Bali Nine’s very different drug mules and the two painful traits they shared

Madonna King is the co-author – with Cindy Wockner – of Bali 9: The Untold Story. I spoke to her on Thursday.

Fitz: Madonna, I know you know the story of the Bali Nine backwards. After the 2015 executions of two of their number, Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran, the rest of us have just about forgotten that most of the others remain in prison. Can we begin by you tightly summarising the story, before we concentrate on the latest developments?

MK: This group of nine young Australians came to infamy in 2005 – less than a year after Schapelle Corby’s arrest – for trying to smuggle heroin out of Bali and into Australia. And they didn’t actually even all know each other. They were from Brisbane, Illawarra, Newcastle and Sydney.

Madonna King co-authored a book about the Bali Nine. “Every single one of them … wanted to find this sense of belonging.”

Fitz: So, as a group, these were not hardened career criminals?

MK: Definitely not. Most of them just wandered into the whole thing. And these kids – for different reasons, on different promises – decided to get on a plane and go to Bali. After a week of holidaying, they were taken into a dingy hotel room and had packs of heroin plastered to their body, their thighs, their stomach, and five of them then set off for the airport in three different taxis. Two lots of mules were in the first two taxis and Andrew Chan, one of the organisers, without any drugs on him, was in a third taxi.

Fitz: Oh, the horror! We know what’s happened to Corby, just for smuggling marijuana, and here we are, with heroin strapped to our bodies, approaching Indonesian customs!

MK: Two of them – Renae Lawrence and Martin Stephens – were initially quite cocky. They passed a drug dog on the way in. They would have passed more than one sign warning of the death penalty for drugs. But they kept going, all the time while being monitored, and then – just before they climbed onboard – they were searched. All up they had more than eight kilograms of heroin strapped to their bodies. That’s a lot of heroin. In current terms, it amounts to 80,000 street deals worth $4 million. And suddenly, all of the swagger evaporated. One started crying. They knew they were in all sorts of strife.

Fitz: Did I mention the HORROR? And did we ever find out who was the Mr Big, or Mrs Big for that matter, behind the whole thing?

MK: There was a woman who police in Bali had their eyes on. They knew her name, they knew she was from Thailand, and they tried to get her, but somehow mysteriously, they never did and she was never charged. There were also several other people in Australia downstream who were later charged – with barely any publicity – most of them from Brisbane. They went to jail for various short periods and have now been out for years and years.

Fitz: In the meantime, on the ground, Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran were identified as the ringleaders?

MK: Yes. They were a couple of boys from Homebush High, who kind of knew each other at school, but no more than that. Sukumaran really intrigues me. School references labelled him as “honest, reliable, responsible, punctual, with high standards”. He took part in the national maths and science competitions. He was a gold medal winner in karate. He was in the school’s second grade rugby team. He gave blood in the annual school appeal. He was a volunteer for the Salvation Army Red Shield appeal. This wasn’t a kid who you expected in 2015 to be shot in the dead of the night by an anonymous marksman, just because he fell in with a bad crowd and made a decision that he went to his death ruing.

Myuran Sukumaran (left) and Andrew Chan pictured in 2006. They were executed by firing squad in 2015.Credit: AP

Fitz: I do remember Sukumaran seemed to have, despite the extremity of his circumstances, a certain dignity, a certain courage in his public pronouncements, starting with his expression of deep remorse?

MK: Yes. Both of them were incredibly apologetic. Andrew Chan actually turned to religion, and became a pastor. Before his arrest, Chan had got into some teenage trouble, and was a small-time thug in some ways. But they had both got themselves into a situation where they were sucked into a syndicate that was trafficking heroin. In jail though, even the Indonesian authorities said they were both fantastic in mentoring other people. They knew what they’d done was wrong and in their cases, it wasn’t fake. It wasn’t because they were facing a firing squad. They actually had time to sit in squalor and look at what they’d done. Both of them saw their families, perhaps particularly their mothers, absolutely destroyed. Imagine being told your child is going to be lined up in a field at some time without anyone there, and shot? I feel sick even saying those words. All the Bali Nine parents were hardworking. In the case of Andrew Chan and Myuran Sukumaran, the parents were good people trying to give their child a better life, and they’ve each had to live with the consequences of one absolutely stupid (and criminal) decision by their sons.

Fitz: Speaking of stupid decisions, what about the others, like the son of the notably Christian parents, Scott Rush? Somebody must have said to him, “Scott, here’s the plan.” But what on earth was in it for him and the others to go through customs with heroin strapped to their bodies?

MK: About $5000 each.

The Australian government is negotiating with Indonesia for the repatriation of the five remaining incarcerated members of the Bali Nine (from left) Martin Stephens, Si-Yi Chen, Michael Czugaj, Matthew Norman and Scott Rush.Credit: Composite: Nathan Perri

Fitz: That’s it? They’re risking the death sentence, on a million-dollar consignment, in return for just $5K?

MK: That’s all. And in one case, Michael Czugaj – this kid from Brisbane who’d never been overseas, who was one of I think nine siblings – he met one of the others at a nightclub in Brisbane, went home, got his passport without his parents knowing where he was, and left for Bali. A few days later his parents get a phone call, turn on the news and find out their son’s been arrested for drug trafficking! He and Scott Rush knew each other at school, through sport, but not particularly well, and both of them had been in a little bit of trouble here and there, but they were young kids. And Scott Rush comes from a strong, united family.

Fitz: Again, an extraordinary fate, for young men with such grounded backgrounds.

MK: Exactly. But that’s the point. It wasn’t necessarily what kind of family they came from that put them there. I had young children myself at the time, and when I was doing the book with Cindy Wockner I became obsessed with trying to get to the bottom of “why these nine? What’s to stop my own children, or anyone’s children one day going down the same path?” In some cases, their parents loved each other so much that they still held hands while their children were sitting on death row or in court in Bali. In other cases, their parents despised each other so much that despite their kids being in this much trouble, they never even picked up the phone to each other. That broke my heart. So you can’t say they’re from a good family or a bad family, or a divorced family or a together family. This was more about the kids themselves.

Fitz: And did you find the unifying thread?

MK: Two things … Firstly, every single one of them wanted to belong, whether it was in a tiny street gang, or working with others, or on a holiday to Bali that someone promised at a nightclub in Brisbane – they wanted to find this sense of belonging. And the other thread was an absolute lack of confidence. They had no confidence in themselves. I remember talking to one parent, and there was a picture of their child on the wall, and I said, “Oh, they look like they were a bit sporty when they were young.” And that parent’s response was, “But they would have never made it really, look at their knobbly knees.” I was quite taken back. Then they handed me a photo album of their child, and I’m going through it. I said, “Oh my god, that smile could light up a room.” The response from the parent was,“Yeah, but look at the crooked teeth.”

Fitz: That would break your heart!

MK: It did, but they weren’t being mean. This parent loved their child. But I got on the plane and I cried all the way back to Brisbane, thinking,“How do you actually bring your child up so they know right from wrong?” You can’t compliment them all the time, but I think kids lean into what they learn. And I think what Briony Scott said in that fabulous interview you did with her last week is so true. They’ve got to be confident, and they’ve got to be able to make decisions without wanting to fit in at any cost. And if we thought it was bad 20 years ago, social media has made that demand for girls to fit in at any cost a thousand times worse.

Fitz: So on the night in question, is it fair to say that because the Australian Federal Police tipped off the Indonesian authorities, their cards were always marked and, as we say in rugby, “shits was trumps on the blind”?

MK: I don’t understand rugby, but this group – almost every one of them – was known to the AFP. They didn’t have all the evidence, but they were tracking them. They knew where they bought their tickets, where they were headed, and why.

Fitz: So here’s my key question. Why not arrest them on landing in Australia? They’re Australians, so let them face Australian justice. Beyond not spending 20 years in a hell-hole, there would have been every chance that the two men executed could have come back here, paid their dues, and gone on to live fruitful lives. Wouldn’t that have been the decent thing to do?

MK: I think Australians are very split on that, and I can really see both sides. But one thing many have pointed out is that we have agreements with various countries – not only about drugs, but terrorism, too – and we have to be careful about breaching those agreements for our own ends. Because the boot can be on the other foot at other times, and could we be expecting them to not share information with us about illegal activities in our country planned by Indonesian nationals?

Fitz: As a matter of interest, do you personally accept the sheer absurdity of the whole so-called “war on drugs”? For every massive drug bust like this, the only result is that it drives up the price on the streets to make even more fabulous profits for the puppeteers and the whole thing will go on until such times as sanity prevails and drugs are treated as a health problem, not a criminal problem. All the war on drugs does is drive the whole thing underground, where it is truly dangerous.

MK: No, I don’t. For the six or seven years after the Bali Nine were arrested, we talked to our children every second night over the dinner table about the importance of the law, about the influence of friendships, about getting in the wrong crowd, about making a decision that they might regret for the rest of their life. We all used these kids to teach our own kids about the perils of drugs. But I can also see how, after having paid such a long and heavy price, it’s time to bring them home, because the lesson in their arrest has been lost. Teenagers now have never heard of them.

Fitz: And what do we know of their likely fate once back in our brown and pleasant land?

MK: Not much. I do think the opposition is right to ask questions about the deal. We deserve transparency and accountability. Will they serve more time? Under what circumstances are they being transferred back here? Does this change the agreements we currently have with Indonesia? Have we offered anything in return? Personally, I would love them to be visiting schools and explaining the mistake that they made. But I think before they arrive on a plane, Australians deserve to know what the deal involves and what is their future.

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