Kingdom of Illusions. The William Sinclair Story 0909104514

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THE WILLIAM SINCLAIR STORY A 65-year-old man's fight for survival in a Bangkok prison

Richard Shears Isabelle Gidley

THE WILLIAM SINCLAIR STORY A 65-year-old man's fight forsurvival in a Bangkok prison

Richard Shears Isabelle Sidley GREENHOUSE

First published 1982 by Greenhouse Publications Pty Ltd 385-387 Bridge Road Richmond 3121 Victoria Australia © William Sinclair, Richard Shears, Isobelle Gidley, 1982 1

Typeset by Bandaid Productions, Melbourne Printed by Griffin Press Limited, Adelaide ISBN 0 909104 51 4 No part of this publication may be reproduced, or used in any form, without the prior written permission of the publisher. The authors and publisher wish to thank William Sinclair and his family, who have provided the information for this story. As well, they made available their extensive correspondence and files relating to the trials both in Australia and Bangkok. The information contained in this publication is derived from court transcripts, reports of the Royal Commission and from Bill Sinclair’s own letters and descriptions of his life in prison. Where possible correct names have been given to the characters in the story, although in a few cases, because of libel laws, pseudonyms have been used.

Contents

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 < 22 23 2?' 25

Busted 1 . The Social Whirl 9 . Interrogation 17 Kingdom of Illusions 26 Open the Boxes and Take the Money 37 Shadow of the Machine Gun 55 Ted the Mouth 67 Tombstone Territory 85 Maha Chai 103 Enter Greg Sinclair' 120 Chained '1.31 The Thai Corruption Department 140 * » To Bribe or not to Bribe 153 Murder, Madness and Mayhem 164 A Document is Disputed 173 Worthless . . . They may well be 'Right 190 Lies fell- from his lips as easily as a Sigh . . . ,204 Dr Jeckyll, William Sinclair and Mr Hyde 216 Rebuffed by Miss Sumalee 233 Guilty in Absentia 244 Thirty Three Years and Eight Months 263 Too Late the Evidence 270 Bwang Kwang, the Bangkok Hilton 278 The Last I saw of him was his Feet - 303 With his Life in Ruins * 317 Epilogue 329

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1 Busted NARCOTICS EYES ONLY. CONFIDENTIAL. FOR DAVIES, NARCOTICS LIAISON, BANGKOK, KUALA LUMPUR AND SINGAPORE. GRATEFUL PASS TO LOCAL AUTHORITIES. FROM OLI A (HALL) NARCOTICS. ON 041078 INFORMATION WAS RECEIVED FROM NSW POLICE TO THE EFFECT THAT THE. FOLLOWING PERSONS WOULD IMPORT A LARGE AMOUNT OF NARCOTICS — POSSIBLY HEROIN OR COCAINE — CONCEALED IN SOFT SIDED SUITCASES.” J . WARREN EDWARD FELLOWS. TRAVELLINGUNDER THE ALIAS GREGORY HASTINGS BARKER, DOB 26.3.52. RESIDES 57, DAWLING STREET, KENSINGTON, SYDNEY. P/P 136541. 2. PAUL CECIL HAYWARD, DOB 26.04.53. RESIDES 15, MODERN. AVENUE, CANTERBURY. P/P NO. K 796103. BOTH PERSONS DEPARTED SYDNEY FOR SOUTH EAST ASIA ON QANTAS FLT 5 AT 1615 HRS MONDAY 02.10.78 ALLEGEDLY FOR A STAY OF TWO MONTHS. FELLOWS CAME TO FBN ATTENTION IN FEBRUARY 1978 RE SEIZURE OF 0.95 KIEOS HEROIN IN COTTON GOODS IN BANGKOK (YOUR BK19932 of 13.2.78 REFERS) FELLOWS THEN IDENTIFIED AS WARREN EDWARD FELLOWS 13.9.53 AUST. P/P 655245. WE ARE ATTEMPTING TO ASCERTAIN DETAILS OF THEIR AIRLINE BOOKINGS BUT IN THE MEANTIME YOU MAY WISH TO ADVISE THE AUTHORITIES IN THE EVENT THE PAIR TRAVEL TO THAILAND. IT WOULD NOT HAMPER LOCAL ENQUIRIES I F FELLOWS WAS TO BE ARRESTED FOR THE ATTEMPTED EXPORTATION WHICH TOOK PLACE IN FEBRUARY. GRATEFUL IMMEDIATE ADVICE IF SUBJECTS ARfe LOCATED TRAVELLING THROUGH YOUR AREA TO AUSTRALIA . . .

Note: DOB, dale of birth; PP,. passport; FBN, Federal Bureau of Narcotics.

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"Capt. Vyraj Jutimitta, Narc Suppression Unit, Bangkok.

Dear Vyraj, . . . Yesterday, the 5 th. October, 1978, I received a cable from Canberra stating that fellows, travelling-under the name of Gregory Hastings barker and accompanied by a ■ man called Paul 'Cecil HAYWARD had left Australia for S.E. Asia, presumably Bangkok, fellows, alias barker, was allowed to leave Australia, despite being recognised, in the hope that hejnight return to Bangkok so that you : could detain him for his attempt to smuggle heroin from Bangkok to Australia in February this year. Further information suggested that both fellows, alias barker, and Hayward, intend to smuggle heroin to Australia in specially designed and prepared suitcases, which makes detection of the heroin; almost impossible. Special inserts have been prepared to be removed by screws and then rescrewed' and set with a quick drying resin, once the heroin- is in place. ‘Yesterday'evening I met an informant whcrtold me that he had met two men in the company of other suspects known to me, and described the man barker, whom he had met before, but could not rembmberhis name. I showed him a photograph of fellows, and he then confirmed - that both BARKER and HAYWArd were in Bangkok. I asked the informant to contact the two suspects today in Patpong, which he did. He again confirmed that they are . barker and hayward. He told me that they had an appointment at lunchtime at the montien hotel to meet a The informant then arranged to meet them between 3p.m. and 5p.m. today, at the Bangkok Sports Club to play snooker. . T contacted a friend at Qantas and have ascertained that 2

both suspects booked a return flight to Sydney on QF6 on Wednesday the 11th October. The friend will contact me if they should change the bookings. I then contacted a friend, known to you, at the Montien Hotel, and have confirmed that the ,suspects occupy rooms 413 and 415. I intend to visit the Montien later today and receive copies of their registration card, and request details of any phone calls, etc. T believe that the meeting toddy was to arrange delivery ~of the narcotics, suspected to be heroin or cocaine. ‘Since arriving in Bangkok these two suspectshave been in the company of a number of known and suspected traffickers, persons involved in gambling, racing and organised crime in Australia, including associates who are wanted on warrants of arrest in Australia and Thailand, and who, when arrested will be deported as undesirable aliens. I have so far organised, through Col. Bamroong and General Saneh, and General Anant of Immigration, warrants of arrest for two convincted traffickers, known to have business in Patpong, Pattaya, and whom I suspect of organising the exportation of 600 kilos of Thai sticks concealed in safes, to Australia recently and which is the subject of current enquiries with BMNU and myself. ‘These two traffickers apparently are aware of the warrants, and have been leaving Thailand and returning through Singapore and Malaysia to avoid detection. lean supply you with background information if you so desire, on these and others, in whom I have-an interest. ‘A discreet surveillance of barker and hayward may lead to the supplier, who,, if identified can ’be arrested after barker and hayward depart for the airport. We are not seeking to let the heroin run to Australia, as it would assist you to arrest them at don kIuang, and possibly clear up the other exportation case by fellows, alias barker, earlier this year. ‘Any assistance lean provide in the form of information from the informant, movements or meetings; I will pass on toyqu. Shouldyou require thy assistance in any other way,. 3

surveillance, or monitoring any listening device at the hotel, airport, search of suitcases, etc., then you have only to ask . . . Regards, Frank. P.S. Attached for your information:. 1. Copy of Canberra Cable. 2. Copy of photographs of fellows alias barker. 3. According to my schedule, QF6 departs at 1525 hours on 11.10.78. The informant states that fellows now has short black hair. HAYWARD is described as being a professional football player with an athletic, muscular build. FA * Rising out of mud flats along the banks of the snaking Chao Phraya River — a city. A jumble of contrasts. Of modern hotels and office blocks- in rectangular concrete and dazzling glass vying for space with walled palaces and ancient wats topped with tall, gleaming spires. And leafy gardens where saffron-robed monks find peace from the crowded and jostling thoroughfares. Where shadowy willo’-the-wisps invoking drug-induced dreams dance across a network of boat-clogged klongs. Bangkok. Succoured by nectar from the Golden Triangle. Promising halcyon days for the slaves of heroin, Queen of Drugs, and for glassy-eyed losers who swallow pills without prescriptions and puff gunja (marijuana) behind the shuttered? windows of cheap rooms. Bangkok. The City of Angels . . . * Up and down the Patpong Road it was business as usual. There you could buy and sell a thousand vices and no one stopped for lunch. The noise was deafening as an endless stream of cars, motor taxis, old buses, motor bikes, ■samlors and bicycles roared past, tooting and honking and ringing bells. Life moved to an ever thumping disco beat. 4

Pimps and prostitutes purveyed human, flesh among teeming food stalls and busy noodleshops; and hawkers of contraband cried bargains you wouldn’t find anywhere else. Bright, brittle and 'cheap. A hundred Baht earned the right to negotiate and anything above that opened the doors to a Mecca of sin. Watches, radios, pornographic magazines, cure-all medicines, pirate tapes, drugs, a woman or a man, any, form of perversion - it was all in.Patpong Road, thick with a spicy staleness, the mixture of petrol fumes, cooking, rotting garbage, sweat and cheap perfume. It was- the workplace for poverty-stricken village girls who, unable to find ‘regular’ employment because of poor education and a general lack of jobs, found easy money in quick sex in the labyrinth of rooms that ran off Patpong Road. With elderly relatives dependant on the income of the young, 14 per cent of the nation’s women made their way to the flesh spots; dancing in the bars in glittering skin-tight leotards, working naked in the massage, parlours and participating' in pornographic movies and live shows where, in their quest for a fistful of baht, they copulated with both man and beast. Through the sex factory that was Patpong Road walked the, tourist' . . . ‘just looking’, sometimes photographing, and perhaps ultimately participating in the most seductive show on earth. If you wanted heroin, you just put the word out and within half an hour, for the price of $7000, you could be driving off with a kilo. Watched by a thousand informers. Among "the bars, nightclubs and massage parlours, where numbered and scantily clad girls sat behind glass screens, a sign offered ’Wimmin and Likker’. Hardly glancing -at the invitation, four men pushed open the louvered , doors of the’ Texan Bar. The heat and loud music' greeted them and the bar girl, eyeing them casually, ’thought if they , wanted anything more than a drink or the lunch special, they’d have.to come back: the girls didn’t start until six. They’d even missed the. formal welcome which, in the evenings, the .doorman, a Thai midget dressed as a cowboy, extended to all clientele. 5

Lieutenant Colonel Khomkrit of the Narcotics Suppression Police paused, his quick eyes scanning the saloon. The Texan Bar was a watering hole and a' meeting place for English speaking expatriots from all over the world who enjoyed a chat over the substantial and inexpensive lunches. The decor was reminiscent of an old ‘wild west’ saloon bar, hung with bridles, saddles, wagon wheels and other cowboy associated trappings. On its walls and above the bar were stuffed and mounted steers’ heads. At six o’clock in the evening, the Texan Bar threw off its more subdued daytime image and burst into that earsplitting and agitated rhythm in keeping with the rest of Patpong Road. Right then, though, it was practically empty. A young European perched on a bar stool was engaged in dir.ect confrontation with one of the glassy-eyed, stuffed heads, and several Thais sat around a table. In an alcove, two westerners, a heavy man in a safari suit- and his younger, more casually dressed companion, chatted amiably. One out of three to choose from. Khomkrit strode purposefully across the saloon followed by his colleagues, out of time and out of place. For, although these men were representatives of the law and wore guns on their hips, the Texan Bar with its wagon wheels and silver revolvers, was a more appropriate setting for a leather-clad sheriff from Boot Hill. Khomkrit surprised the bar girl with his question. ‘Which is William Sinclair?’ Why, everyone knew Mr Sinclair, but she nodded towards a table in the corner. The policeman approached the alcove where the two men were having an after lunch beer. He still wasn’t sure. ‘Mr Sinclair?’ His eyes darted rapidly from one side of the table to the other. Sinclair looked up. ‘My name is Lieutenant Colonel Khomkrit, attached to the Narcotics Suppression Police. We have arrested Warren Fellows and Paul Hayward for being in possession of eight and a half kilos of heroin and we believe that you are 6

involved. We would like you to come, with us.’ ‘You’ve got to be joking.’ Bill Sinclair leaned back in his seat. Paul Dole, the husband of the Canadian Trade Commissioner in Australia, with whom Sinclair had just lunched, protested, but the older man said, ‘It’s alright, Paul, there’s nothing to worry about.’ Again Lieutenant Colonel Khomkrit requested that William Sinclair accompany him for questioning. ‘But I haven’t done anything,’ the Australian insisted. The policeman was .adamant,' so Bill Sinclair, not unreasonable, and not unduly concerned, decided he’d better get on down to headquarters and clear the whole thing up. ‘You too,’ the officer said, nodding towards Dole. Flanked by their shorter escorts, the two men walked t o the carpark where Sinclair was surprised to see another Australian Bangkok resident, James Broadhurst, standing by a police vehicle. He looked unkempt and ill at ease and Sinclair wondered what he’d been-grabbed for. James Broadhurst and Paul Dole were driven immediately to the police headquarters, but Sinclair was pushed into a stationwagon and taken to his apartment in Thung Maha Mek. Neither Dao, his wife, nor the maid were at home, and his wife, naturally security conscious in a city that thrived on crime, had slipped the chain across the inside of the door and gone out the back way. ‘Why don’t you just break the chain?’ said Sinclair, whose temper was rising. But as the police were about to do so, Dao and the maid returned simultaneously. The Colonel and his men wasted no time inside. They pulled open .cupboards, dragged out drawers, pushed the mattress from the bed and ripped off its sheets, tapped on the walls and looked behind the books on the shelves. Bill Sinclair and "his wife stood helplessly by, watching and waiting. Finally, when the apartment had been thoroughly ransacked, the police seized AS3000 which they found in a briefcase with Sinclair’s passport and then took him off. ‘Don’t worry, Dao,’ he called back as he walked to the 7

car, ‘there’s nothing to worry about. I haven’t done anything and I’ll be back soon? x William Sinclair did hot realize he. was stepping into a nightmare. A web of deceit, lies and corruption offering no escape, which' would drastically alter, the rest of his life. . As he waved goodbye to his wife, ’he could not know that be was to be the victim'of corrupt Thai officials and overzealous Australian law enforcement officers on what he was certain was a determined witch hunt. Nor could he know he- was about to be an'unwilling participant in scenes that, he would describe as the most degrading he had ever witnessed.

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2 The Social Whirl The cafe society of Double Bay, in Sydney’s eastern suburbs, was a floating, posturing group of businessmen, pseudo-academics, models, underworld figures, ‘look-atmes’ and their entire entourage of hangers-on. Smoking dope, sucking amphetamines, sometimes sniffing coke or getting smashed on champagne, they lived in a hazy, pretentious world where everyone knew everybody, but where nobody really knew anyone. There were, of course, exceptions. The bars, cafes and restaurants were excellent places to do business - to give an arm an extra twist, to. persuade a doubtful client that he should ge ahead with a certain deal. Through the bejewelled, and expensively-dressed crowds Bill Sinclair, himself a natty dresser, had wandered. He lived ‘just around the corner’ in Vaucluse, a few minutes drive in the Triumph. He didn’t relish- the sparkling: lifestyle but he used it to make his -business contacts. During his chequered career in Australia, in both local government and private enterprise, his intuitive sense of who could be ‘bought’ earned him the reputation-of being a ‘fixer’. Criminals, police, millionaires, politicans - he knew them all. He mixed and drank with the best and worst of them. It was through these contacts he was able to. provide information, arrange meetings and introduce par-, ties who were of mutual benefit to each other. Naturally,' he was paid well for his services, for Bill Sinclair was a man who was known to have integrity; who kept his word; never asked questions; kept his mouth shut. But he also had a reputation for direct speech - if he disagreed, he would say so. He never turned his back on a worthwhile challenge. He had many friends; but he had 9

Just as many enemies. His success in business built up a wall of jealousy and that, added to a personality that some felt was aggressive, set him in line for a big fall. He wasn't to know it, of course, but some of those he mixed with were to become characters in a drama which was to be played to the courts of Asia and Australia and in which he was to assume the title role. Born in Uralla, New South Wales on 13 July 1913, William Sinclair was the son of a highly- educated Englishman and a mother who was a triple certificate nurse and bacteriologist and who later owned a-large private nursing home in Brisbane. Educated at a private Catholic school in Queensland, Sinclair became a champion swimmer and footballer. He, continued to show sporting prowess as a good amateur golfer (playing off a handicap of 2) and competing in ProAm tournaments. William Sinclair had many careers. He met his wife, Iris, in Melbourne while working as a salesman. In the ’40s he had a clothing factory in Richmond, Victoria. The ’50s saw him as director of a Public Company - Newmooloo Mining - with a mine at Tennant Creek. At this time he also became a prominent member of Labor Party Circles in New South Wales. He had been public relations executive for the oldest building company in Sydney, Stewart Bros., and public relations officer for' the English company who built the ' Gladesville Bridge, Sydney, and the Derwent Bridge, Hobart. For almost twenty- five years of his working life he was involved in real estate. He owned five real estate offices including the William Sinclair Company. He worked for Lewis Farquharson and Company and Wilmore and Randell. He had been an auctioneer, laid the formula for land rentals in Fiji and won the tender for development of the premier tourist resort. He negotiated timber leases and purchased tankers for governments. 10

William Sinclair gained a name for himself as a flamboyant businessman who pulled off audacious property deals, finding loopholes in zoning restrictions to open the door for high rise development. He became an expert in the field of local government. As aiderman at Woollahra he was chairman of the planning committee. Later he accepted a well-paid job as a public relations consultant with Leichhardt Council. His brief was to heal the rift between progressive developers and established families who objected to redevelopment plans. In 1976, Sinclair formed a travel company, Wings, with Frank Henwood, who later sold his - shares to a Catholic priest, Father Edward O’ Dwyer. What was to interest police later was that many drug smuggling suspects travelled overseas on tickets bought through Wings Travel. Expoliceman Murray Riley, in jail for trying to smuggle 4 tons of Buddha sticks into Australia on the yacht Anda, had held a director’s card and had enjoyed all the benefits that implied. Sinclair had issued him with the card because Riley had promised that while on his travels he would direct business to Wings. As for other drug smugglers, Sinclair was to say over and again that he could not vet every single passenger. If drug smuggling groups had decided to use Wings, that had nothing to do with him - no doubt other travel companies were used by other illegal organizations. “ Among those who mingled with the Double Bay circle was Sinclair’s son, Greg, a former St Joseph’s schoolboy who had proved himself as a first-rate athlete. Bill Sinclair introduced Greg and his tall, blonde wife to his associates and Sinclair in turn met acquaintances of Greg, Among them was Arthur Smith who had been linked with the underworld and who had struck up a friendship with Greg. From the start, when Greg had met Arthur Smith in a Sydney restaurant, he had known that Arthur had.a tough reputation and that he and the Attorney General had never danced roses around a Christmas tree. But as far as Greg was concerned, Arthur Smith was a thorough gentleman. 11

His wife thought so, too. In fact, she said that tall Arthur, with his dark hair and rugged looks, was a distinctive and handsome fellow. 'Greg and Arthur had formed a friendship because Arthur, not having had a brilliant education, saw in Greg a man to discuss the whys and wherefors of commerce after all, Greg was a well known Brisbane restaurateur. Greg -liked Arthur because he saw in the big man someone who had come up through the school of hard knocks, had become street wise .and was trying to set himself up in a, legitimate business venture. The friendship grew until finally Greg could come down from Queensland, borrow Arthur’s wife’s car for his own business purposes, then off they would go for a drinking session around town. That’s if Arthur wasn’t too busy in the off-course betting business. Greg had seen him with several thousand dollars in his house or in his pockets before settling on Mondays. Yes, Arthur Smith had'been there in Double Bay and so’ had Murray Riley and B’ob Evans, a Sydney bar owner who was to be called before a Royal Commission into drugs. Sinclair rubbed shoulders with them all, in Double Bay, Balmain and Rozelle. Silver-haired Sinclair later got on so well with Arthur Smith, in fact, that the two of them began discussions to set up a television cooking show called ‘The Magic Wok’. But Sinclair also had his mind set on business in Thailand - a country he had visited often and which offered potential for deals in coal and tin. He liked the place and, being 'an astute businessman, recognized its potential for redevelopment. He had befriended a number of Australians in Bangkok who had-opened bars and were enjoying all the pleasures of life. Certainly, he decided, it would be a contrast to his present life style. He had a nice home, to be sure - a large house set in a magnificent garden with French windows opening onto a sunny terrace which offered glimpses of Sydney harbour. Sometimes he would stand on the terrace and watch Iris at work in the garden and it might be said that he had it all set up. But 12

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Sydney held nothing more for. him. He had grown tired of the social rounds that had never much mattered to him anyway. Tired .of a western wayof life with its expectations and recriminations. Money was never his god. Yes, there had been times when he had a lot, and he had spread ibaiound. But there had also been times when he hadn’t a penny. Yet he had never depended on anyone else. He was an astute businessman with a nose for when .and how to make a killing'. His prime concern had always been his family: to see they were well provided for. He loved his two children with a fierce passion and had given them every opportunity good schools, university. They had not disappointed him /Greg was a highly successful restaurateur and Siobhan, a teacher. His wife, Iris? Yes, she had been good to him, reliable, devoted and loyal, but their marriage was over a long time ago. It had slipped into a dull routine with very little joy and he’d found’ no. happiness in a bottle of brandy. But there was more to it than that. He didn’t know quite how to explain it io Greg. For a long time Bill Sinclair felt disillusioned and, strangely, lonely. There had to be more to life, he reasoned, than a domestic, suburban regularity. He was happiest when visiting Asia, particularly Bangkok where, over the years, he had made many friends. He liked the Thais whom he found attractive, friendly and ready'to please. The more his understanding of Asians grew, the further removed he felt from his own society. Furthermore, he saw great prospects for redevelopment of property in Bangkok, and that was, after all his forte. And then he’d met Dao, .an ex bar girl and former belly dancer. No femme fatale, that was for sure. Not so young either - probably, somewhere in her early thirties, running to fat with two children by a former marriage. But she was good company. Someone he’d been able to laugh with, have a good time with. He knew she also saw him as someone who would relieve her financial burdens, but her ready sympathy eased his loneliness. In a way they filled each other’s needs. He began to see Bangkok as a new begin13

ning, and when1 business opportunities presented themselves, felt he could rightly justify long .absences from home. Tris was never likely to find out, and anyway, she was accustomed to his trips abroad. He didn’t want to hurt her, nor did he have the courage to tell her he wanted out, but he could no longer maintain the sham his marriage had become. Iris would never understand about Dao, that it didn't matter to him she was a bar girl. She was not a replacement. Nevertheless, Iris would still see Dao as a personal insult. No, it was no damn good going into explanations when words were insufficient . ... He decided, simply to slip out of Iris’s life. Hemet Greg in a Sydney restaurant early in 1978 and told him his intentions - he was leaving virtually right away for Bangkok and he intended to marry Dao. Greg was stunned. ‘You’re an old fool, dad. And what about mum? Does she know?’ ‘She doesn’t, and I haven’t the heart to tell her.’ ‘It’s bloody ridiculous. You’re an old man. For Christ’s* sake, dad, you’re over sixty - she’ll wear you out in no time!’ But Greg’s protests were in vain. ‘You won’t be able to marry her, anyway,* Greg tried as a last resort. ‘Mum won’t give you a divorce. You’re forgetting she’s a Catholic,’ ‘Whether I get a divorce or not won’t matter up there. I still intend to go ahead with the marriage.’ Sinclair then told. Greg about his business plans, his main intention being to set up a company called Watergate - ‘it’s as good a name as any and it will stick in everyone’s mind’ - and open up a bar. ‘You’re running out, dad. You’re running out and leaving mum with no support. Don’t you think you owe her something?’ The row went on. Bill Sinclair did not find it easy to explain his actions. He had lived a full, exciting life, but in recent years he felt it was-drying up around him. He well remembered his adventurous younger'days . . . 14

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DespiteGreg’s efforts to talk hi’s father out of going to Bangkok, William Sinclair had made up his mind. He assured his son that he had not forgotten his family while making Tiis plans. He would be leaving behind, he said, some $100,000. It was in the secret compartment in the Vaucluse house. Greg knew where it was and, that it had been set aside for family use. When his father had owned a building company, Kay’s Constructions, and was renovating the house in Parsley Road, he built a special hiding place for jewellery, cash and private papers. William Sinclair’s flair for transacting development contracts meant that occasionally he had to have large sums of money available to negotiate successfully. It was his practice to keep this money hidden at home. - After his father’s departure, Greg collected the money, put it in an overnight bag and flew back to Brisbane. His wife, nervous about having such large amounts of cash lying around the house, opened an account in Brisbane and put the money, 'along with jewellery and records of the restaurant transactions, in a strongbox. She also included some $70,000 which Greg h a d acquired from the restaurant - he used to take home around $1800 a week. Meanwhile, William Sinclair packed his bags, said goodbye to Iris with no suggestion that he would not be back, and flew to Bangkok. It was a decision that was to drastically change what was left of his life, for the name Sinclair was to become synonymous around the world with big-time drug smuggling. It was the surname .used on occasions by Terry Clark, the central figure in the ‘Mr Asia’ drug running organization and who was sentenced to life imprisonment in England in July 1981, for murder and drug conspiracy charges. Police in Australia got William Sinclair’s history mixed up with another Sinclair and- as a result a Judge at a Royal Commission labelled him as having a ‘criminal reputation and history’ when, in fact, he had no record at all. In addition he was to be named in Richard Hall’s book Greed - dealing with the Mr Asia organization - as being connected with the Sinclair Group 15

‘the most significant of Clark’s competitors’. And when police and royal commissioners delved into drug running in Australia, many yelled ‘Bill Sinclair’, when in fact there was no proof and when Sinclair was not in a> position to answer'their accusations. As he was to write home later: ‘It seems that everyone is out' to get me. I cannot win. The cards are stacked unfairly against me.’

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3 Interrogation Joseph Conrad and Somerset Maugham once stayed there. Now in the Authors’ Lounge of the century-old Oriental Hotel tourists sipped iced drinks or sat oh the terrace languidly watching the boats on the river. Not far from the 13-storey luxury hotel, where they now paid 2000 baht a night, stood a cluster of buildings the tourists wouldn’t have noticed. They weren’t on any city guides and you didn’t get to spend the night there unless you had something to- contribute to drug control. The Narcotics Suppression Centre was where they brought their suspects. Usually, it was an informer who pointed the narcotics men in the right direction, but sometimes it was the police officers’ own work that led to arrests. They staked out houses arid followed suspected drug dealers and users'. Thai drug-busters were usually helped by agents from overseas - who went beyond the rules laid down for their work in Thailand. They took part in stake outs, shadowed suspects and drove local police to the addresses of foreigners believed to. be involved in the drug business. From the victims there had been claims of entrapment drug pushers would turn out to be on the police pay-off books or arrested men and women would scream that drugs had been planted in their rooms. Fair or downright outrageous, whatever the reasons for arrest, once you were, pulled in for questioning it was often a very long time before you were free enough to slip into the nearest bar for a steadying drink. Bill Sinclair was taken into a room on the left hand side of the main corridor where he was confronted by a long table at the far end of which, sitting side by side, were the 17

two Australians, Warren Fellows and Paul Hayward. They looked far from happy. In front of them on the table was an open, empty suitcase and in front of that; packets of white powder. * The sight maddened Sinclair. He had been most cooperative with the police, but seeing the two Australians grinning idiotically made him furious. Hi? lunch had been interrupted, his house turned upside down, the small amount of cash he’d kept for emergencies confiscated, and God only knew when he ? d get it back. Now he was being lumped with two slovenly men on a heroin charge. Ridiculous! Of course he was angry! Filled with contempt, tie ignored Fellows and Hayward completely. How dare the Thais associate him' with those two wtio obviously didn’t have a brain' between them? Christ; he hardly knew them. He’d had a couple of' drinks with them as fellow Australians, but you wouldn’t think anything could be made of that. Several plain clothed police stood* around the room, including two who identified themselves as Police Major General Chak Laksanaboonsong and Major Vyraj Jutimitta, also known as ‘Mad Dog’, a name of which tie was proud. Sinclair sat down just inside the door. ‘Other end of the room,’ said Vyraj. His English was good. Sinclair spotted the photographer.* TH stay here if you don’t mind.’ Vyraj’s face hardened. ‘You do as I say. I have handled people like you before. If you don’t move, I’ll have the room cleared except for you and me. Then you’lhmove down there.’ Sinclair adjusted his thick-framed spectacles. ‘You can threaten me all you like. I will not move oh my own volition. And I’d like to know why I am here.’ ‘You don’t know?’ ‘No. I do not.’ ‘Those two. They are acquaintances of yours?’ 18

‘I know them,’ ‘We have arrested them for heroin. You have financed it. It would be in your own interest to admit to your guilt.’ Sinclair was astonished. Of course, Khomkrit had told him why he was being interrogated, but he had thought it would be a simple matter to clear up. He felt that Major Vyraj was being unnecessarily vicious. He was, after all, sixty five - an age when most men retired and yet here he was, accused of being the financier of a heroin racket. He couldn’t really take it seriously. *1 will admit nothing. Christ, I can’t even believe this is happening.’ ‘Come on, confess!’ ‘I repeat, I am not guilty and I will answer nothing until I speak to .a lawyer.’ Vyraj turned to Major General Chak. ‘I would like permission to clear the room.’ His voice dripped venom. The Assistant Commissioner of the Police Central Investigation Bureau and Assistant Secretary of the Narcotics Suppression Centre shook his head. ‘Let’s have none of that,’ Outraged, Vyraj turned on Sinclair. ‘People like you ought to be shot.’ ‘I don’t care what your opinion is,’ Sinclair replied. Suddenly Vyraj pulled his gun, a Colt .45, from its holster and slammed it on the table. ‘Perhaps you don’t think that I would shoot you. All right, here’s a sheet of blank paper. Now write on it that you don’t care whether I shoot you or not. Go ahead, do it. That’s if you have the guts.’ ‘Do you think I am stupid enough to believe that the Thai government would give you a franchise to murder people on request?’ ‘You had better believe me,’ Vyraj snapped. ‘Taking lijres means nothing to me.’ The Major General was getting tired of it. ‘Put the gun away,’ he told his subordinate. 19

William Sinclair was weary and thirsty. And his temper . was up. Vyraj infuriated him. After all, he was trying to get to the bottom of this, too. Did they think he wanted to remain 'there all night? The persistent photographer . bothered him, so he kept his eyes down, but it wouldn’t have mattered where he looked or sat - the wide angle lens caught him with the heroin anyway. At the far end of the'table, Warren Fellows stared at the wall while Paul Hayward tried to hide his face in his hands. For Sinclair, it was beginning to turn into a bad dream. Christ, one minute he was having a beer,* the next, someone was threatening to shoot him. He just wanted to go home. ‘Why am I here?’ he demanded again. ‘You know why.’ Vyraj sneered. ‘I do know that I would like to have a legal representative,’ stated Sinclair angrily. ‘No, Mr .Sinclair. No lawyers, nobody. You will be held incomunicado for thirty days.’ During Vyraj’s ‘interview’, a man had entered. A tall, stringy, reddish-haired westerner who had sat down without a word or a nod of acknowledgement to the three Australians. Sinclair -viewed him with interest, for it crossed his mind that he might protest Mad Dog’s intimidating tactics. However, the man merely watched and said nothing. ‘Guilty or innocent,’ Vyraj continued coldly, ‘I will see that you spend two years in prison. I willsee that sufficient .evidence is found to invoke article 27. You know what that means? No trial . . . execution.’ His vehemence startled and chilled Sinclair. He began to feel uneasy. It was unbearably hot arid he was sweating profusely. He was not a young man and-he had a heart complaint, but he was certainly not going to play on that. He still had his dignity, He-turned to the Major General whom he sensed was a reasonable man,- though not averse to death. ‘Look, why don’t you hang on to my passport and I’ll * make myself available for any further interrogation while 20

you make your mind up as to whether you are going to charge me with anything. I certainly don’t intend to stay here much longer.’ But the Major General was leaving. Vyraj could finish the interrogation. Suddenly, Sinclair was shoved in the back and told to stand up. He looked about him — at the expressionless guards, at Fellows and Hayward, at the redhaired stranger, at Vyraj. It was obvious they were trying to pin a drug charge on him. But, of course, it was ludicrous. They shouldn’t have brought him here at all. This was probably as far as it would go, but meantime, it ' was frightening, a violation of his rights. When had they picked him up? Two thirty? Might have been. Now it was past six and he hadn’t even been offered a glass of water. After Major General Chak’s departure, taking with him ' onh.of the guards, the red-haired man turned to Major Vyraj and said, ‘All right, the General’s gone, why don’t we get on with it.’ Sinclair was stunned.. He didn’t know the man or what he was doing there. He was therefore relieved to hear Vyraj reply, ‘Now is- not the time. I will see how he behaves himself at a later date, at later interrogations. Well,’ he looked at Sinclair, ‘you have been questioned and inform-ed of your rights by a member of the Australian Embassy.’ ‘I have not,* said Sinclair stubbornly. He had no intention of letting them put one over- on him. ‘Mr Davies has told you of your rights.’ So that was Frank Davies, the Australian government’s narcotics agent in Thailand. Davies opened Bill Sinclair’s briefcase and flicked through the passport he found there. ‘I have been told nothing about rights,’ Sinclair insisted. ‘You haven’t got any rights,’ the police officer snapped, back. Davies arose. His first direct remarks to Sinclair wercy ‘Well, Sinclair, you threatened to have me sent back to ’ ' Australia; now it looks like you are headed for prison.’ None of it made sense. 21

‘I don’t know you,’ returned Sinclair angrily. ‘I’ve never met you previously, so why should I make such a threat?’ ‘No,’ Davies replied; ‘you didn’t make it to me, you made it to James Broadhurst . . .’ -Bill Sinclair was shocked. He couldn’t remember having discussed Davies with Broadhurst. He had heard of Davies ithrough Broadhurst, and once had seen them together at the Barrel Bar, but he had not known he was the Australian narcotics man, and Broadhurst had not in troduced them. There had been a passing incident when Broadhurst had told him that Davies was pressuring him to become an informer. But he hadn’t taken it seriously and had impatient_ly told Broadhurst to report Davies to a higher authority at ' the Embassy. He recalled that Broadhurst had mentioned a short time later, that he’d decided to pass on information, to Davies, but that he’d tell him nothing of importance and he, Sinclair, said: ‘You mean you could do that!’ But he still hadn’t taken it seriously. Sinclair realized it was futile to argue with Davies. But he couldn’t help thinking what a bastard Broadhurst was. He had always detested the man. He was said to have trained as a journalist' after an education in Sydney. In Bangkok, he’d tried many jobs. He did not seem welcome in many of the bars in Patpong Road. And gossips chattered about the fact that he lived.in a large house and could afford servants with no visible means of support. Broadhurst was often to be seen with Frank Davies, the Australian Narcotics Agent, which had seemed odd, for rumour held that they hated each other. William Sinclair was informed he would be held, for thirty days until further investigations were carried out. Ultimately he would be charged with aiding and abetting Fellows and Hayward to obtain heroin for sale-and export. He was ordered to’ hold out his hands. A policeman snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Nothing like that had ever happened before. Silly, he thought, if I wanted to scratch my back now, I can’t reach. 22

* < Vyraj moved in close. His manner was offhand. ‘We are going to press for no trial. You are going to be executed under Article 27.’ Executed. Article 27. He wanted to vomit. He shouldn’t be in this hot room, his shirt sticking to his back, handcuffed, with a determined little bully talking about 'execution He should have been at home. They led him out. ‘Bill!’ It was Dao. She’d been sitting outside in the passageway with her mother. She came towards h'im, but General Chak stood in the way. ' ‘I would advise you to take off your watch and give it to your wife/ he said. ‘And give her your money.’ Sinclair unstrapped his expensive watch and handed over a few crumpled notes, -keeping 300 baht for himself on General Chak’s advice. ‘You’ll need money where you are going,’ he told Sinclair. They’d already taken Fellows and Hayward out and driven them off. ‘Where are they taking you?’ whispered Dao. Funny bloody woman. She’d gone to the trouble of coming there with her mother, but she didn’t seem very worried. He told her he was to be held at the Crimes Suppression Centre, Division 7. Dao didn’t reach out to touch him. She said, ‘Don’t worry. And tomorrow I will bring you clothes and food.’ He was driven off in the statioriwagon, the one he’d arrived in, visibly upset. He had tried to remain calm, but the speed with, which it all happened overwhelmed him. One of the officers who had arrested him offered a few comforting words, suggesting he take no notice of Davies’ outburst. The car jerked through the honking Bangkok traffic with Bill Sinclair huddled inside r staring unseeing at the flashing neon lights of bars and nightclubs behind which the nightly routine of drinks, disco, sex and drugs was beginning for much of the city. Division 7 was a police station of three storeys that 23

opened its doors to all comers, whether they were purse snatchers, killers or con men. Only one set of steps served the whole building. Stinking of liquor, the duty sergeant signed in the Australian, and opened the steel barred door behind the reception desk. . Sinclair walked through into a narrow corridor. On his right were three bleak cells, without doors, filled with rotting clothes, bottles and empty cans swarming with cockroaches. On his left were three other cells, two of which were occupied. The duty sergeant indicated the third empty cell, and Sinclair, relieved of handcuffs, walked into what were to be his quarters for the night - a bare, L-shaped room -with grey stone walls and a concrete floor lit by two fluorescent strips. There was no furniture - no bed,, no chair, nothing but the walls and the floor. And everything was grimy. He was tired, thirsty and hungry, although if anyone offered food, he knew he would vomit. That would have been too much to expect though as he’d been given nothing since they’d picked him up. He had thought the f Thais were a kindly people, he reflected bitterly. He just wanted to wake up apd find it had been a nightmare. But this nausea, the sweat, the coughing and spitting in the adjoining cells, the biting mosquitoes, the stench from those rubbish-filled compartments opposite, were too real to be part of a dream. His clothes stuck to his body. He took off his jacket, laid it on the floor and sat on if. The hardness of the cement, its coldness, quickly went through the fabric and he shivered. His back too, against the wall, was cold. Soon, he thought, they’d turn out the lights and he’d try to sleep. But perhaps he’d be freed before that. Someone, would turn' tip to bail him .out. After all, he was pretty well known around town. The news that the police had taken him in for questioning ’ would be all over the city by now. Yes, someone would be along soon, having paid the appropriate bribe. That was how it worked. You didn’t have to be in Bangkok long before finding out a thing or two about the 24

police and government servants. The place was a hotbed of corruption. He wondered about his family in Australia. How they would feel. With any luck though, they wouldn’t find out until he was out of there and could tell them himself when they could all laugh about it. Dear God, would life ever be normal again after threats of execution by a thug of a policeman, vermin ail around him and a cold, bare cell? Dog tired, he lay on his back and tried to sleep. So uncomfortable. And how the stone floor hurt the back of his head. He wanted a pillow. But if he used his jacket as a pillow, he’d have nothing to lie on. He couldn’t help a wry smile . . . here he was lying on his back in a bare cell, confronted with the problem of whether he should use his jacket as a sheet or roll it up and use it as a pillow. As if he didn’t have other things to worry about! How stupid. How really stupid. All he had to do was ask. There was sure to be a pillow lying around somewhere. He called to the duty sergeant. Could he please have a pillow? The officer spread his hands, grinned and shook his head. Deep down he’d expected that reaction. He rolled his jacket as best he could and lay down again. Surprisingly, within minutes he was fast asleep. It was ten thirty on the night of 11 October, the day/ he was to write later, his life stopped.

25

Kingdom of Illusions Thailand’s chief executioner is a deeply religious and considerate man. Softly spoken, it is hard to believe that in seventeen years, Prat'om Kruapeng has put to death more than forty people in the closed off execution chamber at Bangkok Prison. He even says a brief prayer for them as. they stand in front of his mounted machine gun. Pratom receives between 300 and 400 baht as a bonus for each prisoner he puts*to death, but he says his conscience does not allow him to spend the money on himself or his family. The fifty three year old police lance corporal says he is often haunted by visions of the dead, even while sitting in his office. He.receives some comfort in the knowledge that the little extra he makes goes to the Buddhist monks who pray for his soul and the souls of those who sag to the floor riddled with bullets from his 9mm Bergmann submachine gun. His grisly occupation naturally attracted more attention after two military-backed governments gave him orders to shoot narcotics' traffickers, smugglers, poachers and rapists without trial-under Article 27. But although several ethnic Chinese have been led into the chamber, no white foreigner has been sentenced to deaths This prompted several members of the Drug Suppression Police to talk about, double standards, some claiming that outside governments have interfered in the running of Thai justice. Some have even accused their own government of racism: Since seizing power in a bloodless military coup in 1977, General Kriangsak Chamanand sent four people to the execution chamber and ‘another 116 to jail under Article 27. Thanin Kraivichien, who ruled before him, sent eleven 26

men to the machinegun and sixty to prison without giving them the chance of a trial. Article 27 was created as a crime deterrent;' giving the Prime Minister sufficient power to meet challenges to the law. The tough legislation was introduced by Prime Minister Sarit Thanarat after his coup in 1959. Most Thai governments coming to office .since, adopted these special powers. When the no trial law was dropped during the two years from 1974 to 1976, the crime rate rose to one of the highest in Asia and it was Urged that the measures be brought back. The normal penal code, it was argued, was too slow and resulted in inadequate sentences. So, back came legislation that allowed the government to execute in cases where they considered there was overwhelming evidence. Log poachers, tin smugglers, even .fishermen who illegally used dynamite instead of nets, were harshly dealt with under Article 27. Those arrested for rape, murder and drug trafficking and who had a mountain of evidence against them, were sentenced to death. Yet no Thai nationals were executed for drug related offences. Before being led by guards to their deaths, condemned prisoners are taken to a priest who gives them the strength to walk with peace in their hearts to executioner Pratom, for Buddhists are reminded they are going to a better world. Dressed in a white smock with a red cross embroidered on the back, they are led in the late afternoon to the execution. They are instructed to stand with their hack to the machine gun. The last thing the condemned see on this earth before a white blindfold is pulled over theireyes, is a wooden cross draped with the paraphernalia of their religion. They are told to kneel and their hands are bound at the back of the cross. The Bergmann is sighted on the red cross. A white curtain hanging in*a wooden frame is moved between the prisoner and the gun. The fatal bullets are fired by means of levers attached to the trigger through a tube, the executioner believing this absolves him from the act of directly taking a life. Buddhists say that an intentional deed, good or evil, has a price that is paid now or in 27

a future life. Pratom’s mind, therefore, is at ease when he operates his gun, for he has said his prayers and has had no real contact with the condemned who, blindfolded and bound, go out with a bang and not a whimper. The crumpled body is left in its blood overnight to await collection by the trustees in the morning. It is washed, then carried to a religious service at the temple, attended by' relatives. The executioner, meanwhile, has the formal duty of going to court, where a judge finds there has been justifiable taking of life. Prisoners fortunate enough to be given a trial know that under Thai law, their sentence would be automatically halved with a plea of guilty. If chances of acquittal seem small, defendants are urged to accept charges without contest. Those facing death might receive the benefits of an amnesty and have their sentence commuted to life by appealing to the King. A father and son, convicted of a child kidnapping/murder, were sentenced, to death, expected their lawyers to appeal to the King. But the firm thought the condemned men had written a letter begging mercy. Even before the amnesty names were revealed, they were taken from their cell and executed. Many of those sent for execution or who end up behind bars for life are put there by informers. These are often the pushers themselves, people who supply heroin to westerners, learn when the buyer plans to leave the country, then tip off the narcotics police. In time, the informers, because of their involvement with drugs, are pulled in for a traditional beating and questioning before being sent to their fate. The informer is driven by one of three motivating factors; greed, selfishness or a sense of public duty. In Thailand you .can forget about duty. You don’t stick your nose in other people’s business simply because you are in love with your local police force. The only reason for calling on the drug enforcement men and dropping the word on somebody is to keep yourself out of jail. Or to keep yourself in pocket. 28

During 1978-79, while William Sinclair was trying to adjust to prison life, the now defunct Australian Federal Narcotics Bureau paid out $32,000 to informants, two of ’■whom were overseas. Despite the activities of the informers and the vast amount of information flowing between Thailand and Australia, the Customs Department in Canberra admitted it intercepted only 10 per cent of heroin smuggled into the country. It came by ship, was smuggled in legitimate sea and air cargoes, and was brought through airports hidden in .suitcases. Couriers strapped packets across their stomachs, hid the drug in toothpaste tubes and shaving cream pressure packs, or pushed heroin-filled condoms into their anuses. Others swallowed condoms containing heroin which they tried to retch up or allowed to pass through their systems once they had cleared customs. At the source of supply, United States agents guessed that no more than 10 per cent of the heroin .leaving Thailand was intercepted. T don’t think we catch that much,’ said one American Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) man who had worked in Thailand since 1977. ‘As a matter of fact, nobody seems to know where that 10 per cent figure came from. Probably some visiting congressman demanded a figure and we came up with that one. It doesn’t mean anything. How can anybody know the percentage of what’s intercepted when nobody knows how much is going out?’ Thailand and the major drug outlet countries - United States, Australia, the European nations - have been frustrated by the constant flow of heroin from the Golden Triangle, the wild country in the highlands of Thailand which spill into Laos and Burma. Hill tribes - the Meo, Karen, Akha, Lisu, Lahu and Yao - resisting the political and economic structure of the lowlands, and recognizing ' no international frontiers, farm raw opium, producing up to 1000 tonnes a year, 70 per cent of the world’s total illicit supply. Although some of this is consumed locally, large, amounts of ‘pi-tzu’ is transported to illegal laboratories, most of which are over the border in Burma, to be refined 29

into heroin. Then it comes back into Thailand, border police receiving their payoffs for allowing it through. Throughout the seventies, the Thai government tried to persuade their primitive northern tribesmen to plant other crops like fruit trees, coffee and kidney beans and offered special cash incentives. But still the white powder made its way to the streets of -Bangkok. The hill peoplejin their thatched wooden huts, cling rigidly to tradition and to their ancient spirits. They could not be persuaded to change their old beliefs that opium was the only crop that could earn them an income. It was a simple fact of marketing. Opium was easy to carry and fetched high prices - vegetables, coffee and tea were much bulkier, required big road networks for transport from the highlands to the markets and did not produce the same profits. Apart from these problems, little pressure was put upon them anyway, for officials within the government were themselves benefitting from the cash flow. This made the work of special foreign agents impossible, until special incentives were offered, like cash bonuses for big seizures or free trips to the FBI agency in the United States. But with the closer co-operation between groups like the American DEA - which allocates some US$8 million a year for its Thailand operation - and Thai police, there arose the danger of methods of arrest not acceptable in western countries. Foreign prisoners have claimed entrapment - being enticed into a situation which resulted in arrest - saying that American agents encouraged Thai police in the practice with promises of bonuses. The DEA has replied that bonuses were paid simply to outbid traffickers who were already lining the pockets of many policemen. ‘When the cops are on the payroll of the traffickers,’ said one DEA man, ‘it’s a little difficult to get things done.’ z While the payoff war continued between suppliers and government agents, the number -of certified addicts in Bangkok rose from a few hundred in the late 1960s, to nearly half a million around the time they brought William 30

Sinclair in for questioning. It was not until early 1982 that what appeared to be a serious attempt to control opium growing was made, when the Thai military moved in on the Golden Triangle, claiming to have reduced the area’s heroin potential by half. This was an exaggerated claim because the Triangle spills into communist territory, over which the Thais have no control. To the outside world it seemed that something was being done. It was, though, like the horizons of the addicts, just an illusion. Hill tribesmen patrolling the Triangle’s vast areas of poppy fields are commanded by expatriate Chinese warlords, the most powerful being Khun Sa, commander of the Shan United Army which is made up of some 3000 men. In an attempt to justify the opium trade, he has on more than one occasion pointed out that if the farmers of America do not grow barley they will have no bread to eat. Khun Sa, described as the world’s biggest pusher by United States drug enforcement agents in Thailand, has eliminated most of his rivals in the narcotics business - but members of his army have also been known to execute villagers publicly on mere suspicion of collaborating with authorities. The army is the’ overseer of the most lucrative cottage industry in the world, with hill tribesmen in their silver ornamental clothing collecting tiny droplets of raw opium from the poppy heads and selling it to warlords. The farmers haye to wait for the petals of the plant to fall and the egg shaped bulb containing the opium is revealed before they begin harvesting. The opium is added to boiling water and lime to produce morphine which is pressed into blocks for transport to the fifteen or so jungle laboratories for refinement into heroin. Then mules carry the precious cargo- to distribution areas in the north of Thailand. Morphine has an accepted medical use and is retained in hospitals around the world, but heroin is totally prohibited. The laboratories where it is produced are crude buildings guarded by heavily armed men. While they keep 31

watch for government forces, the illegal chemists set to work on the blocks of morphine - at this stage it is known as no.'l heroin - to bring it up to the quality of no. 2 heroin. They add an acetylating agent, to the morphine base which has a tendency to turn the powder grey? Further treatment, includingdrying and crushing brings the heroin up to no. 3 quality, or ‘grey rocks’. Some addicts prefer to buy the narcotic at this stage because they know there is less chance of it being, adulterated or ‘cut’ with additives glucose, for example would stand out among the darker colours of the heroin. The top grade, no. 4, is pure white and a little fluffy although it’s a lucky addict who enjoys the highest, 90 per .cent, quality. Dilutents usually bring it down to 20 per cent or' less,, depending on how far the dealer thinks he can get away with the cutting. As soon as a courier brings the no. 4 heroin off the plane in Australia it is worth. $100,000 i kilogram - a big jump from its original $5000 to $7000 value in Bangkok. But there are even bigger profits ahead for the men at the top. '' Because by the time that kilogram of pure heroin has filtered to street level its value has risen to $500,000. It is sold off in small doses - $50 for a foil or cap containing a quarter of a gram that has been ‘watered down’ to 5 per cent pure. Should the user demand a cap of heroin 50 per cent pure, he’s up for $250. And if .he wants .the real, unadulterated stuff -he has to pay $500. An ounce of the best quality costs $14,000. As for .the hill tribesman who supplied the opium in the first place - it takes 10 kilograms to make 'one kilogram of heroin -■ tie pockets about $150 for every kilo. But, as they say in the trade, he doesn’t run the risks and'he doesn’t have the overheads. One of the drug meccas for- couriers and addicted Westerners is the ancient Thai city of Chiang Mai, ‘Rose of the North’, the nation’s second largest metropolis and the centre for folk arts and crafts. There you can buy fabulous silks, teak wood' carvings, costumed dolls, ladquerware, paper umbrellas, baskets, and as -much heroin and marijuana as you can.carry. If you find an obliging distributor, 32

he’ll even pack the stuff for you in a selection of handicrafts. The Mafia and the Chinese Triads have for years been involved in the heroin distribution racket, but big cuts have also been taken Joy corrupt Thai officials. While/William Sinclair was spending his first few months in jail, Police Major General Chaowalit Yodmanee, Deputy SecretaryGeneral of the Office of the Narcotics Control Board, admitted that ‘our men are still -not clean enough. The more violent measures imposed against the drug runners, the wider chance will be opened for unscrupulous' officials to manipulate the situation for their own benefits. And this, of course, will not solve the problem? That corruption operated from the top ranks down' is evident in the events following the 1976 appointment of a judge, Mr Thanin Kraivichien, as Prime Minister by the ruling military faction. He immediately announced that he would stop drug trafficking from the north and end corruption in high places. He wasn’t mincing words. He set up - a Board of Anti- Corruption Practice which in no time had collated evidence against 3000 officials. Thanin sent a number of convicted drug smugglers to the execution chamber. Then, watched by the press and representatives of foreign embassies, he personally set fire to a massive pile of confiscated drugs. America’s President Jimmy Carter was so pleased that Thailand had found a man so determined to stamp out a major part of the heroin flow from South East Asia, that he sent him a personal letter of encouragement and commendation. However, dirty work was afoot. Officers in the military who had benefitted from the movement of heroin in the good old bad old days, decided that Thanin had to go. After less than a year in office, Thanin was overthrown in a military coup and he was replaced by General Kriangsak Chamanand, Supreme Commander of- the Armed Forces. A leading American newspaper had earlier reported that the general was alleged to'be linked to the narcotics trade. Other reports alleged he was a major ’beneficiary of the 33

traffic .from the Golden Triangle. The way it worked, said the reports, was that he gave arms and money to former Chinese nationalist soldiers living in the hills and they supplied his contacts with heroin. Within six months of taking office as Prime Minister, Kriangsak was reported to have completely pushed aside Thanin’s campaign to stamp out the heroin movement. Like the hopes of its victims, heroin availability had risen and fallen since it was first brought into Bangkok during the early nineteenth century by Chinese immigrants. Kings who ruled in the first half of the century, issued edicts banning its use and ordered the death penalty for major traffickers, but it was impossible to stem the flow because of British interference. English merchant captains, plying Asian waters, had found it more profitable to barter opium for Chinese silks and tea than it was to use silver. Whenever they were arrested, the Embassy protested and the seamen involved were set free. In further negotiations with the British in the 1850s, King Mongkut, who was played by Yul Brynner in the film The King and I, lowered import duties, which put the royal administration in financial trouble. To make up for the losses, the King moved into the vice business, providing his backing to Chinese ventures like opium, lottery, alcohol and gambling. In the second half of the nineteenth century, nearly 50 per cent of the government revenue came from these shady quarters. It was such a profitable venture that the Chinese middleman had been pushed aside by 1907. The government became directly responsible for the management of the opium business. By 1921, the number of opium addicts in Bangkok had risen-to around 200,000, It was not until the early 1930s that, in the wake of international pressure to wipe out legal opium traffic, the number of dens in the city was drastically reduced. Although the smoking of the drug was outlawed, the demand was still there. Towards the late 1940s, when large numbers of highland opium farmers moved across the border from Laos, poppy cultivation 34

began in the hills. As production increased, officials realized that meagre wages could be supplemented by turning a blind eye to the cultivation and movement of the sap from the poppy. Through the decades right into the 1980s, the wheels of corruption turned with Rolls Royce regularity simply because wages could not keep up with runaway inflation. Policemen, customs officers and prison guards rode along with the system because they needed the money and there was always someone ready to pay. As late as 1981, Prime Minister Prem, in an address to the nation, said the greatest single factor undermining the economic and social structure of Thailand today was corruption within the civil service. But Thailand’s poor economy not only touched and influenced civil servants in government buildings. Its effects reached right into the country’s jails, creating appalling overcrowding simply because the budget allocation provided no hope for extensions. For Mr Thavee Chusap, Director General of the Corrections Department, the annual budget of less than 500,000,000 baht for his sector was a constant headache. On average, throughout the .114 prisons, ten prisoners shared a cell measuring 3 metres by 3.5 metres, and he was constantly plagued by a shortage of guards. Thavee wanted two warders for every twelve prisoners, but because the budget did not allow that, prisoners - trustees - were used to assist. Despite what William Sinclair saw, Chusap denied drugs were readily available in jail, putting up the argument that ‘such an illegal act’ would involve many people and by the time the narcotics got to the prisoner, they would be very expensive. Sinclair was to see many prisoners become addicted, although Chusap denied the possibilities of that happening, pointing out that most were addicts when they were locked in. He also claimed that urine tests on prisoners showed that half of those admitted in 1978 were already addicted to a drug. Chusap, Sinclair was to reflect many times, had his own 35

- way of meeting the.drugs problem in his jails. , He simply said it didn’t exist.

36

5

Open the Boxes and Take the Money Police Major Vyraj ‘Mad Dog’ Jutimitta was the best. As chief of the Investigative and Suppressive Branch of the Narcotic Suppression Centre, he was feared among the heroin dealers of Bangkok, for the word was that if Vyraj pulled you in, you usually implicated whoever Major Vyraj wanted you to. In the six years he’d had the job, some frightening stories had been told about what happened when a suspected dealer or heroin user was left alone in the interrogation room with ‘Mad Dog’. He was not a patient man, for he believed that every hour wasted iiLthe interrogation room was an hour lost on the streets. His prisoners usually talked — just -how quickly depended on how much pressure was exerted. He had lost count of men who came in proclaiming their innocence but who left for the cells in handcuffs, having finally admitted their guilt. It was no good being soft. They had all the' answers, all the excuses, and they’d sit there, -westerners and Asians alike, for a week if you tried the softly-softly touch with them. They had to be made to talk and there were several ways of doing that. Oh, he’d heard the reports around town — that he pushed a cocked pistol into mouths, that he was pretty good with a blackjack. On occasions, he’d had to stand up in court and deny all that, of course, because if he officially admitted that he and his colleagues used strongarm tactics, it would do no end of harm to the squad. While carrying .out his duties, Vyraj liaised with drug officers in Europe, South East Asia, America and Australia. And he naturally co-operated with narcotics agents posted to Thailand. He had even tracked down drug 37 t

merchants overseas and had been called as a witness in foreign countries. Yes, he was held in great respect around the world, but there were none who praised his methods more than his own men. For the harder Vyraj worked and * the more traffickers he arrested, the more money it meant for them — with every drug conviction the police team was legally entitled to a reward of 25'per cent of the purchase price. The’ informers get even more. For this latest bust, the police team could expect to receive something like $12,000, for Fellows and Hayward had already told him they had paid nearly $50,000 to a-supplier. Vyraj sat in his office at the Narcotics Suppression Centre studying the two handwritten confessions on- his desk. The two young Australians had been most obliging, but Sinclair hadn’t given apything away. He’d been stubborn and protested his innocence. Surely it had been he who had called Fellow’s hotel room when the arrests were being made? But whether Sinclair confessed or not, he’d find enough for his. official report. He would write it out by hand, then pass it in to be officially typed and translated into English. His report would say he had sent his. men out to conduct surveillance on Fellows and Hayward, and had learned of their plans to leave Bangkok on a Qantas flight on 1 1 October at 3.00p.m. He arranged to have them searched before they set off for the airport in case they slipped through. During his. surveillance, he and his officials saw Fellows, and Hayward meet Sinclair at the Natty Gems jewellery shop on Suriwong Road, at the Texan Bar on Patpong Road and at the Mario Bar on Sukhumvit Road. Yes, he would report, they met many times. Just after 9.00a.m., he ancThalf a dozen colleagues went to the Montien Hotel. He called at room 413 in which Fellows was staying, while Police. Major Praphat went to Hayward’s room, 415. He identified himself as a police officer and asked to make a search. Ah yes, he would report, Fellows admitted directly and bluntly that .the.heroin was not in his room but had been taken to Hayward’s room for keeping. He took 38

Fellows to room 415 where the Australian identified his pinkish-red suitcase which had a coded lock. ‘What’s the number?’ ‘Six-two-five.’ Fellows had little choice but to co-operate. Major Praphat opened the case and inside were twenty four large bags of heroin, covered only by a blue towel. The confident types, Vyraj had thought. Expected to walk straight through customs without a search. No doubt Hayward would have taken it through. Being a well known footballer, they wouldn’t trouble him. 'He had then taken Fellows back to room 413 and made a detailed and thorough search during which he found a letter. He was about to look at it, his report would add, when the phone rang. He answered it himself. The caller spoke English with an Australian accent and had a hoarse voice. .He asked for Mr Barker. Told he wasn’t there, the caller asked who was speaking. Vyraj said he was the room boy. The caller hung up‘Who was that?’ he asked Fellows. ‘Mr Sinclair. We had an appointment to meet at Natty Gems at 9.30.’ It was after 9.30 then, Major Vyraj would report, which was no doubt why. Sinclair had telephoned. He would also write about a conversation 1 he had with Fellows. ‘Why did you have to go to see Mr Sinclair?’ ‘We had to see him before takmg the suitcase to the airport to smuggle the heroin.’ Vyraj would write, too, of examining the letter he had found. It had- been penned by Mr Sinclair to a friend of his in Australia, recommending or introducing Mr Warren Fellows, despite the fact that while staying at the hotel, Fellows had been using the name- Barker. ‘Mad Dog’ put the letter in front of him no w'and examined it closely. It had been in an airmail envelope supplied by the Montien Hotel and was addressed to Mr Hugh 39

Gage, Quantity Surveyor, Parramatta. Dated just the previous day, it was written on Montien-notepaper. Vyraj'' read it through. It had to be coded — just had to be: ‘Dear Hugh, This letter will serve to introduce a young friend of mine, Warren Fellows who is anxious to become a member oQh’e A.J.C. ‘ I would appreciate it if you would nominate him. My son will be the seconder. I would have gladly proposed him but unfortunately I am overseas at the moment and will remain away a further three months. ‘Warren is a keen racing enthusiast and currently has one youngster ih training, and just as soon as his provisional membership is granted, he will race more. ‘This young man has business interests' in Hong Kong and France. Further, I have a very high regard for him, and have no hesitation in.saying that he will make a very worthy member. ‘In conclusion, I sincerely hope this letter finds you and* yours in good health. Good luck with your' own horses. ‘God bless, Bill Sinclair.’ Vyraj put the letter down. What "else was it he would put in the report? A second telephone call while he was continuing to search the room. The same voice as before, asking for Mr Barker. The conversation, he would report, was much the same — Barker wasn’t there, he said he was the roomboy, the caller hung up. Fellows had said.again it would have been Sinclair. After that he had phoned Mr Frank Davies at" the Embassy, requesting him to go to the Narcotics Suppression Centre urgently. He had instructed his men to keep Sinclair under . .surveillance? He then had told Fellows and Hayward that they faced pharges of collaborating with many others in the possession of heroin for the purposes of sale and attempting to send or export the heroin out. of the Kingdom in an illegal manner. Vyraj had taken the two men and the heroin to the Nar40

cotics Suppression Centre where, after questioning, they both admitted that the white powder did not belong to them but to Sinclair. There was no escaping the fact that they had made that admission, for here it was in their statements in front of -him. The top narcotics inspector picked up the confession Fellows had written in his presence. After giving hts name and address, it read (exactly as in original): ‘I met William Sinclair in Sydney one year ago. He ask me to come Bangkok and carry a bag of heroin back to Australia he financed .the slame. He arranged to get me another passport and also arranged for someone whom I don’t know to give the money to me, and I brought the money in my bag to Bangkok. They gave $50,000 plus fares on arrival I was to contact Noi who inturn was to give me the heroin. I bought the heroin dp Saturday last and received it Sunday. I was leaving on QF back to Sydney today 3.25 and carry one bag back to Sydney. I was to carry bag through customs. Someone who I don’t k'now was to pick it up from me. ‘The police arrested me today at 10 o’clock and brought me and my friend down to police Narcotics Suppression Centre Police department for questioning and freely give this information and statement and the police were very curtious to me and my friend. ‘I also wish to add the passport that I obtained in the name of Gregory Hastings Barker was unlawfully obtained, and Bill Sinclair excepted reciept of passport for me knowing it was unlawfully obtained.’ Paul Hayward had been even more co-operative, filling out two pages of a- confession sheet in his handwriting. s ‘I met Warren Fellows about 6 month ago in a hotel in Sydney. We became friends. About 4 weeks ago Warren asked me if I would like to go to Bangkok for a holiday. He told me he was going to buy Narcotics and he would -

41

bringing them back to Australia. I agreed to come with him' to Bangkok. We left Sydney Monday evening on 2/10/78, arrived in Bangkok the morning of the 3/10/78. We stayed at Montien Hotel. I occupied ho.415 and Warren was in 413. Between Tuesday 3/10/78 and Friday 6/10/78 Warren introduced me. to a couple of Americans and Australian man known to me as Bill Sinclair. ‘ I was in the company of Warren Fellows and Bill Sinclair several times. During these times I was present when Fellows and Sinclair discussed methods of trafficking narcotics to Australia. I know that Warren was in possession of a large sum of money in Australian currency. On Friday the 6/10/78 Warren and Myself met a man by prior arrangement at the Montien over a-cup of coffee in the coffee Bar, Warren and the Man who looked like a Thai discussed how and when the Thai would deliver the narcotics to the hotel. A couple of days before the meeting on the 6/10/78 I was present when Warren gave the Thai man a sum of money in Australian currency for the Narcotics. On the Sunday 8/10/78 the Thai man delivered two, bags of Narcotics to the hotel he stopped somewhere after we had driven around and we got out with two bags which were on .the back seat of the car. Warren and I took a taxi and returned to the Montien Hotel. ‘At the Montien Hotel he looked inside the bags and there was some plastic bags containing, a powder. Later Warren bought a Red suit case-Ahd I saw him transfer the Plastic bags of white Powder from the two bags received from theThai into the red suitcase. He then left the red suit case in my Room. Since the 6/10/*78 Warren and I have been in the company of Bill Sinclair bn other occassions. On the morning of 11/10/78 Police from the Narcotics Suppression Centre came to Rooms 413 and 415 and Arrested Warren and I, This Statement is a true account of •the events leading up to my arrest to the best of my knowedge and rememberence. I make this statement in an effort to assist the Thai Police and! have made this statement of my own free will.’ 42

They had referred to a Thai named Noi. The name was not unfamiliar; Vyraj reflected as he put Hayward’s statement back on the desk. Noi was a name on his. list of brokers or middlemen in the heroin- business. Well, he would be picked up later. He drove an illegal black cab and usually parked at the Liberty Hotel on Patiphat Road in the Saphan Khwai area. It wouldn’t be difficult to track him down. And then they would have four men in custody. Four men he wouldn’t have, he reflected as he left his office that night, if a man called Warren Fellows had not made a mistake there in Bangkok, nine months earlier . . . On 27 January, a ‘farang’ (Caucasian foreigner), believed to be Australian, had brought three rolls of cloth to the United Transportation Company for shipment to a forwarding agency in Sydney. The man had given his name as Warren Fellows. When he was asked to produce his pass- r port — as all foreigners must when making an overseas shipment through the company — he said he did not have it with him but would return in two or three days. He paid the charges of US$204 and the cloth was held pending his return. By 3 February he had not come back and the company told the police. Major Vyraj himself went to the United Transportation Company with a colleague. In a search of the cloth they found a 970 gram packet of no.4 heroin — the best — in one of the bolts. It had been cleverly hidden. A hole had been cut into the inside part of the material near the centre of the bolt, and the heroin stuffed into it before the remainder of the cloth was wrapped around it. Major Vyraj had searched the streets and hotels for a couple of days looking for the farang before conceding that he had already left the country. And so it was on 5 February, Major Vyraj decided to call on the help of Australia’s narcotics man in Bangkok, Frank Davies. The forty six year old Welsh-born former member of the British Army’s crack Special’Ain Ser vice, had been in the country as Agent in Charge of Narcotics Suppression less than a month. He was fascinated to hear Vyraj’s story. 43

‘I’d like to know more about this man/ said Vyraj. It was a statement that set in motion a series of events that were to have devastating results fdf William Sinclair. Frank Davies, new to the Thai job, and keen to please, acted promptly! He sent a confidential message to the Narcotics Office of the Federal government in Canberra, informing them of the facts as related by Vyraj. Thefcrime Intelligence Unit of Sydney’s Criminal Investigation Bureau was given the task of investigating Fellows, for Bangkok police were under the impression he was from Sydney. By March, Frank Davies had received confirmation that Warren Fellow's existed and that he was indeed a Sydney resident. Fellows’ movements, and those of his associates, Davies was told, were now being monitored. One of the officers assigned to the case was Detective Sergeant Barry Dunn, forty three, a portly undercover man with a reputation for efficiency. His specific brief was to collect and supply information. By July, he had put out -feelers into the underworld. On 26 July 1978, after a meeting with an informant, he typed up an Tnformation/Surveillance Report’ and submitted it to the CIU. Under the heading ‘Information’, it read: ‘Information received that the following persons are involved in drug trafficking. *Arthur Stanley Smith, alias “Ned”. He resides with his wife Debbie . . . ‘Information received that Smith is selling 501bs of heroin every two months. The heroin is coming from Bangkok. Smith arranges for the couriers to go across there and Bill Sinclair gives them the drugs and then they return to Australia where Smith arranged for them to pass through customs . . . “ ‘A number of persons are believed to be employed by Smith to bring the drugs into the country and to dispose of them. They include his brother Ted Smith', a man named Warren Fellows, a man .named Dave and another named Billy who has only recently been released from gaol for 44

armed hold-up offences. It is believed that the above persons may use false passports or travel with other persons of good repute who return to Australia with the drugs. Smith usually carries the drugs or large amounts of money in a case . -. Dunn’s report sparked off a* bustle of police activity. Dark-haired Arthur 'Smith was not unknown to them, having a reputation as a feared standover man. He had been arrested more than twenty times in as many years. His house was a fortress of electronic surveillance equipment, for it was said he always liked to know who was coming in the front gate. He also had a reputation as a doting father of his baby daughter’ - he had her ears pierced when she -was only a few months old so she could wear diamond ear studs. Yes, they knew Arthur all right but Sinclair . . . just who was he? Their investigations turned up the fact that he was very well known in the working class suburbs of Rozelle and Balmain. He was often in the company of men of dubious character and that in itself was enough for .police to keep him on their list of subjects to be further investigated. The net was spread. According to police information, something was going to happen on the Sydney drug scene . . . * '

At 8.30a.m. on 26 September, Detective Senior Constable Geoffrey Schuberg of the Crime Intelligence Unit (CIU). along with officers Ogg; Owens and' Anderson, drove to Bridgeview Street, Blacktown, to check on a 1978 blue Holden sedan registered to Arthur Smith’s brother, Edwin. Satisfied that the vehicle was parked outside Smith’s house, they /drove to the suburb of Sydenham where they kept watch on Arthur’s house. Senior Constable Schuberg had a camera, and at 1.30p,m. he took a picture of David Kelleher, who rode up bn a Honda motorbike and entered 45

the house. At 1.46p.m., Arthur Smith arrived in his brother’s blue Holden, accompanied by Greg Sinclair, Bill Sinclair’s thirty one year old son,, and Warren Fellows. Again Schuberg’s camera clicked. Finally, at 2.07p.m., Debra Joy Smith, Arthur’s de facto wife, arrived home with her son. At 2.40p.m., Fellows left and drove in a Legion cab. The undercover men followed him to his address in Manly. The. following day, the same four CIU men, accompanied by a fifth, kept watch. At 9.05a.m., stepbrothers Arthur and Edwin left and entered a house a few doors away. At 9.10a.m., police saw a 1973 gold coloured Dat- , sun' sedan pull up. Paul Hayward stepped out and went into Arthur Smith’s house. Six minutes later, a taxi arrived and Warren Fellows went into the premises. The police saw a third man, James White, arrive in a 1967 Bentley at 9.37a.m., and at 9.40, Kelleher entered the house. Again Schuberg used his camera when at 10.40a.m., Arthur and Edwin Smith, Kelleher and James White left the premises. On 2 October, the .CIU learned that Fellows and Hayward had left Australia for Thailand and relayed the information to the Narcotics Investigation and Suppression Division. Police learned through immigration sources that Fellows was travelling under the name Gregory Hastings Barker. On 11 October, the Narcotics Investigation and Suppression Division reported back to the CIU that Fellows and Hayward, together withfWilliam Charles Sinclair, had been arrested in Thailand. The following day at 9.30a.m. Detective Sergeant Dunn received an anonymous call which was to trigger off immediate police activity. Dunn held a brief meeting/with Narcotics Bureau officers Meredith and Leckie, and Drug Squad officers Smith' and Brennan. Other men had already gone to a street in the Sydney suburb of Sj Peters. They were in radio contact with officers close by. Not long afterwards, the police'radios were alive and crackling. Dunn raced around to St Peters, where Arthur Smith and another man had been detained by the Drug Squad 46

men, Smith and Brennan, After Smith’s detention, Dunn drove to Smith’s home where he met up with his colleague, Detective Sergeant David McAfee. McAfee noted the house had a brick wall about 1.5 metres, tall around it. There were bars on the front windows. A door at the front < reminded McAfee of the barred door of a cell. He saw a spotlight attached, to the front verandah and a closed circuit television camera. Watched by Debra Smith, Dunn and his colleagues carried out a systematic search. An item that interested them was a receipt for a ‘locked tin box’ held by the Marrickville branch of the Australian and New Zealand Banking Group Ltd. The receipt,, dated 30-August 1978, was in the name*of Irene Murray, a known associate of Arthur Smith and Debra. While thirty three year old Smith was detained fpr_ questioning, police went to the bank and opened the box to find $90,100 in cash, a diamond brooch bearing a $7500 *' price tag, a pair of diamond earrings, attached to which was a price tag for $2750 and a handwritten letter referring to containers. The document said that containers had to be ‘good* - that is, they had to arouse no,suspicion. They could be cans of food, or furniture, or oil. Packing was very important. As for the ship, said the document, any Australian National Line or English -ship. No Indian line ships were to be used because they carried informers. ‘Must get away from the point of origin sweet,’ said the document. ‘Most “tips” come from there (90%).* It added that containers should be sent to a plausible name at a genuine address and suggested an industrial area where there were plenty of nondescript warehouses. Shipping documents had to arrive w.ell before the vessel — ‘then it can be protected’. Details would be related to ‘ow friends’ so a daily check could be kept. The document also instructed: ‘Give shipping docs to me and I will inform relevant details: and keep in touch. While sensitive unloading and delivery is going on I will be in Town or nearby and if it 47

comes unstuck (unlikely) at least we will be able to get our people away unscathed. ‘They will 1) When it arrives unload and deliver to any address with a carrier who is a “dill” (does not know and cannot trace) so, we must be waiting at the factory & “clear” the factory A . soon as poss. ‘ They want $30,000 C.O.D. + Bonus plus 50% to 30"just before delivery to pay their workers.’ r

Also in the bank box was a letter addressed to Mr Douglas Richmond, a name Smith used to travel under when he left Australia in 1977. The letter was from the Tommy Watch Company, in Hong Kong, and ‘Tommy’, the writer, told ‘Dear Richmond’ that he was handing his "pictures and details of himself to him. ‘Please try to get the person who matches my age. I mean just close enough . . .’ The letter ended with details that are normally needed for a passport application - name, Tommy Chu Kwok Hung or Yip Kwok Hung; height, 5ft 5ins; colour eyes, dark brown; complexion, fair; hair,, black; special peculiarities, nil. If the contents of the bank box were not enough to satisfy police that they’d netted some fascinating ‘evidence’, there was more to come. Police went to Irene Murray’s home, just three doors away from Arthur Smith’s premises. A search uncovered two bags containing $39,360 in cash, stowed in a wardrobe in the front bedroom. Murray said the money had been left there earlier by Debra Smith. There was more to come. On the same morning, Drug Squad officers raided Warren Fellows’ home in Marshall Street, Manly and in a purse behind the cupboard they found a receipt for two locked boxes lodged at the Commercial Banking Company of Australia Ltd in the name of Janet Simon, Mrs Fellows’ maiden name. Police in fact found four boxes at the bank in the name of Janet Simon. When the officers finally walked out, they carried $185, 990 -in cash and a passport In the name of William Curwen Errington The lump in his throat was melting and he finally felt able to talk. With a guard watching every move, Greg proceeded to tell his father of events in Australia - the confiscation of $140,000, the loss of his restaurant, Arthur Smith’s arrest and the birth of his daughter. It was a thrill for Sinclair to learn he was a grandfather. ‘Well done,’ he called. Images of his grandchild were to sustain him during the long and tedious months he was to spend in prison. The guard indicated to Greg that his visit was over. Why, 126

they’d hardly spoken! But he had not yet learned the form - Greg, on that first call, had not been a bearer of gifts. Returning to his hotel, he shared a few drinks with the wives of the other two Australians. It had been a wearing, day and all night long, his father’s face haunted him. For most of his time in Bangkok, he would repeat the same routine. Off to the lawyers to discuss his father’s case and examine accounts, with particular attention to the expenditure of monies sent to Thailand. They seemed to be spending a fortune and the family was getting worried. Then, to *a department store to purchase supplies. On to Maha Chai, sitting in a taxi whose driver invariably tried to sell him smack. Coming face to face with the guards. He learned quickly that in Thailand, everything had a price. Time with his father was one commodity sold in the prison-cum-market place. At first it was a cigarette lighter here, or a pen there. But with each visit, the guard’s expectations grew. Greg knew if he didn’t deliver the goodies, he would no longer be allowed to see Sinclair. Officers of.the Thai Correction Department were fully aware that he and the women had travelled from 8000 kilometres away and that their time in the country was limited - visitors to Thailand could stay only fifteen days without a visa. Therefore, they knew that by shortening calling hours, or threatening to do so, they would elicit a gift just to extend the period again. It was shocking, Greg reflected bitterly, that they’d jailed an innocent old, man and now were manipulating his imprisonment to line their pockets. The government hired a large number of officers as a means of reducing unemployment. But their wages were so poor that they seized every opportunity to profiteer on the side. It was a problem throughout the whole of Thailand graft. And foreigners were sitting ducks. Seldom did Greg see prisoners with a legal representative present when police interviewed them. Once he’d learned the ropes and how to negotiate for what he wanted, he managed to bribe some guards, with his father’s help on the inside, to let him speak to Fellows and Hayward, for he only ever held clear127

ance papers to see his father. He had met Warren on three occasions over a .period of several years and Hayward, he knew even less. ‘Why the bloody hell did you dob my father in?’ he demanded of Fellows. ' ‘Mate, what could I do? If you .knew tire threats they’d made against me'.. . .’ ‘Aw, come on . . .’ ‘I swear to you that they forced me to mention your father’s name. I wish I- could tell you how bad I feel about it. They threatened to give Paul a hundred yard start and then shoot him down. What would you have done?’ Greg Sinclair nodded. ‘Well, I understand the problem. But we can’t just leave this hanging in the. air like this.’ ‘What else can we do? Throw your dad over the wall?’ ‘You can both make a statement telling the bloody truth.’ _ Fellows did more than that-. Returning to his cell he made a new .statement, followed by an account of his interrogation by Davies. A guard with $25 worth .of baht'in-his back pocket and a contented grin on his face, brought the document out to Greg who promptly took it,to the'lawyers and the Australian Embassy and had them officially stamped. Fellows had written (exactly as transcribed): ‘To the. Arresting Officers Assigned to the Case of “Fellows”, “Sinclair”, “Haywood”. Dear Sirs, the following statement in whitch I’m going write, concerning our case, I make of my own free will and under no threat to my well being,, nor do I make it any harrasmeht or any false pretences,. from the following person, whom I will name, “Mr William Sinclair”. By no means has this man influenced me in making this decision. ‘During the first few weeks of my arrest, at Crime Supresslori I Warren Edward Fellows, stated that Mr. William Sinclair was in fact the financier of the 8.4 kilos whitch was found in my possesion s not knowing the law of 128

Thailand, and under great mental pressure, I told the police that Mr. Sinclair was in fact the financier, this is not true, as each day goes by, I find it harder to live with my feelings ctf guilt, that I alone have imprissoned a innocent man, whoe’s only crime has been knowing me, this I can swear before my God and maker -to be true. ‘My reasons for name Mr. Sinclair was of “one thing”, a human weakness, to protect oneself, I now find it very hard to live with myself, after I have done something so bad and unhumain as, this I only hope that Mr. Sinclair can forgive me of committing such' an act, against hiscredibility, and that my God and Greater will also have forgiveness upon me. ‘Also as for Paul Hayward he new little or nothing, of the reason why he was brought to Bangkok, he has totally been exploited by me, he never new what was in the case until the‘arrest,all these facts I alone know and have to live with this teriable injustice, I just carnt let it happen. ‘This statement J swear before God to be true, and I only hope, no matter what becomes of me, that both Sinclair and.Hay ward will receive true justice, and that Sinclair will be set free. I only wish I would have rectified this terriable injustice a long time ago. ‘I will close now -only with this- hope of one “William Sinclair”' being a free man once again that the police and the .courts be aware of the exploytation of one Paul Hayward, who new little or nothing of my activities, this I do wish with all my heart. ‘I Warren Edward Fellows state this to be true in every respect.’ Greg felt that went a long way towards helping his father - if it wasn’t too late. Sitting at his hotel he then read through Fellows' account of his interrogation at the Narcotics Suppression Centre. It contained material which disturbed Greg and convinced him that Davies and Vyraj were determined to see Sinclair behind bars for a long time. 129

In Fellows’ account he said that Davies revealed a personal hatred for Sinclair because he had once bragged to Davies that he could get him transferred. The real facts of that, Fellows wrote s were that Sinclair heard from James Broadhurst that Davies was putting a lot of pressure on him - that Davies believed that Broadhurst was into narcotics. Sinclair told Broadhurst that if Davies kept up the pressure, he_should complain to higher authorities through the Embassy to Canberra. Fellows added in his statement that Broadhurst did not complain to the authorities. To get Davies ‘off his back’ he became an informer .instead. Greg flew' back to Australia carrying copies of the new statements by Fellows. They contained explosive material, Greg thought. Hardly a ticket to his father’s freedom, but 4 better than a notice of execution. On his arrival in Brisbane, he insisted on a full body search, telling customs officials he did not want to be found later in possession of a packet of heroin. ‘But the son is not guilty for the crimes of the father,’ said one officer who agreed to carry out the search. Greg thought the customs officials were friendly and obliging, but he realized from the man’s statement, everyone considered his father had committed a crime. He learned from his mother that the police had called on her just as she was stepping out the back door in her sun bonnet and gardening gloves. ‘They went through the house with a warrant. They were very nice and polite and didn’t frighten me at all,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know what they were looking for, but they didn’t find anything.’ ‘Of course they didn’t,’ said Greg. ‘There was nothing to bloody well find.’

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11

Chained Despite cramped and squalid living- conditions, Bill Sinclair, who always cared about his appearance, tried to maintain an air of cleanliness and respectability. The Thais, a very clean race themselves, developed an admiration for the man who bathed four times, shaved and put on a clean change of clothes each day. He would brush his teeth and polish his shoes as though setting off for a series . of business appointments around town. In the beginning, Dao brought his clothes. But within the jail, Thai prisoners actually operated a laundry service, charging one baht (4 cents) for a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. They washed the dirty clothes by hand, in cold water; of course, in a bucket beside the' horse trough, finally hanging them out to dry under a watchful eye unattended clothes were often stolen. One morning in February 1979, William Sinclair donned an immaculate white safari suit that now hung loosely on his shoulders and was baggy around his rear. He was going to court. His appearance was in marked contrast to Fellows and Hayward, both of whom considered the event not worth dressing up for. They wore T-shirts, white shorts and thongs. Along with taxi driver Kitty (Noi) Imsap, who had been picked up a month earlier as the suspected middleman in the heroin deal, they were led by heavily ■ armed guards to a small shed in the middle of which stood an anvil and a bench. They were going to put them in chains. Sinclair protested vehemently. Ts this really necessary?’ But it was in vain. He received no reply as the blacksmith, one of the trustees, selected a set of chains and ankle rings. It was worth one more try. 131

‘I am not going to run off. There’s no need for all this.’ But the blacksmith motioned him to swing his leg around. Sinclair put his leg into one of the open rings and set it on the anvil. Picking up a frightening looking harri- mer, the trustee pounded the metal ring shut. Sinclair was thankfubhis leg hadn’t been smashed in the process. On a ' subsequent occasion, he was not so ducky when the trustee missed. It was a shocking bruise that turned into a festering sore. 'With limited and expensive medical supplies, Sinclair knew he had to really take care of it for flies were a terrible problem and the sore could well have become an ulcer. As it was, it took months to heal. He looked a strange sight boarding the bus - well dressed, hair neatly combed,«shoes.gleaming while in one hand he carried a piece of string that lifted;a chain 15 kilograms in weight that was hanging around his legs, His other hand was handcuffed to Fellows’ wrists. He .was branded a potential escapee and the authorities were taking no chances. The prison bus was crowded with prisoners and guards. As*an extra precaution, a car escort stuffed with more armed officers, followed. Throughout the trip, Sinclair tried to act with dignity for he wanted all to see that he simply did not belong in jail and that he had not let slip his pride in Kis appearance. Fellows was high, Hayward nonplussed It'was to be another brief session in court.' And chaotic.. Someone thrust a document into Sinclair’s hand, a vague translation of the charges being read by the judge. There were bodies everywhere, some with shiny Thai faces, a sprinkling of pasty westerners and, ol course, .the usual .reporters. God -knows what ihey’ll write about when this case finishes, thought* Sinclair. The legal firm, .for all the, money it was paid, could manage to dig up-only the awful Barbara who was not a lawyer, and another man who was not even admitted to the Thai .bar. No one seemed to know what was going on, 'least of all the judge who was dreadfully confused. To his credit, he was on the point of sug132

gesting a lawyer there and then, for the Australians were on a serious charge, but Sinclair, Fellows and Hayward agreed to enter their own pleas and when asked through a translator how they answered the charges, each in turn replied ‘Not guilty’. The judge -set the trial to commence three weeks later.. The Public Prosecutor recommended that bail be refused. Dang had been right after all, Sinclair reflected; the prosecutor was saying that the Australians had political and financial influence and it was possible they might flee the Kingdom. On the way back to the prison, Sinclair felt he would quite frankly prefer to conduct his own defence with the aid of a capable junior lawyer to assist in court procedure. He intuitively mistrusted his-lawyers who, up to now, had not shown much concern about his position. His feelings were to be proved right and, he was to learn later, he was not the only victim of their indifference. The mother of one Australian he was to meet in jail, recorded in a letter her personal tragic circumstances. She wrote telling Sinclair: ‘My last conversation with her (Barbara, of the legal firm) was shortly after I had been discharged from hospital after my second collapse - on both occasions I came close to dying. The call was reverse charge as usual. I told her that I was very ill. She said she was tired of having to ring me repeatedly and wanted 40,000 baht immediately. She then asked me did I own my own home and when I said that I did she said “Well, sell it.” I told her that I could not even consider such a thing as I had a husband to think of also. Her comment was that sfie was not concerned with such matters and unless I supplied the money at once my son would spend the rest of his life in jail. ‘Through a friend of my son, I retained the services of a solicitor based in Melbourne. 1 then typedjlarbara a letter informing her of my actions, thanked her for whatever help she had been to my son, etc., etc. - made it a very nice 133

letter as I was afraid'of what reprisals she might do; Shortly after Barbara received my letter a message was sent to my son informing him that his mother was dead and that he could expect no help from her - no-one will ever convince me that the message wasn’t sent from that woman Barbara. It was her sadistic way of getting back at me . . . I have nothing but loathing for Barbara - the most important part .of life is learning compassion for others. She is absolutely devoid of it, doesn’t even know what it means. During my dealings with her I only received three receipts and yet I was sending money every month. She would ring me and tell me that the money had gone astray, got lost, held up. At one stage she wrote that she had lent rny son 500 baht. I don’t know what happened to the money 1 sent regularly except that my son only received a portion of it. Once I got out of Barbara’s hands, I was. finally able to make arrangements with the Foreign Affairs, Brisbane to handle the money transactions, so at least I know that my Son receives his money in full.’ ’ Sinclair’s own intuitions about his lawyers were to become a reality but ’for the moment he had to rely on them. He was in neither a physical nor mental condition to take o'n the Thai courts on his own. As he travelled now on the bus from court the chains on his legs were heavy and he looked forward to -having them removed. Not long, he thought as the bus cleared successive security gates. Christ, who could believe he was glad to return to Maha Chai? On the way to the blacksmith’s shack to have his leg irons struck off, he suddenly toppled over. He explained with" some embarrassment" to the guards who helped him up, that he had tripped . . . the chains. But he knew that wasn’t the reason. Inexplicably, he’d lost his balance. It was a relief to sit on the bench in the chain room. He hardly had the strength to hook the ring on one foot into a projection on the anvil. It was from a far off place that he watched the leyer being pushed into, the opposite side of the foot . . . no, the metal ring. Then the shackle was 134

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sprung apart. He floated among the prison-mob until it was time to be locked up’ for the night. By then he felt a little better, fie sat with his head in his hands. He knew the younger men had an advantage. What worried him was the possibility of an illness, for under the conditions of the jail, it would spell the end. He was rapidly losing weight and getting a meal was troublesome. Dao scarcely visited any more, so she could not be relied upon for food or medical supplies. He suspected he was suffering from mainutrition. Sinclair began to suffer dizzy spells frequently. He wrote to his family telling them he was not feeling well, but he trieci not to labour the point. He watched his diet but-there was no improvement. He recognized a greater part of the problem was psychological but finally, after another fall, he was forced to request an appointment with the prison doctor and-was taken to the’hospital. The doctor examined him as thoroughly as he washable- with the facilities on hand, even x-raying Iris head, but found’ho reason for his dizziness. Only at one of Bangkok’s premier hospitals would he be able to get a complete chcck-up-but that wap impossible as his bail had been vigorously denied. Dao was his only hope. He sent word, asking her to please try to get a qualified doctor to- visit him. The Australian Embassy was no bloody good - the last time he’d seen anyone from there had been before Christmas. Sinclair was aware that his greatest problem was how to overcome the terrible resentment he felt building inside him. It had grown worse since he found out about Warren ■Fellows’ signed confession naming him as the financier. At best, the relationship between the three Australians was restricted to a few words about prison conditions; at worst, a strained'silence when they would ignore each other. Deep within Sinclair held Fellows in such contempt that it sickened him to be in his company. Fellows had attempted to start conversations but Sinclair, after a few enforced pleasantries, walked away. He was the worst type of heroin addict - sly, selfish, untrustworthy and a liar. As for 135

-Hayward, he had nothing to offer in terms of company or conversation that warranted remaining near him. He, too, thought only of himself and it disgusted Sinclair that they treated the situation as a joke. He wondered if they really cared about getting out. It infuriated and concerned him to think that in a way, he had always to be nice to them, for Fellows had put him there and only he could help get him out. Whatever remorse Fellows might feel, it would never make up for the damage he had caused. Fellows was not popular with guards or inmates, and Sinclair felt it was awful to be branded with him as a potential escapee - he was lumped with him' and that was that, but life would have been easier if he didn’t have to suffer the same punishment all the time. Until now, Bill Sinclair had not been aware that Hayward, like Fellows, had named him in the. original statement. He suspected, however, that if Fellows had framed him, Hayward, his friend, would not have written something completely different. Certainly they hung about together in the cell and slept side by side after Fellows had snorted his heroin and Hayward had dragged on Bis gunja. He was not to find out until later that shortly after their return from the court appearance, Paul Hayward decided to ‘modify’ his confession. The footballer wanted the lawyers to be aware of the full story, and in his spidery writing on lined foolscap paper, Hayward described how in August, Arthur (Ned) Smith asked him if he wanted to have a free trip to Bangkok. All he had to do was take some money - $20,000 - to Bill Sinclair because he was buying a bar. Sinclair was to agree later that Hayward had indeed brought the money to him - ‘all my worldly possession which Ned Smith agreed to send up to me in the care of Hayward, who was coming on a holiday’. Hayward’s version of the full story read: ‘On the day I was leaving, I went to Mr. Smith’s ‘place where I met Bill’s son Greg and Mr. Smith gave me the money to put in my bag. When I arrived at Bangkok there 136

was a guy called Broadhurst waiting to pick me up, so he took me to his place' where I stayed for the night. The next morning I was taken to Mr. Sinclair’s place where I gave him the money. I then stayed at Mr. Broadhurst’s for about 3 days before I left to go home. For the time I was there Mr. Broadhurst took me out every night and on the day I was leaving he drove me to Patpong Road where 1 later caught a taxi to the airport. ‘One day in September I was haying a drink at the Regent Hotel with a friend, Warren Fellows. He asked me if I wanted to go for a holiday to Bangkok and he would pay my fare and all my expenses. So I asked him what I had to d o and he said he would tell me on the plane. ‘So he arranged the tickets and the day we were leaving was the 2nd of October. He called at my place on the way ter the airport in a taxi. He then gave me $16,000 to put in my bag. Later my wife dropped us off at the airport. On the plane, Warren told me that he was going to buy some Buddha sticks which were going to be shipped to Australia and he wanted me to make sure he didn’t get ripped off with the money. As besides the $16,000 he gave me, he had $40,000 himself in his bag.’ This was more money than Hayward had seen in his life. He’d been brought up in an overcrowded house in the working class area of Sydney. He was one of ten children and his father often came home drunk. Sport played a big part in his life. He made it into cricket, soccer, handball and rugby teams. His other sporting interest was thieving. Between the ages of seven and sixteen, he was convicted * twenty two times for offences including stealing, public transport’ fare evasion and damage to government property. At seventeen he won the New South Wales Open Amateur Welterweight boxing title. He also made it into first grade football. Now the final whistle had blown. His career, it seemed, was over. He continued writing. ‘When we arrived in Bangkok we got a taxi to the Mon137

tien Hotel where we booked in. The next morning we went to the Texan Bar in Patpong Road where we had a few ... drinks. Then on the Thursday a guy arrived at the hotel named Noy. This was the guy Warren was goi g to get the Buddha sticks off. Warren rang me in my room and asked me to bring him in $3,200 - so I took the money in to him and Noy was-there'and he.gave him the $40,000 he had plus the $3,200 - and then Noy left taking the money in a carrying bag. The next day we met Mr. Sinclair in the Texan Bar we had a few drinks and a conversation about the usual things. We met Mr. Sinclair on the Friday morning and had coffee together in the Montien coffee shop. On the Saturday me' and Warren went to the races. Then on the Sunday afternoon Noy came to the hotel and Warren and myself had breakfast with him in the coffee shop, over breakfast he told us that he couldn’t give us the Buddha sticks as he couldn’t fix the shipping of them up. So after - coffee we went with this man in a taxi to somewhere else in Bangkok. When we got out of the taxi we went in a little coffee shop and had a drink. This man Noy told us to wait ' and he would be back in five minutes. He came back and told us a friend of his had arrived, so .we left the shop and crossed the road where his friend was waiting in a-white car in the front seat of the car was two bags. Warren and I got in the back seat of the car and Noy said see you later. ‘The driver of the car dropped us off somewhere I did not know but there was an overhead bridge near. We got out of the car and took a taxi- to the hotel with the two bags. We went up to our rooms and Warren said we will go in- your room. Once inside the hotel room we opened the bags which was full of bags of heroin.I told Warren I was worried about this as I have never seen heroin before. So later we went to a department store where Warren and I purchased a suitcase which was delivered to the hotel later that evening. After this I emptied the heroin out- of the two . bags on the bed and 'Warren packed it in the suitcase. I was e very wormed and nervous and I told Warren I think we should get rid of the heroin down the toilet as it wasn’t 138

good to have. Wednesday the door. I opened Police-Officer Warren’s room

But Warren told me not to worry. Then 11th October there was a knock on the it and the man at the door said he was a he then arrested me and later went to and arrested him.’

Had he known of Hayward’s modified statement, it would Have beep of little consolation to Bill Sinclair, whose immediate concern was his failing health. Worried about his attacks of dizziness, he tried to keep his movements to a minimum. Whatever books he could get hold of - they had started to arrive from his family - he read. Novels, Thai history and culture, Buddhism, he burrowed through them all. Although they were a distraction, there was always the underlying thought that the rest of his life would be? spent in these miserable quarters. Lies had put him in prison and whatever truth came out now would be just too bloody late. He felt as He obviously looked - a faded human wreck. It was becoming an effort now to even get up and walk over to the hong nam. He tried hard through his books to find his soul for he felt it had deserted him.

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The Thai Corruption Department He was startled to 'find his father in.chains. A guard had led him into a small holding cell in the court building and there the'elderly man sat with Fellows, Hayward and the , taxi driver, Noi. ,Greg Sinclair, on his second trip to Bangkok within three months, was horrified to see how thin and haggard his father now looked. And wearing chains. ‘I can hardly walk, Greg,’ said Bill Sinclair. ‘Christ knows why they put these on me.’ ‘Dad . . . I don’t want you to worry. We’ve beaten them once over Article 27.’ He smiled and touched his father’s scrawny shoulder. ‘You’re still with us.’ Greg needed no convincing that money talked. Only a couple of days earlier, he had been sitting in their Bangkok lawyers’ office. An offer had come through from the police. For 300,000 baht (A$15,000) they would present to the court everything they knew about William Sinclair the good and the ‘bad’ - which would stand him in better stead. If the money wasn’t paid, the court would hear only ~ the incriminating evidence. The Sinclairs had rejected the offer. Greg had also succeeded in meeting Frank Davies at the Embassy - on his first trip Davies had refused to entertain him, saying they had nothing to discuss - and he had asked Davies if he would kindly keep his evidence to the facts of the.arrest. Greg had told him that he had heard whispers around town that his father’s forthcoming case was a political, not a criminal, issue. Greg was convinced that if his father was tried -purely as a criminal he would go free because 'there was simply no evidence, against him. If the case was turned into an international affair, bringing in 140

Thailand and Australia and even the Mafia, another whisper Greg had heard around the town, he was certain his father would not stand a chance. Greg’s wishes that the case should be localized were in vain. Now though, he- sat with his fatherin the holding cell. Even in that tiny, closed off room, conversation' was. difficult. For it was inundated by relentless traffic noises horns, bells, revving engines - interjected with th? sounds of weeping relatives, shouting food sellers and hawkers’ cries. He had to, reassure his father that no matter what evidence they presented against him, he would fight it, not just there, but in Australia as ‘well. Eventually the three prisoners were led into court number thirty three which measured no more than 10 metres by 12 metres. It was a rule, that prisoners were to enter barefooted. Fellows and Hayward were not wearingshoes, but Sinclair had argued and won the right to keep his shoes on. ‘You can chain,me and handcuff me, but you will not take away my dignity by forcing me- to walk in bare feet,’ he had told a head guard. The shackled men were taken to the right hand side of the court where they sat dowmon a long bench. Directly opposite was the prosecution’bench and the space in the centre of the room was taken up by the witness box whichfaced the judge’s rostrum. In front of the rostrum was the reporters’ table. Not the court reporters’ table, for no such officials existed. This area was set aside for privileged members of the press, one reporter being Major Vyraj’s mistress. At the back of the court, near where the guards sat, were seats for the public and non.-privileged press. Greg joined the throng at the rear, catching an odd glimpse of his father above the bobbing heads straining for abetter look at the defendants. There was an air of excitement, of expectation. It was the first day of the trial. Suddenly Greg’s attention was caught by an officer walking across the courtroom . . . to Paul Hayward. He was one of Vyraj’s men. Whatever it was he said to the 141

young Australian drew a strong reaction from his father. He would find out what that was all about later. He watched the prosecution lawyers. Major Vyraj and Frank Davies were sittjng ith them. They all seemed very sure of themselves. All the lawyers were dressed in robes reminding 'Greg of gowns worn by students at a graduation ceremony. Then the judge entered, similarly attired; The court rose, including the prisoners, pulling their chains. The-charges were read out in Thai and the accused were asked, through their legal representatives, how they pleaded. Greg watched his father turn to the judge and say in a firm voice, ‘Not guilty’. The first witness was called'. Major Vyraj Jutimitta. He •strolled purposefully across the court and performed what to Greg Sinclair was an extraordinary act: he picked up the witness box and carted it 2 metres closer to the judge’s rostrum. Dismayed they might not be able to hear so well, all the onlookers at the rear of the court picked”up their benches and moved them forward a corresponding distance. Vyraj began his evidence, again in Thai. There was no official interpreter, but three western journalists sitting near Greg had hired their jawn. So Sinclair’s son was able to follow the narcotics officer’s' testimony. Documents submitted by the prosecution were handed to the judge and after lie had studied them they were passed on to the defence. Then to the guards, through the public gallery, back to the prosecution and finally, to the judge again. Christ, thought Greg Sinclair,"amazed at what had just taken place, what is this? A three ringed circus? Sinclair, the police officer told the court, was the head of a ring smuggling heroin to Australia. Extraordinarily, by western judicial standards, Vyraj named a number of Australians who he had learned from investigations had come to Thailand to open bars as fronts for undercover narcotics trading. He said the arrests of Sinclair, Fellows, Hayward and the Thai, Noi, had led to several arrests in Australia. Among those detained in Australia, said Vyraj, was Sinclair’s son who, he said, was now in custody. After 142

hearing the interpretation, Greg jumped to his feet in shock and .one of the defence lawyers, Lek, hurried across the courtroom. ‘You have never been arrested, have you?’ asked the lawyer. ‘No. And as you can see 1 am not in custody. Doesn’t that bloody idiot know I am sitting behind him?* ‘Probably. But that does not matter. He will tell thenr anything.’ The procedure was unbearably slow. The judge wrote everything down by hand - or at least he wrote what was considered to be relevant. As soon as he caught up, he asked the witness to continue. Vyraj described the events that he had decided he would put into his report on the night of the arrests. He told how Sinclair had met Hayward and Fellows several times in bars and in a jewellery shop and how, after the raid at the hotel, he had answered the telephone to a man with a hoarse Australian accent, Warren Fellows showed the court what he thought of Vyraj’s evidence. He simulated masturbation, and from time to time called out, ‘Vyraj, you’re a gutless bastard*. But the testimony went on, regardless of the interruptions. At last Greg was able to get t o his father’s side to ask him what Vyraj’s man had said to Hayward which h a d . caused him to react in the way that he did. ‘I shall never forget those words,’ said Bill Sinclair. ‘That narcotics man told Hayward “if 1 were you, Hayward, I wouldn’t help Sinclair in this trial. He can’t help you when he goes free”.’ ‘Christ,’ said Greg, ‘it means they think you’re going to get off,’ ‘It also means they don’t give a damn about intimidating witnesses. I protested to the lawyer about what, he had said, but the policeman had already left -the court; otherwise we would have nailed him down.’ While the case wound slowly on, Greg was putting out feelers. On a tour of the bars, he met a lot of people 'who had contacts. In a remarkably short period of time, he was 143

introduced to a man said to be the Prime Minister’s brother. He had no reason to doubt the man’s identity because the intermediary was a legal man of impeccable and unquestionable standing. The meeting with the socalled brother of Prime Minister Kriangsak Chamanand took place in a plush city office near the hotel district. Mr Kriangsak conceded that Bill Sinclair was too old to be in prison and too sick. He agreed to begin negotiations for a bribe to drop the charges. Greg gave him a down payment of 3000 baht against a total bribe of US$50,000. ‘I am only agreeing to do this because there is no evidence against your father,’ Kriangsak said. ' As it turned out, the case was not dropped and Greg lost his money. It was an ‘unofficial’ bribe. In return, he received the cold shoulder. However, he was more successful in another field - paying money through various intermediaries, he got his hands on a batch of documents pertinent to the case.. The papers, which included photostats of evidence sent to Thailand by New South Wales police, came from a source within the Thai police. Also included in. the sale was a photostat of PASS, the Australian airport security system used to check possible narcotics traffic. Greg Sinclair made a promise that he would never reveal publicly more than those facts because people were genuinely trying to help him and to disclose more would result in reprisals. One day, Greg had lunch with the delightful Miss Sumalee of the Correction Department. She was, he thought, the one virtuous employee of a government sector known to prisoners as the Thai Corruption Department. He was tremendously grateful to her for the kindness she had shown his father - her sympathy, her understanding. In her talks with ‘Mr Bill’, she said, she had reached the conclusion he had been wrongly arrested. He was a charm-irig man, she added, and Greg gained the distinct impression her concern went beyond the realms of a normal prisoner/liaison officer relationship. Greg considered Miss Sumalee to be a woman of good breeding, one of the few 144

shining lights in the Thai Correction Department and incorruptible. Apart from his occasional chats with her, he drank in the sleezy bars of Patpong Road, speaking with many who had first hand experience of the degeneration in Thai /society, who had been victims of bribery and corruption. In short, he learned a lot about Thailand. Bill Sinclair believed that a substantial payment might be the only way out of his dilemma and stressed this to his son. But Greg felt he’d had more misses than hits with payouts and was reluctant to hand over anything else. The problem with bribes was there were no guarantees. You paid your money and you said your prayers. During his second visit to Bangkok, Greg came into contact with relatives of other Australian prisoners whp had travelled further down the*road of bribery than he, achieving nothing but financial exhaustion. Lawyers in Thailand admitted as a matter of course that the legal system was corrupt and in some instances, encouraged clients to pay out. There were cases of lawyers asking for money in advance for legal fees, bail and a bribe to get the bail approved, then failing to procure bail, claiming the bribe money had been lost in the system. The Sinclairs, father and son, therefore continually argued o n whether to bribe or not to bribe. For the elder, it was money on the spot that counted. Greg felt he could do more in Australia and held to that. Finally, they agreed to differ on that point for the time. When Vyraj concluded his evidence, Greg returned to Brisbane to work out his next moves and Bill Sinclair boarded the battered old bus for the uncomfortable, exhausting drive back to Maha Chai, Immediately he reached the prison, Sinclair requested he be taken to the dispensary. He was not feeling at all well. Dizzy and weak. The guard informed him, however; that the governor wished to see him at once, so, dragging his chains and barely able to walk, Sinclair stumbled to the office where he almost, fell. Steadying himself against the wall, he managed to remove his shoes - thank God he wasn’t too far gone to' remember the courtesy - before 145

presenting himself to Prasarh Prasertprasart. Unusually, fat for a Thai, the man sat therejikean enormous, benign Buddha. Through an interpreter he said: ‘We’re sending you to Lard Yao hospital. We are not very happy about the way you look. The Embassy has approved the temporary transfer.’ At 'that moment, the" scrawny Australian didn’t mind where they sent him. He was eight stone - at the time of his arrest he had weighed sixteen stone! - and suffering from starvation, emotional deprivation and physical degradation. He was overcome with worry. What a ploy! The sadist just didn’t want the political storm that would burst about his ears should a foreigner starve to death in Maha Chai. His brutal activities might be taken up by Amnesty International. Nevertheless, it would be good to get out of that rotten place for a few days. Sinclair said he would go and get his chains removed. The governor put up a hand. No, The chains were not to be removed. He was .a potential escapee and, as such, was to be .taken to Lard Yao in leg irons. ‘In that case,’ said Sinclair stubbornly, ‘I’m not bloody going to hospital. I don’t have to go.’ ‘It is an order. You will go. We do not want anything happening to you in this prison.’ So there it was - the governor’s admission. He had been right. ‘I will not go in chains.’ The Supreme Commander’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed to two long flat slits. The Australian stood his ground, glaring defiantly back at him.- Suddenly, the Thai’s heavy features slackened. There was a hint of gold teeth. Was the man smiling . . .? Sinclair didn’t care. He was far away, out of that depressing hole, standing in a garden in Sydney, chattering and laughing with his family and friends. He swayed, desperately struggling to keep upright. The big fat Thai lowered his head and drummed his fingers on his desk. Then he looked up, defeated, and nodded to the guard. ‘Take off his chains and take" him to hospital.’ 146

William Sinclair was given a sheath of papers to hand in to the hospital administration at Lard Yao. His.ieg irons were struck off and he was driven to Bumbud, the rehabilitation centre where he had formerly done time. The hpspital was next door. As was the custom whenever he was moved from one institution to another, he arrived at Lard Yao after sunset. Ah, Mr Sinclair, welcome back. So you are a hospital patient this time? Well, we are sorry Mr Sinclair, but it is now too late to arrange for a bed. Ah, but you are still a potential escapee? Unfortunately-, Mr Sinclair, for that reason you must spend the night in a cell. They took him through the jail complex to a cell heavy with the odour of men who had languished there over the years. On seeing the stone floor, Sinclair realized he hadn’t thought to bring blanke’ts'- after all, he had been expecting »a hospital bed, not another space on a slab of concrete. Behind him the cell door clanged shut. H e stood swaying. Sinclair had protested to the guard who ignored his request for bedding. And .then he heard terrific banging and shouting, presumably .from the next cell. Someone was calling his name. ‘Sinclair . . . is that Sinclair in there?’ The caller, whoever he was, was yelling to the guards not to him, Sinclair, as he’d first imagined. ‘Is that Sinclair in there? Jeez; yer can’t put him in there, mate. Put him in here with me. Come on, put him in here.’ He heard the guards returning, heard the rattle of keys, saw his door. flung open. A grinning guard indicated for him to follow and he was locked into a nearby cell. ‘G’day mate, fiob Anderson’s the name. I’m in fer ten. Jeez, you don’t look much like yer photos. Yer as thin as a bloody rake!’ Sinclair hardly heard the greeting. He wanted to die. He found a space on the floor and sank down. ‘1'hey’re a bit nervous about having yer back in here, mate. Potential, escapee, that’s what they’re all sayin’ yer are. Goin’ ter make a break for it, weren’t yer, with Hayward and Fellows? Tell yer the truth, mate, the gover147

nor’s worried shitless about yer. They’ve been runnin’ out on him left right and centre. Did yer hear about the Dutch guy who got out? Cheeky bugger sent the governor a postcard thanking him for a most enjoyable stay. Tell yer mate, there were a few red faces around after that.’ The next morning, because of his status as a potential escapee, there was still some doubt whether he should be allowed into hospital, but Bob Anderson argued his case forcibly with the authorities and Sinclair, bewildered and ill, was finally escorted to a dormitory. He was examined by Dr Vischai who diagnosed malnutrition and told him he was putting him on a course of vitamin tablets immediately. The doctor stood him on the scales and verified he had lost eight stone in less than six months. They would have to rectify that. Later the governor paid him a visit. ‘Well, Sinclair,’ he said, ‘so you are back with me again. The orderly says you are to take plenty of exercise, but I want you to run around the building, not over the walll’ ‘I can hardly climb onto the bed,’ responded the Australian. Sinclair arranged with a woman guard to buy food for him. Fortunately he was able to. purchase large amounts of fresh fruit which benefitted him greatly, though, as for cooked dishes, he would not have cared had he never eaten Chinese food again. Privacy, of course, did not exist. He shared a ward with twenty five other men whose conditions ranged from poor to critical. At one end of the ward was the inevitable water trough and a toilet. The predictability of its design struck him as, funny. He didn’t know why. Sinclair reclined on an old stained mattress with broken springs, listening- to the groans of the dying. The patients suffered a variety of illnesses - sclerosis of the liver, heart problems, tuberculosis, intestinal infections and septicaemia. Terminal cases, he soon realized, were simply left to die. The facilities fortreatment were inadequate, but it was either too expensive to transfer them to a 148

well equipped hospital or the authorities could not be bothered. In any event, it never happened during his stay there. In the room was a young Thai about twenty years old named Pong who lay for most of the time in a coma. He was suffering from tuberculosis. Sinclair, worried about the lack of nursing care and the lack of attention paid t o him, stood by his bed and fanned him. The. Australian spoke to Jiim for days, but he was never sure whether the man heard him. One morning, he, awoke to see them wrapping Pong’s body in a paper sheet. It was a blessing, he thought. It had been a shocking thing to see a man lying on a bed without sheets, completely ignored and dying. To ■" Sinclair, it was inhumane. Pong, in fact, was to be the first of nine who died while he was in that dormitory. He spent a good deal of time reflecting on the Thai attitude to death - and life. Because of a strong belief in t h e »’ life hereafter, death was neither frightening nof'awesome. It was merely a release so that the ultimate penalty did not hold as much terror as, say, a severe beating and other forms of torture. For the Thais, the worst punishment was to be locked in the' dark room. Christianity on the other hand, condemned the taking of human life. Sinclair recalled an incident earlier when he had been taken from the court after having been remanded for twelve days. A couple o f young Thais in high humour had stuck their heads around a- corner of the building and, grinning delightedly, imitated firing a machine gun at him. It had meant nothing to them, but had distressed him at the time. He considered it callous. A young Chinese was brought in unconscious, his nose a bloody pulp. ‘What happened?’ Sinclair asked the doctor. ‘The usual thing. A fight in the foreign prisoners’ sec-, tion over heroin. An American-wanted some and when this man didn’t give him any, he was beaten up.’ As the man’s condition improved, he confided to Sinclair that the American was one of several foreign 149

inmates who regularly set upon Asians when they were denied heroin. ‘Why don’t you just call the guards?’ The Chinese shook his head. ‘We gave up calling for help 'years ago,’ he said in his broken English. ‘What happens in building five always happens when the guards do not look and if we tell them, they do not care.’ Several days later, another victim of cell block five was admitted - a Frenchman with a broken arm. In a fight with an American, his arm had been twisted up behind his back until it snapped. The ‘Queen of Drugs’ exacted a weighty sacrifice from her subjects. During these days in hospital, Sinclair thought a lot "about his future. If he ever got out from behind bars,.w hat would he do? Where would he go? Life in Bangkok would be unbearable - Major Vyraj had already promised that. As'for Dao, well, why didn’t he face up to the facts? She’d hardly been to see him since his arrest. Certainly he no longer represented the security she had expected, and it was a safe bet .she was already looking elsewhere. And Australia . t. . what did it have to offer if he were released? He couldn’t go back to Iris now after the way he’d treated her, and he was not inclined to pick up the threads of old friendships. There would be the stigma of the whole business, too. No, he had no illusions. He would be, on trial for the rest of his life. Press reports, as far as he was concerned, had prejudged and found him guilty for not one had taken up his cry of innocence. Well, he was guilty of many things, but not this one. One morning as he lay on his bed sipping tea, a breathless guard raced to his bedside. ‘QuickI Quick! You dress now. You go to court!’ Fellows, Hayvyard and Noi, it appeared, had been taken to court for the next part of the hearing, but no one had bothered to inform Sinclair that his presence- was also imperative. For the court could not proceed without all four defendants present. He flung his clothes on as quickly as possible, 'the guards standing by to escort him to the 150

waiting utility van whose driver had been ordered to step on it. It was a frightening trip. Sinclair was thrown from side to side in the back of the vehicle as the Thai swerved and dodged the Bangkok traffic, his hand never off the horn. Suddenly, he braked and Sinclair was pitched forward against an iron bar, -a blow that knocked him almost unconscious. In a daze, the blood running down his face, he staggered into the court building where the wound was washed. The hurry, the rough ride and the injury all contributed to'his pallid and tottering condition so that when at last he was led into the courtroom, the judge ruled: ‘This man is far too ill to be present here today.’ The case was postponed. The accident set him "back.. In his hospital bed with the dying sweating it out around him in the stifling heat and with no one to talk to, he was overcome with melancholia. In a bed next to him, another man died. He picked up his pen and wrote a letter to his son dated 22 April 1979. ‘Dear Greg, An extremely hot and depressing day. Another guy died five minutes ago. That makes a total of four during the twelve days I have been here. There is no point in me discussing my feelings, suffice to say I am coming to the end of my road. You have a long way to go. Any residue of money that may be left in Thailand you are welcome to it. Living in hospital is not expensive by Australian standards - by Thai standards it costs around 1000 bahts per month. I am doing my best to live within that limit. I still weigh 57 kilos, so you can see the diet barely sustains. ’Greg, I am not coming back to Australia. It’s not Dao that’s finished. Really, it isn’t anyone. I just don’t belong any more. I still remain in prison and will probably do so for some time yet. Putting it mildly, I have just about had enough. To be perfectly frank, I am beginning to doubt the viability of me going free. A few more years of what . . .?’ 151

He lay back on his pillow. If his flat heart ventricles should fail him right now, he thought, it would be a merciful release.

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13 To Bribe or not to Bribe . . . Greg Sinclair crouched on the roof of a, tall building near Maha Chai jail. His binoculars were trained on the silverhaired man walking from the wash trough to the main cell block. A few days earlier they had released his father from the hospital and now he was back to his daily routine. Greg moved the glasses from the yard and scanned the tin rooftops. Then he swept them along the prison roads and studied the exterior walls. H e had broken open a locked door to get up there, for the building provided a panorama of the layout of the jail. On this, his third trip to Thailand, Greg Sinclair was 'looking for- a means of springing his father. But as he studied the jail and the surrounding streets, he realized the hopelessness. Among the brown ant-like Thais, his father cut a conspicuous figure. Even if he managed to somehow get him over the wall, how could they escape? Westerners were easily spotted, and with alarm bells ringing all over town, they would be picked up in no time. If his father could get out on bail, that would be a different affair. Using the services of a secret escape group based in Bangkok whose existence he learned of through a Canadian girl he met, he could quietly get him over the border into .Malaysia. But bail seemed a remote chance at 'this stage. Greg cursed and made his way down from 'the .rooftop. Deep within, he believed that the answer ‘to his father’s release lay in political pressure from Australia. But that too, was hardly a possibility with the trial already in progress. Added to that, of course, was the Australian government's policy not to interfere with the processes of law in another country. His father was still of- the opinion that bribery was the only way. H e wasn’t sure any more. 153

He took a cab back to the city and made for the hotel bar to sit With a beer and think. Perhaps his father was fight. Perhaps bribery was the only way. Sure, he’d paid out a great deal and got nowhere, bitt wasn’t it worth one more try? He decided it was, but he would be more captious with his money this time. Through the communication system, he made contact with, an off-duty colonel in the Thai Border Police who had an interesting sideline running marijuana from the communists on the northern frontiers to Europe, America and Australia. The presiding judge, said the colonel, could bg_bought. Greg was impressed with the man and gained the impression he had influence. The colonel requested a downpayment of US$500 as an act of good faith. He went to great lengths to point out to Greg that the money would not go into his pocket. He would use it to throw an expensive party, invite along all the right people, including the judge and his associates, and sound out just how viable the bribe proposition was. Months later in Australia, Greg was to receive a phone call from overseas saying that the bribe could be taken. The fee would be US$180,000 for his father’s freedom. A Thai national would be in Sydney the following weekend to collect the money and take it out of the country. Greg was to meet the man in the bar at the Sebel Town House, a hotel frequently used by visiting entertainment stars. Yes, he-was to confirm, on payment of the money, the family’s worries would be over and his father would be out of prison. They had a drink and 'discussed the case for a while until Greg laid it on the line he just did not have that kind of money available. The Thai understood. No deal. He drained his glass, made his excuses and left. During his third visit to Thailand Greg met still more families who were victims of Thai corruption. Families who, in, their desperation to help imprisoned relatives, were naturally susceptible to the machinations of -unscrupulous hangers-on in bars and civil servants, from prison guards to high ranking government officials. 154

Whenever Greg went to jail to visit his father,, it was, he told himself, like wages day. At every corner it seemed, someone stood with -his hand out saying he could help him get ‘Sinclair’ out. He had been down that road too many times, had heard too many stories. Yet at the same time, his father had impressed upon him that it was essential to keep up a flow of small bribes to maintain the illusion that he, Sinclair, was a wealthy and influential man. Otherwise he risked ending up at the bottom of the heap. It.was vital, he told Greg, to let them think that no matter how much the family was bled,, there was plenty more where the last payment had come from. For, he stressed again, it was only money that made prison life bearable. Through conversations with members of the legal profession, government employees and others who had dealt with the Thai Correction Department, Greg became convinced that Thailand was playing an intricate game. But its rules were simple. The government turns a blind eye to the movement of heroin from the Golden Triangle to the streets of Bangkok; narcotics police arrest a European, preferably a drug user; convicts him or her on questionable evidence or plants it; throws them into jail; turns them into addicts where possible; but above all, bleeds the family dry. It was an ongoing game, but he was not sure whether the motives were purely mercenary or stemmed from a hatred of foreigners or a combination of both. The family, however, if they cared at all about their sons and daughters, were caught up in the payout system. Greg Sinclair was unique in that he was a son fighting for his father’s freedom, but that did not exclude him from the rules. The Correction Department provided nothing for its involuntary guests,. so prisoners were forced to pay exorbitant prices for such necessities as toilet paper, pens and writing, paper. In short, the basics. And everything was expensive because it involved one or more middlemen. Even medication was the responsibility of the family. So, too, in the case of drug addicted individuals who received no treatment, were drugs. The bleeding of the family 155

resources continued for as long as the prisoner remained confined in a Thai jail. Without outside help, death, or madness, came slowly but surely. The arrest of a farang made good newspaper headlines, proclaiming to the world Thailand’s firm stand against drug trafficking and drug use. Hypocrisy, Greg concluded, and a distraction from what really took place behind the scenes where it was business as usual. For; indirectly, the country’s economy' depended on a heroin flow. His own government disgusted him. It went along with the Thai judicial system’s habit of handing down massive sentences in order to gain accolades at home for its supposed stand against drugs and drug trafficking. But the Australian government’s support for Thailand did.nothing to stem the flow - it simply resulted in helpless addicts being flung into jail and their families made bankrupt. Greg Sinclair was perturbed by the actions of other governments, too. While he and his father were violently opposed to the trafficking of heroin, they were both shocked to learn of the anti-trafficking activities of countries like the United States, Canada and France. Feeling in these countries was that by placing agents in Thailand they were setting up a barricade against the exportation of heroin. In many cases they precipitated the arrests of their own nationals. Usually they caught only the small fry - the addict who wanted nothing more than enough smack to keep him going. However, the Drug Enforcement Administration and other foreign agencies were assured of a good image for, as Greg was to tell friends in Australia later, in Thailand you could get the Pope jailed for being a Protestant. Walking or travelling through Bangkok by cab was like passing through a minefield - every time Greg ventured from his hotel, he was propositioned by peddlers who were, either undercover police or informers. For the susceptible, Bangkok was a dangerous city. Heroin, marijuana, tablets, - pills - all were available with a guaranteed door to door service. With the assistance of sophisticated bugging and 156

photographic equipment, Thai police and foreign agents watched a victim until they were certain he or she had the evidence and then they called around to their hotel and picked them up: The methods employed to secure an arrest were not tolerated in foreign countries, but as one Thai policeman-pointed out to Greg: ‘The way we run things in Thailand is entirely our affair. We fall in line with foreign governments up to* the point of arrest - after that we employ our own methods.’ Bail was almost always refused. But in the office of a leading Thai legal firm Greg met st Canadian girl who received a special privilege. She had been granted bail. The , judge’s reasoning was that men absconded, women didn ? t. Susan was a living lie to that principle. She was preparing to skip the country by crossing into Malaysia the very next day. She admitted to Greg that she and two men were planning to export a quantity of heroin. They had been arrested after swallowing condoms filled with the powder. Thai police who arrested them, had been tipped off by the Canadian police officer at the attache’s office. The three were taken to a police station, led to an upstairs room and were then provided with buckets to do their business into so the evidence could be retrieved. Seven condoms were eventually recovered, but by the time the buckets had reached the main administration office on the ground floor, .only three were found. Somewhere in the police station between floors, someone had taken the heroin for their own use. But there was enough evidence left - one condom for each prisoner. Susan served three and a half months in the women’s prison before being granted bail. She had immediately made plans to flee, but she needed money. A Thai businessman who sympathized with the- penniless farang, gave her the necessary cash to get away the next day. She made contact with a group specializing in putting Europeans over the Malaysian border. They sent them to southern Thailand by bus after picking them up in the 157

outer suburbs. A Thai military officer, trained in counterinsurgency, moonlighted by leading them through the jungle and putting them over the border. Escapers then made their way to their embassy in Malaysia where they arranged travel documents. Susan was quite frank. She had been a trafficker-’ for years, travelling around the world. She knew every method of smuggling heroin - false suitcase bottoms, swallowed condoms and the double courier trick. This involved getting to know the customs’ code in each country. Should a customs declaration 'form be marked by an immigration official indicating the passenger has to be searched, he or she simply ignored the luggage and walked through with ‘clean’ hand luggage. The main baggage would then be picked up by the accomplice, providing he or she had a mark indicating a free passage through customs. If both were marked for searches, they ignored the cases completely, counted their losses and walked out through customs with only their hand luggage. Susan was bitter about the actions of the Canadian police officer, for he had frozen funds sent to Bangkok by her mother. ‘I don’t mind facing the music when I get home,’ she told Greg. ‘But that official is determined to keep me here in Bangkok and see me rot in a Thai jail. If he spent one night there I think he might give me the money for the airfare straight out of his pocket. ‘I tell you, the women’s jail is real bad. Thejesbianism, women guards attacking the prisoners, the lack of medication, the hopelessness of the addicts. You name it in horror stories' and it’s all there. The only treatment they have for addicts is to throw, buckets of-cold water over them during their withdrawal symptoms. The addicts get needles in there, but there’s no real method of sterilizing them or cleaning them out, so you knowdiow they do it? They jab the needle in' their arms, draw out their blood and then squirt it out, cleaning the needle at “the same time. The .walls and ceilings are splattered with blood. I tell you, it’s 158

like Dante’s Inferno in there. There’s a German woman, a prisoner, in there who runs the show. Sylvia has them all under her thumb, deciding even who gets water to drink. She’s a real bitch.’ Greg let Susan talk on. The Canadian looked pale and gaunt and she had spent only three and a half months in jail. ‘If anyone plays' up, the whole block is punished. You’re forced to beat your knuckles on the concrete floor until they’re raw. I saw ,a girl tied in a yard facing the sun and she was forced to .look at the sun. Every time she closed her eyes, she was beaten.’ Susan left as planned the next day. Greg didn’t hear of her again. He presumed she got away. Greg formed a friendship with a retired Australian public servant whose son was. charged with possession of heroin and who now faced a life sentence. He was a helpless addict who, the father claimed, should never have been allowed to pass out through Australian immigration, let alone travel to the fountainhead of heroin. The elderly man Had been living in Thailand for more than three months trying to help his son. He had used up his entire superannuation payment. He had been taken around by ‘knowledgeable’ Thais and introduced to people purporting to be cabinet ministers. With every new face he met, his hand reached into His wallet. Greg took him back to his hotel, bought him a few beers and told him of all his experiences. How he, too, had paid out thousandsand his father was still behind bars. The old man wept. Heartbroken, he turned to Greg,and put a hand on his arm. ‘I know you’re right. I’ve thought about the futility for a long time. 1‘just wanted someone to. tell me.’ He talked bn, describing how he had paid a $1000, here, a couple of thousand there. There had been many promises and he had held out a great deal of hope. But hope faded with each new payment. It was on 24 March 1980 that he had received a phone call from the Department of Foreign Affairs in Canberra 159

telling him that his son had been arrested at Don Muang Airport for possession of heroin. It had been a shock to him and his wife because their son had never been in trouble before on drug or criminal charges. His wife had recalled speaking to a woman pensioner in Bankgtown ' about her son. She had sold her house and sent the money to Thailand for her son and had not heard any more about the money or her son. -Not long after receiving the news about his own son the Australian received a collect phone call from a woman in Bangkok calling herself Beryl. Bangkok, said Beryl, was full of corruption and Europeans were arrested so that money could be obtained from their families. ‘Do not visit the Consul, or the solicitors but bring 510,000 and your son will be free,’ Beryl urged. ‘But you must come immediately,’ The Australian did just that and went straight to, a ‘Changi-style’ prison - Bumbud, where he saw his son with other Europeans. ‘I went to the prison every week day,’ he told Greg. ‘I was amazed at the poverty, low wages and the incessant scheming of the Thai people-to get money from European tourists. I had to bargain with taxis to the prison, with shopkeepers to buy food and medicine for my son, and with officers at the prison . . . It was obvious that they thought Europeans had an unlimited supply of money. They could not understand why I went to the prison every day. “Forget about your son”, they said, “you can adopt a Thai son. Do not pay any money for food or legal expenses and the Government will release him sooner”.’ The old man described to Greg his impressions pf the life style in Thai jails. ‘I could see that many Thai officers resented the fact that most European prisoners received better comforts from their families than the Thai prisoners did. The Thai mode- of life and Buddhist culture makes their prisoners very submissive. After a beating they will thank the guards for correcting them. The guards find European prisoners do not readily squat at their feet with 160

heads bow,ed and consequently regard them as arrogant. Because they are a minority in the prison population, Europeans band together and the Thais often attack them by reporting to the guards even imagined breaches of the rules.’ In his months in Thailand, the man learned there was no running water in the jails, the toilets were crude and up to forty men slept on the floor of one big hut. ‘These sickening conditions made me realize that my son’s health would rapidly deteriorate and that his life was really at stake,’ he said. ‘Did you find it easy to get food into the jail?’ asked Greg. The old man managed a smile and shook his head. ‘The guards break open all wrappings, crumbling bread, biscuits and cooked rice. They’re searching for heroin or whisky. They refuse to allow many items without explanation - even sealed cans of shaving cream and vitamin pills. I had to give 100 baht to a guard to get a sheet of rubber for a mattress handed to my son who has to sleep on the bare floor. They completely refused him a duffle bag to keep his belongings in after I brought it to the prison.’ He recalled one occasion -when hundreds of dollars of food was wasted because the guards refused to hand it to the prisoners and left it to go bad or be stolen. ‘When I complained on behalf of the Europeans I w.as, told that they were not allowed foods like fresh milk and sausage meat.’ He had discovered that the Thai police are given 25 per cent of the value of all narcotics seized and informers receive even more. Because of his experiences and the people he spoke to at the jail he concluded that a ‘terrible farce’ was being enacted in Thailand. The.activities of the Drug Enforcement Administration were designed for political propaganda. By raids on hotels based oh informers who probably sold heroin to foolish young people, the authorities pretended that a serious campaign was being waged to stop the use of heroin.. Jail sentences of 100 161

years were handed out to individuals while the wealthy international syndicates continued to grow richer. ‘One day outside the prison,’ the man recalled, ‘I spoke to an old Italian yvoman who was visiting her son. He had been in his last year of electronics at an-American university when he was arrested at the Bangkok airport on a heroin charge. He was’sentenced to fifty years but pleaded guilty so they reduced it to twenty-five years. After six months 'his health had so -deteriorated that he became paralysed. He was her only son and her husband was dead and she appealed to a higher court. The sentence was reduced to fifteen years but she feared she would die before then. “They rob you of your money and the. you ng people of their health,” she told me. “They won’t even extend my visa - I have to keep leaving the country.’” The old Australian told Greg that being alone in a strange country, the frustration o f trying to talk to his son, obtaining medicine, food and clothing for him and thg strange, Conflicting stories he was told, coupled with the language barrier, made him fe.el confused and disoriented. He had been.unable to contact ‘Beryl’ but he did meet an advocate called Josephine of a firm of well-known solicitors. She promised to arrange for bail of 200,000 baht (nearly $ 10,000) for a fee of 20,000 baht, half of which was to be paid immediately, the rest on completion. He paid the fee, Josephine went to court ~ and failed in the bail application. Later the Australian was introduced to another lawyer and after his attempt to get bail failed he was not paid a fee. The Australian tbld Greg that he was then introduced to a married couple who owned a farm. They took him to Congress and introduced him to a member of parliament who was a famous lawyer. He in turn introduced the Australian to another lawyer who said he could win the case, but it would cost more money than he had. ‘I stayed several weeks on the farm and they guaranteed that bail would be granted if I paid $20,000. I rang my family and got them to send the money to my Bangkok 162

bank account. I made two payments of 200,000 baht each and they made several applications for bail butwere unsuc'■ cessful. After many visits to the court I discovered that a date had been set for my.son to appear at the court. I finally realized that I had been very stupid to trust these people and. that they-had cheated me out of my money.’ ‘Why did you keep paying?’ asked Greg. The old man slowly shook his head as the tears again began to fall. ‘My boy’s got two young children in Australia, There’s no one there to look after them now but me. I’ve had a serious illness and I’m now stoney broke. Oh my God, what am I going to do?’ The first thing, thought Greg, was to get him out of the country. By giving himself a chance, he was at least giving his son’s children a chance. In the morning, Greg took him to the Australian Embassy where he insisted they send him home. The/lderly man had been in Thailand since 26 April 1980. It was now the end of July. Penniless, he took the advice of Greg and the Embassy and flew back to Australia. In the ninetyseven days he had been in Thailand he had lost $25,000 in fares, living expenses and confidence tricks. Greg himself followed shortly afterwards. His wife had already left Brisbane where she had become the victim of cruel gossip. She was a Sinclair, they had said. She was connected with heroin. Greg negotiated the sale of his1 house-and drove down to Melbourne to join his wife at his , mother-in-law’s house. He didn’t sleep well, for he knew that .8000 kilometres away, his father was lying on the floor. Finally he dozed off, only to.-have the morning bring a stark, rude awakening.

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14

Murder, Madness and Mayhem It was several hours before they cut him down. All morning, tied to the balcony, the body swayedgently on the end of a sheet. Occasionally a prisoner had looked up, more out of interest to see if it was still there than from ghoulish curiosity. After all', it was just another suicide. William Sinclair wondered why the Malaysian was left for so long. When he asked, the prisoners were surprised at his question. The man was dead, was he not? What was the point in. hurrying to cut him down? The Australian bowed to Asiaij logic; When he was returned to Maha Chai after his stint in hospital, Sinclair was given permission to use-the road outside the cell block to exercise. It was ’the regular route for huge trucks bringing sawdust io the cookhouse. They roared past belching exhaust fumes, but he considered it was still better than sitting on the verandah. His usual trek was through the gateway, then right, alongside building two, thedreaded punishment block. Once, he thought he heard a sound like wood chopping and, unable to restrain his inquisitiveness, peered into the yard to see what was going on. Lying face down, dressed, only in shorts, fifteen . prisoners were receiving a brutal thrashing. Pisit Noingearn, the fat building chief, who Sinclair later found out doubled as a taxi driver, flogged them unmercifully, bringing his almost 2 metre long rod down on their backs again and again. Afterwards it was revealed to Sinclair that the end of the cane was filled with concrete. Offended by the sight, he continued along the road. Remarkably he heard few cries from the victims and marvelled at their stoicism. Guards had beaten and kicked .prisoner's in Bumbud but never, he felt, in such a sadistic and calculated way. The 164

corpulant officer was obviously having a grand time, Sinclair thought. Otherwise, how could he have used his stick with such relish? Buildings one and two were notorious throughout Maha Chai for the crueLand sadistic practices that went on within their confines. Sinclair reflected that prison morale was totally dependent on the attitude of the governor and how he expected the establishment to run. Prasan Prasertprasart, Commander of Maha Chai, believed in his guards using torture and violence. Prisoners forfeited any human rights when they fell into the clutches of the law. He believed it was his duty to see they learned'a .good lesson. But it was all very well treating Thais brutally, . for being devout Buddhists, they were likely to thank guards for beating them and showing them the error of their ways. Not so foreigners, who did not take kindly to arrogance and cruelty and did not knuckle under to authority. The Supreme Commander hated foreigners. They were sly and devious. . . . always a problem . . . and he belittled them as often as he was able. As a result, the governor was despised and feared for his life. He could never walk alone. Whenever he ventured on his rounds, he was flanked by three of Maha Chai’s most brutal guards. For severe punishments, added to overcrowding, lack of privacy and little human comfort, brought out- the worst in the inmates. Prasan Prasertjjrasart was, in. fact, the architect of murder. Death was not infrequent and Sinclair on several occasions watched dead men being carried off on a stretcher. The covering sheet fell off one corpse and any disbelief he might have harboured as to tlie accuracy of the reports on violence, was very quickly dispelled. The man’s naked body was a hideously- bruiseci pulp. Of course, the word went out later that he’d died from a drug overdose. He saw, too, men dragged, feet trailing behind them, to the hospital to have head wounds treated after baton assaults. In a dark room in building one, a man died. He felbto the floor unable to see the satisfaction in his murderers’ 165

face. It had been a carefully calculated killing. The victim had once given the police the identity of a murderer and the killer had been sentenced to life. As fate would have it, the informer himself finally ended up in Maha Chai and, falling foul o f the authorities, was sentenced to several weeks in the dark room. Because of the overcrowded conditions in building one, a man was not alone, not even in solitary confinement. The informer had to share his .dark room with another prisoner who turned out to be the brother of the man who had been sentenced to life. The killer’s brother decided to take his revenge on the informer, but to merely use his hands involved the risk of being overcome. So he secreted a piece of wire, that some prisoners wound around the leg below the knee to hook up ankle1chains and, day after day, diligently honed it on the concrete floor of the cell. He had patience and could wait until the heavy gauge wire was pointed and sharp. Finally, in the dark, he lunged. Again and again his makeshift weapon plunged into the doomed man’s chest. I n the morning, the guards counted more than thirty stab wounds. A man died in building two after a dispute involving the t proceeds of heroin sales. Again, it was a calculated murder. A prisoner who believed he had been cheated, smuggled a piece of wood into his cell. When his cell mate fell asleep, his skull was smashed in. Violent deaths occurred even in the hospital, for it was there that knives and blunt instruments could be stolen. The prison administration imposed punishment without rhyme or reason, withdrawing the cooking ring stored under the stairs for two or three days at a time. Or the governor would order that boxes built by the prisoners to store clothes, be chopped up and burned. Anyone caught with drugs was savagely beaten - unless the narcotics had been supplied by the guards themselves - and a report made out that would help decide the punitive measures to be taken against the offender. More often than not, it was detention in the dark room for anything from one to three 166

months. However, there was another frightening form of punishment and that was to be sent to building two. The wretched detainee would have his report read* out by a trustee to Pisit Noingearn who usually listened to it wedged behind his desk like a fat spider ready to dish out ‘justice’. He took great pleasure in watching the prisoner suffer. Finally he would order that the unfortunate man be laid out face down- in die dust to await his punishment along with others. Then he would flay all their naked backs at once. Only those with money escaped; with sufficient funds, greasing the right palm ensured a munificent benefactor. Unlike at Bumbud, prisoners had to be more cunning in obtaining special drugs for, as well as immoral officers, Maha Chai Special Prison was rife with informers. Informers who carried their tales direct to the governor’s office. At the rehabilitation centre, it was easy to get a hit, particularly in the foreigners’ cells. The authorities, realizing that a high percentage of the inmates were drug dependent, did not set up prisoner grading, which was a major part of- other Thai jails. They knew few drug users could be trusted and in the main, left them to turn on each other. But in Maha Chai, all prisoners on arrival were rated as mid-level, meaning they were neither good nor bad. From there they could move up or down. Good behaviour earned a status of ‘good’ and, according to how they conducted themselves, inmates could be upgraded to ‘excellent’ and then they were made a trustee with almost the samepowers over fellow prisoners as a guard. But with bad behaviour, a prisoner could drop to ‘incorrigible’. The system worked well because inmates were kept in place with the constant threat of demotion if they misbehaved or promotion if they fell in line with the authorities. Prisoner ratings were very important during amnesty declarations when ; remissions were granted. Up to 50 per cent could be knocked off the sentence of an excellent prisoner; 40 per cent erased from a very good prisoner; while good prisoners might receive a third off their term. 167

The mid-level group could get 25 per cent off and so it continued down to the incorrigibles, who received nothing. Prisoners were encouraged therefore, to' climb up the ratings ladder, and they did it not by model behaviour alone, but by informing. The guards therefore, knew everything that went on within the prison walls and used that knowledge to their advantage. They knew, for example, which prisoners were drug dependent or which ones were desperate to send urgent letters to their families. For a fee, the guards provided a discreet service. Drugs were smuggled through in baskets of food delivered by relatives, employees of the Correction Department and even in the sawdust trucks, but the cell was but of bounds for users because the cunning authorities appointed cell chiefs who had trustee status. These prisoners were more rigid than the guards themselves and would immediately spill the beans on any illegal activity. William Sinclair rapidly learned these facts of prison life. And he learned about the Thais. He had long suspected that while -many of them could read and speak English, the meaning of the words often escaped them. This belief was upheld in his dealings with Miss Sumalee of the Correction Department. That good lady was responsible for all incoming and outgoing mail. It was her duty to watch for any derogatory remarks about the prison or the government, and to be particularly alert to coded messages. Somehow, prisoners managed to get the message, covert or overt, through. One of the more outrageous was sent by Larry, an American who had been held with seven others for conspiring to extract money to send Thais to jobs in Saudi Arabia. He addressed his letter to the American Embassy, writing: ‘Dear Ambastardor, I have been in this fucking prison for seven months. I have never seen any of you bastards and as I am now in the terminal stages of malnutrition I 168

thought you might like to get off your arse and get down here and read the last rites. And fuck you all.’ It produced results. The Embassy men arrived at the double, telling Larry that his letter was the funniest they had read for years. Miss Sumalce, who read all outgoing mail, never saw the joke, evert later. Ninety per cent of the men in building three were members of some department of the civil service, the majority being policemen who had strayed off the wide winding road - there was no such thing as the straight and narrow - and fallen foul of the legal system. Some officers were on murder charges. Sinclair chatted to a policeman, Sumsuk, who had been charged with murder along with three civilians. ‘Do not worry about me,’ said Sumsuk jauntily. ‘Tomorrow I go for. my sentence but they will let me go, you will see.’ He spoke with the confidence of a man who had handed over money. And in the morning he gave away his bed and some shirts. In the afternoon he was back, a shadow of his former self. He had been sentenced to death. The following day they sent him to Bang Kwang yvhere the executioner waited. Still, he and his associates had murdered ruthlessly. In all, Sumsuk had arrested and robbed seven, people. Then, to ensure there were no witnesses, had placed his victims in the hands of his. friends who had killed them and burned the bodies. . • , By listening to his prison associates, Sinclair concluded that in Thailand graft was a way of life; thc.government was rotten to the core. In reviewing his own case, taking into account the experiences of others, he recognized there was little justice within the system. He spoke with a police captain who was just beginning his sentence. One hundred and sixty years! A police sergeant who had been convicted on three counts of corruption in the first court had been given five years, but the prosecution appealed to a second court and Kis sentence was increased to sixty five years. 169

The man counterappealed to the third court which upheld the second court, decision. Yet another policeman had murdered a fellow customs officer. Then there were the two customs officials. One man received four years for accepting a bribe of 100 baht - the equivalent of four dollars. The other had accepted a bribe of the equivalent of SI 00 and, in dropping a payment into the right hands, was let off with only two years. Sinclair subsequently learned that the second man achieved rapid promotion to trustee status and went free after serving less than a year of his time. The Australian found the discrepancies intolerable. William Sinclair, listening and watching, really tried to come to grips with the system during his first few weeks at Maha Chai. Founded on corruption, lies and deceit, it kept the prison buoyant and the government and its various departments operating. He got ’to know faces he could trust and those who would steal his last bean if he so much as turned a cheek. Maha Chai was a den of such thieves. His first mistake was to accept wholeheartedly the> word of a stranger. He was told by a Thai prisoner that a particular guard was a good man for bringing in food from - outside. Through his lawyers, Sinclair had got hold of 2000 baht (about A$100) and he passed it to the. guard, instructing him to buy various items of toiletry and food and to return with the change after taking about 300 baht for himself for his trouble. He should have arrived back on a Friday but he didn’t show until the following Wednesday, bringing a solitary loaf of sliced bread. His explanation: he had gone to the races on the Saturday and had had a lot of bad luck. So he went back on the Sunday with the remainder of the moneyknowing his fortune had changed. Sad to say it hadn’t and he’d lost the balance. But Mr Sinclair, you were not to worry. The money would be repaid". Bill Sinclair shook'his head in despair. He knew the man made only 1075 baht a month. Munching a slice of his $100 loaf he considered that while in the early days the aura of a Mafia leader had earned him respect, that he was still seen 170 i

as a syndicate man led to the misconception that he had plenty of money to throw around. That was a joke for a start. Couldn’t they see here in Thailand and in Australia that he hadn’t been dashing around spending money like water? If he was up to his neck in drugs,, where was the evidence? Where were his mansion, the chauffeur, the servants? Why, just before travelling to- Bangkok, his daughter had been married and she and her husband had moved into a small terraced house in the working class Sydney suburb of Rozelle, mortgaged up to their ears. He hadn’t been a big gambler and he hadn’t frequented the casinos. He owned only half the house he had lived in with Iris. And, of course, there was Iris herself as the final proof of his innocence for those who doubted him. Iris with.her high morals. Iris the purist. She wouldn’t have stood for it if he had been in drugs. She hadn’t left him, let them all remember - it was he who had let her down. Now she had started writing to him, promising her prayers, offering help in whatever way she could give it. Iris wouldn’t have done that if she knew he had been peddling heroin. Ah, they might say, she didn’t know. But the answer to that, of course, was that you couldn’t live with someone for thirty-four years, as he had with he;, and conceal your activities from her. All the money you earned from your illegal dealings, how could you. conceal ft from your wife? Where was the proof of his spending? In a wardrobe full of suits? Yes, Iris had told him she was praying for him. Who knew it, but those prayers might just help to carry him through because the mental pressures were overwhelming. Sometimes he thought ft better if he were dead. On 18 May 1979, he wrote to Iris telling her ‘I shall always be indebted to you for your thoughtfulness and concern to offer prayers for me daily’. It was not the physical conditions one lived under in prison. They were bearable because he was not exposed to any undue hardships, nor was it the mental condition of the mind towards the trial. ‘The difficult part of this ordeal is to retain emo171

tional stability. If you fail in this regard, then the resultant penalty is disintegration of your thinking capacity as a whole. This problem is causing me concern, because I am aware that my control oyer it hinges on a very slender balance. Although you may not believe it I am in a far better position than you for self analysis. Once the answers become apparent and you accept them, regardless of how distasteful they may be, only then do you achieve some peace of mind. I have never tried to explain this to you before because it is only lately that the obvious answers can no longer be denied. Recriminations solve nothing. What has passed must lie in "its own grave; it’s only the future and what it holds that will finally count. Shakespeare helps in a few lines alone . . . “Oh what tangled webs we weave when first we try to deceive.” . . . You will understand when I tell you that I have no ties*. When I told you that I no longer belong, the interpretation was wrong to this degree . . . for me to take my place in the society I belong to will take a period of integration. I would be far too embarrassed to thrust myself upon friends of old without undergoing this procedure . . .’ r

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15"

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A Document is Disputed

William Sinclair and his alleged associates in crime’ were brought back before the judge at the criminal court to hear the defence questioning of Major Vyraj. As he waited for the case to start, Sinclair was handed a document by his lawyer, Mr Lek. ‘This is the record of interview you had with Detective Sergeant Dunn,’ said the lawyer, passing him a sheaf of six foolscap pages containing photostats of questions and answers. At the -bottom, of each page were copies of signatures of Sergeants Dunn and McAfee and Sinclair. Sinclair skimmed through, the documents. ‘This is preposterous!.’ he cried. ‘These questions weren’t asked and the answers weren’t given.’ Sinclair complained that his original statement had been contained on three sheets of quarto sized paper. The whole document, he said, had been completely made up. Sinclair referred his lawyer to the questions and answers relating to Arthur Smith. He was alleged to Jia ve replied, in answer to a question about the $140,000 handed in to the Queensland authorities: ‘It is the property' of Stanley Smith'.’ ‘I never said that,’ said Sinclair., He read on. ‘Do you know,’ said question eight, ‘ho.w this money came into your son’s possession?’ Answer: ‘It was given to me by Arthur Stanley Smith some time in January of 1978., He gave it to me when I was in Sydney. It may have been February.’ That, said Sinclair, was not asked nor answered. Q9: ‘What was the circumstances leading to Smith giving you the money?’ A: ‘He said that he did not want to have too much cash in 173

his house as he was having trouble at the time. He was having trouble with the police and it was possible that they would search the house.’ Q10: ‘Did you ash him where this money came from?’ A: ‘He did not tell me, but I have been told that he was involved in the drug business and I assumed that it was the proceeds of drugs.’ Q l l : ‘Why did you take possession of that money if you thought it came from drugs?’ A: ‘Well, Mr Smith is an extremely violent man and had made numerous threats against me previously.’ Bill Sinclair looked helplessly at this lawyer. ‘These questions were never asked. And, of course, these answers were not given. Mr Lek, this is not the statement I made last December.’ The photocopy, above all else, was to become a burning issue involving both the Thai and Australian governments. Meanwhile, Major Vyraj was asked in court about a statement he had made at the earlier hearing in which he said Sinclair had paid a monthly rent of about 20,000 baht * for his Bangkok apartment, but it was not clear where his' income came from. Now he admitted that the fact Sinclair was renting a flat at a high rent’ ‘was one reason for my suspicions about the first defendant (Sinclair)’. That letter he had found-, referring to the AJC, yes, that had raised his suspicions, but he admitted now in court that he had never heard of a club with those initials. The policeman said he did not search Sinclair’s apartment himself but had sent his subordinates. Many documents had been seized, some of which bore the names of ‘many people’ trading in narcotics. Australian bank notes had also been found, bound in the same manner as the money found on Paul Hayward. The rubber bands binding the notes were also of the same colour. Incredible, thought Sinclair. The man has obviously never been to a bank and 'seen customers leaving with money bound by the same rubber bands. The city would be full of money bills with such bands around them. 174

Vyraj went on to claim that Sinclair had admitted t o h i m that he had. falsified a passport, but he had refused to sign a statement so the only document implicating Sinclair was that made by Fellows. All he had as evidence that Sinclair was involved in narcotics trading were reports ,of secret agents and documents. ‘There were no other eyewitnesses - only circumstantial evidence based on surveillance conducted to observe the unusual activities and circumstances of the defendant? ‘Did you,’ Mr Lek asked, ‘compel Mr Sinclair to sit in the interrogation room to have his photograph taken?’ ‘No.’ ‘Did you pull out a gun and lay it on your desk at that time?’ v ‘No.’ After only two hours, the case was adjourned because documents testifying to Sinclair’s character in Australia had been mislaid by the court. Mr Lek pointed out to the judge that the documents came from various bodies in Sydney - Woollahra Council, where Sinclair was once an Aiderman; from Leichhardt where he was a public relations officer; and from the Australian Jockey Quh of which he was a member. It was now more than seven months since the three Australians had been arrested, and so far the court had heard the case for less than two full days. Sinclair returned to the misery of Maha Chai. If he so wishes, the blacksmith told him as he removed the heavy chains, *a lighter pair would be set aside for him next time. All it would cost would be a packet of cigarettes . . . Over the next few days, Sinclair' wrote to .the Premier ofNew South Wales, Mr Neville Wran, strongly objecting to the photocopy and, its contents. He also wrote to Mr Justice Woodward in Sydney, who was inquiring into drug trafficking, telling him that the statement was a forgery. He asked the judge not to cross examine anyone on its contents. Finally, he wrote to the Australian Foreign Affairs Department pointing out that a document containing 175

words attributed to him was not a true record. Meanwhile, Sinclair had to try to settle into a routine of prison life and hope it would not be too long before he received some kind of positive response to his letters. He found a young -Thai man in the cell block who was willing to cook for him. Ah Hang was penniless but had access to the cooking ring, so a bargain was struck. Sinclair would provide the food, the Thai would cook. Anyway, he was more adept at handling the home-made frying pan, a tin plate with a makeshift handle. Ah Hang’ was serving thirty six years for possession: and attempted sale of heroin. Sinclair found that now he was eating, more consistently and getting a higher intake of vegetables, his health was improving. He felt his strength returning. He ate green marrow, chillies, potatoes - soft foods, but food nevertheless. For dessert he had rice with fruit. For breakfast, he had rice too, but augmented by powdered milk and sugar. As a special treat, there was. sometimes chicken and rice soup and at other times he shared a cooked chicken brought in' by a paid guard. Compared with his previous lot, he was living like a king. Of course, there were times when food was scarce because the guards either took it for themselves or the lawyers did not send any in. The simple arrangement was that Sinclair’s family paid the lawyers and Barbara did the shopping. Yes, it was a simple arrangement, but in practice it sometimes did not work. Sinclair wondered why his food bill was going up when the supplies were not always forthcoming. One day a box of goodies arrived from Barbara. Sinclair was surprised to find it contained nothing but cat and dog food. Had the woman been buying food for her pets with his money? He resolved to send the cans back the following day along with a-note severely reprimanding the legal secretary. But an incident occurred to put paid to that plan. As Ah Hang was cooking up rice for the evening meal a guard picked up an English-labelled can of dog food. The 176

scrounger always arrived just as the Europeans were about to eat. He liked to sample their food - a piece of chicken here, a piece of pork there. But the stuff in this can was new. Sinclair could tell from the man’s greedy look that he would like to taste the contents. He was happy to oblige. Five minutes later, the guard was tucking into a bowl of juicy meat and rice, nodding and grunting appreciatively. Word, spread around the cell complex. The following night half a dozen guards stood around tucking in to this Western Delight while Sinclair and his cell mates did their best to remain poker-faced. While the supply lasted, relations between guards and prisoners were excellent. All good Pals together. And one of the guards, who relished pussy’s tuna, earned the nickname Snappy Tom. * Many of the documents temporarily mislaid by the court, had been gathered and sent to Thailand by Iris, Sinclair’s wife. There was no doubt about it, he reflected over a plate of rice on the verandah, he would always remain indebted to her for the many things she had given him over the years. Now her efforts to obtain documents to help his case was just another example of her kindness and concern for him. I failed her in many ways during pur married life, he thought, because I never completely understood her; nor she me. I think 1 know her better now. But it’s too late, of course. Greg had written to him asking about his welfare and to make sure he was eating. He had already penned his reply yes, Greg, I will continue to eat. But you can rest assured it will not be. humble pie. Major Vyraj was recalled to the witness box to resume his evidence. He qualified what he had said about Sinclair falsifying passports. No, Sinclair had*not said he was the person who forged passports. What he had said was that he made the contacts to get the forgeries made. Vyraj said he had proof of Sinclair’s statements. His words had been 177

tape recorded. Later, Vyraj was to be proved wrong, the court hearing evidence that no such tapes existed. The narcotics man went on to describe taking two. telephone calls in Fellows’ room after the raid on the hotel. ‘After having received the second telephone call I radioed to my police personnel to keep watch on Mr Sinclair. A policeman reported to me that Mr Sinclair was at Natty Qems . . . He followed Mr Sinclair when he left Natty Gems to go to the Texan Bar and Police Private Pojanat kept watch on Mr Sinclair until I ordered LieutenantCoIonel Khomkrit to go to arrest Mr Sinclair and bring him in.’ Questioned further by the lawyer Lek, Major Vyraj told the court that Mr Frank Davies recommended that there be surveillance of Fellows and Hayward ‘who might lead us to a ring of persons suspected of being a large narcotics trading ring. And if we learned definite information from our investigations, we were to make arrests after Mr Warren Fellows and Mr Hayward had left to go to Don Muang Airport. Both persons were then to be arrested at the airport. The reason why I did not make the arrests at Don Muang Airport were, first, I wanted to arrest M r Sinclair as close to the site of the incidents as I could; second, I wanted to arrest Mr Noi, who had previously agreed to come to pick up Mr Warren and M r PauLHayward to take them to' the airport; and third, if I followed them to Don Muang Airport"! was afraid they would be alerted and escape as I had learned from investigations that Mr Sinclair had collaborators in the airline - or airlines - at Don Muang Airport. The result would be that I would then be able to seize only the heroin, while Mr Sinclair, Mr Warren and Mr Noi would escape’. Police were waiting to arrest Noi at the Montien Hotel, but he received word, said Major Vyraj, and escaped. He was ‘later hunted’ and arrested at his home. Why, the policeman was asked, had he not waited for Mr Sinclair to go to Fellows’ room? ‘Because Mr Sinclair would not come to where the heroin was at all/ he replied. 178

Vyraj was questioned about heroin smugglers’ and their methods. ‘Some of them,’ he said, ‘believe they are safe because of their influence, which will enable them to get through without being searched. Such people might simply put the heroin inside a bag and put a towel over it, with no more precaution than that. As for traders who have no influence, they may hide it inside a travelling bag with a secret compartment, but they can take only little with them. If someone simply tried to put heroin inside a bag and cover it with a towel, if that person has no -influence he will not be able to get away with such smuggling and in Australia he would not be able to get through either, because they check bags there. But in the case of athletes who claim to be on vacation trips, I think that theAustralian authorities would probably let them enter the country easily.’ Major Vyraj said he had no evidence to show that Fellows was influential. But he had seized a large amount .of money from him and money was-one kind of influence. He went on to talk about his surveillance work. On 9 October he had followed Fellows and Hayward to the Texan Bar and the following day; the two jAustralians were again followed from the Montien Hotel to the Texan Bar. When they came out, he followed them to the Mario Bar in Sukhumwit Road and went in behind them. He saw Sinclair and Fellows standing together and arguing. Hayward was standing nearby, throwing darts. Bill Sinclair, said Vyraj, was a ‘big fish’ among drug dealers and heroin found with Fellows and Hayward was to be given to the ‘Ned and -Ted Smith group’ in Sydney. Fellows’ lawyer, Rojvit Periera, told the court that the young Australian had told him police had taken him to the rooftop -of the Montien Hotel, shortly after his arrest and threatened to push him off. Major Vyraj reacted angrily, turning to Fellows and asking: ‘Did I take you?* ‘Yes,’ said Fellows. 179

The narcotics officer also vehemently denied, beating * Fellows with a club. ‘I have never done anything to violate the human rights of these men. I even bought them chicken, steak, rice and milk with money from my own pocket. How- ungrateful they are.’ i It was impossible to judge, of course, how much weight Major Vyraj’s evidence carried, but Bill Sinclair saw the dark clouds looming. He had no confidence in-his lawyers, feeling they did not have their finger on the pulse, while at the same time they were demanding high fees 'from, his family. In a letter to Iris and his .daughter Siobhan at -the end of that day’s hearing, he pointed out that-all previous attempts for bail simply had to fail because the lawyers " ‘are a firm without influence, and that’s one thing youmust have in Thailand’. He felt he had to tell them, too, that even if he was eventually found not guilty, he would be in jail for many months. If a not guilty verdict was handed down, the prosecution could appeal to the second court and the case could take anything up to two or three years to be heard. If by some miscarriage of justice, he was found guilty, he would have to appeal, another lengthy process. Having no faith in his lawyers, he refused to see Barbara anymore; which prompted her to write to Sinclair’-s daughter in the following terms: ‘This is to let you know that I have been receiving your weekly letters to your father and forwarding them to him. One of our staff takes your letters to him at the jail. I have not seen your father for quite some time because he does not seem to like me and is rude to me when he sees me. No doubt he is unhappy in the jail and has to take his frustrations out on somebody. We are no longer providing him regularly with food because the last time we took the food to him, he refused to'accept it. I am personally very sorry for Mr Sinclair as life in jail is not easy for him. He does not have to do any work, but time must lie heavy on his hands and prisoners are locked up in cells for 12 hours i

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every night and have to sleep on a thin grass mat on a hard floor. However, we are doing our best for him and could possibly do more if he would let us, Kbut he does not appear 1 to trust us.’ * Bill Sinclair heard nothing from his family for more than a week. He wrote a complaining letter saying he did not know whether they were dead or alive. There had been good reason for the family’s silence. At seven o’clock on the morning of 19 June i’979, while Greg Sinclair was sleeping at his mother-in-law’s house in Melbourne, a team from Melbourne’s crack Bureau of Criminal Intelligence pulled up outside the house in a battered Holden and banged on the door with a warrant for his arrest. Issued in New South Wales, it stated he was wanted on a charge of conspiring to supply heroin. Undercover men in casual clothes took him to court where he was remanded on bail of $5000. The charge was linked with the arrests in Sydney of Arthur and Debra Smith and David. Kelleher. His court appearance attracted wide publicity. He was, after all, the son of William Sinclair who was being held in Bangkok on drug charges. He was also told that included in the conspiracy charge, in their absence, were his father and Fellows and Hayward. It was not surprising that the Sinclair family were not in much of a writing mood. Sinclair had his own complaints, quite unaware of events in Sydney. For some fifteen days, no one from the lawyers’ office had come to the prison. ‘There is not the slightest doubt that we are represented by the worst legal firm in Thailand,’ he told Hayward in a rare, moment of camaraderie and conversation. ‘They have no interest in my health . . . thank Christ for the prison doctor.’ The doctor had x-rayed Sinclair’s chest after the Australian had complained of bronchitis and-had been giving him two injections a day. Sinclair worried about his weight. He was around eleven stone nine pounds. As for 181

the Australian Embassy, he was disgusted with their inattention. They had promised to visit but never turned up. He was thankful he had Miss Sumalee to speak to. Dear Miss Sumalee. With her kind smile and precise English. Obviously from a good background. She still lived with her mother. The word was around that she planned to marry the governor of another jail, but- it had not been possible because her mother thoroughly disapproved of the man. Anyway, thought Sinclair, she certainly displayed great warmth towards him, which he enjoyed. She remarked on how pleasant it would be if she could show him the city one day and he- replied he would welcomc the opportunity to take her to dinner. He thought a lot about his marriage to Iris and was filled with remorse that he had not made a go of it. Now he had brought .her more unhappiness. He had thought once that the more you gave a woman, the greater her demands became; that she accepted .success in a man, but wanted no part of his failures. If you fotgot a wedding anniversary or a birthday, it became a national disaster. If you were truthful, she didn’t believe you. He wasn’t so sure about those sentiments now, particularly when he remembered the happier times with Iris. But there was no doubt he had once been the true son of his father - in short, a chauvinist. And selfish. Thinking now about Iris, he decided to drop her a line. He told her that he realized that ‘what has happened has had the effect of causing hardship both mentally and financially to people close to me. It is my intention if spared to try and repay part of the debt I owe. There is no payment that I am aware of that compensates for the human damage I am responsible for, however I will do my best to repay my financial obligations . 7 . Perhaps the best way to say’it all is “I was wrong”. Iris, enjoy yourself. Get whatever happiness you can out of life. Don’t let your thoughts dwell too much on me. If you do think of me, and I hope you do, don’t think about where I am or what will become of me . . , think of some of the good things I 182

may have done that gave you some pleasure . . . I am in a room consisting of ten Thais, one .Chinese, an Arab and two Frenchmen. Sleeping on the floor doesn’t get any easier . . .’ The trial was dragging on interminably. Bill Sinclair read his books on the verandah, strolled up and down the roadway, listened to the beatings from building two, and wrote letters home. His cellmates were .constantly changing. There was Tony, an Australian who had received six years for passing forged cheques; two Englishmen, Mike and Jim, who had been jailed after stealing 175,000 baht in cash and jewellery from the Montien Hotel. And Heinz, the German, was still kicking himself after breaking into a house while drunk, imbibing a few extra nips from the li-' quor cabinet and falling asleep"on the floor. The owners came home and found him, of course. * Frank Davies stepped into the witness box, on 18 July 1979, sparing not a glance for three chained and handcuffed Australians. Dressed in an immaculate suit, high 1 heeled boots and looking for all the world like Clint Eastwood thought Sinclair, the red headed Australian narcotics agent took the oath and, speaking through an interpreter, told the court that he entered Thailand on permanent assignment in January 1978 and that he was attached to the Australian Embassy. He ran through the, background of the case, telling how an Australian called Warren Fellows had tried to smuggle out of the country 970 grams of heroin in a roll of cloth. He had been asked by Major Vyraj to make enquiries about Fellows and the Narcotics Office in Canberra had subsequently sent to him documents and photographs of Fellows. On 5 October 1978, he had received a report from Australia that Fellows and Paul Hayward had left on a trip for South East Asia (the official court transcript later read that the two had left for South East Nigeria'.). He learned that Fellows would be 183

-using the name Gregory Hastings Barker. Davies said he collaborated 'with Major Vyraj in his investigations and ■learned that Fellows and Hayward were staying at the Montien Hotel. He had gone to the hotel with a police officer, ascertained that ‘Barker’ was staying in room 413 and Hayward in 415, and had photographed the guest list. At all times during his enquiries, he said, he was in regular contact with Major Vyraj. Davies said that when he saw Fellows and Hayward in the street, he realized he would have to cross the path of these two men, so he crossed the road and then walked in the same direction. When the two Australians entered the Texan Bar, he followed them in. ‘I went to the man’s rest room for a moment and then came out, planning to exit from the bar by the door. I then saw Mr Warren Fellows and Mr Hayward standing and talking with a man by the name of William Sinclair. I walked by them to go outside, without stopping to look. I returned to my office. I telephoned Major Vyraj the results of my surveillance . . . I continued to stay abreast of their activities - or keep them under surveillance - at all times, and I learned that Mr Fellows, Mr Hayward and Mr Sinclair met together at the Texan Bar many times during the three day period. I don’t know what they talked about together.’ Davies then made claims about narcotics traders and named names. ‘From the investigations It was learned that Mr Sinclair was in a group of’ narcotics traders operating both in Thailand and in Australia, operating as a large ring. Some of them were in Thailand and some of them were in Australia. Mr Anthony John Douglas was one. He had escaped from detention in Australia and had come to Thailand and at the present time he is under arrest and imprisoned in Thailand Mr Bryan Jolly is another one, who .has served time in prison in Australia and is how in Thailand. There are also others.’ Once again the court was adjourned. It was to be two 184

days before Davies was brought back to the witness box. He told how, after the arrest of Fellows and Hayward, he went to the Narcotics Suppression Centre- where "Major Vyraj asked him to question the two men. ‘Both arrested-persons said that they had in fact been in possession of the heroin that had been seized and that they had planned to take the heroin out of the Kingdom of Thailand to Australia. They also stated that the person who paid The money as the. costs of hiring them to carry this quantity of heroin was Mr William Sinclair and they had received compensation or remuneration for carrying out this quantity of heroin in the sum of A$30,000. Mr Fellows said he had purchased the heroin from a Thai person by the name of Noi. Major Vyraj gave the two arrested persons somfe paper on which to write down what they wanted to say and the two men sat apart from each other and wrote on the paper. I was walking back and" forth and could see that both of them were writing on the paper voluntarily.’ Davies, said that at about 3.30 that afternoon, he saw that William Sinclair had been arrested and brought to the Narcotics Suppression Centre. Davies said he ‘conversed’ with Sinclair and the police authorities* questioned the arrested men. Sinclair had denied being involved with the heroin, The police, said Davies, did not threaten or intimidate Sinclair in any way. He recalled that he was called back to the Narcotics Suppression Centre many times in the following month. Whenever Fellows, Hayward and Sinclair were questioned, he had to be present. Fellows and Hayward confessed to the charges, he said, and no force, duress or coercion was tfsed to obtain the confessions. Sinclair, he said, had made statements, but refused to sign them and he was still refusing to do so. Davies went on to describe the arrests in Australia. He identified those who had been photographed arriving at and going from Arthur Smith’s house.' William Sinclair returned to his cell appalled by. the evidence. They were trying to build a case up. against him 185

out of nothing. There wasn’t a scrap of evidence to associate him with that heroin, or any other heroin or dope or what have you. Even Vyraj had admitted that. Three days later he heard the devastating news through a guard who read the English language newspapers that Greg had been arrested. It was' clear they were trying to seal down the' lid. Make it look good at the Sydney end. For, the very fact that they had pulled in his son in Australia, only added to the opinions the court would no doubt have about him in Thailand. He was now convinced he could not win his case. He was sure, too, that he could'hot last in jail. All that had kept him going up to now was his'belief in himself - that he was innocent. But how could he hope to persuade the- court of that? The top Thai narcotics man had spoken against him, the Australian agent had spokei}. ■against him and so had police officers. They even had signed statements from Fellows and Hayward. Although he had learned the younger Australians had-refuted those, .it would not make an iota of difference'. The evidence, circumstantial as it may be, was stacked heavily against him. He was doomed to a life in jail. He couldn’t face that. He couldn’t go through any more of this hell. It really would be merciful if his heart gave out. Of course, there was another alternative. He thought for a while, then picked up his pen. ‘Dear Iris and Siobhan, I was informed late today that Greg had been arrested. Together with the fact that I no longer believe that I will go free, no purpose would be served in delaying any longer. If I am found guilty the sentence will be life, a sentence. I could not possibly serve, nor do I intend to try. My mind is made up as to what I want to do, and after making my decision I am content that it is the right decision. I will not make any appeal if guilty and fully intend to ask for the death penalty. Don’tbe upset at this decision. Believe me, it’s the best way out. I will do what I can for Gregi I will not impose on him any further. Whatever money he may have he will need. I have had 186

eve.ry chance at life. Greg hasn’t. And I pray to God he gets that chance. Yes I do pray. Possibly it’s wrong of me to have any ill feelings toward anyone but I wonder what . satisfaction Detective Sgt Dunn will derive from the arrest of Greg and my ultimate end. He is a man who has spent most of his adult life in the police force and I believe with distinction, yet he now appears to be prepared to accept the word of a> hardened criminal to obtain the conviction of those whose only crime is to know them. Maybe I am wrong in my opinion and that a conviction is of paramount importance regardless of how it’s obtained. Anyway, that’s not for me to decide one way or another and it’s no .longer the time to think ill of anyone.’ i Sinclair remembered his former business associate, J former Catholic priest Father Edward O’Dwyer who had been a director in Sinclair’s Sydney travel company, Wings Travel Proprietary Ltd. ‘Thank Father O’Dwyer for our past friendship and assure him as a priest that it is only man who is trying me, not my maker. That will come soon enough. My consciences are free of any guilt.’ He wrote like a man sitting.in death row; like a man who was tidying up his affairs before meeting his executioner. ‘To you Greg, thanks for everything. Don’t try any more. You have done all that a son can possibly do for a father. Don’t come to Thailand any more. Try and put your life together again. If any harm does happen, it will not be because of truth but for the lack of it.’ The tears flowe'd onto the page as he continued writing. > Tris, what can I say to you - that I’m sorry? I have said that many times before. No, I can do better than that. Iris J was.always coming home even-if I had to sneak in the back door. All the things I thought were wrong about you were only wrong because they never fitted into my selfish way of life and, because of that, I never stopped to think about 187

my real feelings toward you. Now, like most things, you never know how badly you want them until you can no longer have them. It’s a good feeling to know that 1 was married to a woman who always loyed me all those years. ‘To be honest with you - and I must be - 1 have always loved you and did not know it. 1 do now. I hope that makes sense. There is much more I could say but I think it’s better if it remains unsaid. This I will say - I can see ybu'just as clearly tonight as- if it was yesterday,when I first walked into Mark Foy’s store to see you at your cosmetic counter. Iris, don’t answer this letter. Don’t even keep it. Take whatever happiness you can from life. This will make me feel better. God knows, you deserve it. All that I have written is not self pity. When you have spent as long as I have in a Thai prison pity soon disappears along with many things. The one thing that will never disappear is the’ wish to come home . . . Love, Dad.’ Hardly had he laid down when a fierce storm broke, the rain driving in through the window bars. Damp and weary, he rolled up his bed and found a space in the middle of the room, hut the floor began to flood. The prisoners stood around helplessly with water lapping at their feet. The. guard peered through the door, but made- no move to unbar it. It was against the rules to open any cell in the middle of the night, even for the dying. When at last the deluge -stopped, Sinclair helped his cell, mates mop up as best they could, using discarded clothing. Already mentally uneasy, the trauma of the storm made sleep even more difficult when finally he lay his .blankets out on the damp floor. He took two sleeping tablets that he’d smuggled in, but his mind was racing. He saw the face of Detective Sergeant Dunn, calm and smiling in the governor’s office. Words from his alleged record of interview filled his mind repeatedly . . . ‘I am going to ask you a number of questions and I must warn you . . *. . . he was ‘having trouble with the police . . .’; ‘. . . he was involved in the drug business and I assumed that it. was the 188

proceeds of drugs ... . K e had made threats against me previously . . .’.‘Would all that be used against Greg? And as for that bastard Fellows - how could he live with himself after putting him in here? You couldn’t lie a man into prison then tell the truth to get him out. The court would only believe what he said in the first place. Once you were in jail you picked up a stigma, whether you were guilty or not. And if you were in a jail overseas, Christ, they could say just about anything'about you and you had' no means of replying. Not that he believed for a moment •that his old drinking mates would stab him in the back. What reason would they have to do that? If he1was guilty of anything, he was guilty by association only. The Thai beside him stirred. He had come in last night. Another policeman on a murder charge. He didn’t speak English, but he smiled a broad good morning to his Australian cell mate; Sinclair wiped the sweat trickling down his face and smiled back. But his heart ached.

189

16 Worthless . . . They may well * be Right In the weeks that passed aftjer writing his goodbye letter to his family, William Sinclair brightened. He was eating better and the governor had given the prisoners permission to put up new boxes over their bed spaces to store food. Sinclair was also aware that things could be a lot worse. Beneath the three large upstairs cells were a number of smaller ones crammed with men whose bodies literally touched when they slept. He couldn’t get away from the filth, to be sure, and boredom was a state he could not rid himself of, but he knew that while he was still in possession of his mental faculties, there was always hope. At least his health was reasonable now, thanks to the injections he was receiving and an improved diet. Fellows had dysentery, poor bugger. Despite the contempt he still held for the man, Sinclair sympathized. The younger man was perched all day over the lavatory, his face yellow. The hospital had given him tablets, but they hadn’t made any difference. Sinclair asked for outside help for his compatriot but, as he expected, he was turned down. When he wasn’t on the hong nam, Fellows was flat on his_back, groaning. When Fellows was better, Sinclair approached him. He had been worried about the interview, with Detective Sergeant Dunn, 'Did Dunn ask you about Arthur Smith?’ Sinclair wanted to know. ‘Yeah, but I didn’t say anything incriminating about him.’ ‘That may not be how it turns out.’ He turned to Paul Hayward, who had joined them. ‘Did you read through your statement?’ . • '

190

‘Sure I did? ‘Did they ask you about Neddy Smith?’ ‘Not that I remember.’ Sinclair shook his head. He didn’t know whether he could believe these two. Even if they were telling him the truth, how would their answers turn out on the typed document? His son Greg was facing the same kind of charges as Arthur. It would be in the interests of the authorities, of course, to produce records of- interview incriminating Arthur because it was known he and Greg were friends. Sinclair told Fellows about trying to snatch back his record of interview. The two younger men looked concerned. How would their questions and answers be presented? They decided to write to their lawyers immediately and, sitting side by side in the jail, penned letters beginning ‘To Whom It May Concern’. ' Fellows wrote that last December two Australian policemen, Detectives Barry Dunn and Don McAfee, came to . Thailand to obtain statements from him and his two codefendants. Dunn had told him that it was to be a question and answer interview which would be typed by Detective McAfee. “Many questions were asked about my case up here, and of a person’ named Arthur Stanley Smith. I told the two detectives I- know of this person, but he did not know anything of my activities, and most certainly not involved with this case up here. If by any chance I have said' anything incriminating against Arthur Stanley Smith, I hereby deny it. Or if Detective Dunn reads’ the statement out of context I would like the court in Australia to read-it in its context, as I am 'sure that any statement given in Thailand would be inadmissible in an Australian court as it would be extraneous. Also I swear this to be the truth, the only relationship I have or had with Arthur Stanley Smith'’ is that of a friend, and I repeat, that he is no way involved, with any of my activities, and if anything should appear incriminating, I fear it might have been added in without 191

my knowing by the above mentioned police . . .’ Paul Hayward’s

letter was not dissimilar.

‘In December of 1978 a Det. Barry Dunn and Don McAfee arrived in Bangkok and took statements from me and my associates, concerning an investigation in Sydney, Australia. To my knowledge as they explained it was only a Question and Answer statement which they typed. Mr Dunn told me that if I stated that I had come to Thailand for a person known to me as Arthur Stanley Smith that he would arrange and promised me that he could make things easier for me, concerning my case. But as I told Mr Dunn, and I state is the truth, that I came to Thailand on my own free will. Also Arthur Stanley Smith had never spoken to me about coming here, as it is stated in my statement to the Thai police who asked me to come and why. ‘Further more I would like to say that if there is anything in my' statement concerning Arthur Smith that it was not said by myself and that maybe the two policemen who were here have added to my statement, as I say it was typed by them. I am writing this letter on my own free will and state that this is the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Also I cannot understand why my case has anything to do with the happenings back in Australia and I have committed my crime here in Thailand.’! A Buddhist monk in long yellow -robes passed along the prison road. He saw the elderly Australian walking ahead. ‘You are old to be in here. Is there anything I can do to help you?’ Sinclair smiled and nodded towards building two. From behind its walls, they heard a sound like wood chopping. ‘You would help me if you could stop that-.’ ‘If only it were possible. I think you are the man they have been telling me about. You have been reading Zen Buddhism?’ 192

I

‘I have been reading. In time, perhaps I will understand.’ {' They strolled along side by side, occasionally wrapped in a cloud of exhaust fumes as the sawdust trucks ground by. ‘Have you learned anything that helps you spiritually?' ‘Much- of what I have read leaves me with the impression that whatever name you give to the supreme being whether he be God or Buddha - all the paths we follow are toward the same purpose.’ ‘Have you read Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, written by Thomas Merton?’ ‘Never heard of him,* ‘He is a Trappist monk, who died here in Bangkok. And what you say surprises me, because the opinion you have just expressed is the same as his. Merton believes, though, that Zen Buddhism is the last of God’s revelations.’ They came to the end of the road near building nine and turned back. ‘I suppose,’ said Sinclair, ‘that there is, not a great deal we can'do to change that which involves us now and that which must-come. I don’t mean circumstances : I mean existence.’ The monk smiled. ‘I think I know what you are going to say. There are principles which we must accept and which are a very small understanding of the soul.’ ‘I can quote them to you,’ said the older man. ‘“I am subject to old age and I cannot escape it. I am subject .to disease and I cannot escape it. I am subject to death and cannot escape it.’” ‘You are learning much, Mr Sinclair.’ ‘There is more. “1 am by nature separated and will eventually be parted from all that are dear to me and beloved. I am the owner of my deeds. Whatever deed I do, whether good or bad, I shall become heir- to it.’” They said goodbye for it was close to 4.30p.m., the time when Sinclair had to return to his cell, call his number and sit and wait for sleep to descend. As they parted, the bhikku gave him a ring and three sets of beads. ‘They will •help you,’ he said. 193

The monk, he pondered' as he sat on his bed later, .had brought to him a reality, though they had discussed only spiritual matters. He felt the reality of peace. Did it not make sense that if he had sensed and witnessed hatred and violence, he could also experience the .opposites? His thoughts drifted back to his life in Australia. To have walked away from the realities therejiad been wrong. Yet, he told himself, in one sense it was the right thing to have done because he would not have learned anything about .himself. ‘What little I do know has only been achieved by putting myself to the test,’ he muttered. On 14 September 1979, Detective Sergeant Barry Wentworth Dunn stepped into the witness box. He handed in to the court copies of the alleged records of. interview between ' himself and .Sinclair, Fellows and Hayward. Then he outlined a few basic facts, telling the court that the Crime Intelligence Unit’s responsibilities were to collect and ’ screen information about criminal activities, particularly in relation to narcotics trafficking. From his experience, most drugs imported into Australia came from Thailand. His bureau, he said,, had received information from a source that a Mr Arthur Stanley Smith, nicknamed Ned, was a drug trafficker in Australia and that he and his , associates sold twenty pounds of heroin in the country every two months. Among Smith’s associates were Edwin Smith and Warren Fellows. He started to follow up the movements of the group. While watching Smith’s hbuse'on 26 September 1978, he saw Smith enter with Warren FelloWs and Gregory Sinclair, William Sinclair’s son. On - the following day, they saw Arthur Smith, Edwin Smith, Paul Hayward, Warren Fellows and a David Kelleher enter the house. Subsequently, his bureau learned from followups that Warren Fellows and Paul Hayward’Ieft Australia for Thailand, His bureau contacted the Federal blarcotics Bureau so they could -communicate with their people in " Thailand. He then went ’on to describe how police had found .money in bank boxes and ’how they had'raided Ed Smith’s house and found plastic bags containing the 194

'

residue of heroin. Arthur Smith, claimed .Sergeant Dunn, would contact his associates to carry out the drug trafficicing, using William Sinclair as leader in Thailand. ’The group worked 'in Australia- and travelled ’to Thailand to contact another group regularly ’working in Thailand and headed by Mr William Sinclair.’ Referring, to the $140,000 handed to police in Brisbane by private detective Graham Jeffs, Sergeant Dunn said * Jeffs had made a statement saying the money belonge'd to William Sinclair, Gregory’s father. ‘Mr Gregory Sinclair told him that he had found the money in his father’s house and asked Mr Jeffs to keep it.. After Mr William Charles Sinclair was arrested in Thailand, I came here to investigate Mr- Sinclair about this sum. Mr Sinclair told me that the money belongs to Mr Arthur Stanley Smith who asked him to keep it, and that it comes from narcotics trafficking.’ Mr Lek, the lawyer, challenged the presentation of the record of interview, claiming that it was not a true version of the meeting between Sinclair and Detective Sergeant Dunn. He demanded that the original record of interview * be produced. A lengthy legal argument followed, resulting in the court refusing to accept the' photocopy. Mr Dunn was 'asked to return to Australia and bring back the original. He doubted’ whether the Australian government would agree to pay his expenses for a return trip to Bangkok. An adjournment was agreed. Mr Dunn returned to Australia while the Thai government decided whether they would pay for his trip back to Bangkok witlr the original of the record of interview. Sinclair wrote to Australia that night, telling Iris: ‘I know my case is a frame. Still, it will be difficult to win; I sit in court and listen to lie.after lie, but they all add up-and I tell you again I will not win it. No one walks out of these cases free. If it’s not bail, it’s buying a decision no matter how just your case may be. In short, I cannot win without" money. This is not Australia. You just cannot 195

believe what goes on here. To make it ten times worse during evidence in court the heroin was valued at a $3. million minimum if sold in another country. People now take the view that money is no problem, including the lawyers. ‘Worthless has long been the impression many people have had of me, and they may well be right. Much of my life over the past thirty years I have kept very much to myself and it never has been a very easy load to carry. I am not even sure that I would' want to relive it again. I make no excuses for it, nor can I truthfully say whether it was right or wrong. I have lived with one thought in mind and that was to provide. To do this I had to have three basic fundamentals - nerve, courage and generosity. Even the most critically minded person would in fairness have to concede me those attributes. J make no claim to any other worthwhile points. It’s funny when one looks back, not that I recommend anyone to do so, what would our lives have been today? That had I counted the cost to myself and walked away and settled; for less, would it have altered anything? Forget about prison - that is not of my doing. I know much of my doings has caused unhappiness, possibly outweighing the benefits. Whatever the answer, I can only assure you that it was well .meant.’ If the proceedings in court were not depressing enough, in Sydney, Mr Justice Woodward released his report of the Royal Commission into Drug Trafficking. Sinclair was named, while others facing charges from the Sydney arrests were referred to only by initials. He had no redress. The Judge was compelled, under the rules of Royal Commissions, to make public his findings. As Sinclair was facing a charge overseas, he could be named. ‘During the months prior to September, 1978,’ wrote Mr Justice Woodward, ‘information was received by detectives attached to the Crime Intelligence Unit < of the Criminal Investigation Branch of the New South Wales Police Department, concerning a number of individuals who were alleged to be involved in the importation and 196

distribution of large quantities of heroin in Sydney. Two of these principals were, believed to be . . and the judge then named, first, William Garfield Sinclair. He was born, said the report, on 13 July 1905, according to police records, but had claimed.his date of birth as 13 July 1913 when interviewed. In fact, Sinclair was born in 1913. The judge added that Sinclair was ‘an Australian, but currently living in Bangkok and allegedly involved in obtaining heroin there front Chinese criminal, syndicates’, - adding- that he had been born in Hong Kong and was by occupation a chemist. He was, of course, born in Uralla, New South Wales, and was by occupation an estate agent. There were more inaccuracies to come. The judge said: ‘ Although he has been known to have a criminal reputation and history, the only information concerning him contained In New South Wales was that, in Febrdary 1943, he was dealt with on a charge of false pretences? This referred to an occasion when Sinclair had issued a cheque when he' had insufficient funds to cover it. The matter was dealt with out of court and no conviction was ever recorded. If I’d been convicted, Sinclair mused, I could never have become a Justice of the Peace. The second alleged principal in drug trafficking was referred to as BL. The judge could not name Arthur Smith because the man had charges pending against him. He also referred to others charged with Smith by their initials. Mr Justice Woodward then described the events leading up. to the arrest of the four and reviewed the evidence given to the Commission by Edwin Smith. He pointed out that the information contained in the first record of interview between Ed Smith and Detective Sergeant Dunn was. inaccurate and purposely so, in order to confuse the Issue and to avoid having, to implicate BL/ Arthur Smith. Following "• that interview, however, Ed Smith had decided to make full disclosure. In completing the record of interview with the Commission’s- investigators Seedsman and Small, Smith alleged he had told the whole truth. -197

A In addition to Sinclair being named, Mr justice Woodward included Warren Fellows and Paul Hayward in his report. Referring to Sinclair’s alleged record of interview with Detective Sergeant Dunn, the judge '-said: ‘He appears to have answered all the questions that were asked of him.’ According to the record of interview tendered toz the Commission, Sinclair said that in January 1978, BL/Arthur Smith gave to him, when he was in Sydney, the sum of $140,000 in cash in a hotel bar. He assumed that it was the . ' proceeds of drugs. He-knew BL to be an extremely violent man who had made numerous threats against him previously and he was' afraid to refuse the request to look after the money for him. When BL gave him the cash,, he took it to his home at ( Parsley Road,. Vaucluse, and hid it there. He then forgot about it as no. demands for its return were made. When he was arrested on 11 October 1978, he got word to his son telling him the exact location of the money,, and asked him to take possession of it and hand it over to responsible authorities. That meant, said the judge, that his son had to travel from Brisbane to Sydney, take possession of the money, return to Brisbane and hand it to the authorities. ‘This,’ said the judge, ‘is a story not' easily believed.’ Sinclair was to protest strongly to a firm of Sydney lawyers later about the contents of his interview. But in the meantime, he sat in prison ‘feeling helpless’, he told Iris. He had written to Sydney lawyers questioning the sanity of Edwin Smith, but hadtreceived no response that, would help his own case. Now that others were involved, including Greg, he did not expect any consideration. There was only one thing that*counted in Thailand - money. He had to face up to the fact that he had no money, nor had he any prospects of getting any. He wouldn’t know whether he had five cents or $5000 at the legal firm’-s office. On 13 November, Detective Sergeant Dunn returned to Bangkok, the Thai government having decided to pay his fare. He handed in to the court a document claiming to be 198

the original typewritten pages of the record of interview, but asked if it could be released back to him as it was required in Australia. The presiding judge agreed and accepted a photocopy but made a note, as the law requires, on the front page, pointing out that it was a photocopy. He stamped the evidence, made a note of the date and recorded that the document was accepted as a true copy. Detective Sergeant Dunn described the interview he had with Edwin Smith and the claims Smith had made. Then he described the alleged record of interview he had with Sinclair. Asked about the relevant points, Detective Sergeant Dunn said he had told Sinclair that $140,000 had been handed to the police. ‘He told me that the money was owned by Arthur Stanley Smith. He said that the money had been ’given to him at a hotel in Sydney by Arthur Stanley Smith. He was asked to mind this money and took it to his home where he put it away safely. At'the time of receiving the money, Sinclair told me he had heard that Smith was a person involved in drugs.’ The z defence lawyers demanded more time to study documents submitted to the court by the prosecution. The case looked like continuing for several more weeks or even months. ‘The hearing drags on,’ Sinclair wrote to Iris. ‘I don’t know when it will finish as we are not due in court until January 28 1980.’ William Sinclair had' now been held in a Thai prison for more than a year. -He saw no prospect, considering appeals, of walking out within the next twelve months, but hS suspected it would be longer than that. His affairs in Sydney were in reasonable order, a few people owed him .money, but they could pay his wife to whom he had transferred the house in Vaucluse. He was just waiting for divorce papers to finalize that matter too. His family had been most supportive. Iris had shown herself to be a loyal and staunch friend, sending him money, vitamins, clothes, books and, more importantly, keeping up a flow of letters. He had to admit that after what he had done, he didn’t deserve such goodness. He would never be able to express 199

how much he appreciated all’ that she and Greg had done for him, running and gathering documents and references and writing letters to people who may have helped. Iris backed Greg all the way too, in his efforts to beat the charges against himself. .Yes, he had. quite a family.

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A former model, Iris was still aii attractive woman. A devout Catholic who appreciated the finer things of life, she had an interest in antiques, dressed well and wore good jewellery. Simply, she enjoyed a little luxury. Gracious and well spoken, unquestionably loyal to her family and friends, she possessed- a strong sense of duty. It was without delay, therefore, that she responded to a request to be interviewed by an investigator for the Royal Commission into Drug Trafficking. Accompanied by her solicitor Mr M . Glasheen, Iris sat opposite Mr K.E. Woods in a Sydney-office on 19 October 1979, and agreed that she was now divorced, the business , being finalized the month before, after a marriage of thirty four years. When they had married, William had been working as a commercial traveller and she had been living in ’the Melbourne suburb of South Yarra. The investigator came straight to the point. Having confirmed with her that her husband was in jail in .Bangkok, he wanted to know whether Sinclair had any current personal or savings accounts in Australia. ‘We have a joint cheque account with about $2, 000,in it, but it is all my money? ‘To your knowledge,; does your husband have any other accounts whatever, or shares, in any company in Australia?’ ‘No, he sold his. shares.’ Iris was then questioned about* Wings Travel. She told how Sinclair started the company along with Frank Henwood-and Father O’Dwyer. His duties, she said, were L 200

public delations, encouraging new accounts and getting business for the company. What was her ex-husband’s association with a man named' Murray Stewart Riley? ‘To my knowledge, he met Murray Riley when they were building, part of the South Sydney Junior Rugby League Club, and Murray Riley was bringing entertainers into the country and Bill commenced a business association with him arranging accommodation. After that, if MurrayRiley was going overseas, he would book his fare through Wings Travel.’ ‘Were they also friends on a social basis?’ ‘Never.’ ‘Have you ever met Murray Riley personally?’ ‘Yes, only once I think. I met him at South Sydney Juniors once. There was one other time at a cocktail party arranged by Lord Lindsay at the Sebel Town Hous f ‘I take it that Riley was invited there as a guest, is that correct?’ ‘Yes, anyone who had any connection with Wings Travel was invited there.’ Iris was asked whether the ex-policemah 'received any remuneration or concession from Wings Travel. ‘Well, let’s put it this way. If you were going overseas and Bill knew you, he would give you a card so that you could get fifty percent off your hotel bill. That would be the only thing.’ Mr Woods- wanted to know if Iris was aware of any association between Sinclair, Fellows and Hayward, No, she said, he never had any association with them. He may have known them, but they were not friends. It must be realized, she said, that Bill knew everyone in the different things he did. Building and travel agencies' - you met all types of people. ‘It has been alleged that your ex-husband>had a reputation as a fixer with the Woollahra Council op development approvals.’ ‘What do you. mean by fixer?’ - ■* 201

‘That he may be able to fix deals in relation to development.’ ‘No, I don’t know anything -about that.’ Mr Woods asked Iris if she could tell him the reason for her husband’s stay in Bangkok. ‘I don’t know. I think it was because of his girlfriend. While I think of it, I gave Detective Sergeant Dunn a lot of papers in relation to a coal importing deal and a tin mine in Thailand, and also some other businesses in which Bill was involved.’ The interview was almost over. But there were a few more pointed questions. During the time her husband v?as associated with Wings Travel, was she aware of her husband’s knowledge of criminals travelling via Wings Travel? No. ‘Is there anything that - you would care to say in relation to the alleged activities of your ex-husband in relation to drug trafficking?’ ‘All I can say is that I know he would never be involved in such a thing. That is hot the reason for our divorce. We were divorced because he left me for- a younger woman.’ How many overseas trips had her husband made, to her knowledge, since 1974? ‘Look, I don’t know but he was travelling overseas for Wings Travel. He was always travelling regularly. There were a lot of telexes coming back and Paul Dole got rid of them, which we were most annoyed-about because it would have proved that Bill was travelling back and forth on these legitimate business deals.’ There were two more questions. ‘It has been alleged that your ex-husband had a second wife in Bangkok in order to gain residency status there. Is that true?’ ‘I don’t know that, but I don’t think it was to gain residency.’ ‘Is there anything further that you wish to say in relation to any of the matters that-we’ve raised this morning?’ ‘No, but I don’t think there’s any substance in the 202

allegations of drug trafficking connected with Wings Travel.’ The interview over, Iris returned thoughtfully to the big house in Vaucluse. It was obvious from the questioning that they had drawn a great many conclusions about Bill. Well, he had always been kind to her and she would fight on for him and for her children. Three weeks later, learning that Mr Justice Woodward was due to visit Thailand,, she wrote to him saying that she believed her ex-husband was innocent of any involvement in the drug charges brought against him by the Thai government. This belief, she said,, was further confirmed by the existence of a signed confession by Warren Fellows exonerating William Sinclair from any involvement with him in any attempt to smuggle drugs out of Thailand. The document was stamped by the Australian Embassy in Bangkok and was now in the possession of » the Thai lawyers, with copies being held in, Australia. ‘My concern is that this document has never come to light and I have grave doubts that justice will be done in this case. I ask you, Mr Justice Woodward, when you are in Bangkok to please sight this document and take whatever steps you think appropriate.’ Hers was not the only request to be submitted to the ■ drugs commission judge. Through their Bangkok lawyers, Sinclair, Hayward and Fellows made a formal application for a meeting-while he was in Thailand. The three Australians waited patiently in their cell. But the judge never came.

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‘Lies fell from his Lips as easily as a Sigh . . . " They hustled Ed Smith into the Central Court of Petty Sessions flanked by armed detectives. They didn’t want him to be involved in any ‘accidents’ at this stage; He was their star witness. In fact, he was the only witness who could give the inside story of the alleged Sydney cirug ring. Standing before Magistrate Forbes were Arthur Stanley Smith, Debra Smith, Gregory Sinclair and David Kelleher. They all pleaded not guilty to a charge of> conspiring to supply heroin. Whether they were found guilty or not guilty, depended almost entirely on Ed Smith’s credibility. Outlining the case, Sergeant C. Spalding, the police prosecutor, said he intended td show, that Arthur Stanley Smith instigated the importation of heroin 'into Australia in large quantities. He used -his brother, Edwin Smith, David Kelleher and others to supply- heroin to people within New South Wales. Arthur Smith, said the sergeant, had used the proceeds of these sales to buy motor cars, speed boats and an expensively renovated house.in which a closed circuit television system and other security, devices had been installed. He had also provided cash for air fares for Edwin Smitfrand others to travel overseas. The prosecutor said Ed Smith’s evidence yvould reveal a conversation between Gregory Sinclair and*Arthur Smith concerning a large shipment of buddha sticks and the possibility of Gregory"Sinclair taking over; his father’s William Sinclair’s’ - involvement in' the supply of heroin. WhenJEd Smith was arrested, the sergeant s a i d . a search of 'his car revealed 1.6 kilograms of pure heroin' and a number of photographs taken in the Texan Bar in Bangkok, showing Arthur .Stanley Smith, William Sinclair and David 204

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Kelleher. He added later that what the first witness, Edwin Smith, had to say was ‘more or less the basis of the case for the Prosecution’. Sergeant Spalding guided Edwin Smith through the evidence he had given to the Royal Commission. The witness told how his brother had phoned him and asked him to mix white powder with glucodin and how he had delivered the mixture on instructions from his brother. He went on to describe a gathering at the Regent Hotel in Kingsford made up of himself, his brother Arthur, Warren Fellows, Greg Sinclair and a woman he believed tb be Greg’s wife. Arthur, XVarren Fellows and Greg Sinclair started a conversation while he (Edwin) and the woman stood about a metre away. He couldn’t remember the conversation exactly but to the best of his recollectio'n, his brother said to Greg Sinclair that there were problems ‘There are problems with your father in Bangkok an*d he is unable to pull his weight and we would prefer if you were J able to take his place.’ Police prosecutor: ‘Go on.’ ‘We are trying to get him deposed from his position and retire on a pension.’ 'Anything else said.’ ‘And feel that you would be able to take a more active part.’ ‘Anything else after that?’ ‘Greg Sinclair said “I agree if it is able to be done”.’ '‘Anything else?’ ‘He said “Beware of the Cobra”.’ Ed Smith said that his brother told Greg Sinclair that ‘things are not going too well in your business . . . and you would probably find it better if you came in with us’. Asked if he could remember more, Ed Smith made a reply, but the magistrate ruled that it be struck out of the record. Edwin Smith was questioned by Mr Lazarus, defending Kelleher, about his arrest and charges in connection with the heroin and the possession of the Armalite gun. Mr

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Lazarus wanted to know if Smith had beert told by the police that if he was "prepared to ‘make a confession’ involving other people including his brother, it could go well for him in court. Smith denied that - ‘Don’t think they could possibly make a promise like that’. But he agreed he held out hope after the Commissioner on Drugs had given him an accolade. ‘For a judge, Commissioner of a Royal Commission, to say that he hopes what I said can assist me, 4 think I could hope.’ He was questioned further about his relationship with Mr Dunn. Was he very friendly with him? ‘No more friendly with anybody else.’ ‘Bit more friendly with Mr Dunn than with’ other ■ .policemen?* ‘Only because if he talks to me I will talk back.’ Later" it was suggested to him that he was on first name terms with policemen. ‘You call Barry Dunn Barry, don’t. , you?’ ‘Yes.* ‘What’s he_cal! you - Mr Smith?’ ‘At times.’ ■‘At other times?’ ‘Ted.’ ‘Well, it’s Ted and Barry, -isn’t itjGeoff and Ted and so on, surely?’ “■ ‘On occasions, yes.’ ‘What occasions are they, informal occasions, are they?’ INot really.’ ‘What causes the distinction that sometimes they call you Mr Smith and sometimes just plain old Ted?’ ‘Doesn’t everybody?’ Edwin Smith was asked whether before he was charged he had said to any policeman: ‘Wha’t’s going to happen to me over it?’ No, he had’ not. He was told only that the evidence he gave would be used.against him. And his decision to confess was a decision.to tell the truth? Yes, he said, that was correct. Everything he had said was the truth. But he admitted that at first he had not told the truth because 206

when he started to write a statement, he was trying to protect his brother. * ‘Mr Smith,’ asked Mr Lazarus, ‘what did you say to the police that wasn’t true because you were trying to protect your brother?’ ‘I told them that I was the instigator of the-distribution of heroin and picking up of heroin.’ ‘Anything else you told them that was untrue?’ ‘That was all.’ He agreed That after giving his original statement, he signed it as true and correct. ‘And it was untrue?’ ‘That’s right.’ But he pointed but that when he first started to make the statement, he hadn’t made up his mind to telkthc truth! When he had made up his mind, he had told the truth. He. would have stuck to his original story !only 1 discovered that I was only making a fool of ‘myself. The police -had more evidence than I knew anything about and it was a waste of time carrying on like I Was’. He had been shown photographs of people going into his brother’s house, but there were other circumstances, too, that had stopped him from going on with his story that he was the instigator. These he could not recall. Edwin Smith had not had am easy time in the witness box, but there was more'to come when the case resumed the following day. For Mr Lazarus questioned him about the bullet that went through his head. It happened when he was about three years old and his mother had told him that the bullet had hit a certain area of the brain that had some control over his nerves. At the time he was suffering from extreme nerves and from violent temper. ‘You were suffering also from a great resentment against your mother and brothers, weren’t you?’ ‘No.’ ‘You resented the fact, did you not, that you'were a stepbrother?’ ‘No.’ 207

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‘Living with three young men, three brothers who had in fact different fathers to you?’ ‘No.’ , Edwin Smith was pressed by Mr Lazarus about the ‘other circumstances’ that had resulted in him deciding to tell what he said was the truth. There was certain evidence, Ed repeated, that was shown him that proved what he had been saying wasn’t true. There was nothing in the record of interview he had with Detective Sergeant Dunn to reveal what that evidence was. ‘What was shown to you and what was said that’s not in the record?’ ‘That’s police evidence and not mine.’ ‘What was it that convinced you? What really knocked you over?’ ‘As I said, that’s police evidence, not mine.’ ‘What was said to you by the police that you believe is police evidence? What did they say to you?’ ‘I prefer to leave that go at this time.’ The magistrate said that if Ed understood the question, he should answer. Finally, after more pressing, Ed said: ‘I was shown a series of photographs, related to conversations that were overheard.’ ‘What conversations did they tell you about that were overheard?’ asked Mr Lazarus. ‘Referring to conversations between my brother and myself and other people.’ ‘Where did they say those conversations occurred?’ ‘I wasn’t given any specific details.’ ‘What did they say to you that the conversations were?’ ‘The facts that weije given to me during the conversations I knew to be true . . . that I couldn’t get out of.’ Ed was asked why, knowing that he did not have to answer questions, he had made a new record of interview naming his brother Arthur. He said he had personal reasons for that. Pressed he said he had received word that Arthur was going to have him killed. The message was brought to him by his mother just before he was arrested. •208

Arthur had warned that if he, Ed, was arrested, he would be killed. Either Arthur would do it or he would get someone else to do ‘it-. Mr Kevin Murray, QC, appearing for Arthur Smith, questioned Ed about lies .and truth. ‘Whatever the reason

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life, the telling of lies in solemn circumstances has become part of your stock in trade, hasn’t it? Part of ybu, hasn’t it?’ ‘I can’t say that.’ Mr Murray: ‘Repeatedly having been arrested, .having been caught, you tried to lie your way out of it?’ Ed Smith: ‘I can’t recall all the things that have transpired in my life. I am not a computer.’ ‘If you could minimize the consequences by lying, and you have done so many times, the lies would fall from your lips as easily as a sigh?’ ‘No.’ ‘Have you lied in the past in order to try and minimize the consequences of your criminal behaviour?’ ‘I cannot recall if I have been in the circumstances where ‘telling lies would have saved me.’ ‘Have you lied in the past?’ ‘Doesn’t everybody?’ ‘To minimize the consequences of your criminal behaviour?’ ‘Never.’ Edwin Smith was to be questioned in detail about his statement for more than two days before the proceedings were adjourned to the following April.

Languishing in his cell, Bill Sinclair wondered how the Sydney case was going. He asked Mr Lek during one of his infrequent visits, but the lawyer had heard nothing. Funny, when he really needed his family to write with information, he didn’t hear anything. Still, Iris had sent some pictures 209

of herself with her granddaughter. How attractive and happy Iris looked. How good it was of her to continue to say prayers for him at Mass. His granddaughter too. What a beautiful child. He’d shown the pictures around the cell and the prisoners, had alL-said how nice she looked. .. Perhaps Iris could search around the house for something to give the little girl from him for Christmas. Christmas. His second Christmas in a Thai prison coming up and he was still proclaiming his innocence to a court. He couldn’t shake off the depression that had been hanging over him for the past week. He would have been better off being executed under Article 27 - at least the tension and misery would have been over long ago. He had thought a lot about his father recently. He thought he now understood some of his feelings and .why he had taken the ultimate step, for he had learned that despair is' not easily overcome. Perhaps in Sydney they w.ere thinking that by now he should have risen above all his troubles. .But why r not be honest with himself? He was utterly dejected. His weight was beginning to worry him again. He knew he could not afford to lose any more. Perhaps Iris could help him there - send him some concentrated foods like vegetable and meat extract, stuff with calories and vitamins. ‘Appy Clismas, Bill, Silcair!’ The voices woke him and* he saw his Thai cell mates squatting beside him proffering Christmas cards, angels and trumpets drawn on pieces of cardboard. ‘Later, we dlink wine, Bill Silcair, to say ‘Appy Clismas. Too early now, heh?’ The wine! He’d forgotten all about it. They’d all brought in pineapple juice, sugar and finally hops' and mixed it in.a big tin drum that a guard had; procured for them. He grinned. ‘Yes, I think it is too early. But let’s drink anyway!’ The drum was taken from its hiding,plac’e in the concrete container from which they drew their water to pour down the lavatory. If the first. Christmas had brought a surprise in the form of a chicken from Detective Sergeant Dunn, there was another unexpected gift this year. A guard 210

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brought in a cake, baked by Miss Sumalee and her sister and adorned with the iced message: ‘To Mr Bill, Mr Warren and Mr Paul. Happy Xmas.’ The three Australians stood out on the verandah later, sipping wine and eating cake. Bill Sinclair felt like saying ‘We’ve got to stop meeting like this’, but he stopped himself. He didn’t think the others would see the joke. His melancholia soon returned. Even a visit a few days later by an official from the Australian Embassy did not help. The Second Secretary bestowed on him a give-away diary from Thai Airlines, one year out-of-date. Unfortunately, thought Sinclair' I cannot eat it. Food was constantly on his mind for, although his friend Ah Hang was still doing the cooking, he seemed to derive little strength from the offerings. The disputed record of interview with Detective Sergeant Dunn was also weighing heavily upon his mind. So much so that as a follow-up to the letters he had already sent to the New South Wales Premier and the Foreign Affairs Department, he wrote to his Sydney lawyers, Abbott, Tout, Creer and Wilkinson, outlining some of the discrepancies he said he hadfound in the photocopies submitted to the court. The document now before the Thai court, he wrote, ‘is without adoubt one of the most brazen attempts to divert natural justice before any courtof law whose sole aim is to administer justice’. The errors in the tendered record of interview, he claimed, were not errors that a competent police officer would make. Apart from the disputed questions and answers regarding Arthur Smith, Sinclair told his Sydney lawyers that question 21 read as a Thai would speak: ‘What was the purpose of you meeting Hotel?’ The same applied to the answer to the following question: ‘Ned was interested in Chinese cooking television programme which a friend of mine was making.’ The answer to question 23 was also as a Thai would speak: ‘I heard that he was vicious gunman-. . Two of the questions were numbered 32, Sinclair pointed out. The 211

answer to question 39 contained the word ‘seven’ spelt ‘siven’. Sinclair told his lawyers that the transfer of signatures on to any amount of notepaper was- a simple matter. Two methods were used in" Thailand; the first being to photograph the original signature and then develop it onto a blank piece of photographic paper. Words were typed over the top and the whole thing was photocopied. The second method, he said, was to type the original interview on chemically impregnated paper. Afterwards, the signature 'was transferred on to blank paper’ by.’the introduction of heat, then repeated to overcome the problem of a reversed signature. ‘Thai police and the ClA are experts in this field. The foregoing is not my knowledge. The information was given to me by a senior ranking police officer .from the Thai Scientific Bureau. He is currently in prison for being too scientific in his own interest.’ Sinclair enlivened monotony of his daily routines by bathing, walking up and down the; road, .eating with his young Thai cook, returning to the .cell and bemoaning the inattentiveness of his lawyers. It.was now 2 January arid he hadn’t seen, anyone'from the firm since midway through November. Did they not know what it was like for a man to be. locked in prison wondering what was happening about his case, questioning what was going on in the world behind those high stonewalls? He decided to write to Iris. When -he was halfway through the letter, in which he expounded thought on prayer, Warren Fellows approached him. ‘I want to say how sorry I am.’ ■‘It’s a bit late for that.’ ‘Well, it’s not just to you; It’s to your wife. I’ve been thinking about it, you know, being responsible for getting you dragged in here. .If, there’s a »charice, I’d like to. say sorry to her.’ Sinclair’s pen hovered over the thin airmail paper. Fellows appeared genuinely sorry. But, no matter how 212

much remorse the man felt, he knew he would never be able to forgive him. There was no, harm though, in his writing to Iris. ‘I’ll save you a Bit of space on the end of this.’ Later Fellows sat down on the verandah and, on the last few lines of the page, wrote: ‘Dear Mrs Singclair I have been meaning to write to you for sometime now, but I find it very hard to put into words my true, feelings, for words -are only words, and our feelings be them true of heart can never be put on paper, so I will 'take this chance to tell you, how truly-sorry I’am for what I have done to Bill and you along with your family. If you can please forgive me, as must God, all I can say to you is Bill is truly in'nocenF and always has been. Like Greg, I went to a Catholic school, and I’m also of a good family back home and also France, so all I ask of you is please understand and try to forgive me. Respectfully yours, Warren? Despite the dangers of being reported by eagle-eyed trustees, Fellows- used heroin whenever he could get hold of it. He had no respect for prison rules and no idea how to behave.- He was always in trouble. Sinclair marvelled at the tolerance of the prison guards who, fortunately, understood his behavioural problems and were often far more lenient than they ought to have been. There was nothing Sinclair could do, and besides, it was none of his business. He kept to his rule of never asking questions and sticking to himself. Without a doubt, farangs were a nuisance in jail and caused the authorities many headaches. From what he observed, Sinclair doubted they had any real - . desire to leave the institutions where heroin was so easily obtained. Sinclair found that addicts, to a man, walked away or changed the subject when it came to drugs. Heroin was the most destructive and most habit-forming of them all, he concluded. He’d seen them smoking gunja or- popping pills and yes, they’d spaced out for a while in the e

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I yard, on the verandah, or in the cell, but it wasn’t a lasting thing. Heroin addicts, he believed, could be cured if treated in time, but throwing them in jail was not the answer. It simply accelerated their dependence - euphoria offered an escape from boredom and their surroundings." Drugs were easily obtained in prison. The user who became an addict progressed into an amoral being, he believed, turning' into a compulsive liar and a master of deceit, disguising his own'addiction so that he. could steal from the trusting in order to support his habit. The deterioration of the body - he recalled the twenty four year old from Chicago who resembled a walking skeleton - was frightening. He had lost apperception of reality, of need to eat. He wondered whether, what was his name - Mike? was still alive. Six months ago they sent him to Lard Yao, hardly able to stand. Of course, he’d get heroin in hospital, but one day his system would collapse and he’d just be another overdose case. French, Germans, Australians, Canadians, Italians, Americans had all passed through his cell. The tragedy of it was that most worshipped the white powder. Miss Sumalee, the social worker from the Correction Department who censored his mail, liked him. There was no doubt about that. She had baked a Christmas cake, passed his letters and obviously enjoyed conversing with him. For his part, he appreciated talking to a gentle woman. After all, he’d been locked in with hundreds of men for 16 months, men who had very little to say. At least Miss Sumalee made him.feel human. ‘You write very small, Mr Bill,’ she told him one day when he 'took a letter to her office. ‘It means I get more words to a page. Paper is expensive.’.. ‘Sometimes I have to look very close to read.’ ‘That’s because I am writing secret messages.’ ‘Secret messages? That is not allowed.’ Well, that, was the first insight into Miss Sumalee. She had no' sense of humour. Or perhaps he was just being too 214

clever. Certainly she was a very sober kind of woman who was devoted to her job. Sitting there, self contained and fashionable, he even considered, as he had before, .he would not be ashamed to be seen dining out with her. What a preposterous thought, though, under the circumstances. And anyway, the way she had spoken about her mother, pf the close ties between them, he wondered whether she ever ventured out when the day’s work was done. But she did like him, there was no doubt about that. And she had a lovely, smile. ‘Miss Sumalee,’ he dared to write home shortly afterwards, ‘is a kind and considerate woman from the Correction Department, with many duties to perform in the prison. Busy and all as she is, she always has a smile and a word of encouragement when most needed. To her f owe much.’ Miss Sumalee read it, of course.

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Dr Jekyllf William Sinclair and Mr Hyde Many things were happening simultaneously in Australia and Thailand and the timing couldn’t have been worse for William Sinclair. While he sat in his cell worrying about the alleged evidence they were compiling against him in the Bangkok court, Greg, his son, was involved in his own fight to prove his innocence of the conspiracy charge'. There was also the Royal Commission - although Mr Justice Woodward had already conducted' an inquiry and gabled a report,-a new inquiry was ordered on the very day he had presented his findings to the New South Wales parliament. His new brief was to check into allegations made by two opposition Liberal MPs that the Deputy Mayor of Leichhardt, Aiderman Danny Casey, had Channelled money into Australian Labor Party funds from illegal drug rackets, accusations which were found to be not proved. But these claims were of no help to William Sinclair, for it was remembered that Sinclair had held the position of public relations man for the Leichhardt Council. In February 1980, Father O’Dwyer was called before the Commission. He admitted he was a former director of Wings Travel, which William Sinclair had formed with Frank Henwood. The inquiry had heard an earlier claim by Mr Roger Gyles, QC, assisting the Commission, that altho'ugh the travel agency had many boha fide travellers, ‘its manifest feads like -a who’s who1 of drug traffickers’. He and Sinclair had first met, Father O’Dwyer recalled, through, a friend in Singapore and he had, he said, travelled to Asia to ask Sinclair to return to Australia to ‘face the music’ because the police wanted to question him about his alleged part in the $46 million seizure of buddha 216

sticks from the yacht A noa in June 1978. Murray Riley, the former policeman, had been arrested and jailed for ten years for his part in the illegal importing of the marijuana, but the police had still been anxious to talk to Sinclair.. Father O’Dwyer said that when he spoke to Sinclair in Bangkok in September 1978, Sinclair insisted that the only reason he would not return to Australia was because of potential trouble with the Taxation Department. Father O’Dwyer recalled that shortly after returning to Australia, a fellow Wings-director, Paul Dole, went to Thailand for a French travel agents’ convention and was present when Thai police arrested Sinclair. Father O’Dwyer, who had not been paid a stipend by the Catholic Church for some fifteen years, told the- Royal Commission that Sinclair was a real ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ character and that it was not hard to have a falling out with him. ‘He was a charming man without drink, but with drink was a very belligerent and difficult man.’ Mr Gyles suggested that one conclusion from the evidence, without he himself making the imputation, was that Father O’Dwyer had knowingly permitted and participated in the use of Wings Travel Pty Ltd by those concerned with drug trafficking. The former priest said this was completely untrue and that no evidence had been given to support the suggestion. Father O’Dwyer was asked why he had escorted a group of ten-pin bowlers to Singapore where there was a hotel booking for him for nine days, yet had returned to Sydney two days later. The ex-priest’s reply to that was that he hadjiot wanted to be away on a Sunday, the most important working day for him. Said MiGyles: ‘The sequence of events which took place in August, September and October 1978, is capable of the construction that you and Mr Dole were involved in dealing with William Sinclair and others concerning drugs. What would you say?’ ‘The suggestion is completely untrue,’- retorted Father O’Dwyer. ‘I deny it completely.’ 5 Mrs Penelope Renwick, a travel consultant with Wings, 217

told the Royal. Commission that the then publican of the Dunbarton Castle Hotel, Mr Robert Evans, travelled extensively with Wings to Manila and that he had been given a letter by William Sinclair - similar to one held by Murray Riley - introducing him as an executive of Wings Travel. Mrs Renwick said, the two other directors of the company, Mr Dole and Father O’Dwyer; both objected to non-company members having letters. Warren Fellows, .she said, had been introduced to Wings by Robert Evans and had travelled extensively with the company. Asked for names of travellers who Had used Wings, she mentioned seven, including a Mr Er rington '(the same name used by Fellows on a trip to Bangkok). ' The Royal Commission was referred to statements Warren Fellows was alleged to have made, including a.record of interview with Detettive Sergeant Dunn in Bangkok. (Fellows, like Sinclair, was to protest later that the record of interview was not a true version ‘of the question and answer session.) ' ’ In his alleged interview with Dunn, Fellows had an interesting story to tell. He certainly dropped a lot of names. After returning to Australia from France, where he had assisted his cousin John Fellows, ‘the second biggest horse trainer in. Europe’, he lived with Marie Francoir, whose aunt was ‘the riehest woman inlhe world’. On his’second day in Australia, he had. a drink with his brother at the Regent Hotel in Kingsford and later fell asleep in-the back of his brother’s car while his brother ‘did a bust on a house’-. After that, Fellows ‘jusfstarted knocking around and gambling pretty heavy’. About then, he met Bob Evans, an-off-cdurse, illegal bookmaker who then owned the Dunbarton Castle iri Sydney’s Kent Street. He had started betting with Evans and lost $1400 which he could . not pay, so he began working behind the bar of the hotel. ‘I kept getting pester by- him for the money,’ said the alleged record of interview. ‘He kept saying that I had to pay him*. That is when he got a guy to hit me over the eye. My father was present. I went to South Sydney HospitaT 218

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for stitches and every day after that he used to threaten me and my wife to pay the money. He asked me about coming up here. He wanted me to bring some dope back. He sent me to the Sheraton Hotel, Bangkok, to meet a guy called John Brooking and five other blokes, Don Slade who I think was using the name Purvis, Kevin Light, I think Slade could have used the name McWorthy and I don’t know the names of the others. Brooking told me that he had the dope and he tdld-me that he already sent some back and, that I was to get this one kilo of smack back to Australia, (a reference to the heroin found in the roll of cloth). It never got back. It got- busted. Don Slade told me" that Murray Riley told him to go to the airport- to make sure the couriers got on board. I was here eight days on that trip and I stayed at the Oriental Hotel under my right name. I met all these blokes in the Barrell Bar in Patpong Road . . He said he met Brooking through Bob Evans who was staying at the .Sheraton. Evans, who had left Australia for Bangkok a week before, had given him money for his ticket to fly to Asia and $2000 spending money. ‘I had been here about' a week having a look around and Kevin delivered 900 grams of heroin to me in a plastic bag. I rolled it in material and sent it to a shipping dgent.’ However, Fellows is alleged to have said to Dunn, the heroin did not ‘come through’. He returned to the Dunbarton Castle Hotel where Evans had been in agreement about the way he was going to get the heroin back. During the six months he was working at the hotel, he met Sinclair on one occasion, but then did not see him again for weeks. Evans, meanwhile, wanted him to go back to Bangkok on ‘another run’. Fellows allegedly told Dunn: ‘He (Evans) got me a passport in the name of Errington. I left Sydney with $26,000 given to me by Evans. This was in February of this year (1978). I gave the money to Sinclair. «I went back to Sydney and told Evans that Sinclair told me it could not be done.’ * * « " » 219

‘What could not be done?’- Detective Sergeant Dunn wanted to know. ‘Evans hadsent me up to get 'some smack. Sinclair was supposed to have all this documentation to get it through customs but he did not have it done. I went back to Sydney..Sinclair ripped Evans off and kept his money for a fair while before giving it back.’ , Fellows is alleged to have .added that he was to bring the money to Sinclair and do nothing: ‘Sinclair and whoever else was up here were to do the rest. They were going/o ship it back through a shipping line.’ The Australian detective asked what the circumstances were that led to Fellows making the trip to Bangkok on which he was arrested for being in possession of heroin. ‘Bill Sinclair,’ the prisoner allegedly replied, ‘introduced me to Ned Smith at a hotel in Sydney I cannot remember where. I was given $60,000 by Ned and on the -next day-1 flew up to Bangkok. I saw Bill and told him what he wanted and three or four days later I saw the contact a Thai named Noi and I gave him the money.’ Fellows is then said to have described how he and Hayward picked up two bags from a car after Noi had shown samples of buddha.sticks in the hotel room. When they opened the bags, they saw the heroin, - ‘I always thought it was going to be Thai sticks’. Asked what part Bill Sinclair had in the buddha sticks deal, Fellows replied: ‘None, he just introduced me' to Ned/ Questioned about various flights he had taken from Australia since 1974, Fellows had said they were to work in France, deliver horse racing gear in India or to watch the races in that country,' to have a holiday and, on one occasion, to deliver $20,000 from Bob Evans to a man called Doug in Los Angeles. ( ‘On the 30.9.77, you departed on Flight no. TG82 and returned on'16.10.77 on SQ85. Where did you go on that occasion? ’ { ‘Bangkok/ 220

‘What was the purpose of this visit to Bangkok?’ ‘Bob Evans .sent me over to purchase narcotics.’ ‘Using the name of Errington you departed from Sydney on 22.2.78 on Flight QFI5 and returned to Sydney on 2. 3..78 on QF6. Where did you go on this occasion?’ ‘Bangkok,. I brought money up for Evans.’ - ~ ‘On 30.4.78 you departed from.Sydney on SQ77A and returned on 8.5*.78 through Melbourne on Flight SQ86A. What was the purpose of this visit?’ ‘Bangkok, to bring money in for Mr Sinclair.’ , ‘On the 2.10.78 you departed from Sydney under the name of Barker on QF5..Can you tell me where you were going to on that occasion? ‘Bangkok, to bring money again for Bill Sinclair.’ ‘Will you tell me why you used, the names Errington and Barker to leave the country?’ 1 ‘Because Evans provided me with the passports.’ Asked why it was necessary to use passports in another name to travel out of the country, Fellows allegedly replied: ‘So that I wouldn’t be noticed going out of the country so much.’ The record of interview made available to the Sydney Royal Comnlission investigators then shows that Detective Sergeant Dunn turned his questioning to the gathering' of people at Arthur Smith’s house on 27 September 1978. Why had Paul Hayward, Janies White, David Kelleher and he, Fellows, all met.at "Smith’s house? ‘I remember the day. There were blokes walking in and out all day. Ned used to ring me up every morning and say “What’s doing sunshine? Do you want to get out and have a drink?”. On this occasion he just rung up and said to come over/ Fellows also allegedly spoke about picking up 'Greg Sinclair from the airport and then returning to Arthur’s home. Greg had gone there to give Arthur advice about a restaurant. The interview is alleged to have continued after a break for lunch, but many of the new questions' raised by Dunn 221

were to clarify points raised in the first session. As with the alleged records of interview conducted by the Australian police with Sinclair and Hayward, Fellows was asked if he had read through the typewritten documents. Yes, he is alleged to have replied, and he agreed it was a true and correct record of the conversation.. Royal Commission investigators were handed copies of the alleged record, but they also came into possession of a statement hand written by Fellows in which the facts varied slightly from the information he had allegedly given to Dunn - facts regarding ‘money he had been provided with and the number of days which passed before he said he followed Evans to Bangkok. The7 alleged statement also filled in a number of gaps in what was purported to be his record of interview. Fellows wrote (reproduced here exactly): ‘I was betting with an illegal bookmaker named Robert Evans. I owed him the sum of $1,400 Aust dollars whitch at the time I could not pay. Evans, had a member of his staff beat me up, I was injured, mainly in the face, I obtained medical treatment at South Sydney Hospital. The worst injury was my eyes requiring ten stitches, Evans told me the same thing would happen until I had paid in full. ‘Not long after this incident Evans said he could help me to repay my debt to him and make something for myself; he told me he was flying to Bangkok in a few days and that I should come up two days later. He gave me 4,000 A . dollars in Airoplane ticket, when I arrived I was to go to the Sheraton Hotel. When I met Evans I gave him the $4,000 A. I then took a cab to the Liberty Hotel where Evans had booked me in. Next’day Evans rang me, telling me to meet him in the lobby of the Sheraton Hotel. We then went to Evans room were I met a man named John Brooking. Evans told me that Brooking had. one kilo of heroin, which he had purchased. Evans then told me I was to take delivery of the heroin. Then Brooking would tell me what to do with it, I agreed Brooking called at my hotel next morning with ‘the kilo at the same time telling me I ■222

was to see Evans, Brooking left. I rang Evans who told me to come to his room, leave the goods at my hotel. Evans gave me a roll of material, telling me that I was to wrap the heroin iiuthe material, take it to a forwarding agent. He then handed a slip of paper with the agents name and address in Bangkok. I don’t remember the name of the agents. I returned to Australia next day. I don’t know what became of the heroin, Evans made no further attempts to collect the money I owed him, so I believed he had received the heroin. It was not until I was arrested on the 11th. Oct 1978 was I' aware that the heroin never left Bangkok . . In a separate statement in which he discussed the heroin for which he had been arrested, Fellows said he first met Sinclair when he was employed by Evans as a barman at his hotel. ‘Mr Sinclair would call in some Saturday afternoons and back racehorses with Mr Evans. When I met Mr Sinclair he told me that he knew my'father who was a professional jockey and that I was a small boy at the time. One particular Saturday afternoon I was waiting for Mr Evans at the hotel, Mr Sinclair was at the hotel and about to leave. Mr Evans-rang and asked me to meet him .at the Caprice Restaurant, Rose Bay, Mr Sinclair said I will drop you at Rose Bay, it was not out of his way, Mr Sinclair lived at Vaucluse. After Mr Sinclair dropped me off at the Rose Bay park, he went on his way, I walked across to the park and met Mr Evans in a car outside of the restaurant, Mr Evans told me that he had lost a lot of money at the races. Mr Evans then said that he would like me to go to Bangkok and take, Mr Brooking $20,000 A dollars, saying that he would pay all expenses and give me $20,000 A on my return. I told Mr Evans that I did not like the idea of going back to Bangkok again, Mr Evans said don’t worry I will get you a new passport, I then agreed . . . I then met Mr Evans on the following Monday morning, Evans gave me a pair of glasses and said go and get eight passport photos which I gave to Mr Evans, about a week later I received my passport under the name of Errington. I then left for Bangkok with $20,000 A dollars and some money 223

for expenses. On my arrival I tried to contact Brooking at the Sheraton Hotel. After three days I-rang Mr Evans and told him Brooking was not at the .Sheraton. Evans told me to wait-another two days and if Brooking did not arrive I was to come back and bring the money with me, and that he would ring. back. During the five days I waited, I met a young Burmese by the name of Muskharn at Bobby’s Arms- Bar' in Patpong: I used to see him almost every day. Some time later he told me he was bringing in ruby’s and jade from Burma, he showed me some of the ruby’s, they were pidgen red ruby’s. I became- interested in one for myself which I eventually-bought. -Mr Evans, rang on the 5th day, I told him Brooking was not here, he then said come back to Sydney. I told Evans that I was not keen to bring- money into Australia, and that I could bring back unset rubys or jade, Evans did not like the idea and that he -■would think about it and ring me back. He rang back and ’said he was interested in jade, but ,to_bring the ruby’s but hot before I had them valued. I had-one stone valued at a jewellery place' in Pattpong Rd. Mr Muskharn would not give me more than one stone to have valued. The people who valued the stone put a price of -nearly double on it. I bought four stopes in dll. Evans told me he got more than double his money when he sol.dthem.’ Fellows then went on to write about the Thai police and their questioning of him. They had asked: ‘What- about Sinclair, what did he have to- do with- it?’ Fellows said he had replied ‘nothing’. ‘They then said “What about the hotel account - why did he pay it?” I told the police that I did not have quite enough money for my account, I was only a few dollars short., I told Mr Sinclair about it, he said give me the cash I can 'use it, and I will pay the account with, American Express. Police: “Didn’t Sinclair ask what you were doing in Bangkok?” I told them No, he did not ask. Th,e Police: “We don’t believe you, we know you took heroin back.” The police asked me “What about the time yomhad breakfast with Sinclair?” I told the police that at breakfast Mr Sinclair had said that he was concerned and '

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was there’ any reason why Smith could not repay some $18,000 A he owed him from the TV cooking show,. I told Mr Sinclair I did not know the' reason, -as I believed that Smith had plenty of money. Mr Sinclair said: ‘‘It does not look as if he is going-to pay.” The police said: “Webelieve the money was from dope.” I told the police as far as I know Mr Sinclair- has nothing to do from dope. ‘Some months after my returg from the last trip, Evans asked me to go to Bangkok to purchase more jewellery. I told Evans thatMuskharn might not be in Bangkok, Evans then said “Would you like to take a chance this way - 1 will supply the money for the ruby’s, you pay half of the expenses and receive one third of the" profits.” 1 agreed. I told Arthur Stanley Smith that ! was going to Bangkok, Smith said “ I owe that -old so and so Sinclair money, he keeps asking for it that he wants it for a bar”. Smith said “What’s he want a bar for?” He gave me $3,500 in an envelope which I took to the Texan bar, Sinclair was not there so I gave it to his wife who was waiting for him. ‘The police said they did not believe one word I said and that my purpose was for heroin. I denied -this, I told them I took jewellery back. I asked the police that if they knew I had made those trips for heroin, why didn’t they arrest me, seeing that they had a warrant for my arrest. They did not answer the question. They had already told me the day*! was arrested about the warrant also'on the same day of the arrest, they said they knew Sinclair was the financier and —that if I would sign a statement saying so they would let, Paul go free and forget about the 1 kilo as help for me with the 8 kilos of heroin. I wrote a statement saying Sinclair 'was the financier to help Paul. They also said with the statement I signed that they did not want any more evidence about Sinclair.’ Armed with Fellows’ alleged record of interview, along with these and other statements he was said to have made, Royal Commission investigator Mr B.J. Whelan, visited Bob Evans. Part of his interview with Evans, which was 225 i

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presented to the Royal Commission, is alleged to have proceeded in this manner: Mr Whelan: ‘Fellows has claimed that in September, 1977, he finally agreed to go to Bangkok for you and bring back heroin, but only did so because of the pressure and threats which you brought to bear on him over the gambling debt. Is that correct?’ Mr Evans: ‘No, that is ridiculous.’ ‘He alleges that you gaVe him money for the ticket and $2000 in cash for expenses. Is that correct?’ ‘No.’ ,> ‘Did you ever give Fellows money, whether as a loan or otherwise to assist him to travel overseas?’ ‘No.’ ‘We have made inquiries and have ascertained that Fellows left Sydney on September 30, 1977, and flew to Bangkok and returned to Australia on October 16, 1977. ' D o you know anything about that trip?’ I didn’t know anything about his trip and I just met him and his wife in a pub in Bangkok by accident.’ ‘I take it from that that you are saying that you made no prior arrangement either with Fellows himself, or through any other person, to meet him in Bangkok in early October, 1977?’ ‘Yes? Later in the same interview Mr Whelan asked: ‘Fellows claims you contacted him by telephone at the Liberty Hotel (in Bangkok) and told him you had already purchased a kilo of heroin which you wanted him to bring back to Australia. Is that correct?’ Mr Evans: ‘That is totally absurd.’ Mr Evans later described as ‘a nasty lie’ a claim by Fellows th'at he (Evans) arranged and supplied Fellows with two false Australian passports in the names of Gregory Hastings Barker and William Curwen Errington. Mr Whelan asked Mr Evans in the interview if he could .. explaih why Fellows should make these allegations if they were not true. 226

‘I might say that over the period I knew him I found him to be a dreadful liar,’ Mr Evans is alleged to have replied. ‘You can see for yourself in the statements that he makes, the ones you have shown me, how many times he contradicts himself and changes his-story. In one statement he says Sinclair gave .him the passport, and in the next breath he says it was me. It could be that he did owe money for gambling, but he didn’t owe it to me and just picked my name out of the air because he knew I was associated with betting.’ They brought big Arthur Smith before the Commission, but because he was facing the conspiracy charges, he was identified only as CH instead of BL, the initials disguising his identity in the first part of the inquiry. Smith, who was on bail, recalled that Sinclair had met him at Tattersalls Club in early December 1977. He had asked if he would be interested in collecting some money from Murray Riley and Riley’s business partner, Kenneth Derley. Riley and Sinclair, Smith said, had been business partners but had fallen out. Smith said he had agreed to undertake the job for a commission which was ‘usually half what you get back’. Sinclair had arranged a meeting in a’park near the Spit Marina, where Riley had- paid Smith the money and Smith had collected his commission. Accompanied by Sinclair, Smith recalled, he had visited Singapore, Hong Kong’and Manila in December 1977, using a false passport obtained by Sinclair, who had paid all expenses. A second Asian trip had been paid for through a deal organized with Singapore Airlines - Smith had gone in connection with a television cooking program. (This was The Magic Wok ' which was later to become a successful show.) On the same day that Smith gave his evidence - he had been warned byMr Justice Woodward that if he refusedto answer questions he would be charged - it was alleged that Fellows had once smuggled heroin into Australia in the lining of a golf bag. Fellows had gone to Singapore with a golfer in February 1977. The golfer had taken his clubs with him. In a record of interview, the golfer denied that 227

the golf bag had been used to import- heroin.- But he told’ Commission that he had heard Fellows was selling heroin although they had never discussed dealing in illegal drugs. What the Royal Commission was dragging out distressed Sinclair immensely. And angered him. He had no right of-reply. He was the rubbish basket, and they tossed it all in on him. It then hit him, as he lay in his cell. Wasn’t it obvious that to save their own skins, divert the fingers of accusation, they had decided well in advance to name him if any of them found themselves in a sticky position? Bill Sinclair . . . he was always in this pub, that pub, talking to all the well known crims. Bill Sinclair . . . he was always in this barker that bar in Bangkok. Why, he fitted into the jigsaw puzzle perfectly. Yes, his part may have fitted, but it was not the right part and the finished'picture was wrong. News of what was going on at the inquiry filtered through to him in newspapers, smuggled in by guards or in letters from his family. He heard how Murray Riley had ’ ' described travelling ■‘under a number of aliases through Wings Travel because Sinclair had asked him to give the company some business. Well, at last someone was telling the truth, Sinclair reflected. Yes, he’d given Riley a letter of introduction and he had travelled quite a bit, giving the company business. If he’d been able to stand before Mr Justice Woodward he would have told him quite frankly that he’d met Murray .Riley when the ex-policeman was in charge of security for artists appearing at the South Sydney Junior Leagues Club. He had known that Murray used to be a policeman and had served a short sentence in New Zealand. Murray knew a lot of men in the police force- and was friendly with Mervyn Woods who ultimately had become Commissioner of Police, y He remembered Murray as' being a swashbuckling fellow. The fact that he and Murray had known each other years before had, of course, .resulted in conclusions being drawn. Round about 1971, Sinclair had formed a construction company, Kays Construction Pty Ltd - not large, but z the

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capable. The company had carried out some minor work at the South Sydney Junior Leagues Club. This was followed by a major contract there worth $300,000. Despite reported claims that there was ‘no competition’ for the contract, the tender had in fact been submitted to a reputable firm of quantity purveyors who had agreed that Kays Construction’s price was a fair and equitable one. Sinclair subsequently formed, with Walter James Dean, president of the club, a company called Aesthetic Arts, . which concentrated oh making backdrops for floor shows and purchasing give-away presents to members. He had reacHater that he was in a company with Murray Riley called Arcadia Top Artists, which was not true. He had not been in any company with Murray Riley. He had simply met Murray through a casual'introduction by ‘Wally’ Dean at the club. He saw Murray quite frequently after that because Kays Construction .were doing the major work. Murray was in charge of security. He had met Murray Riley overseas and had travelled on aircraft with him. In fact, on one occasion he had seen him in Hong Kong but they weren’t close enough socially to have dinner together. Anyway, he had concluded- that Murray was riot the type of man who .would sit down and discuss his affairs with him. It wasn’t difficult to imagine why they had all linked him- with Murray Riley - they were each arrested within months of each other on alleged drug offences and Murray had been found guilty. It was known too, that they were friends of a sort. Murray sent many clients to Wings Travel. Because the company was getting off the ground at the time, they sold tickets anywhere and were grateful for whatever assistance they could get. Murray sent to the firm policemen and artists, while he, Sinclair, sold tickets to people who obviously had criminal records. He had no scruples about that. His business was to sell airline. tickets, not to be the* keeper of other people’s morals. The more he thought about the claims that came out at the Royal Commission, the more he wished he could jump

on a plane and march- in before the judge and put the record straight. Wings was certainly taking a battering at the hearing. He could have told Mr Justice Woodward everything he wanted to know about the company, from its inception. The idea of the company was .put to him by Frank Henwood. It was they, and not Father O’Dwyer, as had been widely reported, who formed the company. Murray Riley had nothing to do with the company at any time, as the Department of Corporate 'Affairs records would prove.- Because Sinclair and his partner were having disagreements Sinclair wanted to close Wings Travel before it really got off the ground. '• The disagreements continued, so Henwood finally sold his shares to Father O’Dwyer, whom Sinclair had known since the 1950s when he was still a priest. He was. also an alcoholic and a compulsive gambler who eventually cured himself of the drinking habit. As a gambling man, he was seen at many race courses on the Gold Coast while at the same' time raising funds for his parish by the raffling of cars. Sinclair had. real estate interests on the Queensland — coEtst and the two men jnet up. Father O’Dwyer had also known Henwbod for a number of years. Sinclair was at a loss tolcnow why Father O’Dwyer had told the Royal Commission that he travelled-to Bangkok to tellhim to ‘go back and face the music*. What had actually happened was that the former priest had booked into the Montien Hotel and had phoned, asking him to come around to have breakfast with him. I n fact, O’ Dwyer was in Thailand, not on a mission to get Sinclair to return, but to set up an agency for Wings Travel in Bangkok. He wanted to form a company to purchase tickets in the city and Sinclair said he would ‘consider it’/ However, Sinclair had by then relinquished his position in the company and Father O’Dwyer was in the process of assuming his remaining shares. Sinclair was never to receive any payment for them, although hg and his family requested "a settlement time and time again. " Before Sinclair left for Bangkok, Paul Dole had come 230

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into the company and, unknown to Sinclair, the firm was borrowing money. This he found out through his secretary Penny. It reached the point where Sinclair said he would not attend board meetings unless the Norman Ross discount group, who had an interest in Wings, were brought entirely into the picture. Sinclair noted from the information trickling through to his cell, that the Commission had been -told Wings dealt with a large number o f drug 'traffickers, but it was not stated that a large number of reputable firms also had accounts with the travel company. And .those claims that had'been made about him issuing false passports - he had not, to his knowledge, -signed a passport application- for anyone. Sinclair heard, too, that his old friend, Bob Evans, the publican, had beeh hauled before the Commission. It seemed they were bringing everybody before the judge. He and Evans had been members of the same club, Tattersails', and because he was a publican, Sinclair believed he could be of assistance to him in directing travel business towards Wings. Evans had obviously come under questioning because of the statements made by Warren Fellows. Fellows was wriggling in all directions after his arrest, and he had named anyone he could think of. ’ Sinclair would have told the judge that, as well, if he had been given the opportunity. What Jiad never been brought out was the plain, simple fact that Warren Fellows was a heroin addict and had been in a euphoric state for most of his stay in prison and would say anything to save his own skin. A simple examination by any qualified doctor would verify that. Arthur Smith, Sinclair noticed, had also been brought before the Commissioner. He had first met Arthur through Greg and then Was approached by an Aiderman who told him that Arthur Smith was on a charge of causing bodily harm after* an incident in Double Bay. Arthur was on parole at the time and the Aiderman asked Sinclair if he could work it that Arthur could go into the municipality of Wooliahra - from where he had been banned while on 231

parole - to talk to potential witnesses. Sinclair knew the chief of detectives very well and explained the circumstances, as a result of which, the restrictions on Arthur Smith were lifted. The Arthur Smith that Sinclair knew was a man associated with off-course, illegal bookmaking and illegal casinos. Rough and all that he was, he liked the fellow. He had chatted with some of his detective friends and they had told him that although Smith had once been found guilty of rape, it was very doubtful that the conviction should have been handed down. Arthur Smith had'always wanted to travel. Sinclair had taken him on the trip through the east simply because he enjoyed his company. It was - and he would have told the Royal Commission this - a delight to travel with him. Although Arthur was known as a violent man, Sinclair had never seen him behave that way. Sinclair remembered amassociate, Frank Seres, wanted to bring out a cooking show called 77:e Magic Wok. One of the sponsors was Singapore Airlines, who made available 36000 worth of air travel. Arthur Smith had put money into the venture along with Sinclair and they had the benefit of ,air travel vouchers to fly to Hong' Kong to line up the cook. Between the two of them, Arthur and Sinclair had sunk something like $10,000 into the venture, and there was still money owing. Sinclair pondered Arthur’s statement about him obtaining a false passport. Why had he said something like that? He may have had his reasons, but it just wasn’t true. Dammit, if only he could'stand before the Royal Commission, he would deny it outright. He realized how easy it was for someone to make a sweeping statement and how unconvincing a simple denial sounded. But yes, it was as clearcut as that - he had not been involved in drug running or false passports. It went no further than that. Not involved. Not guilty.

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Rebuffed by Miss Sumalee ‘Dear Greg, , Prison has now become a living misery it’s Fellows. There is now no doubt in my mind that he has been, and always will remain, a drug addict, beyond any reasonable hope of change. The lawyers know it. -1 think it’s the real reason I see so little of them.. Soon we will be defending ourselves against these serious charges and one has to rely on an addict to tell the truth and I am by no means confident that he will. Frankly, I think truth is no part of his make up. It’s difficult for him to speak truth about small unimportant things. The morel think about this case, I am more convinced than ever before that I was always going to be the one to be arrested as the financier. Edwin Smith’s statement is always foremost in my mind. Admitted he is a proven .liar, why make such a stateinent in the first place? Bear in mind that I had never met the man until he came to Thailand in August 1978. I doubt if I saw him any more than three times during his stay and my entire conversation would not have exceeded one hour. I see no reason, if I was ever to meet him at all, why not in Sydney or on his previous trip to Bangkok with Fellows in July 1978? Make no mistake about heroin addicts, they are dangerous, capable of any mortal thing. I have seen so much of them in prison. When Edwin Smith was arrested he told very much the same story as Fellows did here in Bangkok. I believe his tutor was Fellows and that -the story was hatched in Bangkok during their visit in July 1978 . . . It’s possible that E. Smith did not intend to lie about so many people, and may not have done so if he was not arrested by an over-ambitious policeman. No possible excuse can be found for Fellows. The more he talks the more people he 233

tries to involve. I feel most loath to accept any assistance from him at all, despite the fact that he lied to put me in prison. I .would prefer to defend myself without the aid of such a person . . . Love Dad.’ r He used to take sleeping pills, but he hadn’t been able to get them and now he didn’t give a damn whether he slept or not. The heat during the night was unbearable. His Thai cell mates fell asleep under any conditions. Even Fellows and Hayward didn’t seem to mind 'that heat or the electric lights. Well, that was one advantage they gained from being bombed out. He thought a little more about addicts. You soon recognized the early symptoms - eating well, but quickly losing weight. Then the mind started to go, destroying the character. The very nature of the drug solved its own problem: the addict became a liar, deceitful, two elements that would not be acceptable in society, but be'cause he was deceitful he was able to hide it. In fact, he became a master of disguise, a past master of the art o f flattery, ‘ quick to flash a smile while avoiding placing himself at the centre of any conversation. The only time he exposed himself was when the drug was unobtainable through lack- of money. But as long as he remained solely in the company of other addicts, he became boastful and believed the lies he told. For Sinclair, it was a .relief to leave .the cell and go to court, but, paradoxically, it then became a relief to return to the jail from the courthouse. He told Iris that mentally it was all taking its toll on him. ‘I wake each morning around 3a.m. after a fitfbl sleep, then pray to see daylight through, the window. When it comes it seems like seconds when you are once again on your way to court. When the day is over you .are relieved andprison becomes a haven and not a' prison. . .Thinking about the time-1 have been in prison and' trying to relate myself to the outside world poses many problems for me. Not that I have divorced it from my mind. It’s knowing 234

youare different, more conscious of other people and their problems, a desire to listen and examine all things and recognise them for what they are and not have regard for the influence of others if it conflicts with your own thoughts. Is it possible to live that way? I don’t think the answer can be found around any old corner, or that it’s even acceptable in the world of survival. I hope I have the chance to find out. Deep down, it’s something 1 should have tried in the past.’ An odd thing occurred with Miss Sumalee. When he took a letter into her office she snatched if from him and turned her back. When he asked if there was anything wrong, she asked him to leave. It happened again two days later, and affected him to such ah. extent that he decided to write home to Greg and tell him about it. The fact that Miss Sumalee was the censor and that the letter had reached Australia suggested to Sinclair that she hadn’t read the letter properly. He told Greg: T hope as you go through life that you achieve a better understanding of women than I ever did. God knows, I have tried, or have I? Miss Sumalee has been kindness itself, acting at all times within the Correction Department’s regulations, yet I managed to get kicked out of her office today for the second time and I am damned if I know why. Make no mistake, Miss Sumalee’s temper is equal if not better than most prison guards. As censor, I know she will read this letter as she is entitled to do, but there is a time in everyone’s life that when you are truthful and not believed,, it’s better to speak than remain silent.’ At last he confronted her. ‘Miss Sumalee, I don’t know what’s troubling you, but I’d like you to tell me. Perhaps we can work it out . . .’ She stared hard at him from behind her desk, twirling a pencil between her fingers. Finally she spoke. 235

‘It was verywrong of you to say what you did to Mr Warren? He was puzzled. ‘You’ve lost me? ‘Pardon?’. T-don’t understand what you mean. What have I said to him?’ ‘I did not hold back any letters from- your wife? ‘But who said you did? Iris’s letters seem to have been arriving as frequently-as she has been writing? £ bto . . . not her? . Dao! But he hadn’t heard from Dao for a long- time. Perhaps that- was what she was on about, Miss Sumalee did not approve of Dao. ' ‘I haven’t said you’ve been holding- back any letters from Dao. How on earth did you.get that idea?’ ‘Mr Warren. He told me that you said to hirn.1 have been tearing up your letters from your wife? ‘But" I said no such.thing. And’ prove it I shall. Will you ask Warren Fellows to come here please? At first, Miss Sumalee resisted, but, seeing Sinclair was angry and distressed" she finally relented and Fellows was sent for. He stood in front of her desk. Bill Sinclair, standing alongside said: ‘Will you please tell Miss Sumalee that I did not say anything to youabout her. tearing up my letters? ‘Can’t say that? said Fellows cockily, ‘cause you did? Miss Sumalee threw her hands to her face as Sinclair, furibus, asked him again to deny it. Fellows shrugged and said: ‘You- said it? * He’dJiad a hit! Sinelair was sure of that. ‘Miss Sumalee . . . you either believe the -word of an addict, or you believe me. Why on earth would. I accuse you of ripping up private letters addressed to me? I hold you in higher respect than that? Miss Sumalee lowered her hands and stared at her desk. She, a high' ranking officer of the Thai Correction Depart236

ment, had been made a fool of. Her eyes lifted. William Sinclair saw he had been dismissed. *

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It began as a groan, uncoiling over the tin rooftops until it reached a highpitched whine. Nobody took any notice. The siren wailed often for no other reason than a' rat had chewed through the wires or a guard had fallen asleep on the button. But now, over by the hospital wall, four prisoners were at work clambering up a sheet they had ’ managed to secure. Two had reached the top of the wall, while the remaining pair had just begun their ascent when the material tore and they fell heavily to the ground,, yelping and swearing. Unfortunately, two guards were taking a leisurely stroll through the yard and, attracted by the commotion and realizing immediately what was happening, pounced. Seeing that the unlucky two on the ground were about to get the beating of their lives, the men astride the wall decided to jump. As luck .would have it, they landed right in .the arms of two off-duty policem.en. One man sprained his ankle. He was nabbed at once and firmly sat upon. The fourth Thai who looked like getting away, having made off in an opposite direction, was fired at by one of the policemen. The bullet grazed his back, knocking him down. Both runaways were soundly beaten, as had been their friends on the other side of the wall; then all four were thrown onto stretchers and carried off td x< hospital. Just in case they tried to run off again, their bruised legs were secured by heavy chains. Each Thai had only four months of his sentence left to serve, but the ■> escape attempt added several more years. They weren’t always so unlucky. A group of- trusted prisoners were sent out to clean the klongs. They soon became bored with that work and went AWOL. Home was paramount in the minds of the Thai inmates, particularly if they had domestic troubles. They simply wanted to get back to their wives to sort out the difficulties. Then they 237

didn’t mind going back behind bars. One prisoner, a policeman who had been in Maha Chai for three years, was worried because he hadn’t seen his wife for five months. He knew he had to get out to talk to her, but he couldn’t get a good escape plan together. Finally his wife turned up at visiting hours, very pregnant. The policeman didn’t explode. He simply spent the next three months pacing-the cell he shared with Sinclair and fourteen Thais saying ‘It’s not mine . .■ . it’s not mine . . . it’s not mine’. Finally they came and took him away. Others escaped simply for revenge. A Thai went over the wall with murder on his mind, tracked down and killed the man whose accusing finger had put him behind bars, then surrendered to the authorities. There Were others who had to get out because crime ran through their veins and although there were opportunities to steal or wound in jail, you usually got caught simply because there was nowhere to run. A robber who became frustrated with the confines of Maha Chai, decided that the ohe sure Way of getting out was to work his way up to trustee status then receive the benefits of an amnesty. Years later, William Sinclair and others said goodbye to the blue shirt on his final day in jail. Two weeks after his release he was holding up a jewellery shop when police closed in. Rather than go back to jail, he tried to shoot it out and fell, riddled with bullets. Two Thais from Sinclair’s cell block spent the night chatting to each other. In the morning, they went for a saunter along the roadway running past Buildings Two and Three, for they were- not potential escapees and were granted that recreation. They entered Building Nine where j political prisoners were housed and went straight over the low wall separating the building from the street. Down the road they sped and jumped on a passing bus. That was the last anyone saw of them. The duty guard was thrown behind bars, charged with dereliction of duty. Escape was very much,on the minds of six members of the Japanese Mafia, the Yakuza, who found themselves in Sinclair’s cell block after a bit of bad luck with some 238

pistols'. They had been in Thailand on a scuba diving holiday and, remembering that things were getting a little hot on the Osaka underworld scene and that guns were hardto get, decided to buy a pistol each. They were going to sneak them into Japan hidden in their scuba gear. The Thai gunsmith was very happy to sell, them his best weapons, but as soon as they had left his shop, he rang police because he omitted to tell them they needed a licence. The police picked them up at the Intercontinental Hotel. Each morning in Maha Chai where they were being held on remand, they fanatically exercised, revealing muscular taut bodies, intricately tattooed in designs based.on ancient Japanese ywood block prints. The real purpose of" the workout was to make sure they were fit enough to go over the wall, for they were plotting an escape. The Yakuza Gang of Six had made an arrangement with a Thai inmate to get hold of a detailed plan of the prison. But before the prisoner could pass the map to the Japanese, he was reported by an informer who guessed what he was up to. As a result, the would-be escapees were confined to a tiny cell under the watchful eye of a double shift of guards, No tangible evidence had been discovered on .them, so no brutal punishment was meted out. But nothing was going to hold them down. Word reached the boys in Osaka. A quarter of a million baht was paid to the right government department and the Yakuza members were soon on. their way home. •How Sinclair wished he had the strength arid the speed to make a dash for the wall and climb over. He reflected on the changes since his arrival in Maha Chai. Now the Thais were beginning to respect him. Trapped in such a situation as his, he considered, he might as well make the best of it . . . and why would anybody want to misbehave in prison? Life was tough enough as it was. He appreciated the little freedom his daily ramble brought. Often he walked as.far as Building Nine past the .punishment .block and its ritual beatings. Poor bastards; th,ey didn’t have to do very much to incur the building chief’s displeasure. Since the escape 239

attempt, the grounds swarmed with extra warders. Sinclair was always polite to them, bidding them the. time of day. No, the only way out was on bail. Greg had told him that if that happened, he would get him out of the country using the same method as Susan the Canadian girl he’d told him i about, on the bus down to the Malaysia border, through the jungle and straight to the Embassy. Ha, what would the Australian Embassy do? Send him hack to Thailand? Dreams . . . he was always dreaming about life on the other side of those grey walls. Greg’s case was now underway in Sydney and he should hear the result soon. Dear God, don’t let it go badly for him. On 24 April he heard the result. The judge had thrown out the evidence against both Greg and Debra Smith. No case to answer. Arthur Smith and David Kelleher had been sent for trial, but with two. of the alleged conspirators 'allowed to go free, their names cleared, he felt it could only help his own position. , It was. Barbara who came to the prison to pass him the good news. He was so happy, he told Greg in a letter written that night, that he forgot to get mad at her. Miss Sumalee, hearing the news through Sinclair, took it Upon - herself to add her own note at the end of the letter. ‘Dear Mr Gregory, Congratulation for winning your case. Sumalee.’ He stopped asking his legal firm to arrange his food, for not only was he still disgusted with their apparent lack of attention, he was Concerned about the mounting bills. His funds, administered by them, were rapidly diminishing although he was quite sure he was spending very little: He decided to live on the prison allowance of 30 baht a day (about AS1.50). His- young friend, Ah Hang, had been transferred so now he was paying a Chinese 10 baht a day for a plate of rice arid some ingredients. Washing was costing, him two baht and he contributed one baht to the gleaning room. He paid nine baht for cigarettes and three baht for fruit if it was available. The remaining five baht went on sundries. The daily timetable never changed 240

4.00a.m., corn flakes (if he had any) and powdered milk, or bread and jam accompanied by a cup of coffee; 11.00a.m., rice; 6.00p.m., rice with whatever the Chinese supplied. He supplemented the diet with vitamin tablets sent from Australia. His defence had now begun. Still in chains, he spent hours in the witness box trying to make himself heard above the clatter of dishes from the noodle shop outside. He proclaimed his innocence, declared the Dunn interview a forgery, and described the intention he had had of opening a bar in Bangkok. The proceedings 'dragged, the judge listening to an interpreter then writing everything down in longhand. Sinclair was disturbed one morning to see Dao in the court building accompanied by a young man who was holding her hand. The next sucker, he couldn’t help thinking bitterly. She had come to talk to Mr Lek, the lawyer, about the defence evidenceshe was going to give on her husband’s behalf. She seldom visited him in prison any more. He would only see her once in three months, if lucky. Or unlucky! She looked terrible, hair dyed red, overweight, ‘her profession clearly imprinted on her face’, he wrote later in his diary. Watching her now in the court building, he- had a mental flashback of the happier times they’d had. Chatting in the bar, dining out, setting up house. Now she could blatantly flaunt the next man in line while he hobbled around the court corridors, his legs bound in chains, his hands manacled. He didn’t want to admit it, dammit, but it hurt. Not because he had any deep feelings for her, but because he’d been such a bloody stupid old fool. Greg had been so right. It was not surprising that he turned his thoughts back to Iris that night. She had asked him in a recent letter whether he ever had a conscience about what he had done, going off to marry another woman like that. Yes, he now told her, he had a conscience, equal to most and far better than many. ‘My conscience

tells me that 241

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explanation will ever dismiss from your mind and the mind of others my actions' prior to coming to prison. I also have to try and live with it and' its not easy. I average no more than two'hours sleep a night and the nights prior to court, none at all. During the past few days Dao has been to court on two occasions to see Mr Lek regarding .her evidence. She comes with her boyfriend, or customer. I don’t enquire. We merely pass the time o f day. -After much research I think I have found the major flaw in my make up. fn ‘ simple terms, a Pan complex. It' means that from a certain point of time up until you recognise and acknowledge the flaw, you have no real age factor to govern your acceptance of standard .which change from one decade to another, ‘Because the advancement of the years -change, or „ should change, all people there are softie like myself who never believed or accepted that the saihe change was happening to them. My importance, providing there was such a thing, I believe vvas vested in me and that it had nothing to do with money. Now that my sole possessions are .a watch and a few clothes I know different. .1 know that at sixty-seven I can’t walk into a chemist’s’shop, drink a glass of something or another and the wrinkles in my arm, legs and body will disappear. ‘I can’t buy anything to put back a spring in my step when I walk and I am not God’s gift .to women and I have, in short, beeirnothing but a silly old man. That part of the Pan theory I accept. I also believe the rest of it and that is I should not, providing I am reasonably well and in good mental condition, look upon any a g e a s a barrier to a successful-career. I can look at Dao now and even laugh about it. Then there are times when I coidd cry. In a few words; just another customer. In a very short- space of time I have • come a long way down. I know J can only try to mend what I can as I can never be a big shot again in Sydney. Perhaps I can’t, and, frankly, I don’t want- tQ be., I' don’t accept defeat that easily and more than that, I won’t return to Sydney with nothing, accepting charity and trying to live 242

on a pension until such time as my allotted span comes to an end. I could never live that way. Life is not that important.’ But it was perfectly true what he had written about himself and Dao. He still didn’t know what she really wanted. Now he was?beginning to see that he had simply been another client. She had certainly had a great number of men in her life before he married her. You didn’t do the belly -dancer bit in the bars of Bangkok every night and then go home for supper with mum. And now, of'course, as long as he remained married to her,, she did have a.claim against his estate - whatever that might be - should he die or divorce her. Of course, she didn’t stand much of a chance under Thai law if he could prove she had been earn' ing money as a prostitute. A section of the law dealt specifically with a wife going into prostitution while the husband was absent. He repeatedly requested an amicable divorce, but if she continued to refuse, it wouldn’t be at all difficultfor him to get -togetherthe evidence he needed. . . Two young men on stretchers were carried through the court corridors, flanked by armed guards. That was a bad affair, Sinclair’s lawyer Mr Lek pointed out. Both prisoners were terminal cases with life expectancies of a few weeks if they were lucky. They had been arrested for petty robbery but had attempted to escape from the police. One of them was shot twice in the, anus, the other in the spine. Despite their agony, they now had to go through the processes of a trial. Life was cheap alright. He remembered the Thai who had spent just one night in his cell block before being told he_was to be transferred to another prison. He was taken to Bang Kwang and executed. They had hardly given him the courtesy of telling him what was going on.

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Guilty in Absentia X

In June 1980, Greg Sinclair made his fourth trip to Bangkok, this time to appear in court on his father’sbehalf. With him he brought transcripts of Ed Smith’s cross examination in which Ed admitted lying during his first interview with Detective Sergeant Dunn. Greg had the documents stamped by the Thai Embassy and 'legalized’ properly bound in green tape - by the Foreign Affairs Department to prove they were true transcripts from the court hearing. Greg took the stand in the ‘wandering’ witness box. He spent considerable time explaining where Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane were before at fast being allowed to point out where in the transcripts Ed Smith admitted tb having lied. Satisfied with his evidence, Greg could hardly believe his ears when the prosecution asked, through the interpreter he had had to hire, if he would remain in Thailand for six weeks to await cross examination. He refused, demanding to be cross examined there and then. After two. liours of legal argument, the judge said he would adjourn for the weekend and the cross examination could begin, on the following Monday. Utterly frustrated, Greg spent the next two days in his hotel room. He was unable tO' visit his father as visitors were not allowed at the jail at weekends. On the Monday he returned to answer what he considered to be unimportant questions that the prosecution raised from the transcripts. As he gave his answers, his interpreter, hired at considerable cost, turned to the judge, repeated everything in Thai and the judge slowly and deliberately wrote down what he considered relevant. At last it was over. The judge lifted his head, laid down his 244

pen and said: ‘Thank-you very much Mr Sinclair. You may leave the stand’ - in perfect English! Greg went back to Maha Chai Jail the -next day. He knew now it would be his final, visit. The judge’s insolence floored him and destroyed his last vestige of hope of seeing his father go free through the mercy of any member of the Thai judiciary. The prosecution in their cross examination, had mixed Ed Smith with Ned Smith, they had questioned Greg about incidents in Sydney when they had occurred in Brisbane, and generally they had given him the impression that the intricacies of the case - and the importance of the Ed Smith confession - were beyond them. His father came through the door and stood on the far side of the double set of bars. His voice was barely .a whisper, but Greg caught the words. ‘I thought you’d gone.’ ‘Don’t be silly, dad. I wouldn’t go without saying goodbye to you.’ ‘You said goodbye at the court.’ ‘I prefer to say it here. 1 want to take the memory of you in this filthy stinking hole back to Australia with me. Believe me, dad, I’ll get you out. It may take a while, but I will get you out of here.’ Greg said goodbye and made to turn. He saw his father’s eyes fill with tears. Then, as if to hide his embarrassment and the tears, Bill Sinclair raised his clasped hands to his face inlhe traditional Buddhist salutation, the wei. Greg Sinclair walked quickly away and lost himself among the bustling streets of Bangkok. Bill Sinclair returned to his room, devastated-. He had an intuition that he would never see his son again. It was true what Greg had said. It was just too bloody expensive to fly backwards and forwards between Bangkok and Australia*. This had been Greg’s fourth trip, and here he was, still in - jail without even having had the benefits of bail. It seemed he had been hit too many times below the belt. In Sydney two months later, Mr Justice Woodward dealt him another blow. Despite the fact that Sinclair was still on 245

trial in Bangkok, the judge openly declared in his August 1980 report that Sinclair, one of the principals of Wings Travel, ‘was certainly involved in drug trafficking*. When the report was issued, it was also generally known that Greg, who had been acquitted just four months earlier, was William Sinclair’s son, and that he had originally been charged with Arthur Stanley Smith and David Kelleher, who were still waiting to go on trial. Mr Justice Woodward would seem to have passed ‘premature judgement on William Sinclair whose name had been linked with the proceedings in Sydney. As it was to. later turn out, Police Major General Chak Laksanabo'onsong was to use the judge’s findings to the prosecution’s advantage, telling the court that Sinclair had been named at the Royal Commission. He produced a newspaper clipping as his proof. This clipping was accepted as a proper document of evidence by the court. Mr Justice Woodward said that Sinclair, Murray Riley and Bob Evans ‘were instrumental in introducing to Wings Travel most of those who might be described as suspect travellers . . . in the sense that they were, or later became known as, drug involved. ‘Drug related people travelled consistently through Wings Travel from the latter months of 1976 until mid-1978. The bulk of the journeys were made during 1977. With the exception of one area, there is no evidence to suggest . that these 1‘suspect’ travellers obtained any financial benefit or advantage through Wings Travel that would not have been available to them from any other travel agency.’ The one exception, he said, was the fact that Sinclair frequently gave people letters or cards identifying them as executives, or employees of Wings Travel. Father O’Dwyer, said the judge, admitted during cross examination, that a person carrying such a letter would be in a position to identify himself to customs officials and others as a legitimate businessman whose connection with the travel agency would allay any suspicions about - frequent trips overseas. 246

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‘It follows then that Sinclair could, and possibly did, facilitate the travel of his criminal associates with material -suggesting they were Wings Travel executives or employees. I have little difficulty in concluding that the allegation that Wings Travel and those connected with it were involved in drug trafficking were established. Its facilities were utilised by drug traffickers. One of its principals, William Sinclair, was certainly involved in drug trafficking and two other principals, O’Divyer and Paul Dole, may possibly be involved in drug trafficking.’ Sinclair read the press clippings forwarded by Greg. So much for justice, he thought. He was one of the principals of Wings and yet he had not been asked to give evidence. He had been found guilty in absentia. It would have been no excuse - to say that he was not called because he was facing charges - they’d brought Arthur Smith before the Commission, had they not? And Mr Justice Woodward had been to Bangkok, had he not? Surely it would not have been too inconvenient for the Commissioner to have taken the time to come to the prison, particularly as he had taken the liberty of naming him as one of the principals in the affair. Miss Sumalee, who had given evidence on his behalf at the trial, believed he would be found not guilty Although the relationship was still strained between them since the Dao letters affair, he still appreciated the rare moments when they could converse naturally as they had in the past. She was a woman ’whose life,, he decided, was clearly defined. It was obvious that she longed for the security of marriage, but he noticed that the governor she was rumoured to be so set on, never came up in conversation. How, he wondered, would she ever manage matrimony, for she was utterly devoted to her job and the demands of her mother. There was no doubt that in her early twenties and early thirties, she had been a very attractive woman. Sinclair admitted she still held a certain appeal. It was very important, he felt, that she' should break away from the. elderly members of her family, but he knew that was easier 247

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said than done. The family circle was the second most important factor in the Thai way of life. The first, he would have sworn, was corruption. -‘Mr Bill, 1 she said to him one day, ‘your writing gets smaller each time. Last time it was very difficult to read your letter? He smiled. ‘But I’m sure you managed, Sumalee.’ ‘Only because I had. some help. If one of the other prisoners had not been able to read it, I would have had to search for you and disturb you.’ ‘You showed my letter, to .someone else?’ ‘Because 1 could not read part of it and I did not want to disturb you.’ - r ... Anger exploded inside him. How dare she show his letters to all and sundry! He controlled his fury, but when he again' communicated with Iris he allowed his sarcasm to flow, purely for the benefit of Miss Sumalee. Attached to his letter was a picture of a monkey about which he,wrote: ‘The enclosed photo appeared in a Thai newspaper. I don’t know what part of Thailand this guy comes from, but he is better looking than most.’ There was more to come. ‘Dear Iris, I am printing this letter to help the censor who does, from time tqtime, have difficulty in reading my longhand. The censor is’ a’considerate person. Rather than disturb the prisoner, who might be playing golf or tennis, having a swim in the pool, or walking in one of the many beautiful gardens, to explain his own letter they ask any foreigner who happens to be-in the office what he thinks it means. It doesn’t [matter to .the censor whether the foreigner is Greek, German or whatever; He may not even speak or read English.' That’s not important either, so long as he or they, depends on how many are in the office at the time, look at the letter, grunts, or makes hand signals. The letter is then considered censored. It’s just plain bad luck if someone who .understands English is asked to read it.’ 248

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He continued his vitriolic tirade. The more he wrote, the angrier he became. Not just with Miss Sumalee, but with the whole bloody system in this goddamn awful country. Jesus Christ, they’d really poured the shit on him in the last two years. Well, it was time he tipped the bucket the other way. ‘A high born person in Thailand,’ he wrote, ‘is any person born on a mountain. Middle class is any person born on a hill and low born is any person born in flat country, and believe me there is a awful lot of flat country in Thailand.’ The next time he saw Miss Sumalee she was positively snarling, but it had nothing to do with hi$ letter. It was because of a pen he had given her as a gift; A handsome item, the pen was first given to Warren Fellows by some Syrian shoplifters who were guests of the Thai Correction Department. He had insisted Sinclair have it as a present. Bill Sinclair had not cared one way or the other, but had eventually accepted it. Miss Sumalee admired, the pen one day. ‘Oh, do you like it?’ Sinclair remarked. ‘Well then, you can have it.’. He hadn’t thought any more of the matter. However, from the beginning, Paul Hayward fancied that pen. He had been most put out with Fellows for giving it to Sinclair and not to him. He continually 'needled Fellows about it until finally, annoyed with Sinclair about something and under the influence of drugs, the two young men approached Miss Sumalee and challenged her right to it. ‘That pen,’ said Fellows, ‘is mine.’ ‘But it is not,’ replied Miss Sumalee. ‘It was given t o m e by Mr Bill.’ ‘Well, it’s my pen and he had no right to give it to you.’ Thinking Sinclair had made her look foolish, the infuriated Thai Correction Department officer flung the pen at the two Australians, who grabbed it. Imperiously, she 249

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summoned Sinclair and gave him a thorough dressing down. ‘How dare you give me something that doesn’t belongto you?’ she snapped. ‘What are you talking about?’ ‘You had no right . . . no right to make me look foolish.’ William Sinclair had never seen her so angry. He vaguely pieced together what had happened as she ranted and raved. There was no use in explaining. No use at all. If she could not see what Fellows and Hayward were up to, he could not be bothered with her. The incident put an end-to the friendship once and for all. Returning to his cell, he wrote home to Iris a minor treatise on gifts to Thais. ‘There is not the slightest resemblance between good manners in Thailand and the accepted Western principal. I shall not attempt to describe in detail the vast difference between the two and will confine myself to one example only. In Western Society, when any person makes a gift to another person, either by mail or by hand, the recipient acknowledges the gift either by a polite note or in person. The price of the gift is a secondary consideration. Western Society places the value on the thought not the price. This is not the case in Thailand. To make a gift to a Thai, personally or by mail, you are obliged to have regard to protocol. It differs front high born- to low born - I won’t worry about the low born. No one gives them anything. ‘Gifts to the high born: When you purchase the gift you mail it or deliver it in person. You enclose an invoice showing the purchase price, a receipt and a bank statement of your entire assets. The recipient compares the price of the gift and your financial standing and providing they 'are satisfied that your purchase is in keeping with your wealth, the gift is accepted. If rejected, the gift is mailed back to you clearly marked “Cannot Accept” and the sender pays . the' return postage. In the case of a gift that you have delivered personally and have rejected, you receive a letter or telephone call requesting your presence at the recipient’s

home at such arid .such a time. On your arrival you are greeted at the door by members of the Thai police force, all of them officers. They .place you under arrest and charge you with insulting behaviour. ‘Protocol follows the same procedure with middle class. The only difference is that the police who arrest you are privates. To the everlasting credit of the Thai people, they are well versed in their own arts, but know very little of Western arts. Most Thai people believe that Rembrandt was a house painter, Shakespeare an African Zulu and President Gerald Eord a used car dealer.’ He wrote on, like a man possessed. He became engrossed in his own form of sarcastic humour, for it was.an entertaining way of passing the monotony of the afternoon. It also rid him of the pain. Sumalee preferred the word of an addict He didn’t even think that if he were to ever read the letter again under different circumstances, he would have considered himself on the point of madness, ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘it’s winter time in Thailand. A very beautiful time of -the year. The coconut trees are in fruit and most of the Thai people’during their leisure hours and public holidays - which occur at least twice a week can be found in the trees drinking coconut milk and making whisky. Those that are not in the trees may look like Thais, but in most cases they are tourists. During the week I will be forwarding Christmas cards to you of local scenes, preferably of people. Thailand has long been known as a land of a million smiles and so it is. The trouble is they can’t stop, be it a wedding, a death, a fire and so on.’

1

The Christmas cards had been made in the cell, as they had the year before. Nestling, in the lavatory water tank was another cannist r of home made wine which Sinclair and some of the twenty four Thais he was now sharing with, had been brewing. On Christmas Eve, two guards entered the cell, walked straight to the container and 251

removed the wine. Laughing, one of them told Sinclair: ‘Dry Christmas? The bastards, Sinclair thought. They’d probably known for weeks. But his .cell mates helped to make it up, for the next day they gave him gifts of cigarettes, sweets, cake and soap. They then sang a Thai version of ‘Jingle Bells’, 'which brought the guards running until they "realized what it was. Surprisingly, in. view of the friction between them, another Christmas cake arrived from Sumalee. He remind-, ed himself to buy her a' bottle of perfume as a thank you.

For some months, now, his immaculate behaviour had earned him the, right to use the small garden next to the prison block. It didn’t have much, but it made a pleasant place to sifafter being confined to the verandah. Just after Christmas, Fellows and Hayward walked in and lay down on (he small patch of ’grass. y ‘So they gave you permission.too?’ ‘Permission?’ said Hayward. 'They can* stuff their permission? The guards tolerated the presence of the younger men because they mistakenly considered that the three Australians were friends of a sort. After,two days, Fellows stripped off a l l ,his clothes and lay in the- sun, telling Sinclair he had a rash on his penis and bottom and his skin needed the sun. The Thais, considering nudity offensive; objected and, despite Fellows’ claims that the prison doctor had told him to lie naked in the sun, he was removed from the garden, * . Sinclair, constantly” worried' about his weight, asked Hayward how he managed to eat. He did not receive a coherent reply, but he understood lie and Fellows ate occasionally in the prison canteen and gratefully consumed whatever else they could get as extras from.the coffee shop. It was impossible for Sinclair to arrange to get food froth outside because the lawyers were so expensive, came only 252

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