Last month, Australian Women’s Weekly News Editor Bryce Corbett travelled to Bali to meet with convicted drug smuggler and Bali 9 member, Renae Lawrence in Kerobokan Prison. This is an edited transcript of that interview:
How are you coping?
Alright I suppose. I still wake up every morning and think: “Wow, I am still here. You can’t cry about it though, you just have to get on with your life.
You seem to be in good spirits…
There are ways to cover up how you are really feeling. You just put a smile on your face and everybody thinks everything is alright. Some days you have your angry days, bad mood days.
Does it get easier or harder the longer you are here?
Some days it’s easier, some days it’s harder. Depends which guard is looking after you.
Is it dangerous in here?
I wouldn’t say it’s dangerous. I haven’t been outside for a while, but I’d say it’s a lot more dangerous out there than it is in here. When the riots were on, the only thing I worried about was the gas bottles in the kitchen exploding. I wasn’t worried about being shot or anything.
So let’s start at the beginning. Take me back to that day in April 2005 when you were arrested.
There’s a bit to it. We had a choice to start with but we didn’t have a choice in the end. But as you know, I have been here before. And it’s like, once you get half your foot in the door, you can’t get it back out again. You are committed. I wanted out, but I didn’t know how. Every time they planned a trip I was told I was going, and then you had to find all these excuses for your family about why you don’t have your mobile phone and why you won’t be able to be contacted.
Were you scared the first time you made the trip?
The first time, yeah. But we were told they had people in the airport and there was nothing for us to worry about. But then when we got back to Australia one of the guys I was with got pulled over to customs and they asked to look at his passport because it had so many Bali stamps on it. And I pretended I didn’t know him. Because at that stage he actually had it on him as well. But they just asked him a couple of questions and let him go.
You were standing at customs with drugs strapped to you?
Yeah. And so was he, actually.
Weren’t you terrified?
I actually started to shake at that stage. But they looked at his passport and let him through.
And after that first trip you never thought: I got away with it once, I won’t tempt fate and try that again?
That was what I was hoping would happen. But as I was saying, once you have your foot in the door and your body has passed through, it’s very hard to get out.
Was it because the money was too good to pass up?
Partially. You’re the only one I have actually told this to. My mother doesn’t even know this stuff.
So partially it was the money — what was the other reason?
As I said, we couldn’t get out of it. He (Andrew) threatened me and my family if I didn’t go through with the trip. He told me if I didn’t do what I told him then my little brother would be taken to the farm — an outback place they sent people or the family of people who don’t do what they are told. Apparently there are acid tanks in the sheds. I’d heard stories of people being taken there and never being seen again.
When you say they, who are you talking about? (Alleged Bali 9 ringleaders and convicted smugglers Andrew) Chan and (Myuran) Sukumaran?
That’s probably the only thing I fear in here. Those two. And one of them in particular. I’ve never had a problem with Myuran. But Andrew scares me. I don’t fear the Balinese.
Do you have any contact with them?
I see them every now and then. I didn’t have much contact with Myuran.
Do you look back at what you did and think: I was just so stupid?
Yes. Very stupid. Absolute naive stupidity. I’ve had eight years now to sit here now and think about what I did. There was a period when I beat myself up about it. But what’s done is done. What can you do? You just have to make the best of every day. But I suppose what’s done is done. You can’t change it.
Can you see why people might think it was a really stupid thing to do and you deserve to be punished?
Yeah. I guess so. It’s different for Schapelle isn’t it? Because she had it in her body board bag. And I am not saying she did or she didn’t do it. But when it is in your body board bag and not on your body, you can turn around and say it’s not yours. But when it’s actually taped to your body you can’t say: “I was given sleeping tablets and when I woke up it was there.” I mean, there’s no way you can say you didn’t know.
And what about the role of the AFP in all this. Are you still angry?
Yeah, I am, actually. I’m angry with the way it was all done. When we went into the airport, we had already immigrated, we were already through immigration and onto the other side. And I keep arguing this point, and I think I will until I die. We had gone through immigration and our visa had already been stamped. These coppers came up and we didn’t know they were police and they asked us to come to one side for a body check. And I agreed and went into a room. The sniffer dog went over us a few times, but didn’t smell anything – just sneezed from the pepper I think.
How were you feeling at this point, when they pulled you over for a body check?
Half of me was thinking, well, they tell me they have people in the airport, maybe we’ll be okay. And the other half was like, oh Jesus, we’re f***ed.
Were you panicking?
I started panicking when they asked me to go out of the room and they started stripping Martin. I heard them say to Martin: “What’s all this?”, pointing to the bandages. And he said: “Banana boat.” Trying to make out that the bandages were the result of a banana boat injury. And so when it was my turn, they asked the same question and I said: “Banana boat.” And then there were all these tourists in the waiting lounge with their cameras out taking photos of us. They didn’t make any attempt to stop them.
So, do you think the masterminds of the smuggling effort had people in the airport like they said they did?
I don’t think so. They just told us that to try to convince us to go through with it. When we first went through the airport they wanted to search my bag. They had one of the hand metal detectors and were ready to run it through my bag, and the guy looked to his right, and a man upstairs who was watching us shook his head, and the guy waved me through. And I started wondering why they didn’t search my bag. And then we gave our passports and the head guy of the airport came down and rang someone else. And then there were sniffer dogs, and I had never had sniffer dogs before, and they were obviously from Australia, because you don’t ever see dogs like that here. But there was no way of turning back. And one of the bags (of heroin) was falling off my leg, and I was holding on to it through the pocket of my pants.
But you knew what was being taped to your body?
I knew it was illegal, but I didn’t know it was heroin.
Tell me about your first few months in Kerobokan.
I gave the guards a really good time. I was angry. So angry with myself. I drank. I smashed myself up. I punched a wall and broke my arm. I used to sit outside Schapelle’s room and hit my head on the wall.
There were reports that you slashed your wrists. Were you trying to commit suicide?
Yes. But it didn’t work. Turns out the razor wasn’t sharp enough, but they took them all off me so I couldn’t try again.
Do you look back on that now and are glad it didn’t work? Or have there been times when you think you would have been better off dead?
No — I’m actually glad it didn’t work, or I wouldn’t have learned as much as I have learned.
What have you learned?
I’ve learned lots.
Like what?
I think I have learned how to cope with life more easily. I’ve learned not to expect that everything in life is going to be handed to you on a platter.
Did you think the drug smuggling was going to be a quick fix of cash — you had no money, you needed it quickly…
I suppose the money was attractive. I was broke and needed cash quickly. It seemed like a quick fix. But I was also scared of Andrew.
How much were you going to get?
It wasn’t even that much — it was either $15,000 or $10,000.
You were paid for the first drug run — $10,000 according to reports.
Yeah — but that was like a thank you.
What do you mean? They weren’t going to pay you at all?
No, that’s what they said they would pay, but then I didn’t know whether they really would or not. It was like Russian Roulette.
So you did it because you were scared of them?
Ummm. I did it firstly because of the money, and secondly, because I was scared of them.
What specifically were you scared of?
Well when he (Andrew) mentioned the farm, that scared me. I had heard there is a farm and it has acid tanks and stuff there. I don’t know, it might have just been his fantasy stuff, but it still worked.
It didn’t occur to you this is the stuff of a bad TV cop show?
I probably did watch a few too many movies. But you do hear of things like that in real life. When I say it now, I know it sounds stupid. Maybe I had been watching too many movies. But at the time I believed it. I was intimidated by him. I suppose I still am. The main person I was worried about was my brother.
Your brother was threatened?
He didn’t threaten my brother directly. He said it to me. And he’s the only brother I’ve got. And whether it’s the only brother you’ve got or not, when somebody threatens your younger brother…
He threatened to take him to the farm?
Yeah — basically.
Tell me a bit about your brother then…
He visited last month and he said to me, two days before he was going to leave, he told me he couldn’t come back and see me again. And I asked him why and he said it was too hard. He said: ‘I hate these days, I just want to stay here with you.’
Is it hard not to see family?
I can’t believe he is 26 years old now. I was 27 when I first got arrested and now I’m 35.
How many more years have you got?
Not that many. Because they have given me a job in the prison which means instead of getting six months off my sentence every August, I get eight. I work in the office here in the prison. It took me ages to get the job. It took me a year. They kept losing my paperwork. Coincidentally. One of the guards reckons I have about four years left.
Does that seem like a long time?
I don’t think about it really. It’s hard to explain, but I have become adapted to jail life. I mean, I’ll probably walk out the door the day they set me free and be hit by a car.
Do you worry about having to reintegrate?
Yeah. Because it’s like living in a bubble. You’re in your own little world.
So you have no idea what’s going on in the world?
I have a little TV in my cell. But it’s only Indonesian channels.
Is that why your Indonesian is as good as it is?
Well, you have to learn the language, to know when the guards are talking about you.
Will you go home to Australia when you are released?
I would like to stay here. But that’s going to be hard.
Why would you like to stay here?
I like the country. It’s not the country’s fault that I got arrested.
But you don’t want to come home?
I’ve been told if I go back to Australia I will be killed. And anyway, I’d rather stay in Bali when I am released, even if the government here probably wouldn’t allow it. People wonder why I would want to stay here, but I like the country and the people. It’s my fault I am in here, not Indonesia’s.
Who told you that you would be killed if you returned to Australia?
One of them (points across the visitor’s area).
These threats — when did you receive them?
It’s been basically the whole time. But the thing is: I don’t know who the bosses are. And I didn’t tell the police anything that they didn’t already know.
You used to work with Andrew Chan at a catering company?
Yes. Although he would say no. He said we worked together but it was a big company and he didn’t know me. But he was my supervisor. We used to have forklift races together.
Do you think anyone would ever offer you a job in Australia?
No. I think I would just walk in the door and they would take one look at me or my name and tell me the vacancy has been filled. Who is going to give Renae Lawrence a job? What am I supposed to do when people recognise me and don’t want anything to do with me?
Do you have a sense of how, I wouldn’t say famous, but how notorious you are at home?
No.
Maybe I am wrong, but after Schapelle, you are probably the best known of the prisoners here. People at home would see you in the street and recognise you.
I never actually thought about it that way. I should maybe have considered going after fame the Tom Cruise way.
You sit here cracking jokes, and we’re in this strange place which is your daily life. And the thing that strikes me is that I don’t get the sense that things are all that tough in here.
They are tough. I mean – when you are living in a foreign country away from your family. My family wants to visit all the time, but I don’t want them to spend the money, because they can’t afford it. I prefer them to spend the money on themselves rather than fly over to see me. I feel guilty. They have already spent so much more money than they have. But you can’t tell them not to – because they come anyway. I am always telling Dad to stay at home, to save his money. But he insists on coming. He keeps saying he is getting older and wants to see me.
Is that hard for you to see your Dad struggling like that because of something stupid you have done?
We’re sort of over the saying sorry bit. I did a lot of that at the beginning. As long as he sees me with a smile on my face, that’s all I can do for him now.
Do you have to force that smile some days?
Sometimes. I mean, I could feel like sh*t but I put a smile on just for him. Because I just think, some people have negative thinking about foreigners in a foreign jail, so it just puts his mind at ease to see him smile and joke with him.
Is it boring in here?
Sometimes. Sometimes you think about what life you did have and how fast it can be taken away from you because of your own stupidity. I think because I have a job in here I don’t have much time to feel sorry for myself. There’s no point feeling sorry for myself. I would only beat the shit out myself for being so stupid. You are getting told an awful lot here, you know, that has never been told before. I mean, I can understand why some people get depressed, but it’s what you make of it. Feeling sorry for yourself is not going to change things. You’ve still got to do your time.
And you have never in all this time been subject to any violence – physical or sexual?
I have once. I was drunk this one time and I had already calmed down. One of the old bosses of the jail came to see who was making a problem. And I just stood up, drunk, and said: ‘I am’. And he punched me in the face. So I punched him back. So they tied me up and they just stamped on my head. They tied me up and handcuffed me and basically just stomped on me. For the next week or so they wouldn’t let me go to the visiting area, they wouldn’t let me meet with the consular officials – because I had bruises all over me, I could barely walk. That’s never been reported before. That guard is no longer in the prison.
What’s the hardest part of being in here?
Apart from the fact that you can’t walk out the front door? The actual hardest thing for me is that you can’t make a living. You can’t earn any money. So you have to rely on your parents, your friends.
Do you know how much you are in debt?
I know it’s a lot. But I have never actually totalled it. About $200,000. For lawyers, both here and in Australia. I had a QC which mum paid for.
Do you feel like the Australian government has done everything it could?
The consulate is good. But apart from the consulate, who is it now, Julia Gillard? I think that totally sucks that she is giving houses and money to illegal immigrants and asylum seekers when all we get from the consulate every month is a two hundred dollar loan, which we have to pay back.
But all they are doing is escaping a war-torn country and looking for a better life. You strapped heroin to your body and tried to smuggle it into Australia…
I suppose.
What about the other members of the Bali 9?
There’s Andrew Chan over there (points). And that’s Matthew Norman there with his girlfriend. No one sees much of Thanh. People call him the Phantom.
And what about Schapelle – do you see much of her?
Yeah, Schapelle and I are friends. We had a falling out because people were making stuff up, saying that she had sold a story about me when she never did. Or that I had sold a story about her, and I never did. The guards here really don’t want us to be friends, so they keep trying to destabilise our friendship, spreading rumours that aren’t true. They know if we are fighting, we will work against each other in here, but if we are united, then we are a bigger threat to them.
Have you ever thought of escaping?
I did in the first few months. I was going to dig a hole. But then I changed my mind. I was going to do a Shawshank Redemption. But I think it would be worse if I tried to escape. With my current job, I am in a good position in terms of earning time in remission and I don’t really want to waste that.
Tell me about the tattoo on your arm. Who is Angel?
She was a baby born here in the jail to a fellow prisoner, but her mum didn’t want much to do with her so I ended up looking after her. I called her Angel. She died outside jail a couple of weeks after her mum was released. She was only seven-months old. She died from a virus which caused her to get fluid on the brain. When she was in hospital, there was another baby there with the same illness. The sad thing was that there was only one machine and that cost 10 million rupiah ($980 AUD). The first family to come up with the money was the first one to get the machine, sadly that wasn’t Angel’s.
(Andrew Chan gets up to leave the visitor’s area. Renae follows his every move)
How do you feel when you see Andrew Chan?
It’s hard to explain. He’s intimidating. But now I just steer clear. It’s better that I just stay away. We don’t talk unless we really, really have to.
He’s on death row. How does that make you feel?
To be honest, I don’t think anybody deserves the death penalty. He probably should be in here for life, but I don’t think he deserves to be killed.
Did you know what the penalty was in Indonesia for drug smuggling before you did it?
No. I knew there would be some kind of penalty, but I didn’t know it was the death penalty.
How could you not know? Schapelle Corby had been caught only a year before your arrest — it was one of the biggest news stories of the year…
Well, I didn’t really watch the news that much. I didn’t really know much about Corby either until I was arrested. I just thought, you know, you’d get five years and go home. But then, when we were actually doing what we did, the thought of getting caught didn’t even cross my mind. But now I know.
Do you feel like the Australian government made a scapegoat of you?
Yeah, but what can you do? We were made examples of. We were only carrying the drugs, we didn’t supply them. We were just the mules. You can guarantee the trade hasn’t stopped just because we are off the streets. What I don’t understand is why they didn’t wait until we got to Australia to arrest us.
Well, I guess ten years in Silverwater Women’s Prison is not as big a deterrent to future drug mules as facing the death penalty and living in this place.
It’s not all that bad in here. I thought it was when I first got here, but I have since changed my mind. They have done the place up. It’s not like it used to be, a swamp here and a swamp there.
The riots sounded pretty intense.
They were. They burned down the one entire wing of the men’s prison. We were still locked up. But it was bound to happen – because of the boss they had in charge.
It’s going to be strange though when you walk out those gates.
Yep. It’s going to be very strange. I’ll probably want to run straight back in.
