nightmare in laos - kay danes

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kay Danes is the bestselling author of Families Behind Bars - Stories of Injustice, Endurance and Hope (2008).

Kay has addressed several U.S. Congressional forums on democracy, was a key note speaker at the US National Press Club, and is the only Australian ever to be invited as a panellist to the 61st Conference on World Affairs (2009) attended by 91,000 people. She was humbled and honoured to learn that previous guest speakers included Eleanor Roosevelt and US vice-president Joe Biden.

Kay is a member of Rotary, providing ‘Service Above Self ’ to local and international communities, and is the Australian Liaison for the Childlight Foundation for Afghan Children.

She is also recognised as one of Australia’s top social justice Ambassadors. Kay gives a close perspective of third-world political processes, social justice and the struggles of people in developing countries, such as Afghanistan, and their resilience to overcome adversity. Her own personal survival story is inspirational.

2010 sees Kay exploring the aftermath of 911 in an adventure that takes her to the heart of a warzone, Afghanistan, with a team of intrepid American explorers.

www.kaydanes.comPO Box 391, Capalaba QLD 4157

Kay is also listed on numerous global sites: www.foreignprisoners.com,www.childlightfoundation.org,

www.facebook.com,www.youtube.com,www.asauthors.org, and www.globalspeakers.com.au

Nightmare in Laos

The True Story of a Woman Imprisoned in a Communist Gulag

Kay Danes

Every effort has been made to contact the copyright holders of material reproduced in this text. In cases where these efforts have been unsuccessful, the copyright holders are asked to contact the publishers directly.

First published in 2006 by Maverick House Publishers.This edition published in 2010 by Maverick House Publishers.

Maverick House Publishers, Office 19, Dunboyne Business Park, Dunboyne, Co. Meath, Ireland.

[email protected]://www.maverickhouse.com

ISBN: 978-1-905379-08-8ISBN 13: 1-905379-08-0

Copyright for text © 2006, 2010 Kay Danes.Copyright for typesetting, editing, layout, design © Maverick House.

5 4 3 2 1

The paper used in this book comes from wood pulp of managed forests. For every tree felled, at least one tree is planted, thereby renewing natural resources.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved.No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for insertion in a newspaper, magazine or broadcast.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

I dedicate this book to all who have survived life’s challenges and hope that this story will give courage to those who are continuing to endure their own personal struggles. This particular journey has shown me that the human spirit is capable of enduring the seemingly impossible and that we should never give up our hope!

DEDICATION

Heartfelt appreciation goes to my husband Kerry Danes, who insisted we would regain our freedom without having to sell our integrity, and continues to inspire courage in me. The same applies to our children, Jessica, Sahra and Nathan, who bravely never gave up hope and made us so very proud. And to my parents Noela and Ernest Stewart and sister Karen who took such good care of our children and managed to stay sane under the pressure.

I would like to thank the Australian Government, Prime Minister Mr John Howard for believing in us and promising our children he was doing everything possible to bring us both home safely, and the Australian Foreign Affairs Minister, the Honorable Alexander Downer, who kept calling for our release and made his staff, the often unsung heroes, available to provide 24 hour support to our families, in particular, our children.

Huge thanks to the former Australian Ambassador to Laos, His Excellency Jonathan Thwaites, who will always be my real life hero and to whom we owe our freedom. He held us both together when the way forward seemed impossible, and became a friend for life. Thanks too to his wife Eve who opened her home and her heart.

Thanks too to the former Director of Consular Operations, Ian Kemish, who negotiated the ‘form of words’ that finally secured our release from prison.

My sincere thanks go to the tremendous Australian Foreign Affairs staff who do so much for Australians detained overseas and rarely get any credit for their tireless efforts. Special thanks to John McCarthy who went to Laos as a special envoy to engage Lao Officials on behalf of the Australian Government, Louise Waugh who provided personal care and professional Consular support

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

far beyond expectations, Robin Hamilton-Coates who gave us encouragement and honest advice prior to us being returned to the prison following Consular access, Dr Ben Burford, John Judge, Keith Gardner, and all the staff of the Australian Embassy for their support.

My added thanks to: Greg Walsh, Tony Fox, Martin Hodgson, Geoff Spiller, Lowell Tarling, Norma and Bill Jamieson, Colonel Paul Noonan and the Australian Department of Defence (Army), Con Sciacca MP, Michael Choi MP, Andrew Hellewell, Dr Sin Vilay, Kat Ditthavong and the Assembly of Lao Representatives Abroad, Noel Scott, Geoff Thompson, Kimina Lyall, Nelson Rand, Stuart Bromley, Mark Brockhurst, Dr Pao Saykao, Australian SAS Association, Robert Allen Jr, David Corretore, and Harold Christensen.

Special appreciation to: John Mooney and all the team at Maverick House Publishing for making this publication possible.

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Prologue

The memories of the time I spent in Phonthong Prison will never go away. When I close my eyes, I can recall even the minutest details of the prison. I see the faces of the guards as they drag prisoner after prisoner to the torture room. I hear the screams; ‘please stop’. But no one in that room takes any notice. What will happen to them; those who have no embassy, no help and no hope? Among them, my husband Kerry takes his turn in the torture toom. Then it’s my turn. I’m terrified.

My ordeal was hell. Looking back I wonder how I ever endured the squalid conditions, the mock executions, the torment and the torture. So much despair. Thousands of prisoners would never see their families again; most likely they’d die in those dungeons. There aren’t many positive things I can say about that experience, except that perhaps now I’m more aware of the plight of thousands of political prisoners in Laos, and their untold suffering. I value my freedom now more than ever. Some would say that Kerry’s and my ordeal was part of a much bigger picture; thinking of those I left behind, and how desperate I am now to help them, I’d say, maybe they’re right.

Serving time in Laos for a crime I didn’t commit was a nightmarish experience. What began as a dispute between a foreign investor and the Lao Government turned into an ordeal of catastrophic proportions, for me, for Kerry, and for my family.

N i g h t m a r e i N L a o s

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Without the support of our Government and the media, things might have turned out very differently. Our three children might have been orphaned indefinitely. We were lucky. Many aren’t.

As you read about the degradation that we suffered in Phonthong, I hope that you will be encouraged and strengthened by our story. There are many rights we sometimes take for granted, but few of us ever ask what would happen if those rights were taken away? I’ve always believed in democracy and free speech but I never fought for these privileges. I never had to. And I only realised how valuable they were once they were taken away. I never believed, for a moment, that I could be so violated and, at the end of it all, have no avenue for redress. I am forced to live with the injustices that were done to me and Kerry. I am determined to not let those injustices defeat me.

Once upon a time, Laos was a peaceful and Buddhist nation ruled by a revered monarchy. The violation of Laos’ neutrality by North Vietnam plunged the country and its people under the control of a one-party, authoritarian communist regime, equally as oppressive as the military junta of Burma. The King and Queen, all the members of the Royal Family, their military advisors, and thousands of ordinary Laotians were driven to the seminar camps where many of them perished. The regime then attempted to erase the memory of their demise from the history books. This is the nature of today’s Laos government.

The people of Laos are still oppressed. They deserve a government that will provide an open-society, transparency, basic human rights and economic prosperity. I hope that this book will highlight the perpetual suffering of the people and the tragedy that continues to ravage their country. More than anything else, I hope that this book will bring hope and dignity to those who have been stripped of their most fundamental rights.

No one deserves to be tortured.

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ChaPter one

The Abduction

My nightmare began when the Secret Police came and took my husband Kerry away. It was the afternoon of 23 December 2000 in the city of Vientiane in Laos, and the day had started out like any other. There was no dramatic prelude to his abduction; there were no telltale signs that anything was wrong. We had no idea that we were in danger. You could say our lives were absolutely normal. The only indicator that something was seriously wrong came just as we were preparing to leave our office. We were on our way to Thailand for our Christmas holidays when we were suddenly faced with an interruption, in the form of a visit from a colonel of the Lao Secret Police. His name was Bounmaly Vilayvong.

Laos was full of corrupt officials like Bounmaly and they extorted money and gifts from foreigners whenever they got the chance. Bounmaly was different; he was dangerous as well as being sleazy. He was also known to intimidate foreign businesses in order to gain control of their investments.

Our company provided security to many local and foreign companies in Laos on a contract basis, and I was wary of his reputation. Both Kerry and I knew what he was capable of. With my business acumen and Kerry’s experience with the Australian


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SAS and the contacts that gave him, we had established ourselves as the reputable security company, and we had heard many rumours about Bounmaly muscling in on foreign investors. He had left us more or less alone up until now, but on that day he was insistent that he talk to Kerry about one of our 75 clients, a company called Gem Mining Laos. Neither of us realised that Bounmaly was deadly serious when he said he wanted to talk. Our minds were on other things. We were looking forward to Bangkok.

Kerry assured him that he’d meet him the following week after our holiday. Bounmaly agreed and we thought nothing more of it.

Two hours later, Bounmaly returned. This time he was accompanied by several police who arrived in six black cars, which pulled up one after another outside our security headquarters.

I was the first one to sense that something was wrong. I’d seen them coming from my office window. When I told Kerry what I saw, he told me to leave immediately. Obviously he agreed that trouble was on the way.

‘Take the kids and go. I’ll catch up with you later,’ Kerry said.Within minutes, Bounmaly had forced his way past our staff

to storm into our office just as Kerry picked up the telephone to alert his superiors.

‘I think we can talk now!’ he said as he signalled Kerry to put the phone down.

Neither Bounmaly nor his police team seemed to have any interest in me. Kerry just looked me in the eye, urging me to go. I made for the door at my husband’s instructions and ignored the apprehension that swelled inside me. I would collect my children and make our way to Bangkok.

Our driver was waiting downstairs. When I stepped into the car, I instructed him to get me home fast. I prayed that whatever was going on with Bounmaly would not delay Kerry too long.

As our car headed home, I stared at the phone and waited for Kerry to call. I tried to remain calm but inside I began to fall apart.


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I just continued to stare at my mobile, wishing for it to ring. It took me a few minutes to realise that I’d actually picked up Kerry’s mobile phone. Then it rang.

‘Madam ... they take Kerry!’ It was Kerry’s assistant, Ting. I could barely make out her

words. ‘They take him to Hatsady, to Immigration. Don’t worry

Madam, I follow Vilayvong on motorbike.’This was not the news that I wanted to hear as I felt my heart

race. I begged Ting to keep following them while I rang our company lawyer.

Robert ‘Bobby’ Allen ( Jnr) answered in his usual Boston drawl. I quickly explained what had just happened. He assured me that he would go straight to the Immigration Centre and sort things out. I ended the call and tried to ring the Australian Embassy but I couldn’t remember the number. My mind had gone blank. I was now shaking. After taking a few slow breaths, I managed to call my company’s Contract Manager and asked her to call Louise Waugh, a diplomat at the Embassy. I knew she would help.

I was brought back to reality by two of my children when I arrived home. With our eldest, Jess, back in Australia, Sahra who was eleven and Nathan who was seven, were still at the excitable age coming up to Christmas and were eager to get going on our trip to Thailand. They had heard the car approach and had run outside to meet me, but they were expecting the two of us.

‘Where’s Dad?’ Nathan asked. ‘I don’t know. Bounmaly took him away,’ was all I could say,

and shoved the children and our bags into the car. In those few moments I received a string of calls. The most

important came from Louise Waugh, who called to say she was working on the case. In fact, she said she was at the Immigration Centre demanding access to Kerry. This was news I desperately wanted to hear but it gave me a false sense of security. I convinced myself that Kerry would be freed at once. In my own mind, I


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convinced myself that once free, Kerry would make his way to Thailand and we’d be well beyond the reaches of Bounmaly. I convinced myself to stay strong.

I bundled the children into the car and ordered the driver to head for the Friendship Bridge on the Laos-Thai border—just as Kerry had told me to. As we sped off, Louise called again and promised to meet me at the border crossing. The drive took less than an hour and we got there before she arrived. By this time I’d become frantic. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about Kerry. I stared into oblivion thinking only that I had to get my children to safety. That’s why I didn’t notice the policeman approach our car and take our passports from our driver.

Before Kerry was taken, we’d often crossed the bridge but we had never been stopped or questioned. Moments later the police surrounded the car. It was Bounmaly and his men.

‘Hello Madam,’ he said, as I spun around to see him standing just behind me.

He blew smoke into my face as he spoke. The next few minutes passed in a blur. My mind went completely blank as he started ranting about missing sapphires and Gem Mining Laos, a company we had provided security for in the past. I insisted he search my bags. I had nothing to hide. Seconds later, he ordered his men to take our bags from the car. They scattered their contents all over the side of the road.

I couldn’t believe what was happening. I controlled my emotions for the sake of my children but Bounmaly sensed my fear and took advantage of the situation. He stared at me, never once breaking eye contact. He then mouthed a few orders to his police and one by one, they produced knives and began to cut open Nathan’s soft toys. This was sick; he was only seven years old, and they were slicing open his favourite toys, traumatising him with their unnecessary cruelty. When they’d finished, they threw the toys away and I grabbed at them to stuff them back into a suitcase. Bounmaly never said a word. He just looked in my direction.


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Nathan was in tears, but there was nothing I could do to stop what they had done. Louise arrived minutes later but she too was powerless to stop them. The rest happened in slow motion, or at least that’s how I remember it.

At this point, I began to lose grip of my emotions. I was overcome by a sinking feeling. I was carrying US$50,000 in my rucksack to pay subcontractors I was due to meet in Thailand. This was for my own business, completely separate from Lao Securicor. I was terrified that Bounmaly would find the cash and condemn me, or simply steal it.

Looking back on that day, I think Bounmaly sensed I was nervous about something. Rather than let me go, he insisted on searching my rucksack. His men had searched everything else and found nothing. Rather than allow him to find the cash, I told Waugh to tell Bounmaly about it. On hearing this, he marched me into the border’s Immigration Building. I just had enough time to tell the kids to stay close to the car and wait for me to return; hopefully when everything was sorted out and explained.

Once inside the room I emptied my rucksack onto a small rattan table. By his startled reaction, you’d have thought I’d placed a kilo of heroin in front of him. Bounmaly insisted I’d broken some law but couldn’t think which one. I argued that I hadn’t because the Government had relaxed its law to accommodate foreign investors. The money was the payroll for my Thai subcontractors. Bounmaly was having none of it. He next insisted on a strip search and moved menacingly towards me. The thought of his filthy hands touching my body made my stomach churn. I backed away in fear, which he seemed to enjoy. When he saw my reaction, he laughed and ordered a female officer to search me in another room.

With nothing incriminating found, he then made his move. He instructed his officers to seize the money. There was nothing I could do. He had got what he wanted.

When he took the cash I thought I would be freed. For a moment, I actually managed to convince myself that I was heading


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for Thailand. But I was wrong. Hours had passed and it was now dark outside. The border crossing was completely deserted. Eventually they agreed to allow me to check on my children, who were still waiting downstairs by the car.

I reassured them that things would be okay. Suddenly, I remembered Kerry’s cell phone tucked under my shirt. I told the policeman escorting me that I needed to use the toilet. Once inside, I switched on the phone and scrolled through its electronic phonebook, looking for Kerry’s Special Forces contacts, but I stopped when I heard someone approach.

‘Mum?’ Sahra spoke through the doorway. ‘Where’s Dad? When can we go?’

I put the phone back under my shirt and left the confines of the toilet to hug my daughter. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I’m scared,’ she whispered.‘It’s gonna be alright. Don’t worry, okay?’ my voice broke and

I held back my own fears. ‘I have to go back upstairs; take care of your brother.’

‘I will.’I hoped and prayed that this would all be over soon. I couldn’t

leave my children standing around the car much longer. They were hungry, tired, and confused, not to mention scared. I wanted to get them out of this situation as fast as I could. I only hoped that I was able, and soon.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me I was in serious trouble though. In my heart I knew I wasn’t going to be freed. This suspicion was confirmed when I was taken back into the building’s custody suite. One of the officers produced some paperwork, which looked like a statement. I was told to sign it. I refused, arguing that it was improper for me, as a foreigner, to sign something I couldn’t read. I pointed out that I didn’t have a lawyer present but this meant nothing to my interrogators. They seemed content to let the hours pass by. As time went on, I couldn’t help but fear for my children. I needed to see them. Eventually I agreed to sign my name at


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the bottom, with the words that my money had been unlawfully detained pending investigation.

The police couldn’t read what I’d written but took it as a confession and marched me out the door. They escorted me downstairs and tried to force me into their car. I resisted. I demanded to be transported by the Australian Embassy. I wanted Louise to know where they were taking me. We spent the next hour arguing until finally they agreed to allow my driver to take me in our car on the strict condition that I was accompanied by a police officer.

Once we’d sat into the car, the policeman said we were going to the Immigration Centre at Hatsady. I prayed it was true as I sat in the back seat with my two frightened children.

We arrived at the centre, with Louise in tow. She arranged for Sahra and Nathan to be taken to my sister-in-law’s house. I kept calm as I didn’t want to frighten them. Although I was terrified, I felt slightly better once I knew they were going to be safe.

The officer who travelled with me in the car then ordered me inside. I told my driver to stay with our children and reassured them everything would be okay.

Louise attempted to follow me inside the building but they wouldn’t allow her entry. Instead she handed me her phone and I vaguely recall talking to an Australian government official who was reassuring me that everything would be fine.

When the police took me inside the building, they marched me up a dark stairwell to a small room on the third floor. The door slammed shut moments later. When my eyes adjusted to my surroundings I saw two women asleep in the corner on a bunch of wooden school desks. They were Thai.

The police had allowed me to take a bag with me into the holding cell. This contained Nathan’s army sleeping bag and a jacket. I wrapped myself up in the sleeping bag and used the jacket as a pillow. With my back to the Thai girls, I curled into the foetal position and stared blankly towards the dirty windows a few feet


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away. I kept wishing that Kerry was somewhere in the building but eventually gave up trying to figure out where he was as exhaustion set in. I tried to will my mind into blankness but it didn’t work, and with frightened thoughts swirling around my head, eventually, I cried myself to sleep. I was frightened, worried, and had no idea of what lay ahead.

***

Over the next two days, our lawyer and the Embassy tried to make sense of what was going on. But it was increasingly clear to them, if not to me, that our lives were in grave danger. I just didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. We had dealt with difficult situations before, but this was something that could really put my life at risk. I still didn’t know where Kerry was and just assumed there had been some terrible mistake that prevented us from leaving Laos. I’d been looking forward to a new stage in my family’s life, but this was far from what I had expected. I’d signed a lease on a new four bedroom penthouse apartment in the heart of Sukhumvit, Bangkok, where I planned to expand my bodyguard business. My two youngest children, Sahra and Nathan, had no idea that I’d enrolled them in an international school that boasted the latest computer technology, air-conditioned classrooms and playing fields that stretched for miles like oceans of green. It was a huge contrast to Laos where facilities were not always very good, if they were to be found at all.

It was to be a great surprise but instead, I found myself pacing the floor inside a room at the Lao Immigration building. After some frantic planning and upon my agreement, the Australian Embassy staff managed to evacuate our children from the country. It was a hell of a thing to expect from an eleven-year-old girl—to take her seven-year-old brother across two countries. But the Embassy had insisted that it was for the best. I hugged my children goodbye, kissed them gently on each cheek and prayed they would


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remain safe under the watchful eye of Embassy staff, until they arrived back in Australia.

They hadn’t taken Kerry’s phone from me so I rang his military commander in Australia and told him what had happened. I then rang my father and he promised me that he would find a way to bring me home. That same afternoon, the police came and took me from the Immigration holding cell. I had seen my husband taken from me, seen my children forced to flee the country, and had been taken into custody for some unknown reason. It had been a traumatic couple of days, but things were only going to get worse. My nightmare was only just beginning.

nightmare in laos - kay danes

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