A Death in the Lucky Holiday Hotel (11 page)

In addition, an official in Chongqing told
Mingjing News
that Wang lived a decadent lifestyle: he wore a watch that cost 500,000 yuan (US $80,000), and he collected limited editions of name-brand suits, with one costing 200,000 yuan (US $32,000). When workers moved him out of the police chief’s office, they had prepared forty boxes to package his personal belongings but ended up using eighty, the majority of those boxes containing expensive gifts. In 2010, Wang set up the “Heroes and Martyrs Fund” with money he had confiscated or extorted from private businesspeople and relatives of those who had been arrested or detained. The foundation, which was supposed to provide financial subsidies for families of police officers who had been killed in the line of duty, sometimes sponsored Wang’s pet projects. One time he purchased hundreds of tickets with the foundation money for a concert given by a singer who was known to be former president Jiang Zemin’s favorite. Many of these corruption-related
claims, which were initially discarded as rumors, appeared in Wang’s indictment. However, Bo supporters also dished out bogus claims to discredit his records.

On February 13, I received an e-mail from a source in Chongqing, who rehashed the story that Wang suffered from intermittent delusional disorder. He said Wang was neurotic and paranoid, and had become obsessed with his security matters. Each time he went on an inspection, he would use a helicopter, even for trips of less than thirty kilometers. When he moved around in the city, he would be escorted by a large contingent of police cars. When he stayed at a hotel, his bodyguards, most of whom were female in red uniforms, were stationed in the hallway.

Another source provided a similar example to illustrate Wang’s mental disorder. On January 6, 2012, a thief killed a customer in front of a bank in the southern city of Nanjing, snatching 200,000 yuan. Subsequent investigation found that the same person had perpetrated similar crimes in two other cities, including Chongqing, killing seven people, injuring two, and stealing 480,000 yuan in cash. The Ministry of Public Security ordered police chiefs in the three cities to coordinate their investigations and capture the criminal before he killed again. Over the course of the investigation, the police chief in Nanjing received a call from Wang, who claimed to have caught the suspect. Excited by the news, the Nanjing police chief flew over to Chongqing, only to find that it was only Wang’s fantasy.

“If he truly suffered from a mental disorder, why would the leadership cover up his medical condition and continue to allow him to work in such an important law enforcement position?” I asked.

My source didn’t answer.

These mental disorder claims were said to have prompted Hu Jintao’s chief of staff to order doctors at a psychiatric hospital to assess Wang’s mental fitness after he arrived in Beijing. But, from his meticulously planned escape to his calculated testimony at his subsequent trial, one could see that Wang Lijun was not only mentally competent, but also possessed the acumen of a seasoned politician who, when cornered, successfully created an international incident to destroy his enemy and save his life.

I
N 700 CE, when China was under the reign of Empress Wu Zetian, there lived a man called Lai Shijun, who served as the imperial censor, in today’s terms the minister of justice. A devoted supporter of the empress, Lai used extreme means to torture and persecute political opponents or outspoken court officials who dared challenge the empress.

Lai’s power grew significantly and he was said to have personally retained a staff of several hundred men whose jobs were to make false reports against other officials. Lai even cowrote a book known as the
Classic of Accusation
, teaching his subordinates how to accuse people of crimes and how to create details to make an alleged plot appear logical and likely.

Legend has it that Lai invited a senior military officer to dinner one day. Over the course of the meal, Lai posed a seemingly innocuous question: “It is very hard nowadays to get criminals to confess. Do you have an idea on how to get them to open their mouths?” The general responded, “That’s easy. Find a big urn, gather a pile of wooden sticks, set them on fire, and put the urn on top of the fire. Then you put the accused in the urn. I’m sure it will get them to talk.” Lai nodded and beckoned to his assistants. Soon they brought in a big urn and put it on top of the stove. Lai turned to the general: “Her Majesty has received reports that you are plotting against her. What do you say if I ask you to get into the urn?” The general trembled in fear, knelt, and confessed.

In later years, Lai became more emboldened and began to target the crown prince and the empress’s daughters, charging them with treason. His blatant accusations angered other royal family members who felt threatened and decided to ally themselves against Lai. Using the same schemes that Lai outlined in his book, several members of the royal family reported that Lai was planning a coup and eventually convinced the empress to condemn Lai to death. Following Lai’s execution, people on the street celebrated and Lai’s former victims were said to have cut out his flesh and organs, consuming them in retaliation.

Lai’s story gave rise to the Chinese proverb “Invite the gentleman into the urn”—meaning put a person into the trap he himself had set.

In addition to Lai, another often-cited
kuli
was Shang Yang, who lived in the kingdom of Qin around 395 BCE. As an adviser to the king, Shang encouraged economic development and implemented tough legal measures, including torture and severe physical punishment, to keep law and order. He specifically targeted the old aristocratic families. A prince’s nose was cut off after he was found violating the law. Shang’s policies helped rejuvenate morale and the economy. However, after the king died, Shang lost favor with the new ruler. His former political enemies retaliated by ordering the execution of Shang and his family, on the charge that he had attempted to foment rebellion. Shang tried to hide at a hotel, but the hotel owner refused to take him in because it was against the law to admit a guest without proper identification, a law Shang himself had promulgated. Shang was executed by dismemberment—he was fastened to five chariots and his body was torn into pieces, and his whole family was killed or buried alive.

As people started to reflect on the fates of Wang and Wen, several Chinese political commentators compared Wang with Lai and Shang, who were known in history as
kulis
—an ancient term referring to imperial officials or police officers who employed extreme means of torture and brutality to help their masters maintain power. The word was coined by a Chinese historian, Sima Qian, 2,000 years ago when he compiled a biographical sketch of ten notorious
kuli
s in the Han Dynasty.

In his blog, contemporary historian Li Xianzheng described what he called “three common characteristics” of
kuli
s:

First,
kuli
s flourished under the authoritarian political system. Rulers employed cruel and extreme means to intimidate the public and maintain their control without regard for the law. During political struggles, which were common under a totalitarian system, different political factions hired
kuli
s to protect their interests by torturing and randomly assassinating opponents.

Second,
kuli
s were closely associated with despotic kings or political leaders. For example, notorious
kuli
s emerged during the time of
Emperor Wu in the Han Dynasty and Empress Wu Zetian in the Tang Dynasty, both of whom were notorious for their tyrannical, cruel, and suspicious nature. On their way to the throne, they both hired
kuli
s to help them consolidate power. During the reigns of Emperor Wu and Wu Zetian, thousands of innocent officials died in the hands of
kuli
s.

Third, most
kuli
s met tragic endings. The majority of them had risen from humble origins and acquired power through their attachment and loyalty to an influential political figure. As enforcers of the law, they were known for their uprightness and uncanny problem-solving abilities. They made their names by fighting the wealthy and the powerful, and bullies. However, they soon became assimilated into the system and turned into bullies themselves. To their victims, they were conniving, corrupt, ruthless, and misanthropic. Their brutality and corruption caused deep enmity, which ultimately contributed to their fall. Throughout history, notorious
kuli
s in China were either discarded by their masters when they became a liability or persecuted by a stronger
kuli
with more power.

China’s emperors were deposed and the monarchic system was abolished a hundred years ago, but the totalitarian system remains the same. Communist officials such as Bo Xilai rule like emperors. It is not surprising that
kuli
s continue to flourish and fall.

IN THE CASE OF WANG LIJUN, author Ji Weiren, who wrote
China Coup
, a book published in Hong Kong about Bo Xilai, noted:

       
There is no doubt that Wang Lijun used to be a cop hero. He battled against organized crimes in society and fought his own internal demons. However, he did not realize that he gradually turned into one of the people he had executed. For years, Wang Lijun acted like he had unlimited power. He could file a criminal case or dismiss one as he wished. He could put surveillance on anyone as he wished. He could detain or release anyone as he wished. When he imprisoned other officials for embezzling public funds, he himself took hundreds of thousands of dollars in bribes. When he learned that the
wife of his protector had perpetrated a murder, he felt no qualms about covering up and destroying evidence.

In July 2010, the day before Wang put Wen Qiang, his predecessor at the Chongqing Municipal Public Security Bureau and an anticrime hero like him, on death row, Wang held an hourlong conversation during which Wen was said to have told Wang, “In a few years, you’ll end up like me. I know it.”

Upon hearing Wen’s words posted posthumously online, Professor He Weifang with Beijing University also posted an open letter to Wang Lijun in April 2011. He warned:

       
If the government employs means that are illegal, such as extraction of confession by torture, violating suspects’ rights in litigation, or even intimidating lawyers for the defense in criminal cases, the future consequences of this will be serious. Employing illegal means to strike out against illegal elements leaves people with the unfortunate impression that might is right, that injustices can be used to deal with injustices.

           
One important measure of rule of law in a country is the limiting of police power by the courts. Police must respect the courts, and they must accept the independent examination and supervision of prosecutors, and protect the independence of courts and judges.

           
Actually, respect for judicial independence is just as important for those who hold major power in their hands. While he was still in favor, Wen Qiang no doubt had little idea of the value of this independence, but once he had fallen afoul of the authorities, he must have had a rude awakening, realizing only too well that without judicial independence, no one at all is safe.

Professor He’s words proved to be prescient. Wang’s own fall came eighteen months after Wen Qiang’s.

As the police chief in Chongqing, Wang Lijun constantly had criminal suspects or political dissidents “disappear” for months without telling their relatives where they were imprisoned. During his investigation, he was afforded the same treatment. Wang’s wife and his
brother, Wang Lihui, who headed the security department at a mining company in Liaoning province, flew to Chongqing in February, requesting information about Wang’s whereabouts from the Chongqing Municipal Public Security Bureau. Officials shunned them. The two traveled to Beijing and learned only that “we have nothing to share with you at the moment.” Without any leads as to Wang’s personal safety, Wang’s father reportedly fell ill, refusing to believe that his son had taken refuge at the US Consulate. One of his relatives complained to an overseas media outlet, “This is an unfair system and I guess we just have to deal with it.”

During Wang’s incarceration, many analysts and Wang’s victims had speculated and hoped that he would receive tougher sentencing. A journalist in Beijing stated her reasons: “Since the Communist takeover, Wang Lijun’s defection was unprecedented. The leadership will have to punish Wang Lijun severely to stop future copycats within the Party. Moreover, when Wang served as the police chief in Tieling and Chongqing, more than eight hundred people were executed. While some deserved the death penalty, many were deprived of due process. Wang’s hands are stained with blood. Third, as the head of law enforcement, he committed a serious offense by covering up Gu Kailai’s [crime]. Lastly, while many senior leaders hate Bo, they feel equally threatened by Wang’s betrayal. They wonder if their own subordinates are also secretly plotting against them.”

Fortunately for Wang, he fared better in the end. His highly publicized defection at the US Consulate made it hard for his foes to execute him in secret and ignore proper legal procedures. In addition, investigators at the State Security Ministry, China’s KGB, adopted a relatively humane approach to gain Wang’s active cooperation—his testimony helped convict Gu Kailai and will be critical to the pending trial of Bo Xilai. Politically, Wang’s defection and his revelations of Heywood’s murder provided ample justification for the leadership to oust a formidable foe before the Party Congress.

In September 2012, Wang stood trial on charges of bending the law for selfish ends, defection, abuse of power, and bribe-taking in Chengdu, where the US Consulate is located. He received a sentence of
fifteen years, but not the suspended death penalty for which many of his victims had hoped.

“Wang’s lighter sentencing has offered us a valuable lesson,” wrote Li Gang, a Chinese blogger. “For senior Communist Party officials, when you deliver your anti-American speeches during the day, don’t forget to figure out the exact location of your nearest US Consulate after you get home at night. If you have offended your boss, the party won’t be able to protect you. Run to the US Consulate, creating an international incident. In this way, you can effectively destroy your boss and save your life.”