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A Story Of Greed, Attempted Extortion .... And Ladyboys!


JaiDee

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Chapter 7

If anyone reading here has viewed or discussed ladyboys on the internet within the past decade or so, one guy in particular has been responsible for that more than anyone else. Because as the model for all LB websites which come along in later years, his website launched in 1998 was the pioneer in a now-crowded field; basically all other sites including my own just followed his example, and the guy behind it was considered "the man" in the business and in Bangkok for that whole decade and still is, actually. You may have read his posts on various message boards as Seanchai, although he was much more active around 1999-2005; since then he has been extremely busy and posts less and less, but any old-timers would remember him well.

I first met him in 2000; I had contacted him for a job because I thought the business looked interesting, so we met at the old Crackhouse go-go bar on soi 13 in Bangkok to discuss it. Because I had no photography skills and still needed to spend 90% of the year in the west at that time, he politely declined my offer so I just figured I'd just do it all myself and make my own. No one likes competition, but even when I told him this he was extremely cool and nice to me, and when I entered the game a year later we started a half-hearted friendship; my respect and gratitude for him had never wavered and still doesn't to this day, he is just a plain good guy, a straight-shooter in a dirty business filled with cutthroats and scammers as this story plainly suggests.

So of course when something bad happened to me in the spring of 2006, not one other person came into my field of thought; the moment those 2 assholes took away my passport I fired off an e-mail to him, just a quick SOS letter saying "call me as soon as you get this". I had seen him just 5 months earlier in Las Vegas; my L.A.-based webmaster and myself had driven across the desert to take in the AVN awards, kind of like the Oscars of the porno world, with a 3-day convention featuring all the big porno companies wrapped around it. Seanchai had his own booth there, selling DVD's and creating a buzz about his various multitude of projects. One night he treated us all to steaks and then drinks with some of his heavy-hitter friends atop the Mandalay Bay VIP lounge over-looking the strip; it was heady times for all and it always went unsaid that we would watch each others backs in that crazy world we circulated in.

After sending that one and only e-mail I headed back to the bungalow, and by now Noi was standing at the entrance to my porch with this "what-the-fuck-was-that-all-about?" look on her face. She had heard the whole thing but of course the language barriers made her oblivious to the whole situation, the seriousness of it all. Before I could even get into my planned and long-overdue hot shower, my phone rang; it must have been 3 or 4am in the UK, where Seanchai was at the time, but the moment he saw my panicked mail he had rung me up. I explained the whole thing to him, rambling on like an insane person or at the very least a conspiracy nut. He listened intently, ''uh-huh, uh-huh.....yeah, what else man....'' and I told him everything that had happened over the past hour. He took it all in and didn't say much; then there was a brief silence which felt like forever and he comes back and says; "You've been scammed man; this was done by some people close to you".

I couldn't comprehend what he was saying, it all sounded too bizarre, and I was the one who had lived through that whole intense grilling, not him. But he knew Thailand and especially the bizarre circles we ran in better than anyone did, and he sounded so calm and self-assured about what he was saying. "There wasn't a Thai person behind all this, it doesn't sound right, it's just not the way they operate; this was all done by a westerner". I couldn't believe it, and in reality it took me a whole WEEK of second-guessing and chasing down dead ends before I took as gospel that it was someone close to me who did this, and here Seanchai was telling me that from 6 time zones away just 15 minutes after it all happened. I thanked him, still skeptical but wanting to believe what he had said was really the case, and we prepared to hang up. Then he said one last thing which would be my mantra for the whole next month as I moved fast and hard to bury those 5 little cockroaches; "You've been scammed, man; figure out who it was and go get 'em".

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Chapter 8

Lefty and PD, as well as anyone else who had heard various parts of this story over the past 5 years; I figured the whole, complete story would just bore you so I never really told it all completely, either in person or on my old message board. So this long story is all true, now complete and 100% exclusive to this website, and now I can look back and laugh about it so I hope anyone reading here can enjoy it also. But do use it as a tale of caution for your future travels in Asia; weird things happen in 3rd world countries when people are desperate, broke - and, frankly ....lazy.

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After I hung up the phone I had to get my shit together and get showered and put my head on straight. I still wasn't completely sure that what my English friend had told me was true, and in fact it would take a full week before I knew the whole truth. But what I DID know was that I had to get up to Bangkok and start working on these clowns, no matter WHO was behind their bullshit. The boats leaving the island were all full for that day, and in any case I couldn't get a plane back to BKK from the mainland even if I had wanted to. My flight was booked for 3 or 4 days later, but a quick call to the airline and I had it moved up to the next day at 4pm; I would be back 'home' by 5pm or so and could really start working on who was behind all this. I guess the 5 people involved figured I would just cave like some pussy and pay them off, and they hadn't counted on all the contacts and friends I had in Thailand to back me up; mistake number one on their part.

I spent the day with Noi; it wasn't a good day to be alone and I couldn't sleep at all, so we just kind of laid around watching the tube and me working the phone to my Bangkok contacts. 2 guys I reached out to right away were full-blooded Thai guys, one born and raised in Bangkok and still living there, the other an American living in BKK and whose parents were Thai from Trang province, not far from where I got hit. I will call them A and B [actually not uncommon names for Thai people]; they agreed to meet me at the airport at the appointed time so now I just had to stay safe for 24 hours before I saw them. No need to move from my resort; dumb and dumber had what they wanted and had left the island already so they wouldn't be back, and the Aussie guy had my telephone number programmed into his phone and started texting me that same day, telling me to stay on schedule and not play any games, not to contact the police or any friends, etc..... and he never did get the 50K he wanted from my ATM card; mistake number 2.

Proving yet again that the criminal mind isn't all that bright, he also left me a very important piece of paper which would prove to be part of their undoing; on it was just 2 pieces of information, yet in the proper hands [mine] it would be very helpful at uncovering who was behind all this. The names and numbers below are fictitious, but the paper was simple and looked kind of like this;

S. Wattanapanit

Account number; 8923336677

Kasikorn Bank

also an e-mail address to contact fat Aussie guy; xyz@yahoo.com

I was told to wire 2 million baht into that account as soon as I got to Bangkok, and to either call or write the Aussie dink as soon as that was done. Yeah, right. Regardless who was behind all this nonsense I did know one thing; I wasn't paying shit. I had worked too hard to earn my living and I had kids facing college bills soon; I am going to hand these guys 60K US dollars for no fucking reason? Wrong......getting out of the country and uncovering the boss behind all of this were my only priorities, not paying off some lazy cunts who were too fucking stupid to make their own way.

First things first; spend the day on the island making contacts, boat to the mainland the next day, and back to Bangkok on the 4pm flight. I also worked my e-mail account and contacted anyone who I thought could help me; I was basically rallying the troops and it was good to know how much support I had waiting for me back in the big city.

I flew up there and arrived at the airport at the appointed time; B was inside the arrival lounge for my flight and when he spotted me he was actually looking BEHIND me, to see if anyone was following, perhaps someone who flew up with me on the same flight. When we both realized I was alone we went out to the car; A had his Honda double-parked on the curb just outside the exit, a place where no one is allowed to park for even 30 seconds; he had been there for 30 minutes. I threw my shit in the back and climbed in and we drove off; I was still very panicked by this time and had only slept maybe 3 or 4 hours in the past 3 days and hadn't eaten anything, I just couldn't keep anything down.

These 2 guys did a great job calming me down as we weaved through Bangkok rush-hour traffic on the way to A's mid-town condo; no way I was going back home, they had my address there. A and B were getting more info out of me during this time, and looking at one another with skeptical looks on their faces while uttering some Thai which I couldn't understand. A knew the city and culture very well and B was his best buddy, living in BKK for 6 years by then and running his own business. They both agreed on one thing and B turned around to tell me while we were heading back to the condo; "This was not done by Thai people; if these were really Thai cops behind this you would either be dead or in jail by now. Lets get you back home and figure out who did this to you".

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Chapter 9

MY farang buddy M later joined us all at the condo, and by now I was calm and relaxed but

still not convinced that what had happened to me just 2 days prior wasn’t the real deal.

Despite the positive words from A and B, as well as Seanchai and my friend M, who all agreed

that this was an inside job, *I* was the only one had been targeted and *I* was the only one in the

room that morning who had the shit scared out of him by 2 gorilla-type assholes. So I still wasn’t

sure, but A and B were and were already talking about “some guys we know down in Khlong

Toey who will knee-cap these motherfuckers for 10 thousand baht”. Sure sounded better than 10

million, and getting some type of retribution against these mental lightweights would certainly

be coming, but it wouldn’t be done with physical violence and with any trail leading back to me;

it would be done with cunning and patience, making sure all these weak-ass ducks were lined up

in a row before pouncing.

By nightfall I was securely ensconced in a suite-style hotel on soi 24 Sukhimvit road; my

rented home wasn’t far from there but again, I couldn’t go near the place for fear they had it

staked out. I had a scheduled flight leaving for Amsterdam in 5 days, but seriously feared that if

all of this was indeed legit as soon as I showed my passport at any border checkpoint or airport

immigration booth I would be held until “the General” or one of his underlings could come get

me. Remember, the 2 guys in my room basically knew everything about me, so I just assumed

my e-mail was hacked or at the very least they had excellent information from some source close

to me; so whomever had sent them would also know I was bound for Holland 5 days later and

would be waiting for me at the airport if I didn’t pay up. But paying up was never a serious

option; the moment those 2 guys left me I never considered it for even a moment, escape and

exposing them were the only things on my mind.

A knew of a way to smuggle me outside the country via the vast Cambodian border, bypassing

all checkpoints and then taking a car to Siem Reap, where I could catch a flight to Hong Kong

and then on to New York City, but he advised against this and said “just stick with your original

plan, no one will be waiting for you at the airport”. I wasn’t so convinced, and by now my phone

was ringing every few hours with Aussie guy on the other end; I never picked up once, and in

fact we never talked or saw one another ever again, so he started barraging me with threatening

texts messages which went unanswered as well; basically, ‘pay up now or you’re fucked’. B was

even more pissed than I was that 2 farang assholes were in cahoots with a Thai national to scam

me and kept saying we should just flush these guys away; set up a meeting in the city and “for

10K baht these fuckheads will end up on the bottom of the Chao Praya, never to be heard from

again”. Tempting, but no.

On day 2 in the city I had to do one very important thing, and that was secure a new passport.

Luckily I was able to talk my way onto the flight back to Bangkok without one, but for all intents

and purposes I was now in Thailand illegally and without proper identification. 100% convinced

that whoever did this would have the U.S. embassy staked out, I brought along 2 friends, one

to go 100 meters south of the entrance and one to stand 100 meters north while I entered from

the north on Wireless road, all 3 of us with our cell phones in hand and on, looking for anyone

suspicious whereas I would get a call and bail out. Proving once again that the criminal mind is

very weak, and making mistake number 3, they didn’t have anyone at the embassy and I strolled

in unmolested. If you have ever had any serious trouble in a foreign country you will know the

great feeling I had as I entered that lovely building; seeing the huge stars and stripes flag and the

large gold eagle on the wall behind the desk, I realized that I was 100% safe in here; this was

U.S. property and land, not even the local police could come in here, and in the very worst case

I could just declare what had happened to a consulate official and be whisked out of the country

under their protection. But I wasn’t at that point yet and didn’t want to involve my government

as that would lead to very uncomfortable chats about my line of work, so I simply went up to the

desk and told the pretty young Minnesota girl that my passport was stolen while on vacation in

the south, which was the truth. No problems at all; for 3000 baht it would be taken care, simply

come back 24 hours later and for now enjoy the rest of your vacation, Sir.

Back in the room that evening, I kept thinking back on all the shit these 2 guys had thrown at

me in the room, and I started to envision in my mind just how they knew all that stuff; I had never

seen either one of these guys in my life and yet they knew me better than some of my closest

friends in the whole world. They either tapped my phone, hacked my e-mail or were sent in there

by someone who knew me VERY well; or all 3. Then it hit me; one dude was Australian, and

I knew a Thai Ladyboy who was married to an Australian now, and we were really close 3 or

4 years before all this. She was smart, scheming, and had the means to pull this all off and she

was greedy enough to do just that. She had already jacked some American guy out of 50,000

dollars (his own fault, typical lovestruck western fool that he was) and would have absolutely no

qualms about trying to relieve me of 7 times that amount. We hadn’t talked or been in touch in a

year or 2, but of all the Ladyboys in my life she knew me as well as anyone and would certainly

know the majority of what those 2 guys had laid on me as we had dated for a solid year while

she was in college. This chick was now suspect number one and was about to be hit broadside

with an attack from the one guy who could make her life a living hell, and guilty or not her life

would be turned upside down over the next few days until she talked and told me exactly what

she knew about what was going on.

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Chapter 10

I first met {C} in January of 2003. She was living in Bangkok, having moved down from a small

town in the Golden Triangle to attend university; at that time she was 21 years old and not

yet a prostitute of any sort. She was referred to me by another ladyboy I knew, a very cute girl

from Sukhothai who sent over all her university friends for work, for which she would get a

small commission. C was just my type; small and slim, cute face, hormone breasts, spoke good

english, etc. . . it wasn’t more than 45 minutes into her first photo shoot before the drapes were

closed, the camera was put down, and we were going at it like 2 farm animals on the bed in the

hotel room. This wasn’t uncommon; what WAS unusual was for me to ever call someone back

after this kind of activity, but she was different and I wanted to see her again; and again.

We carried on through much of that winter, and I enjoyed her company. She would come

over after class in one of those sexy-but-utilitarian schoolgirl uniforms which are ubiquitous in

Bangkok, and would oftentimes spend the night. I wouldn’t call what we had love, as I am

still not convinced that true love can ever be achieved by 2 people from such disparate cultural

upbringings, but we surely liked one another; I wasn’t paying her for her time and she wouldn’t

have come over so much if she didn’t enjoy our time together. Her patience with me was really

quite amazing as well; she was smart and knew that if I had had sex with HER within an hour

of meeting her, what was I doing with all these other girls in my telephone and on these various

photo assignments? But she stood by me, and even when I went to Bali and Jakarta for a month that winter to work with 30 new models she was waiting for me when I got back. We even went to her small town in the far north of Thailand for a week in November of 2003, something I have never done with anyone else before or since.

By spring of 2004 our relationship was on the rocks; all she had to do was open the website

or read my forum and she could see what I was doing with these other girls, and after a while

she was tired of it; she also saw how I was making a lot of her friends wealthy by setting them

up with foolish western men trying to buy themselves a ladyboy girlfriend, and she wanted in on

that. And one of the guys I had sent to meet her was the mother lode; after just one night together he had deposited 3000 US dollars into her bank account, declared his true and undying love for her, and took her on a multitude of shopping trips. Needless to say, Jai Dee the butterfly man who rarely spent more than dinner and drinks on her was now out and the new guy flush with cash was in, especially since he lived in the states for 10 months a year and could rarely see her, only send more and more cash; ladyboys love that scenario. He was in his mid- 50’s, couldn’t fuck all that well, had a lot of green and wanted to spend it on her; he even paid for her to have her SRS procedure, something I would not only never pay for but would never even consent to.

By now it was summer of 2004 and we had split up, although we remained friends and I even got to test out her new vagina on a trip we took to Phi Phi island just before I flew back to the states that June; sponsor-boyfriend was told she was visiting family in the north.

By 2005 that poor sap was history; she had drained him of more than 50K dollars on various

credit cards and on a multitude of shopping trips, as well as her post-op surgery from supposedly the best doctor in all of Thailand which had cost 5,000 dollars, then told him to beat it.

The new guy in her life was from Australia and somehow she had secured a valid passport to live in that country, and she told me via e-mail that they were now happily married and he knew she was once a ladyboy and was OK with that. Good for her, it was always her dream to live in

the west and she had finally gotten what she wanted, and we were still friends so I wanted the

best for her in the end. Again, this girl was extremely smart, even more than most street-wise

Thai ladyboys, and she was also college-educated and spoke perfect english; she would have no problems making it in this world. . . or perhaps pulling a giant scam on someone who had more money than she did.

So in May of 2006 she was the first one who entered my mind of possible suspects, it just

made sense with all that she knew about my personal life and with the volatile nature of the 2nd

year of our relationship. So I sent her an e-mail from my hotel suite, just flat-out asking her if

she was behind all this crap. Her reply came just hours later, and as expected it was of the “what are you talking about”? nature. That’s not gonna fly. I wrote her again and told her I knew it was her, and that soon she would be exposed as a liar and a thief and she may as well fess up now and get it over with. More innocent replies came from her end, while more anger and frustration came from mine. By now it was day 4 and my sleeping patterns and food intake were all messed up and erratic, and I surely wasn’t thinking straight nor making good decisions on maybe 10 total hours of restless sleep during that whole stretch. What I would do next doesn’t make me proud, but it was necessary at the time to either keep her suspect number one or delete her from the list all together.

C had been one of the top models for the website in the years 2003-2004, for the small

minority of men who liked small and petite “femboy” types. Appearing every 3 months or so,

we had added her often because she looked good and she also wanted the exposure; by now she had various ‘sponsors’ set up through the site, one of whom even paid for her small boob job. She looked good, liked the camera and the camera liked her, and the customers liked her as well. I had done all these galleries myself and they were done with her cock still attached; in fact we only did one with her new vagina, and by the time she was “cut” and making it in the world as a lady she didn’t want her past exposed so she asked me to remove all the galleries of her, probably 10 all told. No problems, they were gone within the week and there were no traces of her for her new husbands family or friends to see. I still had them of course, they were just behind-the-scenes.

One letter to my webmaster friend in L.A. could change all that and make her a public figure

once again, and it was some pretty serious leverage to hold against someone. I told her my plan in my next mail to her, but she still wouldn’t budge; “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about JD, why don’t you believe me?” At that time the website was getting over 50K unique hits per day, which meant that free surfers (non-members) were hitting the site in droves; being on the cover and on the free tour meant being seen by hundreds of thousands of people in a week. I told Andy in Los Angeles to make her the solo cover model, cock fully exposed, and to add 10 or 12 photos to the tour, all with cock showing. Once those were live a few hours later, I sent her a link to those pages and her reply was obviously one of shock and dismay, but still no admission of guilt; I had called her bluff and yet she still didn’t change her story. She wanted to call me and explain her side, but I wasn’t giving out my number and I wasn’t calling her, e-mail would have to do.

By now I had someone staying with me for moral support; Chompoo was a good friend and

a ladyboy I had known even longer than C, and since I didn’t want to be alone during this awful

12 time she had agreed to come over and spend a few nights helping me sort this all out, from a Thai angle. The replies I had been getting from C by this point were all in pidgin english, and

looked suspiciously like someone was TRYING to make them look that way. Chompoo agreed

and said “these letters were not written by a Thai person”, making me even more certain that C

- or someone she was working with - was the one behind all this. When I told her this, the reply

came back from her Aussie husband and in perfect english this time; “you are correct, these were written by me and I apologize, but C is too distraught to even write you back; she has no idea why you are trying to destroy her life like this, she hasn’t left my side in months and we have no idea what you are talking about”.

By now her photos had been up and live for about 12 hours, her life as a boy which she was

trying desperately to hide exposed to all the world. I told her they would stay up there forever and more would be added until I got a full confession, but none was forthcoming. Chompoo and I,as well as my 2 farang friends who were visiting at that time, were all convinced by now that she wasn’t involved in any way. I had fired a full shot across her bow, and had much more ammo left in the arsenal, but when someone is innocent and really has nothing to tell you about something, it just becomes obvious after a while. I left the photos up for a few hours more, hoping for a confession but only getting more real letters from C professing that she had nothing to do with it and to please remove them. By now it was obvious she was not involved in any way and I fired off a letter to Andy in L.A. and the photos were removed later that day after about 18 total hours; I sent a letter of apology to her and her husband and explained my story fully to them hoping they would understand, and C was officially removed from the list of probable suspects

*Footnote to this part of the story; about a year later I received a desperate and panicked letter from C. In it she basically told me that she was on the run and hiding in Europe, and that if I ever heard from the Aussie husband to play dumb and act like I didn’t even know her anymore and never heard from her at all, and when that poor sap contacted me a month or 2 later I played along for her sake. Turned out she had taken him for all he had, emptied

his bank accounts and had started a new life in Europe; proving once and for all that my suspicions about her were not all that unfounded after all.

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Chapter 11

THE nights were not going so well during this whole period; being the victim of an ongoing

crime is not very fun. Sleep was very hard to come by and I needed someone there to hang

around with and listen to me vent and I will always be grateful to Chom for doing just that, and

I was eating sparsely at best; leaving the hotel suite was a very rare occasion indeed, and I was

losing weight and sleep at an alarming rate throughout this whole sordid affair. I needed to keep

my telephone on just in case one of my friends were calling with info, but that also meant that

the knucklehead from down under could call at any time or keep sending me his vile messages;

I ended up buying a new SIM card at the 7/11, gave the new number only to close friends and

then promptly flushed the old one down the crapper. This was also a ploy to flush out anyone

who was stupid enough to give my new number to the criminals and have them call me on the

NEW number, thereby instantly leading to the conclusion that it WAS indeed someone in my

close inner circle, but it didn’t turn out to be that easy.

Along about the 5th day after I had gotten hit and just before I flushed that SIM card, I got a

call from Harold in Pattaya; he was kind of a 2nd -tier friend at best and would never get the new

number, but he did have the old one. He had been tipped off about my predicament via a letter

I had sent out a few days before to a few people I knew well, and he was calling to express his

sympathies and to offer any kind of help he could provide. Not really I said, but thanks anyway;

he reminded me that we had a friend who was a private eye of some sort and lived in Pattatya,

an American guy whom I will call Tom, and that he would be happy to talk with me about all of

this. I agreed and he rang me up about an hour later, but his call didn’t produce shit except some

tough talk and some bullshit about “some mafia guy from New Zealand who basically owns all

mob activity in Pattaya; he doesn’t like anyone else moving on his territory and he may have

been sending you a message”. Yeah, whatever; that call lasted even less time than Harold’s did

and I just filed those 2 clowns away.

Tom was a curious character in a city full of them. Standing about 6 feet 2 and with a broad

build, he carried himself as some sort of a modern-day Marlboro man. About 45 or so, he was

always chain-smoking butts and had a 1970’s -style thick mustache, tinted-frame glasses and a

head full of wavy hair - he actually would have preferred to have been considered more in the

mold of a Thomas Magnum type, but that never took for me; we had met a few times and I just

saw a semi-retarded tough guy with a junior high school education at best. He had befriended

Harold a few years earlier and on the rare occasions I would visit Pattaya to pick up my content

and have a beer or 3 with Harold he would tag along. His tough talk always made me chuckle;

it was “fuck this”, and “fuck that” about everything, or “I’m telling ya’, I am going to kill those

motherfuckers someday”, garbage like that which made everyone around him nauseous, me most

of all. He talked like he was some kind of a mobster from New Jersey, when in fact the word on

the street was that he was an ex-card dealer from Nevada who couldn’t get work anywhere these

days, and was now scraping at the bottom of the Pattaya shit heap, a decidedly unpleasant place

to be. He apparently had some kind of a business as a private eye, and same as anyone who has

been in Thailand long enough and wanted to come across as a tough guy he would always talk

about his “connections” in law enforcement and in the local crime circles. Yaaaawwnn. . . being

a Yank myself I just saw him as another wannabe cowboy who watched way too much TV as a

child and was passing himself off as something he could only dream to be.

We had crossed paths twice in the previous year; once when we had met up under a street

light in Bangkok for him to hand me off a CD-disc of ladyboy ‘content’; he had told me he had

15 sets of Ladyboy photos, done by an anonymous friend of his who had considered getting into

the business but had then bailed out. Would I give him 100K for the disc, along with the signed

release forms, and with the right to use them any way I chose. I told him no, but 70K would be

acceptable and so we met outdoors on Soi 4 Sukhimvit; I didn’t even like the guy enough to grab

a beer with him and the feeling was surely mutual. The other time was when I introduced him

to D, a very talented but lazy webmaster I knew, one of my employee’s at the time who did all the

advertising. D had started out as a great worker 3 years earlier, and actually made the company

a lot of cash for his early adverts placed into mass multi-spams, Yahoo groups, shemale and gay

newsgroups, message boards, and anywhere else where ladyboy-lovers congregated in the early

days of porn in the internet. His awesome-looking web pages which featured galleries done in

exotic locations like Phuket, Bali and Samui sold the site like hotcakes in the early days, and he

really knew his work. But he had met some girl, a real Thai girl, and she was literally driving

him nuts and his work suffered; by the time I introduced him to Tom he was producing less and

less and I finally had to let him go. My referral to this guy, who wanted to build a website for

his budding private eye biz, was based on the 3 years that D did good work for me, and once I

handed him off to Tom I could only hope he would do the same, but in reality I wasn’t his Dad

or even his boss anymore so I was out of it. But both of these at- the- time minor occurrences

would come into play in a huge way about one week later.

One more thing about Tom; along about 2004 or 2005 one of the customers had contacted

me about his runaway girlfriend. This poor gent had fallen in love with a Thai post-op from the website, and could

I please help him track her down? He had already spent well over 500K baht on her in gifts

and clothes and sex, and now she had run off and changed her cell phone number and e-mail,

etc, and he hadn’t been in touch with her for months and was heartbroken. I had heard stories

like this for years and had little compassion for people with more baht than brains, but I figured

I could pass him on to Tom and it would give him a little business as well as maybe help this

Chinese guy mend his broken heart if he could track her down. The word I got from Harold later

on was that this wannabe private eye pretty much ran an open tab on poor Mister X from Hong

Kong, coming up with false expense slips and basically drinking away a couple hundred grand

while conducting a wild goose chase up in Issan for a few weeks before finally telling Mister X

“sorry, couldn’t find her”. Again, these are the kind of people you can expect to deal with when

you are working in the sleaziest city in an already-shady country, and I never even counted that

dim-witted moron amongst my friends; he just wasn’t someone I wanted to know in any way,

shape or form and I figured I’d never see or hear from him again in my life and good riddance.

But this was now night number 5, with only one night more to go before I flew off to Amsterdam,

and we hadn’t yet figured out who had started all this garbage. So Tom and Harold quickly

faded from my thoughts as I had come up with a scheme which would involve my Thai friend A

and a few of his local buddies. What happened over the next few hours would not only prove to

be great fun, but in a perfect world we would also scare a few of these peckerheads right out of

their little ratholes and into the spotlight.

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Happy you like it Flatpack - this thread was actually posted last April and May in similar fashion, one chapter at a time over about a month period. Some minor problems came about so it was removed, but now those issues are resolved so we are running it again in the same style for people who didn't see it the first time.

Everything written actually happened! Only the names have been changed ......more installments coming soon.

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Chapter 12

I was introduced to my Thai buddy A back in 2004 through mutual friends; he had somehow

met my friend B along the way and they got along really well, and A became friendly with

myself and a few other farangs whom he would never have met under different circumstances.

As mentioned before, B was my good friend already and was a full-blooded Thai but had been

raised in the states; he would have been about 35 at the time this all happened, while A was

about 10 years his senior. Typical in an elder male situation, B always gave him a deep “wai”

whenever he entered or left a room, as a typical sign of respect. But this wasnt just respect in the

older male/younger male sort of way, A had some sort of mysterious power, family wealth and

connections which commanded respect from all.

He lived in a beautiful high-rise condo complex in the heart of downtown, a few miles from

Sukhimvit road. I never asked about his business dealings and never quite knew WHERE his

power and wealth came from but he certainly had it; the incident where he parked for 30 minutes

at the airport curbside parking spot waiting for me while a police guy stood guard over his car was

just one minor example of how he seemed to break the law with impunity while never suffering

the consequences which the rest of us surely would. My friend M even told me that A had a

long-time high school friend who was really high up in the Thai version of the FBI, but as usual

these stories of connections and “knowing people” always struck me as B.S. unless the person

could back it up; turns out he could.

A liked hearing my stories and enjoyed having me over his place well before all of this

happened; he found my line of work to be interesting if not just a little bizarre and always

peppered me with questions, and he never did quite understand my fascination with ladyboys.

So when I came up with a scheme to hopefully scare a few of these dickheads out of hiding, and

I needed a few locals to put it into action, he was the first one I thought of and he accepted his

part with great alacrity. Besides, B was not believable in the role I needed him to play; he had an

American accent in his otherwise-flawless Thai, and he also had a family member who was very

famous and a well-known cultural icon in Thailand; I didnt want him getting exposed through all

this and I am sure he didnt want that either.

So on the night in question I went to his condo building with a farang friend of mine who was

helping me out a lot that week, thankfully acting as kind of a bodyguard and he had gone with

me to the embassy as well. As we approached the lobby to As building, I saw 3 ninja-looking

characters sitting on the sofa outside; dressed all in black, they looked imposing even for Thai

men of normally small stature, and they kind of stared us down as we entered. We went up to As

place and I was anxious to get started, and as usual for that week my adrenaline was pumping

and I wanted to get going; I was also quite nervous because I would be showing myself in the

most visible place possible, Nana Plaza. I had figured that if these 2 guys knew me and the scene

so well, they may likely be in Nana Plaza as it was where all the farangs went to blow off steam

and meet girls. I didnt text or call Aussie guy, I just hoped that he and his friends would be there

and we could surprise them, or at the very least word would get back to them about what was

going on.

A was in no rush, as usual; Jai Yen and all that. He told us to have a beer and relax, and B

was also there and he would be going home soon but wanted to see how this would all play out.

My plan was to have A play the role of a Thai police officer, and be my escort for the evening.

He relished the thought, and had on some nice khaki pants, shiny loafers and a collared shirt, and

looked totally believable as a high-ranking Thai cop; he had also hired 3 REAL police guys who

he knew to come along with us. They were off-duty cops who had the night off but for 10K baht

between them they would happily come along; they were the 3 meanlooking guys we passed on

the way in and they had their service revolvers under their jackets.

A literally had no idea where Nana Plaza was, nor had he ever even heard of the place and he

lived only 5 miles from there and had lived in the city his whole life. Its not a place for locals; its

over-priced and touristy, and when the locals want to fuck or have fun they give the place a wide

birth. My friend and myself rode in the Honda with A while the 3 coppers followed in their own

car. We got to Nana and headed straight for Obsessions on the ground floor, all 6 of us entering

at one time and we must have been quite a sight. A and myself sat in a booth and he motioned for

the 3 cops to surround us and they did; one even kept standing with his arms folded and looking

deadly serious, while the other 2 just sat and looked around everywhere but at the stage, which

was now filled with 50 nervous and gossiping ladyboys. It was my hope, my PRAYER, that one

or both of those 2 fuckheads from the bungalow would be sitting in there and on my orders the 3

cops would pounce on them and haul them outside, that was our agreement. It would be great to

have the numbers on MY side this time, and we couldve ended this whole drama right then and

there if they were in the place; but no such luck.

After a beer we moved slowly up to Cascades on the 3rd floor, making sure to walk by

Casanovas and to make damn sure all possible ladyboys and farang customers would see us. By

now we had created quite a stir in the plaza; ladyboys who would normally run right up to me and

give me a hug or come sit next to me in the bars were told to back off by one of the 3 crew-cutted

Thai cops, who spoke zero English but who had no problems making their point known in their

native tongue. I was enjoying it and frankly it was the best 10,000 baht I had ever spent; even

when I went to use the toilet A would nod to one of his guys to follow me and the guy would

stand outside with his arms folded and would then escort me back to my seat. It was all quite

surreal and A was doing a perfect job and I was introducing him around as Colonel X to anyone

who would come near us, who would then promptly run off to tell one of their friends and after

an hour the word was all around the plaza.

We went down to Big Dogs and sat on the railing facing the plaza, me, my farang friend and

A all sitting down in a row, with the 3 Thai cops in their black windbreakers and tight black pants

standing right behind us; even if A couldnt pull off his role )but he could, easily), these 3 guys

were convincing as hell because they were indeed policemen. One seemed to be the boss, maybe

he was a corporal or something and a bit older than the other 2, and he stayed close to me at all

times while the other 2 scanned everyone who was walking in and out, trying to see the 2 pussies

who had hit me based on the description I had given to A. It was here that my buddy F who also

ran a ladyboy website came up to me and showed me a text message in his mobile phone which

he had received about 30 minutes earlier from a Casanova ladyboy; “DONT come to Nana Plaza

tonight, JD is here with the police”. Ladyboys are generally scared of cops because of a lifetime

of discrimination and having to deal with different laws than the rest of society usually faces, so

this message was surely being sent amongst themselves as well, and they were scared shitless

whenever the 6 of us were walking around or entering bars. The plan was working.

Even F believed it was the real deal, and I introduced A as Colonel X and explained how he

was here to help me catch those extortionist lightweights who had tried to scam me, which he

knew about by then. The 3 guys behind us barely said a word all night except to one another,

they never had a drink, were extremely intimidating and never smiled, no one you would want to

fuck with. F stayed for a few more minutes, and all 6 of us stayed on that railing for another hour

or so before packing it in and admitting that our hunting expedition wouldnt bag any assholes

tonight. I thanked the guys very much and we all left with nothing gained; but it was 2 hours of

sheer joy, relaxation and finally no stress or worries for me for the first time in a week; and we

had sent a clear message out to the whole Bangkok scene that I had important friends who were

protecting me and I was not to be messed with. The way ladyboys yap more than anyone I knew

that this whole strange occurrence would be disseminated and spread throughout the community

within hours and indeed it was.

So one more night down, with one more night to go before my early-morning flight to Europe,

and still no clear proof about who was really behind this whole game. I hadnt even gotten one

e-mail from them, one thing I was seriously hoping for because I knew my many hacker friends

could dig out an IP address from the headers and in a perfect world we could go right up and

knock on someones front door. But that never happened and it looked like I would be flying off

in 36 hours without ever knowing who had done this to me; or would I?

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Great story JD, cant wait for the next "release". However, I can relate to your feelings at the time it all happened ,working in a foreign country makes one feel more than alone at times, good for you having those friends. It would have been nice to have such friends while I was in Zaire during the civil war and in Teheran during the revolution. I know that helpless and lost feeling too well.

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Guest Fiedollah

Top read ! :hi:

i echo everyone else on this as read before but still just as gripping this time around.

Thank you JaiDee and hope all is well.

Fie

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THE 6th day dawned with me once again getting almost zero sleep, still tossing and turning

in my bed trying to figure out who was behind all this or if what those 2 guys had told me

in the bungalow was indeed the real situation. If so, and if someone with big power was indeed

their boss, I would surely get pulled out of the immigration line at Bangkok airport tomorrow

and possibly sent to jail; or much worse. With the benefit of hindsight of course it was a silly

thought, but at the time it was a very real possibility and it scared the crap out of me as it would

any person working in the sleazy and dirty underground of a strange 3rd-world country.

The last day in the city would be spent saying my goodbyes and touching base with my small

group of close friends and supporters; only a handful of people whom I trusted completely ever

came over to where I was staying, and I was extremely grateful to one friend who had gone to my

house on soi 49 to get my suitcase and a bunch of clothes and anything else I needed to go to the

states for 5 months. This horrible situation had made me so sick and nervous that I barely ate a

thing that whole week and I had lost about 20 pounds, and the bags under my eyes were that of a

man 10 years older; I was absolutely wiped out and had barely slept at all the entire week. I had

come through Amsterdam on my way over in January, spending a week hanging out in one of

my favorite cities and I even hooked up with 2 ladyboys I knew from Chiang Mai who were now

living in Paris and had come up for a few days to chill out. So my return trip went through there

on May 28 and would eventually deposit me back on my home soil in the northeastern United

States 6 days later, but I really wasn’t in any kind of a mood to party or to visit anywhere; I just

wanted to get home.

Regardless, it would have been expensive and pointless to change my ticket at this point and

in any case I wanted more time to work on all this before I got to my residence and would have

a whole plethora of ‘other-life’ problems to deal with there. So I packed and planned for my

departure and all the while was still wracking my brain about this crime and who was behind

it but the answer just wasn’t coming. A and B had recommended a local private eye who was

known to do very good work, and I had gotten his e-mail address; I would indeed contact him

once I got home, but for now there just wasn’t enough time to meet with him and explain my

story, and I needed to keep my schedule and get home as planned. I had a lot of information,

including the cell phone number of the Aussie guy as well as the piece of paper he had given me

with the bank account number, the e-mail address and the full last name of the Thai involved,

even if the first name was an initial only. All of these things would prove to be helpful in the end

and they would be going with me when I took off and then passed on to to whomever ended up

working with me on this.

I’d like to tell you that what happened next was some sort of divine intervention or even just

an extremely lucky stroke of memory kicking in; but in reality I’m not sure exactly what it was

which caused me to remember and the word Epiphany has been over-used in the public lexicon

so often over the past few years that I will refrain from using that hackneyed clich here as well.

But it was very similar to what you would see in your favorite cartoon strip when someone gets

a bright idea and the artist throws in a bright light bulb just above the character’s head, with

the symbols for “on” all around it and the persons eyes widening with excitement. I was just in

the shower that evening, about 12 hours before my flight, when it just hit me out of nowhere;

“Harold, you cocksucker, YOU got the letter!” I ran from the shower still soapy and not even

bothering to dry off or get dressed; my laptop was on the kitchen table 10 feet away and I lunged

for it and went directly to the “sent” outbox on my Gmail account. In it from 10 days prior was

the letter I had sent out 4 days before I got hit, telling my friends which island I was on, how

much fun I was having, all about the big party coming up in 4 days, and I even included a link to

the resort I was staying at. As usual when I sent a mass mail to my friends, some of whom may

be of completely different backgrounds and lifestyles, I actually had sent it to myself and opened

up the BCC window and included 10 or 12 people who were friends and all of whom I trusted;

or so I thought.

I looked over the list; Nope, M and S are my nieces and they live 8000 miles away, they

weren’t involved. My sister, 10 years my senior and a professional artist on the other side of

the planet? Brother the pilot who had 2 grown kids and a college-professor wife? Naaaaa. . .my

webmaster in L.A.? Nope, he was too busy living his own life and didn’t have any designs on

ripping me off and besides, why would he cut off his meal ticket at the kneecaps? My Austrian

buddy now home in Vienna? Not his style, and besides he had a lot more cash than I did. More

friends followed, all unimpeachable, and then at the bottom there was one e-mail address which

stood out above all the rest; Harold. Harold you asshole, YOU did it. As mentioned earlier, he

had contacted me in early May to hopefully resume working for me, but we hadn’t really been in

contact all that much since the previous fall when he scammed me out of 140K baht. For some

reason, and for which I will always live to regret, I was too trusting and considered that the worst

was behind us by now and so I included HIS name in that letter; he had gotten it and now knew

my exact location, something I had taken great pains to hide over many many years of throwing

people curveballs to always hide where I truly was at any given time.

I couldn’t believe it, the solution was staring me right in the face and

and I was 99% positive now who I had to blame for all this, the ringleader behind the whole thing. He would have known every bit of information those 2 gorilla’s had on me, even about my family and my mother and

where they lived, etc. . . we had talked many times over the 2 years that I had known him and

despite his many flaws I found him to be gregarious, worldly, well-read and an entertaining

fellow and I had enjoyed many private chats with him about many different topics including

family life. He also surely knew about the business from the insides of the operation and would

even have a rough idea about how much was being made and other information he could fill those

2 creeps with. They had obviously been good students at the school of J.D. and now I knew that

this fuckhead was their teacher; perhaps along with someone else?

For the kids keeping score at home that is now 4 assholes from 4 separate countries; Harold

was a British subject living in Pattaya, the name on the paper was obviously a full-blooded Thai,

and we also had Hansel and Gretel from Australia and New Zealand. I had 4 people tagged and

bagged now, and I just needed to drive one of them out and expose them and then make them

sing about the rest of the group, as all criminal losers do once they get busted cold. Harold had

played it cool on the phone when we had talked 2 days prior, acting all innocent and surprised

and pledging to help me get whoever was behind all this, when in reality it was HIM the whole

time; you dickhead, you are about to go down hard.

My week-long nightmare was finally over, and just in time to catch my taxi to the airport;

I didn’t tell anyone what I knew, least of all tip off Harold, and as usual patience and perfect

timing would be the key to nailing these people. But I felt relieved because I now knew that there

was no General, no one watching the airport or the immigration booths, and that I would simply

walk right through and get on my Lufthansa flight with no worries and so I did just that. I took

the window seat in a 2-seat row, happy to put Thailand and the worst week of my life behind

me, and a friendly little old lady sat down next to me. She was about 75 or so, an ebullient old

English gal who was chatty and just leaving Bangkok on the holiday of a lifetime, and would

surely love nothing more than to talk with a younger American lad all the way to Holland. But

as the wheels went up I placed my head into my sweatshirt and then up against the window, and

stayed that way for the entire flight, no bathroom breaks, no food, no drinks. . . I swear I didn’t

hear or feel a thing until those same wheels touched down at Schiphol airport 12 hours later. As

I awoke to the glistening Dutch sun shining brightly on my left cheek the old lady had a look of

astonishment and a wry smile on her face as she said to me “I have never seen anyone sleep that

soundly in my whole life”. Yeah, sorry dear, I kind of had a rough week.

Train into the city, check into my hotel, and right on to the laptop; I was well-rested, invigorated,

and I had work to do.

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Harold had been living in Pattaya for a few years before we even met, going back to 2001

or so. He was semi-famous in ladyboy circles at that time, and a legendary figure on the

now-defunct “Questionable Girls of Thailand” message board which he posted on regularly. I

read there quite often as well; as the moderator of my own ladyboy forum I was always scouring

the internet looking for interesting topics to read or comment on, and it was quite different than

today where there are numerous message boards and subjects to read about, as back then there

were only 2 or 3.

He was affectionately known as “The Mayor” of Pattaya on that board, and his posts were

always charming and knowledgeable while still self-effacing. I had known a few people who

had actually met him and had relayed back to me that he was a good sort and when I was next

in Pattaya I should look him up; he knew a lot about the scene and maybe he could help me out.

We agreed to such via various private messages on the message board, and we then arranged a

meeting for some day in January of 2004; he offered to work for me a short time later and even

set up the pay scale which I found to be very reasonable and he even had his own equipment, so

we started working together soon afterward. As I went to the Philippines in February to work

with a months worth of new models I left him with enough cash to get started on his first contract

of 10, with a promise of many more to come; if his work was good.

Growing up fatherless in a country littered with the wreckage of similarly ill-fated parental

trainwrecks, Harold held a grudge towards authority figures, had wanted out of frigid northern

Europe since he was a wee lad and he had no intentions of ever going back; he enjoyed the

weather, the lifestyle, the cheap and abundant sex, and the modest fame and notoriety he had

achieved in the Ex-pat ladyboy underworld and he wanted to expand on that. He had regretfully

acquired a mild drug habit by this point as well and surely couldnt give that up now and return

to Blighty without some serious withdrawal problems; hooked on hillbilly heroin during the day

and alcohol and sleeping pills by night, he would hold high court at his favorite beer bar in a

part of the city not unknown for its share of pederasts and other lowlifes desperately clinging

to the bottom rungs of societys ladder, and bellowing forth with great gusto from his favorite

wicker-back chair he came across as some sort of modern day and equally-boisterous Orson

Welles character.

38 years old and not a small man by any means, he was about my height at 6 feet 1 inch

tall, but he had at least 100 pounds more on his frame and it showed; he was obese and rotund

and stood out in a crowd, and was also prone to wearing tank tops which didn’t help to hide

his enormous girth and he had hair all over his shoulders, back and upper arms and his head was

shaven clean to the scalp. And yet he still held considerable sway over the Pattaya ladyboy scene;

an affable and jovial sort, all the girls knew and liked him and after just one meeting with him

and seeing how he interacted with all the people in the scene down there I knew he could be a

valuable asset for the business since I rarely went to that city and was missing out on a goldmine

of potential talent. He also talked a big game, proclaiming to one and all that he was a ‘barrister’

back home and had wads of cash in the bank, but no one had any actual proof of that.

Harold was a gay gentleman and actually preferred the well-hung Thai boys to the ladyboys;

he was a “bottom” and enjoyed some hardcore and bizarre sex scenes with many gay tops from

Boyztown and Sunee Plaza, and he once confided to me after having one too many cocktails

that he also enjoyed being fisted and he liked his sex rough and hard. This is important for

understanding just how I would go about getting him to eventually cave in; he was quite a timid

and meek fellow despite his large bulk, kind of a queen really, and was actually very afraid of

most things. Whoever was still behind all this had pulled all the strings, but Harold had the real

knowledge this crew needed to move on me; what he didn’t have were the balls or the temerity to

pull off such a thing on his own and the prospect of working on something of this nature would

have actually scared him to death; I knew all this as I hit the ground in Amsterdam.

I was extremely anxious to put my plan into action, so I first sat down and started a new Hotmail

account, which takes all of 5 minutes; I didn’t want anyone to know the planned outgoing

letter was actually from me so I could not use my normal Gmail account. The name attached

to the new account which would be showing in the persons Inbox was fictitious and Italiansounding,

something more to throw off any potential reader. The subject heading read only this;

’Nice Try, Harold’. Inside the body of the letter and perfectly centered I then typed 3 short words

from Shakespeare; ’Et tu, Brute?’, followed below that by a one-line sentence about how I was

so disappointed and dismayed by what had just been done to me. Deliberately no names were

mentioned inside, of either he or myself, and below that I added in some kind of a spam link

to some viagra or something, to throw him off even further; in other words, the letter looked

half-legit and half-spam and whoever was opening it would be hard-pressed to figure out which.

Unless, of course, they recognized the name in the subject heading.

I pulled out the paper which the crimson-faced little Aussie dink had handed me 8 days

earlier, the one with his Yahoo address on it, put that in the address section and then hit the

“send” button. It was the first time I had sent a letter to that address from any source, and it had

come not from “me”, but from some Italian guy and with spam inside. Now, if Harold would

somehow see this short letter and then admit to it, wouldn’t that by all logic make him one of

the scammers? Of course it would, and as always it didn’t take long for the pea-brained criminal

mind to start working to fuck things up for the whole group.

A few hours passed; I wasn’t tired so I spent my time unpacking and doing other things on

the ’net, waiting to see if he or someone else had taken the bait. My patience paid off by about

3pm the same day when I received a panicked letter from Harold, from his Gmail account and

direct to my personal Gmail account; the new Hotmail account had gotten no reply at all. In

it, he told me how he had “been wrongly accused in certain circles of being the person behind

that awful crime which was perpetrated on you last week, and I just want to assure you that the

scurrilous charges brought against me by your confidants are unfounded and I resent them, and

that I have nothing to do with any of that sordid business”. Hmmmmm.. . Bingo. NO I thought,

you were NOT accused by anyone of anything at anytime, but there was a letter implicating you

which was sent to the Yahoo address of the people working on me. You are now 100% busted

and royally fucked, asshole.

I surely didn’t want him to know that I knew, so I assured him that I had no idea what he was

talking about, that I had just arrived in Paris 5 hours earlier [another curveball], was dead tired

from jet lag, needed some sleep badly and that no one from my inner circle had accused him of

anything, which was true. I thanked him once again for his perseverance in trying to help me

catch these horrible evildoers, and to please keep in touch if he heard anything more. Stringing

along this mousy little weakling had just started in earnest, and it would be a game I would begin

to relish and enjoy more and more as time went on.

If you have never been to Amsterdam in the late spring, you really should check it out sometime.

It’s a lovely place and the famous Dutch tulips are out in full bloom, the sun is usually

shining, and when you have just uncovered a deceitful scheme perpetrated against yourself for

the past week it all smells and looks even sweeter than usual. Your senses are alive, you walk

down the street with a confident and self-assuring gait and a grin from ear-to-ear, knowing that

your patience and good timing had just exposed the weakest link in the chain of command for

this ragtag band of keystone cops.

Time to get to work on number 5.

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The next day or 2 were spent walking around the lovely area near my hotel over-looking the

Rembrantsplein in the heart of Amsterdam, secure in the knowledge that the devious work

of a handful of conspiratorial nitwits had already failed miserably, even if they were still unaware

of same. My well-timed and deceptive letter to Harold had produced the desired response, albeit

a bit sooner than even I had expected; proving once again just how slow-witted and desperate the

criminal mind really is. But this was literally just the tip of the iceberg; I wanted to bag all of

these fools one-by-one and it was now time to start doing just that.

I first sent a letter to a man I will call Ronald, a private detective in Bangkok whom some

friends had suggested. I loosely outlined my case for him, and asked if he would like to work

with me and told him who had referred me to him, etc. . . being more accustomed to working

with lonely-hearted saps who were hiring him to see if the object of their affections were being

faithful to them (they weren’t), he was quite enthused when he received my letter and said “it’s

not often that I get cases this involved where I can use my true detective skills, I’d love to sink

my teeth into this for you” and for an initial deposit of 50,000 baht he would start working for

me. I told him that I already knew who it was behind the whole deal, but that I would still need

him to dig out more information behind-the-scenes while I strategically worked on fucking over

these blowhards from the front row vantage point which I now enjoyed. It was good to have him

in my corner and the results he would get me over the next few weeks proved to be well worth

that amount, which I had wired over to him via western union from Holland.

Another letter I sent out early on from my typically small but functional European-style hotel

room was to about 20 people and sent out via BCC once again. These were people on the fringes

of my lifestyle who had yet to hear my story, mostly guys in the porno industry who knew

me either by handshake, reputation or through various webmaster message boards; some in the

Valley, some in the UK, some in Thailand or the Philippines and all of whom were involved in

one way or another in porn. Most were from my online address book and had not yet been told

about all this when I was back in Bangkok, as I was keeping the story relatively low-key until I

could leave the country, but now it was time to warn anyone I knew what had happened to me

and that it could very well happen to them anytime as well so watch your backs.

One guy who received that letter was a very cool guy from New Zealand whom I will call

Bill. He had interviewed for the job of full-time staff photographer in Bangkok just 5 months

earlier and had made it down into the final 3 of the selection process but alas the gig had gone

to someone else despite his glowing credentials and obvious photography skills. A calm and

reasonable man and not the sort to hold a grudge of any type, we had remained e-mail friends

and he was also close to a Bangkok ladyboy who was a good friend of mine, so we had stayed

in loose contact with the promise that we would meet up for a beer again ‘someday’. He was

included in the BCC along with anyone else whom I felt should know about what had happened

to me and who also worked in the high-risk field of pornography in 3rd-world countries with

stricter laws than in the west. Webmasters from other ladyboy websites and message boards

whom most of you would know at least by reputation also got that letter.

The letter was kind of long, as is my wont and evidenced by this ongoing story,and detailed

exactly what had happened from the moment I got hit right up to and including the day before;

I relayed the information to one and all that it was indeed one of my employee’s behind the

whole scam in the first place and to watch their backs lest it happen to them within their own

organizations as well. It was also a cautionary tale of how becoming too complacent could

become dangerous and that tipping off anyone to your exact whereabouts at anytime was indeed

a very bad idea. I had known this for several years myself and always hid my true location to

most people, but had broken the golden rule myself just 12 days before and was now suffering

the consequences for it and I wanted all of my extended friends and fellow workers to use my

horrible affair as a word of warning.

A day passed before I started getting various replies from all and sundry, cheering me up with

words of encouragement and “atta boy”-type replies. But the letter from Bill was quite different;

he was deadly serious and replied something like this; “J.D., I am holding my head in my hands

right now as I read your letter, and I am thoroughly shocked and amazed at the story you have

just told me. I have some information for you which may be helpful or it could all just be a

coincidence, would you like to hear about it?” Ummmmm, YES!! Please write back and tell me

everything you know because I am still working on all this and I would love to know what you

have to say, even if it has nothing at all to do with what had just happened to me.

Bill was tucked away in a hotel room near Nana Plaza in Bangkok and sent me his reply

about 3 hours later. In it he laid out an amazing story of deceit, corruption, greed and extortion

which was so similar to mine that it created goosebumps on my arms, and an eerie feeling in

my stomach similar to the one I had back in my Bangkok hotel room/prison cell for the whole

past week. It would turn out to be very important in uncovering the last guy involved in the plot,

and the letter I got from him firmly put the blame on one particular asshole who at that very

moment happened to be staying in the same hotel as Bill in downtown Bangkok, they had just

crossed paths in the elevator. That alone was quite useful information which would be tucked

away and used at a later time. What I read in his long and detailed reply was mind-boggling and

was just the latest turn of events in an already-bizarre case, and was pertinent information which

I could definitely use along with my new private detective friend to finally nail this whole group

of incompetent boneheads in one fell swoop.

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Bill was the same as many Ladyboy-lovers who traveled to Thailand from his home in New

Zealand often to meet with the girls, and along the way he had seen an advertisement I

had placed in my forum in late 2005 seeking a full-time photographer to relieve me of all the

Bangkok and Chiang Mai duties. More than 10 people wanted the work, and he presented a valid

and compelling case for himself, and I liked him as a person as well, but I just happened to find

someone who was a better fit; Bill understood and we remained as friends.

He had already been in the scene for many years at this point and had a lot of friends in the

Bangkok-Pattaya corridor which so many mongers enjoyed and still do to this day. Many of our

farang and ladyboy acquaintances would have overlapped as well; as anyone reading here can

attest to, “the scene” in these 2 cities isn’t really all that large, maybe a few hundred regular

ladyboys in each place, with similar numbers of farang Ex-pats who either lived in Thailand a

good portion of the year or who came over regularly to have sex and meet up with friends. In

other words, it was pretty much like it is today, just with a different cast of characters.

With that in mind, I was really anxious to receive the promised letter he had mentioned just a

few hours earlier, in which he would tell me something about a similar crime which he had heard

about somewhere along the way in his travels. In fact my heart was racing with anticipation and

he just couldn’t type fast enough as far as I was concerned. When the reply came I was shocked

and flummoxed once I began reading, as the last domino in the whole equation of who had tried

to rob me was unfolding right before my eyes.

It started out something like this; “Do you remember Tom, the tall American guy who lives

down in Pattaya and who passes himself off as some sort of a private eye?” My head was

nodding in agreement, yes of course I know that retarded motherfucker, what do you know about

him? Well, it turns out that Bill was friends with a guy named (again, fictitious names) John

Jones whom I had never met but had heard of. Mister Jones was a wannabe photographer from

Chicago now living in Bangkok, and had wanted to start a website of his own and to that end had

even started taking photographs and searching for someone to do the tech work, similar to the

way I had done it 5 years prior. I had heard about this character from Harold once, who had also

met him a few times, and we would jokingly talk about how he was just the latest one to come

along and enter the business and how the field was already too crowded by now to make it work.

Described to me by Harold as a nervous-nellie type, Mister Jones was also quite unattractive and

well past the half-century mark, socially inept, smoked like a chimney and had the shakes; not

exactly the kind of person the ladyboys or even the farangs would be all that keen on meeting or

working with.

The letter went on to say that the last time Bill had seen him a year earlier, he was purchasing

one of those small black carry-on luggage bags which you see all over lower Sukhimvit road in

Bangkok, and filling it with money. 300,000 thousand baht to be exact, or at that time just over

10,000 US dollars, which you would indeed need a small bag to carry. Mister Jones told Bill

that it was necessary to buy himself out of a major jam he was in, and to be allowed to leave the

country with his balls and his life intact. Turns out that the Kings group in Bangkok, a powerful

mafia-type group of locals who owned a lot of the property in the Patpong district including

the ladyboy-friendly Kings Castle 3 and Kings Corner bars, were extremely pissed off at him for

coming up with this crazy idea to open a porno website on THEIR territory and that he had better

stop right now and leave the country or he’d end up on a slab at the morgue. Or at least this was

what he had been told; by Tom the fake private eye.

You see, the obnoxious American guy from Pattaya who had the brains of a 12-year old child

at best, had somehow convinced this nervous old social misfit of a man that his life was in danger

for taking photos of the Ladyboys, and that only he, Tom, could save him now from certain

death. For the small sum of 300,000 baht, a bargain to save his own life after all, he could simply

pay off these mafia guys in Patpong and be allowed to leave the country, and Tom would act as

the go-between and would handle all of it; such a great guy. The dopey old Chicagoan had no

proof of this mind you, but Tom was his friend and certainly wouldn’t be making all of this up,

now would he? Bangkok was a dangerous place and he was working in the seedy underbelly

of the city with ladyboys, doing something with them which was illegal and which the locals

supposedly had a stranglehold on. But he could leave it all behind him and get a free pass out of

the city, IF he left today, paid off the bosses 300K, and promised to never come back.

My head was spinning, it sounded nearly identical to my story, and within an hour or 2 I also

began to realize exactly where the “content” I had bought off of Tom under the street light in

Bangkok a year earlier had come from; he not only ripped off this clueless old guy out of 300

grand, but he even stole all the photography work he had accomplished up to that point and sold

it to me for 70K more. About 15 models all told, it was to be the bedrock of a new website Mister

Jones had planned on making, but he had been told that a very important mafia family had gotten

word of what he was doing and he had been told to leave Thailand. Tom had stolen that content

from Jones and sold it to me, which was actually a good deal for that price; he had tricked the

clueless old bastard into believing some hogwash and scaring him half to death in the meantime,

and had ended up walking away from the whole thing scot-free and with 370 grand in his pocket.

Not bad for a few days work, really, and quite admirable if the money had been earned; but

contemptible and horribly disgusting if you had stolen it from some old guy and scared him back

to the states for no reason except to give yourself enough money to spend another year in the

armpit of the world.

Number 5 dickhead, you don’t even know it yet but you have just been caught. Knowing that

he and Harold had been good pals and hung around quite often, I was 100% sure that Tom the

fake private eye with the mashed potato brains was the guy who had pulled all the strings in this

deal and had tried for an even bigger score this time; 10 million baht to be exact, and with his

tough talk and macho attitude he had convinced meek and wimpy Harold to sign on for the deal,

to divulge exactly where I was and to teach those 2 goons how to vivisect my life right before

my very eyes. They figured I would just cave in like poor ol’ Mister Jones and pay them off and

be happy to remain alive, but once more we see how weak the hoodlum mind actually is as they

didn’t take into consideration that their new target may have a bit more brains and connections

than Mister Jones had and wouldn’t be tricked quite as easily as he was.

So, we now have an American as the ringleader; an Englishman with all the information

required as his 2nd-in-command; 2 beefy retards from Australia and New Zealand to be the

muscle, and one Thai who had opened a bank account for which I was to transfer all the money

they had demanded. Of course I would never tip off anyone in the group as to what I already knew

by now; as usual patience and well-timed correspondence would be the key. You 5 assholes, you

poor clueless cocksuckers, you are now about to play ’This is Your Life’ and all become exposed

as thieves and thugs as myself and my friends were just getting started in our game of cat and

mouse which would turn the tables on your rotten crime and send you scattering to the 4 corners

of the earth.

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Bill was the same as many Ladyboy-lovers who traveled to Thailand from his home in New

Zealand often to meet with the girls, and along the way he had seen an advertisement I

had placed in my forum in late 2005 seeking a full-time photographer to relieve me of all the

Bangkok and Chiang Mai duties. More than 10 people wanted the work, and he presented a valid

and compelling case for himself, and I liked him as a person as well, but I just happened to find

someone who was a better fit; Bill understood and we remained as friends.

Yup and I was one of them. I remember seeing that ad and thinking man if I could land a gig like that is would be a dream job to supplement my teacher's pay, which for Los was quite good at the time. It was only when I discussed it with a Thailand veteran at the time, and he pointed out the perils of getting involved in porn production in the kingdom that I decided not peruse it any further. The interview I did with you in the house you had off Sukhumvit was quite memorable as Eye, the big ballsack one, was new in town and you were giving her a test run. Man how 7 years have flown by. Thanks for the complimentary 2 year pass for Asian TS back then by the way Jaidee. :hi:

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Cheers Mardhi and BB, and I do remember that meeting well.....ironically enough it happened just before these 5 asswipes tried to rob me; should've followed my own advice, eh???

2 chapters added tonight guys, so this story will end about the same time as the Camera story......if that one was read first, it would kind of lead right into this one, which happened about 6 years after I started the business

--------------------------------------------------------

IT had been almost one week since Harold had read my first letter which included the cryptic

reference to Brutus, the most famous backstabber of them all. He hadn’t written back to me

at all from any source, I had uncovered who his boss or “the General” was, and so I simply tried

to enjoy the rest of my vacation in beautiful northern Holland. Ronald the private eye back in

Bangkok had been working on my case since about 4 days earlier and it would be too early to

expect any progress from him, so I pretty much tried to put all this nonsense out of my mind and

I had fun relaxing around Amsterdam before heading back to the states.

On June 5th it would be time to head home; it had been nearly 2 weeks since the crime had

taken place and even though I was now stress-free my frame had shed about 25 pounds in those

2 weeks from all the stress and the fact that I hadn’t been eating well, if at all. Going home would

present a whole new series of real-life problems, as any father who is active in their children’s

lives will attest to, so having this week-long layover had been a good idea to get my head straight

and also to uncover the last few pieces I needed to get these clowns outed. Ronald had everything

he needed to work on them as well; 3 real names, e-mail addresses, phone numbers, bank account

name and numbers, etc. . . and he would prove to be well worth his weight in gold over the next

few weeks.

But for now my work and hunting down criminals had to be put on the back burner; I would

arrive back home and be busy there, which is a good thing when you are working on something

like this as it keeps your mind occupied. A day or 2 after I arrived back in the northeastern United

States, I got a short letter from Harold; surely feeling me out for clues, he was asking how I was

doing and if he could do anything to help me, etc. . . this was good news; it was easy to see that

he still had no idea that I knew he was involved and so I played along. I typed back a friendly

and courteous response, thanking him as usual for his help and good wishes, and told him that

I was now home and that I felt so much better now that the crime was finally behind me. I told

him that as far as I was concerned it was all over with and even though I didn’t know who the

evildoers were I could now safely relax and forget all about it. This was surely passed on to his

partners in crime, and I figured I would just let them stew in that for some time while I went

about my real-life activities.

I was still slightly nervous; despite being 8000 miles away from where the crime had taken

place and knowing exactly who was behind it all, I was well aware that Harold knew what city I

lived in and my full name along with the names of my teenage kids and even my Mom. Sending

someone after me there was not out of the realm of possibility, albeit expensive, so I took great

pains to make sure my family and myself were well-protected. I had a security system installed

years earlier and always made the monthly payments so it would stay active, usually to protect

thousands of dollars worth of ladyboy content in my hard drives and in my attic, as well as a

treasure trove of artifacts and knick-knacks which had been gathered over the years from various

countries, and of course my car and other material conveniences. Now it would be used to protect

myself and my children and I made damn sure it was “on” 100% of the time and I always took

different routes to and from the house whenever I left, always doubling back on myself and

looking in my rearview to see if anyone had been following me. Better safe than sorry.

Ronald was working on the whole thing, I was now comfortable and getting back into my

normal routine, and after 3 total weeks since the crime and its aftermath I figured it was all over.

Then on or around the morning of June 16th I awoke to a new letter in my Gmail Inbox, the

first one ever sent by anyone from the Yahoo address which that Aussie fuckwad had handed me

more than 20 days earlier; The subject heading was very precise and simply stated “We are not

going away”. Then, in the body of the letter it went on and on in great detail about what they

knew about me, basically old re-hashed shit from what they had told me in the bungalow, nothing

new; but they did add in 2 more things which they figured would gain them some leverage with

me but which only succeeded in stirring a hornets nest. They told me in closing that they knew I

had gotten out of Thailand and that they would now use their power (errrrrmm, they had NONE)

to now get me banned me from all 5 Asian countries where I had previously worked, especially

Thailand; something they could never do in a million years. They also made mention that my

children were now fair game as I had broken our agreement and hadn’t paid them off before I

left southeast Asia.

Bad move, fuckheads. Hell, even the mafia doesn’t mess with a person’s family, and now you

5 mental midgets are suggesting that YOU may do something of the sort? Even as I type this a

full 5 years later I can feel the anger burning inside me, the absolute hatred I felt for those pieces

of shit at that time, so can you imagine how I felt that very day? The children had been with their

mother the previous evening so for safetys sake I called over there and told her to keep them with

her for a while as I had some serious work to do. I double-checked all the doors and window

locks as well as the security system and I left the house for a pre-planned day trip one hour

away to the north country with 4 friends. It was a gorgeous, late June day in northeast America

and we would spend the day boating on lovely Lake X in my buddys 22-foot bowrider, drinking

beer and swimming and basically fucking off. All these guys with me were pretty big, 2 were

full-time firefighters and built like trucks, so I felt secure and had no worries for my personal

safety. What my friends didn’t know was that I was really stressed out inside once again, and of

course I couldn’t tell them the story, so the whole day for me was spent pretty much faking like

I was enjoying myself and thinking about the letter I had received that very morning. As usual

my wheels were constantly turning, and I was going over and over in my mind how these pussies

were still trying to extort cash from me, this time using my kids as bargaining chips, and exactly

what steps I would now take to fuck them over but good.

You have just crossed the line, assholes; we’re comin’ to get you now.

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----------------------------------------------------------

THE ill-advised letter which had been sent to me that morning was written by the Aussie guy,

whom I will now start calling Joe Brown. I could tell as it had his blustery style all over

it, and I knew it wasn’t from the boss Tom because I had seen his letters before and the syntax

was always way wrong and they were always loaded up with grammatical errors because he had

an 8th grade education at best. But it was his idea for sure and it was a bad idea in so many

ways; for one thing it got me really pissed off and made me start my revenge planning for these

lightweights in earnest, but it was also sent from a Yahoo address and so now we had what we

really needed; the IP address of these nitwits. Forwarding the letter along to a hacker friend of

mine in Canada, by the end of the day he had dissected the headers inside and could tell me that

the letter was sent from downtown Bangkok, and had even narrowed down the neighborhood.

Only problem was it could have been an internet cafe, but I would worry about that later.

My private detective Ronald had been working on the case for over 10 days now and had

made some serious headway; not quite enough for me to move yet but damn close. He was

really good at his job; a farang from England who had learned his job from one of the best

private detectives in Bangkok and had been in the business for 10 years, he had 2 Thai men and

also his Thai girlfriend working for him, and also had numerous contacts in places like phone

companies, telecoms, driver registration departments, and banks. Although the paper I had given

him didn’t have all that much information on it, he had extracted a wealth of information already

and completed or not it was time to move on these clowns, I just wouldn’t stand for my children

being threatened like that. I also had the information that Bill the photographer had passed on to

me about Tom the fake private eye, about how he had ripped off Mister Jones for 300K baht in a

very similar manner to my crime; with everything I knew it was now just about time to close the

deal.

Ronald had a contact in Guangzhou, China who was an expert hacker, and he had been

working on cracking their e-mail password for about a week now. On the same day I was at the

lake I finally got a reply from him; Success! He had gotten in and could now view their e-mail

inbox, and he sent me a screen rip of the insides; I was absolutely thrilled as this could be the

main source of information I needed. But it would cost me if I wanted the password myself,

the Chinese guy didn’t work for free. Please wire 300 dollars via Western Union to Mister Y in

Guangzhou and as soon as he got that, I would get my password; worth it, sent off and patiently

waiting for his reply.

In the meantime, Ronald had uncovered a treasure trove of information based just on what

I had told him and from the piece of paper Aussie boy had given me. Turns out the Thai name

was a lady, named Supin, and that her bank account had 42,574 baht in it; where would I like

that transferred to? Not yet, not yet; we don’t want to scare these fuckheads off yet, we have to

plan this all right down to the wire and get them all in one fell swoop and when that time came

we could send it to an orphanage or some other charity, but not now. Supin was a registered

driver as well, so he had her records pulled and sent me a photo attachment of her drivers license

which included where she lived, her age and birth date, etc; since her Mom had the exact same

name he also coincidentally got an address for her up in Buriram in Issan, something which may

come in handy when the time was right. He also got all phone records for Joe Brown’s telephone

for the period from one week before I got hit right up to and including the present day, and he

forwarded me all of that info. Finally, once I sent him the IP address which had been dug out of

the headers of that one and only Yahoo letter sent to me, he contacted his friend at the Internet

Service Provider who handled that IP address, Asia Net, and he was able to get us the exact

street address and room from where that had been sent out; Bingo, you are busted cold, Aussie

fuckhead.

I never did reply to that disgusting e-mail from 12 hours earlier; as usual patience would be

the key and even though I was extremely pissed off and a good lashing out at these creeps was in

order I held back and kept biding my time; I knew that it was pointless to move until I had every

piece of information needed to make it all work and then we would get them all at once. But I

DID send a letter to my buddy Harold, actually a new reply to one of his letters in my mail from

weeks earlier; in it I acted all excited, and told him: “Guess what buddy, my private detective

friend in Bangkok has uncovered who was behind that rotten crime pulled against me in Thailand

last month! He won’t tell me who it is lest I tip them off, but he did tell me that it was someone

close to me and he had a partner, and that he would fill me in once I get there. I am getting on a

plane in 4 hours and will be in Bangkok in 2 days, will ring you up then — see you soon man!”

I sent that off to Harold and let him and his retarded friends chew on that for a while; I hadn’t

mentioned any names, but as wimpy and nervous as he was I am sure as he read it he could felt

the noose tightening around his neck.

I now had about 36 hours to close this deal; as far as he was concerned I was now on a plane

on my way back to Thailand to come and get the criminals who were behind all this; in actuality

I never even left my upstairs office, one of many lies I would be telling over the next few days

which when combined with the REAL info I had on these guys would be more than enough to

scare the crap out of them. HE knew that he was the one along with Tom the fake private eye,

but did he know that I knew, or if my private detective friend had correctly hit on the proper 2

guys? The cat and mouse game was now being played by both sides and would be all over with

in just 3 more days.

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The fake letter which went out to Harold and said I was on my way back over had REALLY

struck a nerve; it couldn’t have been much more than 3 hours later when I received a reply

from him which was horribly disgusting and filled with swears, false innuendos, threats against

myself and everyone I knew, promises of retribution and much, much worse. I had also received

a letter from Tom, the retarded fake private eye with the brain of a 12-year old schoolyard bully

which essentially said the same stuff but was even more disgusting and horrible. They were so

bad that I just deleted them on sight, I didn’t even want that filth remaining in my computer; but

I remember well what they said. The funniest part was the ending of Harold’s letter in which he

said “and don’t ever contact Tom for any reason or reply to his letter; you have really made him

angry now and I am doing all I can to hold him back from coming to fuck you up”.

Ooooohhh, I am really shaking now, Harold. I knew that creep was a nobody who couldn’t

even tie his own shoelaces without help, and yet here they were rambling on and on about ‘contacts’

and what they were going to do to me and exactly how they would do it and that my time

here on this earth was almost up, etc, etc. . . jeeesh guys, implicate yourselves much or what? I

hadn’t even yet told them that I knew it was them and here they were singing like 2 guilty canaries;

idiots. They both assured me that they had nothing to do with any of this crime however,

but that because I had implied that they were somehow involved I was now screwed and that

they were coming to get me; yaaawwwn. Tom’s letter even said something about “sending all

the information I know about you to my friend who works in the Attorney General’s office in

Colorado; it just went out today by DHL and he will have it in 2 days; if anything happens to me

you are fucked”, with more and more swears and threats. Errrmm, that day was a sunday; DHL

doesn’t work on sundays you retard. . . you guys are just making this all too easy.

I couldn’t reply right away; remember, as far as they were concerned I was on my way back

to Thailand so I wouldn’t have access to that account for at least 30 more hours, as it’s quite a

long journey from my home. But in reality I hadn’t moved anywhere; I was working away in the

office in my home, using all the information which had been acquired by Ronald and myself and

coming up with a way to finally hang these Mfer’s.

The password came back from the Chinese guy and I was able to get into the Yahoo address

of the Aussie asshole. In it I could see my letter from 2 weeks earlier, the “Nice Try, Harold”

letter, as well as the recent letter they had sent to me telling me that they weren’t going away.

No letters to Tom or Harold, which disappointed me for sure; he must have had another account

which he used for his personal mail. But there was still enough info in there for me to use at a

later time including his address book, and since I was inside his mailbox I could now use that

to get inside his head. When the time came I would use this account to make the guy shit his

drawers once he could plainly see that I was in there.

Information was coming in from all angles; the phone list that Ronald the P.I. gave me was

a goldmine and included all calls the Aussie fatso had sent or received in the previous month.

Many calls to me; many to his beefy partner, the New Zealand guy, and one very important call

to “the general” from 930am on May 28th; this was the exact time he had stepped out on the

balcony to see if the 2 million baht offer I had made would be enough, so now we had the main

number of the ringleader as well. His calls also included some back to his home town of Sydney

in Australia; a gas company there and several to a woman who had the same last name as he did,

whom I will call Doris. Since this clown was living in Bangkok and involved in the sex scene I

could safely assume that this was not his wife, but more likely a mother or a sister. Bingo; you

want to start messing with MY family, fuckhead? Now yours is fair game as well.

2 more numbers were quite interesting to me; they were Florida numbers and the calls were

rather brief; and since my P.I. had contacts everywhere, he had found someone in Florida who

got us the names and addresses attached to these numbers. I then went to the nearest big city

near my home and straight to the federal building, the one which would house all government

agencies. I had to have this because I wanted to call these 2 Florida guys and couldn’t do it from

my home phone; any caller ID set-up would easily tip them off that it was from my home or an

unregistered number and I didn’t want that, I wanted them to think they were being called by the

feds. I found a security guard station on the 5th floor which was empty and which had an outside

line; I called the first guy and I was a bit nervous, but I wanted to play a trick on Aussie boy

so I had to do it. That call went straight to voice mail and I didn’t leave a message but the 2nd

call was much more fruitful; answered by a gentleman I will call Paul Black, I politely told him

that I was special agent XX from the U.S. Marshall’s service in that city, and his caller ID would

have backed that up. I went on to tell him that his good friend Joe Brown from Sydney, Australia

was involved in an international conspiracy to extort money from an American businessman in

Thailand, and that he had made a few calls to this number and; “what do you know about all this

Mister Black”? Stammering and stuttering came from the other end as he assured me he had no

idea what that guy was up to in Thailand, that he simply ran a storage outfit in south Florida and

Aussie boy had rented some space there. I told him we would be sending some agents over to

check on his story and we hung up; but I was 100% convinced that the call had the desired effect

and would now be reported to the Aussie nitwit holed up in his Bangkok apartment and would

scare the crap right out of him, as in “what have Harold and Tom gotten me messed up in?” He

had no clue that this was just the tip of the iceberg.

More information was acted on and filed away; it was just about time to tell these guys

everything I knew about their little scheme, but first I wanted to play around with them a little;

they had terrorized and threatened me for more than a month now and now it was my turn to

fuck with their heads. I waited the 36 hours necessary and sent a reply to Harold, exclaiming my

absolute shock and dismay about the 2 letters I had received from he and Tom while I had been

flying. After all, “I haven’t accused either of you of anything, so why would you be so angry?”.

I assured him that I wouldn’t write to Tom, that I knew he was a scary dude (LOL) and I then

went on to tell him that my P.I. had met me at the airport and told me that the ringleaders were

from Canada and Sweden respectively, and that we were just about to catch them all and turn the

tables on their awful scam. I closed with “So, now that I am here in Thailand I will be coming

down to Pattaya tomorrow to bust these guys; you wanna meet for lunch?”

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It felt good to finally be closing the noose on these guys after a month of bullshit, lies and

ill-conceived bravado on their part. They believed that I was now in Bangkok even though I

never left my office, and Harold soon wrote me back and said that he was sorry for his outburst

but that he felt like I had accused him of something which he had no part in. Yeah, right. I never

did get a letter from Tom the fake private eye, he was way too self-important for that, but his time

would be coming.

In the meantime I toyed with Harold. Convincing him that I was everywhere and nowhere all

at the same time was fun; when I’d mention we were in Bangkok, he’d act cool and collected;

when I’d say we were coming to Pattaya you could sense that he’d start to sweat and his temperature

would rise and when I told him that his phone wasn’t working and that I needed a new

number to reach him at when we hit the city tomorrow he replied with a “ sorry, I lost my phone,

some ladyboy stole it from me”. Damn it, you just can’t trust people these days, can you Harold?

I finally wore him out so badly after 4 or 5 exchanges that he didn’t know what to think anymore

and essentially gave up, just falling short of a full admittance of guilt by telling me that “if I

wanted him he would be in his rented house in Rayong tending to the garden”. How very British

of you.

Ronald the private eye wanted me to wait before I closed the deal on these guys, he was still

uncovering a lot of things we needed and was about a week away from having the whole treasure;

he also had a great plan whereby one of his Thai guys would head up to Buriram and walk into

the house of the mother of Supin, tell her the story, and demand that she call her daughter to see

just what the fuck she was doing working with these 4 farang morons. But Harold was getting

erratic and jumpy, even more than usual, and I figured he would spill the beans soon so I took

the chance to pounce.

For only the 2nd time I would now be contacting the Aussie guy through the Yahoo address

he had given me, and to which I now had full access. I started another new Hotmail address,

this time with a Spanish-sounding name, and sent a letter from there, not my normal account just

to make them guess some more. In it I didn’t mention any of the names of the conspirators or

myself, and the subject heading simply said “Mistakes”. Inside was a list of 10 minor things this

crew had done to fuck up the job, but none were mentioned by name, only alluded to. I told them

just enough to pique their interest, maybe 10% of what I really knew, but with enough doubt to

still be saying to one another “but does he really know it’s US?” I closed with a short paragraph

which mentioned John Jones, about how they were lucky enough to scam him but that their new

target was not as easy as they had wished, and told them that if they were lucky they could all

walk away from this mess as long as WE now got what WE wanted. It was very tactful; I wrote it

at a time when I was calm and collected so there was none of the bluster which was formerly so

prominent in letters between myself and Harold or as you see here, I purposely wanted to make

it look like it was written by a guy on a hunting trip for clues. . . even though I already had more

than I needed.

The reply came from that Yahoo box within a few hours, back to my new Hotmail address

and not my personal Gmail account, written once again by Aussie boy. Yes, they were throwing

in the towel, and yes they hadn’t planned on me having as many contacts as I did, but absolutely

NOWAY were they claiming any responsibility for what had happened to me “and as a matter of

fact you had better watch your back whenever you work in Asia, as we will always be watching

out for you”. It also included a few choice digs at myself and some references to sex acts they

assumed I must enjoy with various animals, and was still full of bravado and machismo which

they surely shouldn’t have been feeling by this point. It was basically a last-ditch effort at scaring

me away, hoping on hope that whatever I was telling them was just guesswork and that I couldn’t

prove any of it. Boy, were they wrong.

OK, wrong answer Aussie boy and you other 4 nitwits surely reading over his shoulder, you

are now about to get hit head-on with the final barrage of ammunition from 2 weeks worth of

uncovering your pathetic little scheme, and when it’s all done your lives will be turned upside

down and frankly you all deserve it.

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Last 2 installments coming before the weekend guys, hope you all enjoyed.....

----------------------

Over the next 12 hours or so I enjoyed playing with that Yahoo mailbox. I would send letters

from it right back to it, send letters to my Spanish Hotmail acount and then reply back to them

from inside, delete letters after I could see that they had been read by Aussie guy and other fun

tricks. I would send letters saying “Look Joe, I am inside this mailbox now!” then delete them

after he had seen them, and I sent one letter from him right back to him which said “I have saved

every contact here in your address book and you are now about to be exposed to every one of

them”. It took him the full 12 hours to finally change his password so I couldn’t have access

anymore but it had sent a serious message that I was not only in his head, I was now even inside

his personal space. That must have scared the crap out of the guy and same as Harold he surely

just sat back and accepted his fate and wondered what was coming next.

What was next was the full bore of one full month of uncovering clues

nobodies,and it would now be coming straight at them. I opened yet another new Hotmail account,

constantly throwing them off, and this time used a French-sounding name. In it I detailed each

person one-by-one and just what we knew about them. Some were just well-placed guesses and

some were truth, and when mixed together they created an inescapable web in which all of these

people had no escape from.

This is not verbatim of course, and I don’t have the original letter anymore, but it was sent to

the Yahoo address from my 3rd and newest Hotmail account and essentially said this:

Supin — you have been a naughty girl! Working with farang nitwits to commit crimes is a

serious offense in Thailand, and my Thai friends are not happy with you one bit. By the way, we

know that you have your 34th birthday coming up on August 15th; how would you like to spend

that day in the monkey house? Nice facial shot on your license by the way; looks like a mug

shot and how appropriate. We will also be emptying your bank account and giving it to people

truly in need and who are not criminals. Your mother up in Buriram with the same name, she is

hearing about this crime right now through some of our intermediaries; I suggest you give her a

call and see if she’s OK. All truths, but she was a minor player anyway.

Harold —Nice try old pal, but this didn’t work; we now have your home staked out in Rayong

[not] and we are watching you 24/7 so don’t plan on going anywhere. We know you were behind

it all, we know you gave the info to your buddy Tom, and we know you taught the 2 gorilla’s

what to say and even got Supin on board with her bank account. You were the catalyst of the

whole thing and you will get half the blame for this whole mess. You and Tom were just about

off the hook and then had to go sending your “we are not going away” letter to get myself and my

friends angry and really working on you; Big mistake and now it’s time to pay up. I fibbed and

told him that we had tracked and read every one of his letters coming from his Gmail address in

Rayong, and since he knew I was inside the Aussie guy’s account he surely believed that. Telling

him his exact address was easy as I had been there before, but I made it sound like I had gotten

it from his local telecom company just to scare him a little more.

Tom — you are the so-called brains behind this pathetic little train wreck, and I use that term

VERY loosely. You got away with this nonsense on poor ol’ Mister Jones, but you never even

got close to tricking me and now you are going down with the ship, like it or not. Since I was

essentially writing to the Aussie guy I told him that HE was the only one with the power to talk

Tom into spilling his guts, since that macho bullshit act of his would never stand to apologize

for anything. I reminded he and Tom that I had a vast network of friends which included my

webmaster friend in L.A. who had a doctoral degree in computer science from Stanford and

could track these people down anywhere in the world at anytime as soon as they used any kind of

modern-day device. I told him we had proof that he was the one who was called at 930am on the

morning of the crime, and how much of a pussy he was for hiding behind an Aussie guy and a

Thai lady, letting them take the fall for him, and that soon he would be exposed anyway and was

now in a no-win situation. For someone with his macho attitude, reading that must have been

like a dagger through the heart. Courtesy of Bill my photographer friend, who had crossed paths

with him a few times, I told him we knew he was staying at the Nana Hotel in Bangkok between

the dates of June 2nd and June 7th, in room 304. I also reminded him that I had the power to

make he and his motley collection of half-wits literally world famous, starting with cover photos

on a very popular website which got 50,000 hits per day and that long stories detailing this whole

crime with complete and full names would be sent to message boards, Thailand ex-pat forums,

Pattaya and Bangkok forums and to Reuters and every other important news agency.

Joe Brown, Aussie fuckhead —This guy was the new ‘mother lode’ [lol] because it was HIS

yahoo address and he had been using HIS telephone. I bombarded him with shit from the last

month and reminded him that HE was in the most trouble for all this, for being the guy front

and center. I told him we had the new telephone number for Supin, which was true and I gave it

to him; that must have blown him away because she hadn’t even made any calls on it yet, only

incoming calls from him. I told him that we were inside his e-mail account, which he already

knew of course, and then I told him his own house address in Bangkok courtesy of Asia Net and

that we had it under watch [not]. I told him we rolled the piece of paper he had given me and that

his prints had come up on them, [not, but how would he know?] making him 100% guilty, and

that he better sing on the other clowns if he ever wanted to see his Mom Doris back in Sydney

ever again. He had never even told me what city he was from, just Australia, and now I am not

only telling him exactly where he was from but where his Mom lived as well? That must have

made him shit his pants. I told him we had talked with the 2 guys in Florida whom he had been

calling that month, and that Mister Black and Mister Blue were now cooperating with Sheriff’s

deputies in their hometowns and singing like canaries [not]. I told him “Tom sent you in after

the wrong guy to pick on, hides behind your e-mails, and then lets you and Supin take the fall

when the shit hits the fan”. And you are now protecting HIM, at the expense of your family

and friends? Start thinking for yourself, mate. Oh ya; I used the word “Mate” quite often when

writing his part, lets see how HE likes that word now.

I then made my demands, which were simple, easy-to-follow and would even be physically

painless for these goofballs. I told him what my wealthy local friend A had told me from a

strictly Thai angle; “We don’t like white crackers committing crimes like this in our country and

we need to discourage this stuff right here and now”, and that I wanted my passport back as well

as the 3000 US dollars I had already wasted uncovering all this mess, 2 things which I knew I

would never get. What I really wanted was an admittance of guilt from all 5 people, and with

a sincere apology from each one before we would all go away and let it drop. Comparatively

cheap considering what they had done to me and what it had cost me to uncover them, it would

nonetheless be difficult for any criminal to admit to such activity; unless they knew they were

busted 100% cold and that this was the only way out of it.

In the last segment of this story I will detail the apologies I got from them, and what has

happened in the aftermath of all this.

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