Clue

"Jeez. Somebody's gotta kill these guys." said Cliff.

"Who?" I asked him.

"These damn gun nuts. I'd like to walk into the headquarters of the NRA with a coupla MAC-10's and blow the buncha bastards away."

"You reading the letters to the editor again, Cliff?"

We were in the lounge of the Pension Grilparzer. Cliff dropped his paper on the bar and said "What the Hell else am I supposed to read on this island? Look at what's here." He waved an arm at the shelves of books that lined two walls. All the books and magazines at the Pension, like anywhere on Phuket, have been left behind by tourists and gathered for resale by the hotel maids. Lots of romance, political intrigue, and out-of-date tour guides. It's tough to be a serious reader on Phuket.

"And just look at this!" growled Cliff, sliding a dog-eared magazine down the bar to me. It was the December 19, 1994 issue of People Magazine, and on pages 112-116 there was a big feature story about Charles "Chuck" Betcher.

Back in the mid-1990’s everybody on Phuket knew the name. Chuck was an American who died in May of 1994 of wounds received while in police custody on Phuket. The cops said that he ran amok on the island for two days before they arrested him. They say he tried to blow up a gas station, smashed the contents of a fancy gift shop, and threatening to have his friend Bill Clinton drop an A-bomb on the island, claims backed up by the owner of a gas station, the owner of a fancy gift shop, and seemingly everybody, farang or Thai, who ran into Chuck during the last 48 hours he was a free man. The police say that while they hate to arrest tourists, especially rich tourists, they were finally forced to lock him up to protect the citizenry, and within hours of being incarcerated Chuck bashed his own head against the wall of his cell, fracturing his neck.

In the People Magazine article, Chuck's family said that Chuck had no history of mental illness, that he was a responsible businessman, a good ex-husband to his ex-wife, a health nut and mountain climber. His curriculum vitae, as reproduced in People, was very impressive. The family said Chuck was killed for approximately 150,000 baht he was supposed to have been carrying. Family friend Gerald Ford wrote to Bill Clinton asking for the State Department to look into the matter. It’s no surprise that the Thai Tourism Authority never advertised in People.

That figure, 150,000 baht, even at the exchange rate of the time, seems small to me. At about the same time Chuck's head was meeting the wall, (the cause of death is not disputed, only whether he did it himself or was helped) my friend Bob was sitting in his little Toyota at a stop sign in Rawai. Two Thai kids came along on a motorcycle at a very high rate of speed, and instead of going around Bob's car, tried to go through it. Bob, aged 72, was charged with two counts of murder and put in jail.

He eventually paid each of the families of the dead boys 30,000 baht for funeral expenses, paid the lawyers 40,000 baht for their time, paid the friend that the boys had borrowed the motocycle from 50,000 baht for a new bike, and he paid the cops 130,000 baht to ensure that he would stay in the country until his court date. As soon as they let him go Bob boarded a plane and left Phuket for good, after ten happy years on the island. That’s 250,000 baht that Bob paid for being stopped at the wrong stop sign at the wrong moment.

The 150,000 baht that Chuck was supposed to be carrying doesn't seem enough in Phuket's economy to buy the conspiracy of the cops, the dozens of people who all testified that Chuck was acting like a loon before the police ever nabbed him, doctors and nurses at four hospitals and the American Embassy staff who failed to notify Chuck's family that he was in trouble during the six days it took him to die from his injuries. I might kill a man for that kind of dough, but I'm one of the few people on Phuket who would.

And at the time I knew Malee, the massage matron who Chuck’s family claimed to be the evil mastermind behind Chuck's assasination, and whose picture graced the top of the first page of People's article. She had a prime location on the beach in front of the Holiday Inn, and in high season pulled down at least a couple of thousand baht per day rubbing fat Italian thighs with coconut oil. She was a harmless old Isaan peasant, who might cadge a few gifts out of gullible farang now and then but wouldn't risk getting sent back to Nakhon Hell for money she could earn legally.

And I know Phuket. Here's what I would say to Chuck's family if they ever wandered into the Pension Grilparzer and asked me my opinion: It wasn't the cops, or the hospitals, or even Malee the She-Devil who killed Chuck. It was The Rock.

Stronger, saner, smarter men and women than Chuck Betcher have come to Phuket in Royal Orchid Class and gone home in a black plastic bag full of formaldehyde. But millions more come there every year and go home not only alive but raving about the place to their friends. People like me, less strong, less smart and perhaps less sane than Chuck, make a comfortable life there for years.

In my experience the ones who lose their fortunes or their lives on Phuket are the ones trying to take advantage of the place, to make quick money, to score drugs or little boys or rubies from Burma. I don't know what Chuck was after, Malee said that he was always alone, and would spend days walking Patong Beach, talking to himself. She also said that he had been to Phuket several times, and spoke Thai as well as I do. People Magazine did not report this.

The manager of the guest house in which Chuck stayed said the cops found lots of prescription drug bottles in his room. People Magazine also failed to mention this. They did report that he had come to Phuket that May from Nepal, where he had spent some weeks trekking and visiting holy shrines.

Maybe Chuck had had an epiphany among the temple bells and thin mountain air and stopped taking his medications before he ever landed on Phuket. Maybe he had a lithium imbalance, or maybe he just had a romance go South. I think that it's interesting that when Chuck called a friend back in the States to say he was afraid for his life, the friend recommended that Chuck leave the country, but Chuck said he couldn't get a flight out. This is in May, remember, the low season, when even a 72-year-old man, out on bail and charged with a double homicide, with his passport locked up in the desk of Rawai’s chief of police, can get a flight out of the country.

But one thing I know: the difference between the quick and the dead on Phuket is a thin line, and usually it's greed or lust that pushes someone across. And then there are the poor bastards who are just plain unlucky, like Bob. Maybe Chuck's luck simply ran out, and it just happened to happen on Phuket.

© Steve Rosse. All rights reserved by the author.

The author can be contacted at: shavethemonkeys@gmail.com

----------------------------
If you enjoyed this you can easily purchase Steve Rosse's book 'Thai Vignettes' online here at Bangkok Books.com: http://www.bangkokbooks.com/php/product/product.php?product_id=000025&sub_cate_name=&sub_cate_id=

Most books published by Bangkok Book House are available at Asia Books, Bookazine, B2S, Kinokuniya, Suriwong Chiang Mai, DK Chiang Mai, Pattaya, Lampang; all airports, many hotel outlets, supermarkets (Villa, Friendship Pattaya), The Books (Phuket, Krabi), Singapore including airport, Hong Kong airport and many smaller independent outlets throughout Thailand (www.bangkokbooks.com).