said he’d leave me alone to think about it. So I thought.
Why would O’Connor come out with such a story? The only reason that I could think of was that he was trying to take me to prison with him.
We’d go back to where the fight had been. All the signs of a struggle would be there, maybe even some blood. We’d fought beside the road, tumbled down the embankment and then we’d thrashed it out down in the long grass. It would be difficult to prove I was the intended victim.
And Holdsworth was missing. I didn’t know where he lived or anything about him. If I couldn’t find Holdsworth, I couldn’t prove he was alive.
The police would hold me on suspicion of murder until they could find Holdsworth, which could be months or even years.
So O’Connor wasn’t so stupid after all. He’d be an eye-witness to the alleged murder of his partner. Without Holdsworth turning up I couldn’t prove O’Connor was lying. I’d go to prison until they investigated it.
Nothing made sense to me. The police were now interrogating me about Holdsworth’s murder.
The situation was turning into a living nightmare. I was consumed by a dreadful feeling. I sensed that there was going to be serious trouble ahead.
At around 2 p.m. the police captain came back and told me that they’d take us back to where the fight had occurred, and then back to the construction yard where we’d held the meeting.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Today you go free – or you go to the monkey house with your friend.’
I didn’t find it very funny. I was now beginning to panic.
I was taken out to the police minibus, and handcuffed.
We headed off towards Chonburi, the district where the fight had occurred. We made very slow progress because the traffic around the city was very heavy, and after going about 50 km the captain said that we were turning back.
When we’d arrived back at the police station, O’Connor was taken back to the cells. I was taken upstairs into the station. I asked the captain to remove the handcuffs.
‘Just a moment,’ he said. ‘When we get to the office, I take them off.’
There was something menacing about his body language. I knew something was wrong.
6
The captain directed me towards an empty office. When I came to the office door, he pushed me through it. I landed in the middle of the room and the door was closed behind me. There was no light. I was terrified.
The door opened again. Suddenly, six or seven men rushed in, and immediately started kicking the shit out of me.
They never said a word: they just beat and kicked me. I couldn’t defend myself because I was handcuffed. I just curled up on the floor and waited for it to end. I had no other choice. It was brutal.
After a couple of minutes they left as quickly as they’d come.
I just lay on the floor, bewildered. What the fuck was going on?
After about 20 minutes the light snapped on. I moved myself back into a corner and prepared for a second attack.
The door opened, and I braced mysel
f.
The police captain walked in with two other officers. He never said a word; he just stared at me. The three men came over to me in the corner. I was still squinting from the light coming on suddenly, but I could just about make out their features. They stood over me and gave me a couple of hard kicks, then asked, ‘Why did you kill your friend?’
‘Fuck off!’ I yelled. ‘I haven’t killed anybody! What the fuck is going on?’
The only answer I got was, ‘Confess now, or you’ll be sorry!’
‘Confess to what?’ I screamed. ‘I haven’t done anything! But if you take off these handcuffs, I’ll rip your fucking head off!’
I threatened them because I was panicking. I had heard stories and rumours about police brutality. All I could think about was getting out. At that moment I didn’t care about the money. I just wanted to escape.
All I remember about that moment was images of my life flashing before me. I thought they were going to kill me. I was trapped; my nerves went and I desperately tried to imagine ways of escaping.
After subjecting me to more brutality, the three police left, closed the door, and a few seconds afterwards, turned out the light again. I tried my best to remain calm but I couldn’t.
After what seemed like an hour or so, they came back. The light snapped on again and this time five officers came.
There was a table and some chairs in another corner of the room, which I hadn’t noticed before. One of the officers brought over a chair, dragged me to my feet, then pushed me down onto it.
One officer stood behind me, holding my shoulders down, and there was one on either side of me holding down an arm and a leg each. Another one picked up two big telephone directories and stood to my right, just out of my line of vision.
The fifth officer picked up another chair and came and sat in front of me. They never said a word to me or even spoke to each other.
I felt like getting sick. I knew they were going to torture me but I couldn’t believe it was going to happen. I found this sensation terrifying. I pleaded with them to let me go but they wouldn’t. I begged one of them to help me. My breathing became deeper and deeper as I tried to relax and prepare myself for pain.
Suddenly the officer sitting on the chair nodded at the officer to my right.
Immediately, my head went numb.
The policeman had smashed two telephone directories against my skull. The pain went straight to the base of my spine. It was excruciating.
‘Why did you kill your friend?’ he barked. Droplets of spit landed on my eyes and face.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ I screamed.
He struck me again.
‘We know you killed him!’
‘I didn’t kill anybody!’
They attacked me in this way again and again. I tried to cope as best I could. I tried not to break down, but I couldn’t hold myself together.
Telephone directories are heavy and when someone brings one down hard on your skull, it hurts, believe me. After they’ve done it ten times you’re seeing stars. They don’t leave any marks, but they cause unbelievable pain.
I was sure that shocking my brain every time with heavy blows would lead to severe damage. I imagined myself sustaining a serious brain injury.
After about 20 minutes, the beating stopped. The officers got up abruptly and left, and the light went out again.
My nose had started to bleed. I could feel the blood trickling down my lip and taste it in my mouth. My head throbbed. I was in pain.
I felt excruciating pain in my neck and shoulders. If I’d received another couple of whacks with those phone books, I’d have passed out.
After another hour or so, they came back again. When they switched the light on this time, six or seven cops stampeded through the door.
I hadn’t moved, and when they came charging in they knocked me flying out of the chair. I struggled to get up but with my hands cuffed it was difficult.
The police captain stood in front of me and the others circled around. He never said a word. None of them spoke; they just stared at me. Then the captain nodded, and the others grabbed me.
I was terrified. I screamed at them for mercy.
This time, they had small circles cut out of cloth. They held me down and placed the cloth over my eyes and put a blindfold on. They already had me in handcuffs, but now they also tied my hands with cloth. Everything was prepared and they knew exactly what they were doing. They had obviously done this before.
I screamed for help. I prayed for someone to come and stop them. I would have given anything. I begged them to listen. I couldn’t stop crying but they never hesitated once. My pleas for mercy went unheeded.
They sat me cross-legged on the floor. I could tell by the direction of the voices that one cop stood behind me, one on either side, and the captain stood in front with two more.
They then all let go of their grip. I didn’t dare hope they had decided to stop torturing me, but I wasn’t sure what was happening. I can recall a brief moment where nothing happened. I thought they had come to their senses.
I was dazed and in pain. I hoped that was the end of the torture.
Seconds later I felt a metal prod around my groin. Then, they started electrocuting me with what must have been a cattle prod.
The pain caused by the electrocution varied in severity.
It actually depended on how long the police held the prod against my body and the strength of the current, which they were turning up and down.
I screamed out in pain. I hoped that someone would hear me, but no one came.
When you are being tortured, you are overcome by a surreal sense of disbelief. You keep hoping that it will stop but when you realize you are trapped, you begin to cope with the pain. This means that to get the desired effect, your torturer has to administer more and more pain.
None of them had spoken during the torture session. Now, their silence was broken by the Captain who asked me if the prod had hurt.
‘What do you think? Of course it fucking hurt!’ I roared.
They all laughed.
‘No, no, my friend,’ said the voice. ‘That didn’t hurt. But this will.’
They gave me a few more jolts with the cattle prod, only this time they increased the voltage. The pain was unbearable.
A few hours ago I had been sitting in the Captain’s office drinking beer with the officers and being congratulated for catching O’Connor. Now they were torturing me and laughing about it.
They zapped me a couple of times more, then they started to ask me again, ‘Why did you kill your friend? Where did you hide the body? We know you are a killer! Now tell us why!’
I screamed for help. I tried to explain that I hadn’t killed anybody. I’d been fighting with O’Connor’s bodyguard, but he wasn’t dead. He’d run off.
Every time I gave an answer they didn’t like, they electrocuted me with the cattle prod again.
After a while they began targeting the more sensitive parts of my body.
They pulled up my t-shirt and zapped me in the stomach, around the nipples and around the side of my chest. When this didn’t work, they began electrocuting my groin and my testicles.
The electric shock went right through me. Even my teeth hurt. It was unbelievable and unbearable. My muscles contracted every time I was zapped. I could feel the current in every part of my body.
All the time they kept firing questions at me. It went on and on. When they finally stopped, the officer behind me started to massage my shoulders. He told me that I was very strong, but it would be better for me if I confessed.
I wouldn’t confess to anything, especially not to murder!
Everybody has heard stories about police brutality and the third degree treatment, but this was torture – pur
e and simple.
They then left me alone for a short while. I remember that somebody came in and out of the room at this point. I was still blindfolded but I could hear the door and I could hear them whispering.
Suddenly, without a word, they grabbed hold of me and held me tightly down in the chair. The next thing I knew, they put a plastic bag over my head and pulled it tight at the back of my neck.
I began to struggle. I couldn’t breathe! I kept on struggling but it was no use.
The grip on the plastic bag was released a little, which allowed me to breathe again.
They asked the same questions.
‘Why did you kill your friend? We know you killed him!’
Again I answered that I didn’t know what they were talking about. I said I hadn’t killed anyone.
The grip on the plastic bag was pulled tight again, and I struggled to breathe. They knew I was holding my breath as much as I could, so they punched me a couple of times on the side of the face to make sure it was difficult for me.
I was sure my lungs were going to burst any second.
Then I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, but they brought me round with a bucket of cold water.
One of the police team slapped me a couple of times across the face to make sure I was fully conscious again. Then they said, ‘Now we kill you. You make too many problems for us.’
One of them produced a gun and put it to my head, and slowly began to pull the trigger. I could hear it.
‘Say you killed or we kill you! Confess, say you killed!’ came the voice in my ear.
Struggling was useless now. They had a strong grip on me and I didn’t have enough energy left to fight them.
‘Say you killed or we kill you! If you don’t confess you die like your friend!’
‘It’s very easy,’ said the Captain. ‘We say you tried to escape, so we shot you. No problem.’
The gun was shoved into my temple.
‘Now we kill you for sure!’
‘Say you killed!’