Death in a Warm Place
I’ve seen a fair few friends and acquaintances drop off this mortal coil over the years, the first ones were all traffic-related incidents, there was at least one murder, and then the usual drug-related stuff kicked in and people I knew seemed to be dying like flies all over the place until I became numbed to the whole concept. Drug-related deaths stopped affecting me, and then a very close friend died of cancer. That hit me like a ton of bricks, and I’m still hurting over her death.
In my relatively short time in the Kingdom, there has been a different sort of pattern. Beer and cigarettes are cheap here, but they wouldn’t be among the main culprits. Doctor’s prescriptions are almost unknown here, so almost anything can be bought over the counter for the right price.
Some of the deceased have probably died of “misadventure,” or as I see it some sort of self-inflicted malady. None of it has been particularly clear, because of what I see as a total lack of normal forensic procedure by the police force. While I know that certain policing units go on extended training trips abroad and study these subjects, in reality I don’t believe much goes into practice. The police arrive on the scene of a crime, but don’t preserve it, so vital information is lost. Photo-journalists are often allowed to work on the scene without any real justification. Vital evidence and possessions can easily disappear during times like this, and they do.
I used to laugh about all the cases of deaths by “dizziness” in the police blotter years back. Gradually these reports fizzled-out and the less-disputable “heart-attack” came into common parlance in such reports. A lot of people fall down stairs. I can understand this as I’ve sustained multiple minor injuries by inadvertently sliding on wet tiles, but it seems like another catch-for-all excuse. I’ve had a lot of friends die over the years, but the only one who ever died from falling down a stairs was here in Phnom Penh.
In some ways, not trying to give anyone ideas, but it would be very easy to murder someone here. You could poison, bludgeon, stab or kick someone to death and you’d probably get away with it if you positioned the corpse by the bottom of a flight of steps. If they somehow snuff it somewhere else, just toss a few syringes around the room, case sealed. What might go against you is just how observant many of the locals seem to be, and the fact that you just don’t look like them. You could try wearing a helmet and gloves and wrapping a kroma around your face or whatever on your getaway, but you’re unlikely to blend in.
In the absence of CCTV systems, a neighborhood full of snoops does the job instead. Although it seems very free and easy, you can’t do jack-shit here without some neighbors noticing, and they’ll stitch you up when the man comes around asking them questions. You could always try hiring a local hit-man, but they have a habit of getting caught and singing. If someone else wants to kill you, you may have a terminal problem. Any of you could easily die here, and none of your mothers would ever know what became of their blue-eyed-boy. That’s something you’ll just have to get used to.
Dermot Sheehan
