Just Seventeen

Dear Ones:

She was just seventeen.

Early this month, one of our high school students was murdered, along with her mother, father, and younger brother, a student in the RIS Middle School. Their deaths were not discovered until the school had closed for the Easter-Songkran holiday last week. All her teachers remember her for an irrepressible giddiness and her joy in life. Her friends, and even those who did not know her well, remember her loyalty, friendship, and her bubbly personality.

Since the funerals, the police have floated the theory that the father was a loan shark, implying that he was killed by a client who did not want to repay a large debt. According to law, such a debt is not cancelled by his death. His survivors, meaning his wife and children, would inherit the debt, and that is why they were also killed. That theory is beguiling for we would all like to think that there is always a motive for unspeakable crimes, that there is a logic operating in a killer's head.

In fact, we have no definitive answers and I doubt we will ever find out the truth about what happened. It's true that two taxi drivers have confessed to the crime. Nevertheless, there remain many unanswered questions; chiefly, why? In Thailand, truth is never absolute (not when witnesses are vulnerable to bribes and disappearances) nor can it be independently verified (evidence can be lost or tampered with). Justice and science have their limitations here. We can only mourn what we have lost.

Walk good,
Jo Anne

Vuttichai Wangsatorntanakun 1958-2009

"I must say--and I salute him--he is a fighter and a true gentleman."
Professor Shimon Slavin, Titi's doctor

Dear Ones:

How do you write a conclusion for an unfinished life?

We discovered Titi wrote one, or tried to write one, himself. He left behind a diary and a list he called "Contract for Life." I remember giving him a blank book at Christmas, in case he wanted to write things down. He shook his head; he would never use it. To him cancer was a temporary setback and once overcome, then he would simply resume his life. Now I see he had indeed changed his outlook.

Instead of a book, Titi recorded his diary in his iPhone Notes. At first, it was a way to remember his stem cell protocol in Tel Aviv. Gradually, it evolved into a diary. He writes fervently about each tentative triumph-- "Thanks to God", he exults-- and matter of factly about every setback, especially the parvovirus that destroyed his first transplant. The diary stops after February 14th and then on March 22nd, two days before he died, he tried to pick it up again. There are only two enigmatic words, one per line: "Re Set." Nothing more.

Nowhere in the diary does he show that he ever once considered death a possibility. His Contract for Life, written before Valentine's Day, was a cryptic 10 point list of things to do. The Contract was his way of saying if he got the chance, he would live life intensely and gratefully. The first point was, "Like brothers and sisters." I noted the awkward "like" rather than "love" for I assumed it was a verb. Or did he mean he would treat everyone like brothers and sisters? "Equality for all," he tapped on the keypad. "Family relationship." Two other points seemed to be personal reminders to be more patient, but mostly, he appeared to feel the need to live more spiritually. Then he added, "never break promises."

Up until the end he displayed a relentless optimism. A co-worker said that Friday before his condition deteriorated, he was making plans for coming back to work. However, the end came quickly. Maybe it came as a surprise. Lek said, I never got to say goodbye. He never got to do all the things he promised. His tenth point in the Contract was poignant, his true number one, "Forever the Two." Lek and Nicky would always be in his heart.

Walk good,
Jo Anne