# 144 Pepper Spray & a Sting Operation in Bangkok

The reason given for David Fletcher’s allegedly ‘sudden’ departure from Cambodia in June 2010 is that he was ‘fleeing’ because he knew that he was about to be arrested. 

It is now clear, beyond any shadow of a doubt (attested by APLE’s own report of 23^rd June), that as of 25^th June 2010, when Mr Fletcher was already in Thailand, there was no warrant for his arrest or any suggestion that he had raped Yang Dany.

Here is David Fletcher gives his account of how and why he left Cambodia. It is an account verified by several witnesses

I opened the bar, ‘Rick's Place’, at the end of October 2009. It was situated at # 100, 15th Street Street, opposite the Fancy Guest House.  

It is at ‘Rick’s Place’ that APLE alleges I raped Yang Dany, twice six months earlier, in March 2009. The problem with this version of events is that the building consisted of nothing more than four derelict floors in March and I did not own the lease.

Not only did ‘Rick’s Place’ not exist when I am supposed to have raped this young woman there, nor had I yet met Yang Dany. APLE could have found this out if Scott Neeson, Thierry Darnaudet and Samleang Siela had done a little homework.

(Why would a young woman who was raped by me on the 15th March at ‘Rick’s Bar’, if it had existed, come back for more on the 22nd?)

Isaac Veith, a spy paramedic working for Scott Neeson, rented the building at the time. He asked me if I wanted to rent the two lower floors from him. I agreed and the lease was signed in October 2009.

I decorated and fitted the place out myself on a tight  budget, as I was now getting very tired of the animosity from the plebs on Khmer 440 and NGOs looking for evidence that I was grooming young girls. Scott Neeson was trying very hard to destroy me as a competitor in the rubbish dump. I did not see Neeson as a competitor but as a brother in arms. There was a need for half a dozen NGOs such as his and operations such as mine. I was never an NGO and never pretended to be one. I was happy to be making my own small contribution.

I hired a very nice young lady called Rhota, 32 years of age, to be my manageress. We had a good working relationship. I helped her with English and I taught Rhota the bar trade and how to make cocktails.

I also met a nice lady who worked in a bank, named Dara. She was about forty years of age. She would often come to the bar and sit and talk with me and Rhota.

Isaac Veith came in one day with a fat Australian, about 50 years of age. He had a beard that made him look like a drunken hippy on a Harley Davidson, even though he didn't possess one. I was introduced to him as Fred.

‘Fred’ was just a nickname, I think. His second name I've forgotten. It turned out he was one of the partners of the ‘Ox Gold’ distillery project that started this new line of spirits called ‘Ox Gold’. It consisted of vodka, whiskey and cognac. Apparently the partners had all fallen out (with hindsight I can understand why) and ‘Ox Gold’ had gone broke.

Fred was in conflict with his other partners in ‘Ox Gold’ about money so he had asked Isaak Veith if he could hide about 200 crates of spirits in our building. Isaak agreed. I had nothing to do with it. So that night they offloaded the cases Fred had taken from the distillery without his other partners’ knowledge. He claimed later that this was in lieu of money owed to him.

Fred asked me if I would like to buy some and try to promote the product for him in my bar. I agreed and bought a few cases at retail price. Fred went away for a while. When he came back he asked me if I would go in with him on a charity he was setting up. I said I would look at it, remembering I was asked that this a few years before but the Australian Mafia in Phnom Penh who drove around in a silver Mercedes and came to Bogie and Bacalls – the bar I had owned earlier. It turned out to be a fake charity so I told Fred a few home truths. He did not appreciate my candour.

A few evenings later (all these events were witnessed) Fred came into the bar very drunk. A friend said, “Be careful David, Fred is very drunk.” For some strange reason Fred was carrying a tin of baked beans. He presented me with a bill for approximately $65 for spirits I had acquired from him. I said I only had a $100 bill on me. He had no change, so I said I would pay him a little later, when I had change, less his bar bill. With this he stood up, started raving and smashed me over the head with his can of baked beans. (Funny now but not then!)

I must have a hard head is it split the can of beans  but I only cut my head above my ear. Rhota saw me go down and tossed me my infamous (according to the plebs on Khmer440) Bowie knife. It was 13 inches long and I kept it behind the bar for just such occasions. Fred did not like the knife pressed against his fat guts and retreated to the street, being the brave person he was!

Later that evening he came back for his stolen cases of spirit with a policeman he had paid to help him. I would not allow Fred on the premises. The policeman came into the bar and sat down with me. I gave him the money I owed Fred,  less his bar bill.

What happened next was very funny. Fred had bought two tuk tuks with him to collect his hoard of spirits. He was still very drunk. The tuk tuk drivers loaded half Fred’s cargo into one tuk tuk. As the rest was being loaded into the second tuk tuk the first one disappeared into the night with Fred’s grog. So Fred finished up with only about half of his grog. The tuk tuk drivers stole the other half! Karma.

About two weeks later Dara, Rhota and a mate of mine were sitting at the outside table of the bar. My mate went to take a leak. A moto pulled up with fat hippy Fred on it. He ran to the table raving. I start to stand up and he sprayed my eyes with pepper spray. I went down. Dara got a dose of the spray and so did some of my customers.

Fred was just about to give me the boot, as I was down and blinded (very brave man, our Fred) when my mate came out of the toilet, saw what was going on, and gave chase. Brave fat Fred ran back to the moto and roared off into the night.

Thankfully we had plenty of ice. I covered my eyes with it and within about 15 minutes I could see, although it was still very painful. Rhota called the police.  All they were interested in was seeing my passport and visa, which were at the immigration office being renewed. I was rebuked by the police for not having them with me. I told them to go forth and multiply themselves!

Fred became one of the plebs on Khmer 440, and the NGOs such as APLE and Scott Neeson who ramped up their demonizing of me. I had had enough.  After two attacks like this, with a good friend being hurt as a consequence, I  informed all my friends that I was tired of being demonized by the Khmer440 plebs and that I had decided to leave Cambodia and take up one of the two jobs I had been offered. One was in Manila and in the other was in South Africa. I closed ‘Rick’s Place’, took the contents in a truck to the dump and gave it to several of my families, including Yang Dany and her mother. I said my goodbyes to Danny's family and the others I had helped.

A week later I went to Pursat to spend a few days with my Khmer family, my wife's father. I arrived back in Phnom Penh on 23rd June 2010. I received a phone call from Dany asking if I would meet her and her family that night, but not to come to the dump. So I said I would meet them at a Khmer cafe that I taken them to before. Dany asked me to meet at 5:30. At 6pm I received a call I received a call from a friend of Dany’s that she could not come.

The next day, 24th of June 2010, I left Phnom Penh on the bus to Bangkok via Poi Pet. I obtained a visa for 14 days to Thailand. And my passport was stamped correctly.

I was going to Bangkok  to pick up tickets there for a direct flight to Manila to talk to ‘Karl’ about one of the job offers. I had never met Karl but had corresponded with him by email. He said he was sympathetic to the problems I was having in Cambodia and asked if I would like to set up an operation similar to the one I had in Cambodia, in the Philippines. I was interested, at least in having a chat with ‘Karl’ about what he had in mind. Since he had offered me a free air ticket to meet him in Manilla I had no reason to distrust ‘Karl’. As I was to discover soon enough, I should have distrusted ‘Karl’.

I stayed the small hotel owned by an Englishman, checking in on the evening of 24 th June. The next morning one of the staff, who was related to the owner, said two men had called when I was out to see if I was there. They had my photo. The only people that could know where I was staying were the Thai immigration department and ‘Karl’. The owner od the hotel told me that immigration did not collect the guest list for another three days, so would notyewt know where I was staying. Hence, it had to be ‘Karl’ who had visited. Why hadn’t he left a note?

For the next couple of days I waited for ‘Karl’ to make contact. He didn’t. In a previous life I'd been taught to cope with being followed. Now I was sure I was being followed and put my skills into play.

I could not imagine who was following me, or why, as I had done nothing wrong. The only people I considered it could be were Scott Neeson’s Muppets, SISHA or APLE, as they had followed me so much in  Phnom Penh. But why now?  In Thailand?

On Sunday 27th of June 2010 the two men (Thais) came back to the hotel. I was there arranging to go to South Africa, as I had heard nothing from ‘Karl’. The two men said the British Embassy had sent them to tell me the embassy wanted to talk to me. I said fine. At the time I thought: “who am I to argue with the British Embassy.”

Poor fool me! The two men took me to the infamous BKK IDC (Immigration Detention Centre). They said they had seen the article  Drummond had published about me in the UK They asked me if I had seen the article. I said no! So the prison officials allowed me to use their computer to find it. They asked me if it was correct. I said that some of it was but mostly it was lies. He then gave me a form to sign that was written in Thai. I asked what it was. He told me it was just a receipt! I signed but wrote above my name "I do not understand this document" I was placed in a cell. It would take me a few years before I figured out that ‘Karl’ was in fact XXXX.

…to be continued

I have not revealed ‘Karl’s’ identity at this point for legal reasons. It was not until 2014, cross-referencing emails and other documents, that it became apparent that ‘Karl’ had made a very simple error whilst trying to keep his identity secret as he played a key role in the sting operation that delivered David Fletcher into the Immigration Detention Centre.