Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. An expensive car crashes. One or more people die. A person with a recognisable name, either through their own fame or the position of their parents, emerges from the wreckage or flees the scene. No breath test is administered. Compensation is offered and the family tries to wriggle their way out of any legal consequences. The police fail dismally at their job.
It’s no wonder there is a sense of deja vu about the past week since Janepob Veeraporn smashed his black Mercedes-Benz through a tollway gate, tore along the highway and rammed into the back of a Ford Fiesta, killing the two occupants. We have seen so many versions we know the deadly drivers by their nicknames: Moo Ham, Nong Praewa, the Red Bull heir and Anna Reese in the past decade alone.
Mr Janepob’s crash had the added shock value of dashcam footage from a nearby vehicle which showed the speeding Mercedes and the impact clearly. But it’s what came next that has the all-too-familiar ring to it. The 37-year-old luxury car dealer was not tested for driving under the influence of alcohol, and his richer and more prominent father was quickly at funerals offering condolences and compensation. The police who initially handled the case were criticised as having shielded Mr Janepob, and were sidelined after a public relations disaster in which one officer said the suspect had a right to refuse a breath test — the law considers such a refusal to be tantamount to driving under the influence.
The irony that Mr Janepob gave the excuse of being afraid of needles in an effort to dodge the blood test, only to turn up to the Ayutthaya court on Friday afternoon on a drip, did not go unnoticed. Mr Janepob was injured in the crash, and while police have said he has been conscious and lucid, his father told reporters his son has no memory of the events.
The clearest parallel is with the case of Vorayuth “Boss” Yoovidhya, the heir to the Red Bull empire who stands accused of crashing his gunmetal grey Ferrari into Wichian Klanprasert’s motorcycle on the morning of Sept 3, 2012, fleeing the scene as the senior Thong Lor policeman was left dead on Sukhumvit Road. The allegations remain just that, because despite appearing at the funeral with his mother and paying compensation to Wichian’s widow — a fraction of the value of his ruined luxury car — he has been out of the country or otherwise unable to answer the criminal case against him in the years since.
In that case, the police failure was shocking in itself: an inspector was transferred to an inactive post amid allegations he was involved in an attempt to shift the blame to an employee of the family. The police did not seem very intent on prosecuting a man who killed one of their own. This in turn has parallels with the case of Anna Reese, who was allowed to take a blood-alcohol test 12 hours after the Thai-British actress crashed her Mercedes into a parked car and killed a policeman.
For Kanpitak “Moo Ham” Pachimsawat and Orachon “Praewa” Thephasadin na Ayudhya, the wheels of justice turned slowly as they could afford to exhaust every legal option available to them. Moo Ham was finally jailed in September 2015 for driving into a crowd, killing one, in July 2007. Praewa’s latest appeal was thrown out, meaning she has a two-year suspended jail term and some community service for a crash that left nine people dead.
The sense that there is one set of rules for the rich and influential and another for everyone else is common to all five cases, which explains the outrage of the past week. A significant reason for this perception is the response of the police, who have once again covered themselves in shame. The explanation that a suspect has the “right” to refuse a breath test, when it is in fact a crime, was especially egregious.
It should not be forgotten, also, that a senior police officer has very publicly been allowed to get away with refusing a breath test — not once, but five times at two locations. When he was Bangkok’s police chief, the then Pol Lt Gen Srivara Ransibrahmanakul spoke openly of how he reprimanded traffic police for having the temerity to do their job and request the off-duty officer submit to a breathalyser like everyone else. “Eventually, I had to tell them who I was and get out of my car and criticise them,” he told reporters at the time.
If the Royal Thai Police Force was a credible organisation, Pol Lt Gen Srivara would have not only faced internal disciplinary action but been charged. If he had any shame, he would have resigned. Instead, he has been promoted to full general and is one of the key deputy national police chiefs with a hand in the Erawan Shrine investigation and responsibility for the crackdown on “dark influences”.
With such a litany of embarrassing incidents, it is no wonder people with money and influence think they can avoid facing the legal consequences for causing carnage on the streets. History shows they can.