Why my heart goes out to Julian Gilbey

Sandra Gregory explains why she and people like her are tempted to make the biggest mistake of their lives

I am constantly asked why I did what I did at the beginning of 1993. I often wonder whether people think that my reply will somehow explain to them why it is that other people commit the same or similar offences. In reality, of course, no two people are ever the same and no two situations are ever identical either, so my response to that question can only ever shed light on why I ended up serving seven years of a 25-year prison sentence for attempting to smuggle drugs through Bangkok airport.

I would never presume to explain how someone else, like the British teacher Julian Gilbey, came to be arrested in Thailand, how they possibly got into that situation, or how they might be feeling. If Julian Gilbey feels anything near what I felt all those years ago then he has my utter sympathy. Denial set in to help alleviate my panic, but shame and pure terror did take a bit more effort to conceal. My heart goes out to Julian Gilbey and his family. They all have a long and rocky road to travel.

There is always the possibility that someone who has been arrested was not aware that there was anything suspicious or illegal in their bags. This does happen. It is often said that being sent to prison offers an insight and extensive education into areas of life which never would normally be known about, and I did learn about things I had never encountered before. There are groups of people, call them what you will - conmen, crooks, or gangsters - who target vulnerability on a professional basis and lead innocent souls into believing that they are good, honest people only wishing to befriend or help out. I met scores of women serving life sentences for drug trafficking who did not know that they were carrying drugs in their bags through the airport. Once arrested, though, they all knew immediately who it was who had put the drugs there.

As well as being asked why I did what I did, I am also constantly told that I talk too much and digress from the subject at hand. In my defence I can only say that during my seven-year stretch in prison I was starved of conversation for most of the time and now try to make up for so many lost years. In short, I am simply saying that I feel it is not right for me to try to comment on someone else's case. I can pass

neither judgment nor opinion on anyone else's situation.

I went off to Thailand a young, naive, and optimistic soul. I was a self-employed antique trader, living in my own wee house in Yorkshire, with a border collie and two cats. I had only ever heard a little about where I was going to and paid little attention to any warnings offered about going. After all, I was young, and nothing bad would ever happen to me; bad things always happen to someone else. The world was exciting and interesting, people were genuine, honest, and loyal, and I was off on a holiday of a lifetime.

Arriving in an alien land, after a 13-hour flight, I found myself in a tropical paradise. Many times I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven. The beaches on the numerous islands in the gulf of Thailand were more beautiful than I had ever imagined possible. Up in the mountains with a refugee hill tribe, on the border of Burma, I imagined I was in a David Attenborough documentary. To be dreading the onset of a British winter one minute and touring around one of the loveliest countries in the world the next was almost surreal. I adored the country, its people, culture, food, and weather. But, of course, being a tourist I only ever saw the best of the country.

When it came time to return to this country I dreaded it. The prospect of winter, commitments, bills, and responsibilities did not inspire. I simply hadn't had enough of Thailand and the wonderful life I had found. I wanted to stay, so stay I did - as do many young travellers away alone for the first time. I didn't give a second's thought to the brutal fact that if I

didn't use my return flight ticket I actually wouldn't have any return ticket. I just told myself I'd deal with it when I had to.

I started working in Bangkok teaching English at schools, universities, banking offices, and at the UN-related international school. I found a nice place to live, a social life, and a lovely boyfriend. Hurley was an English-language journalist for a Thai magazine based in Bangkok and, with him, I began to see another side of life in Thailand. Life was good. I had a circle of friends, many of whom wrote short stories and poetry to fund their travels, others who had married and had settled in BKK. One lad I knew had opened a secondhand bookshop and others worked for various NGOs. Life was fun, exciting, and interesting - and the weather was always wonderful.

Many people seem to think that Thailand is awash with drugs, but I never found it that way at all. Drugs are no more commonly found in Thailand than they are here in Britain. They are easy to find and easy to avoid. At amazing beach parties many people get high, many don't. But, either way, the whole atmosphere is laidback, relaxed, and friendly. Few of the locals selling drugs speak to foreigners about what happens if the police do come, and foreigners are lured into a false sense of security by the whole place, not realising that they are literally gambling with their lives. Most of what I know now about the drug trade in Asia I learned in prison, and I suspect that is the same for most European travellers.

Things turned sour for me and I was totally unprepared for what was going to happen. When the political situation of early 1992 developed I saw the soldiers carrying M16 machine guns, but never thought that they would ever be fired at anybody. I was naive and expected things to be the same as they are in Britain. Having said that, though, I am not trying to justify what I did. I do not expect or want sympathy. What I tried to do was wrong, and I knew it was wrong. I was brought up to be a law-abiding, honest, contributing citizen, not a drug trafficker.

After eight months on a downward spiral of devastating events - including the military massacre of 1992, friends turning out to be of the fair-weather variety, and splitting up with Hurley - I was seriously ill with amoebic dysentery (later on I got dengue fever), and very lonely. I found myself in a terrible situation. I was desperate to come home to our wonderful country. I longed for grey skies and chilly, damp weather, longed to see my

family and friends again, just wanted home. I needed custard and cornflakes, tea and toast, our classic sense of humour and freedom of speech.

Someone I had met briefly a few weeks previously in the Gulf of Thailand suggested an easy way to get the money together for a ticket home. He told me that if I agreed to take 3oz of heroin (his personal supply) to Tokyo for him he would give me (pounds) 1000. I knew it was wrong, but I so wanted it to be right. I wanted to come home, but was too proud to ask my family or friends for help. I could even have gone to the British embassy in BKK, but back then I didn't know it was possible to do that.

This man made it sound so normal, so easy and so I accepted his offer. How could I have been so stupid? Indeed. I can honestly say that I just didn't think about it. If I had thought about the morality, legality, ethics, or possible consequences of what I was going to do, I just wouldn't have done it. But I didn't think of those things. I didn't even know the sentence I would be given if caught. How can that be? Everyone knows what they do over there to people caught trying to smuggle drugs! But I did not. It was never discussed in social circles and I simply didn't know that 25 years was the minimum sentence for what I was about to do. It is advertised at the airport - I know this now - but I had only been through the airport once. When I'd arrived two years previously I

hadn't paid any attention to posters. I'd been too impatient to get going.

For me, smuggling drugs was a way to get home, but I suspect that, for many, it is a way to finance a longer stay in paradise. Others are persuaded by the middlemen to do it to pay bills at home, or give the family a good Christmas. People working for the big fish recruit people from Britain, preying on the young, naive, and inexperienced. Single mothers are often sitting ducks for the well-dressed, good-looking men, and loneliness and poverty are always easy targets. I have met people who tried to smuggle in order to pay for medical care and surgery, fund university, or simply to be able to buy a loved one something they always wanted. There are, of course, also those who do it for greed and selfishness, trying to get rich from someone else's pain. There are as many reasons for people smuggling drugs as there are people who do it.

I have none of the excuses that many people caught carrying drugs through airports do have. I did know what I was carrying, but just didn't bother to find out the consequences of getting caught. I was just so desperate for home.

Forget You Had a Daughter - Doing Time in the Bangkok Hilton, by Sandra Gregory with Herald writer Michael Tierney, will be published by Vision in June 2002.