Confessions of a Bangkok Private Eye: True Stories From the Case Files of Warren Olson (23 page)

At eight o’clock in the morning there was a change of shift and two uniformed officers arrived with a small plastic bowl of rice for each of us, a bowl of hot, rancid soup and a bottle of water. I asked one of the guards if I could talk to the duty captain but I was told that he’d gone home.

‘Who else can I talk to about my case?’ I asked, scratching one of the dozen or so mosquito bites I’d acquired during the night.

‘Only him,’ said the guard.

‘When is he back?’

‘Ten o’clock tonight.’

I cursed. I’d have to stay in the hellhole for at least another fourteen hours. I asked if I could phone the New Zealand Embassy but was told that I wasn’t allowed to make any phone calls. I drank from the bottle of water and gave the bowl of soup to one of the scrawnier-looking prisoners. It was going to be a long day.

There was nothing to do but talk to the other guys in the holding cell, so during the course of the day I got to hear most of their stories. One young guy who was in for attempted rape kept telling everyone that his father was rich and that he was paying 50,000 baht and that he would be released that afternoon. He was, too. Others were shackled and taken away to be sentenced. Most were there on drugs charges. I felt really sorry for one guy. Gung his name was. He couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. He was almost in tears. He’d been in the holding cell for almost a week and reckoned he was going to go to prison for at least three months. He had no money so he hadn’t even been able to phone his mother to tell her where he was. He gave me a scrap of paper with his mother’s name on it and begged me to phone her when I got out. He said I was his only hope.

I had a few hundred baht on me so I was able to buy a can of Coke and a packet of crisps. I tried to sleep but it was almost impossible on the hard concrete floor, even using my trainers as a makeshift pillow. One time I opened my eyes to see Gung scoffing the last of my crisps. I screamed at him and he burst into tears, telling me that he was starving. I ripped up the piece of paper he’d given me. I was damned if I was going to call his mother after I’d caught him stealing from me.

I waited until five minutes after ten before asking one of the guards if the captain was in yet. He frowned and said it was the captain’s weekend off and that he wouldn’t be back until Monday. I almost passed out. Monday? I had to spend another forty-eight hours in the holding cell for no other reason than that the captain was away playing golf or snooker or shagging his minor wife.

My T-shirt and jeans were already caked in dirt and sweat and I itched all over. I couldn’t bear the thought of two more nights. I wanted to shout and scream but I knew that there was nothing I could do to change the situation. I forced myself to stay calm.
Jai yen yen
, as the Thais are so fond of saying. Cool heart.

As it happened, the duty captain put in an appearance the following night. Manacles were slapped on my wrists and I was taken down to his office. He seemed to be in a good mood and he listened patiently as I said that it was the older sister who should be behind bars, that I was an innocent third party, that I wanted to speak to my embassy and to my lawyer. When I finished speaking, he cracked his knuckles, picked up a toothpick and flicked it with his thumbnail as he outlined the case against me. The case he would be presenting the judge. The car wasn’t mine. The paperwork for the car was in the older sister’s name. She had not given me permission to take away the vehicle. And the money that I was claiming was payment for the car was in fact a dowry that Dave had paid as an engagement gift.

That stopped me in my tracks. What?

The captain said that Dave had been sleeping with Nong’s younger sister and the 100,000 baht was to compensate for the time she wasn’t studying, for her university fees, for her food and her keep. As an act of good faith, the older sister had lent Dave her car.

I started to appreciate just how much trouble I was in. And that maybe, just maybe, Sen had been telling the truth. It could well have been the case that Nong had been too embarrassed to tell Dave that the family was demanding a dowry, and that she’d spun him a line about the money being a payment for the car. And even if it wasn’t the truth, in my experience Thai courts tend to take the word of Thai nationals over the word of a foreigner. Plus it would be two against one, their word against mine. And as things stood, I had stolen the car.

The captain smiled at me sympathetically. ‘I know you are not a thief, Khun Warren,’ he said, He shrugged. ‘The problem is, I have already done the paperwork. I would be very difficult to make any changes at this late stage …’

He looked at me expectantly. I knew exactly what was happening. He was giving me the chance to buy myself out of the hole I was in. ‘I don’t have any money on me,’ I said.

‘But you have an ATM card,’ he said.

I did a few quick calculations in my head. I figured I probably had about 40,000 baht in the account. I told him that I was a teacher and that I had hardly any money, but that I could probably get him 30,000 baht.

‘Fifty thousand,’ he said.

I told him that all I had left in my account was 40,000 baht, and that he could have it all. I pulled out my wallet and took out my ATM card. ‘If you take me to the nearest machine, I’ll withdraw all the money.’

He held out his hand for the card. ‘You have to stay here while you are charged,’ he said. ‘Give me the pin number and I will see what I can do.’

I wrote the pin number down on a piece of paper with my manacled hands and the captain told one of his men to take me back to the holding cell.

I was dog-tired and I sat down with my back against the wall, my knees drawn up against my chest. I closed my eyes but stayed awake, hoping and praying that my name would be called and that I would be let out. The call never came. I dozed, and when I woke up I was sprawled on the floor and it was daylight. Breakfast had been served while I was asleep and someone had eaten my rice and soup. When a guard appeared I was told that the captain had gone home and wouldn’t be back until the evening. Now I was really worried. The captain had taken my card and probably emptied the account, but I had no way of knowing whether or not he would honour the agreement. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. I’ve had guns pointed at me, I’ve had guys pull knives on me, I’ve had bargirls threaten to cut off my private parts and feed them to ducks, but none of that compared with the terror of knowing that I was facing months if not years in a Thai prison. People die in Thai prisons. Lots of people. They get sick, they get knifed, they get raped, they commit suicide. And if they survive their incarceration, they’re never the same. My three days in the holding cell had been just a taste of what lay ahead of me if the captain didn’t keep his end of the bargain.

I kept looking at my watch and prayed that the captain would come back. He did. And at eleven o’clock I was taken to his office. The manacles were removed and a bottle of Thai whisky appeared from his desk and he poured two glasses. We toasted each other. Then he waved a typed report in front of me. ‘I have made a small alteration,’ he said. ‘A small but important alteration. It now says that you borrowed the car from the older sister. Borrowed and not stole.’ He picked up another typed form and slid it across the desk towards me. ‘This is a release form. You will sign it. It says that you have been well and fairly treated here, it says that we have not asked you for any money. And it says that you will not bother Khun Nong any more.’ He handed me a ballpoint pen. ‘If you give me any problem in the future, I will cross out “borrow” and write in “steal”. Do you understand?’

I nodded. Yeah, I understood. I had paid him a 40,000-baht bribe and was now signing a piece of paper that said I hadn’t bribed him. I signed. The papers were taken away to be counter-signed, photocopied, stamped and filed. I was even given a copy of both papers, and the captain slipped me an envelope containing my ATM card then the captain told that I was free to go.

I stumbled down the stairs in a daze. It was just after midnight. I felt like the guy in
Midnight Express
, staggering out of prison, not believing that I was actually free. I kept thinking that at any minute the cops would come running after me to slap the manacles on me again. I was hungry, I was thirsty, and I stank to high heaven. I needed a bath, I needed a steak and I needed my bed. And a woman would be nice. But first of all I needed a taxi, because I wanted to put as much distance between myself and the police station as possible.

I saw a blue and red cab with its light on and I flagged it down, jumped into the back and barked out my address before he could complain about the smell. Thailand was never the same for me after that weekend. It had been sullied. Spoilt. And I had seen for myself how easy it was for things to go horribly wrong in the Land of Smiles.

AFTERWORD

They say there’s a book in all of us, be it fact or fiction, and in my case, working as a private eye in Bangkok, I had many clients telling me I should one day publish my memoirs. This might never have happened. However, thanks to a chance meeting with Stephen Leather, an idea became reality, and rough scribbles in tatty notebooks, together with random recollections, were, through Stephen’s mastery, woven into what I trust was the entertaining book you have just read.

Everything in this book is based on fact. Some cases were a little too sensitive to include and of course many were repetitious. Over the years, the success of my business grew largely by word of mouth, and this was due to the fact I became involved personally—most clients treated me as a confident, a friend, perhaps even a psychiatrist! I would take their calls day or night; they were several continents away waiting on the results of my investigations to shape their future life plans.

In order to protect all parties, the names, nationalities, and in some cases locations, have been changed but the stories are basically as they happened.

Reading through the book, you may feel that Thailand, and the local women in particular, are something to be wary of. That is certainly not the case. I have been fortunate to have travelled extensively, especially throughout Asia, and in my opinion there is not a country in the world where the people are friendlier, where the women are more graceful.

If you are going to become involved with Thailand, especially with Thai women, I would strongly suggest that you take time to learn something of the people, the culture and the language. Thais will greatly appreciate any effort you make to understand their country and their culture. You must take into account a different way of thinking, a different upbringing, a country where it is common for females from the large, poorer section, not be able to go to secondary school, and where by and large, pensions, unemployment benefits, childcare payments to single parents, or even fifty-fifty asset splits in divorce cases, do not exist.

I have seen Thai girls accept large sums of money without a second thought from foreigners they have recently met, displaying very little gratitude or showing no remorse when they don’t honour their end of things. And a few weeks later, when the money has gone and they are destitute, these same girls are genuinely grateful that I would give them twenty baht for food. Many girls working in bars are depicted as cold and calculating, yet these same girls would dote on my young daughter if they saw her out with me, and would rush off to buy her some fruit or a toy.

In my own case, my wife is Thai, and much younger than I am, plus she is from a poor family and although bright, had a limited education, yet, perhaps against the odds, I have to say I could not ask for a better wife or a more devoted mother. It has not been easy for us, but we both realized that as a family we would be better off living in New Zealand and we made the decision to leave Thailand. I am now completing a Masters in Strategic Studies, instead of sitting in bars, chatting to lovely ladies and getting paid to drink Jack Daniels! My wife cares for our daughter, and braves the bitter local elements in search of Asian supermarkets, instead of sitting in our Bangkok apartment eating somtam and playing cards with her friends. But we are together, and our daughter Natalie, the love of our life, is growing up healthy and wise, and fortunately appears to have inherited some of her fathers brains, and all of her mothers good looks!

So, relationships with Thai women can work but it does not come easy, you have to work on it, and don’t alienate them from their families, their culture or beliefs. Perhaps as you read this book, apart from outlining some of the many pitfalls one can encounter, you may come to get a little more understanding of things Thai, perhaps your eyes will be opened a little more, and should you develop a relationship with a Thai at some stage, there maybe some things here that help you make the right choice, or help smooth the way. It is my hope this book does accomplish that, just as much as it entertains.

My thanks go out to those many, many people who contacted me over the years as a Thai private eye; I can honestly say I always tried to do my best for you—I just hope that in most cases it was enough. If some of you recognize cases, and feel you have been poorly portrayed, my apologies, as those who know me can testify , I always tend to say things as they are—or at least as I see them.

To the many good friends I made during my years in Thailand, to all those who were happy to help, assist or recommend a struggling PI my heartfelt thanks and best wishes for your respective futures in the Kingdom.

Thanks also to those good friends over the years, the likes of PK, Cookie, Bruty, the gang from the ‘X’ forum, all of whom helped provided the genuine friendship one needs when domiciled in a country far from home.

To the Thai people in general, nothing but thanks and admiration, always willing to help when they could. A classic example: Khun Moi, the dear old drink seller who no doubt still sets up nightly on the corner of Sukhumvit Soi 13, a real treasure. When times were tough, she happily supplied TPE (Thaiprivateeye) with a bottle of Sangthip and some Coke on tick!

Similarly, most officials I had to confront were always helpful and understanding, and I did my best to show them respect and some appreciation when I could.

My time spent in Thailand, espcially as an investigator, was a wonderful chapter in my life. Perhaps not always as easy or successful as it may appear in the book, but nonetheless a part of my life I would never change, and it certainly helped me develop a better understanding of life in general. I was fortunate to leave Thailand not only with great memories, many of which I have shared here with you, but also with a jewel in the form of our daughter Natalie. This book is for her for she is my motivation and perhaps my saviour—an investigator needs plenty of luck to remain unharmed, I think I had just about used all mine.

Warren Olson

New Zealand