From the Journal of Frank Cyril Frye

June 15, 2014

This all started five days ago. Or, perhaps I should say it all ended five days ago.

That morning, I got to work as normal. I hadn’t been happy at work for some months. I’d spent my whole career, over 25 years, there. I’d been one of the first group of new graduates hired, and part of the second wave. I’d grown with the company and risen to the point where I had the title “Director.” But I was still an engineer, responsible for development, not management.

Then the found retired. The board forced a corporate type on us as President and CEO, and I think he hated the old guard. From day one, he started making changes and one of the first was to insist that any Director was only responsible for managing people. I was never a people person, but I stuck it out.

That afternoon, I was called into the President’s office. The short of it was I had a choice: resign with the two years of severance, one of the last perks left from the old days; or I could be demoted back to senior engineer, earning half what I had ten years ago. Now we weren’t hard up, but we’d been saving for retirement and there weren’t a lot of jobs that I’d be as good at as the one I had.

As I was thinking this over, my phone rang. It kept ringing so I ended answering it the fourth time. It was the police. A delivery truck driver had thought that it was a good idea to have a couple of beers with lunch. He ran a red light at a T intersection, smashing my wife and kid against a wall. My wife was dead on the scene, and my son was being flown to the hospital. But the police officer on phone told me to hurry.

I picked up the resignation letter, signed it, and told the President to have my stuff shipped to my house.

I was able to spend a few hours watching my child die. The chaplain tried to comfort me, and even alluded to Job. But I had to tell him that that day, I’d lost one thing that Job didn’t: my faith.

For the last four days, I’ve mostly sat in my house when I wasn’t dealing with getting my wife and kid buried, after their organs had been donated. My parents died a few years back, and my wife and I were estranged from my in-laws. So I had nothing left.

I’ve reached a point where I want to kill myself, but I know that I can’t. I know that I wouldn’t actually be able to do it when the time came. But I have another idea. This journal is to report my progress.

June 16, 2014

Today, I took the first steps. I cashed in most of my investments, except for what I couldn’t touch. I got a contract to list my house for sale. I sold or donated most of my stuff. A few things, actually quite a few things, were put into a storage container I purchased and arranged for it to be shipped to some property we owned free and clear. I’m actually a bit surprised that I was able to get this all done in a day.

Right now, I’m in an extended stay hotel doing research for the next couple of parts of my plan.

June 18, 2014

The next part of my plan was a bit easier to pull off than I thought. Buying airline gift cards was pretty easy. Obscuring who was actually buying them was a little bit harder. But I think I should be able to do the traveling I need to pull off my plan.

I’m now researching what is perhaps the riskiest part of the plan. Access through Tor to the so-called “dark net” at least makes it unlikely that I’ll get arrested for doing the research. But I think I’ve found out what I need to do to get the necessary supplies. I’m going to wait a couple of days since I’ll need the cash and I don’t want to trigger any alarms there either. And I need to make sure that when the plan starts, I can finish it.

June 19, 2014

Today was the first day of executing the plan. I purchased roundtrip, first-class, tickets to Singapore. I made reservations at a resort for two weeks, and hotel reservations in Los Angles for a few days before and after the trip.

Tomorrow I head to LA, but not yet to that hotel.

June 20, 2014

Spent the day driving to LA, and then spent several hours carefully driving around the neighborhoods I’ll need to be doing business in a couple of days. I admit that some of those neighborhoods made me nervous, but I had to be comfortable when doing my business. Tonight, I’m in a motel in a fairly reputable neighborhood. For the next couple of days, I probably won’t be sleeping well.

June 21, 2014

Today was a pretty relaxed day. I could go shopping in fairly nice stores in better neighborhoods. I needed new luggage and some other things with some special attributes. But I could also relax and spend money on some other things for the trip, new books, warm weather clothing, stuff like that.

June 22, 2014

Today, I made the key purchase to make this work.

My research had turned up several places where I could “score” what I decided would work the best. The first couple of places wouldn’t sell in the quantity I wanted. And the third was sure I was a cop. But at the fourth place, they were willing to sell me a whole “heroine” of meth. As near as I could tell, this was pretty good quality.

I found a motel nearby where I could pay cash for a room for a couple of hours. I spent that time concealing the drugs in a couple of decoy safes.

Then, I went to the nice hotel near LAX that I had reservations for, checked in and tried to pretend that I was off for a normal vacation.

June 23, 2014

I am now sitting at the airport waiting for my departure to Hong Kong, where I’ll change planes.

I spent the day knowing that this was my last chance to back out. Once I get on this plane, one way or another, I cannot back out of my plans.

I did have some business to take care of. This morning, I stopped by a notary public to sign the update to my will. After my wife’s death, our joint will just wasn’t quite appropriate. Not that much changed, everything still goes to my in-laws, much as neither of us would really want them getting anything. To most, it would look like they were getting a piece of undeveloped property and a shipping container full of mementos. Few know that in a fire safe there are bearer bonds dating from the early days at the company. I kept them as an emergency fund, and they are what I have left if I backed out. Otherwise, they go to my in-laws who will probably be overjoyed at their windfall.

I spent the rest of the at the beach, thinking. As the day wore on, I felt more and more like I needed to go through with my plan. In the end, I returned the car to the hotel where I’d arranged for it to be kept during my “vacation.”

So, now I’m sitting in the waiting area. In less than an hour, I’ll board the plane. The drugs are safely packed in my checked bags. Time will tell when and where they’ll be found.

June 26, 2014

That was quick. I knew it was a possibility that I’d be caught coming into the country, rather than leaving.

I was passing through customs at Changi Airport. The customs officers asked to check through my bags. They were not fooled by the decoy safes. They were opened and the officers quickly identified the contents as suspicious, and I was arrested and taken into a holding room.

I sat for several hours, before a police officer came in and informed me that I was going to be charged with violating their “Misuse of Drugs Act” act. I was cuffed and led out to a waiting van.

Once I arrived at the police station, I was brought inside and set in a cell. After another hour or so, an American in a suit arrived. He quickly introduced me as being from the embassy and explained the facts of Singapore’s law. I would be tried for drug trafficking, there wouldn’t be a jury, and if I wanted a lawyer I had to pay for it.

He also warned me of one other thing I already knew and was counting on, Singapore imposed the death penalty on drug traffickers, and I was carrying about 4 times the amount needed to be called a drug trafficker.

I asked if he could help me locate a lawyer, and he agreed. A guard confirmed that I’d have access to my American bank accounts to pay the lawyer, something I’d accounted for in my planning.

After that, I was questioned for several hours by the police. I “admitted” that I was hoping to find a buyer for my stash, figuring that it would be profitable venture.

I’ve now been transferred to a jail or prison where I’ll be held until my trial, at least. Fortunately, they let me keep my journal so that I can continue recording these events.

June 27, 2014

I’ve spent the day interviewing lawyers. I don’t know if they’ve given me privacy to talk to them as a normal procedure, or because I was an American and they didn’t want to be seen as doing anything to hinder my defense.

It took a couple of tries before I could find one that understood that I agreed I was guilty – “factually guilty” as I put it – of the crime I was charged with, and I wouldn’t want too strong of a defense. But I found one that said he’d put up a defense that would look OK, but wouldn’t go to extraordinary efforts to get me off.

June 28, 2014

I got a somewhat expected visit today. Word of my arrest has reached the U.S., and I got my first visit from an American reporter. The questions were fairly basic: was I worried that I’d be found guilty, was I scared of being executed, and so forth. I answered him, and ask that he, to the best of his ability, keep me apprised of how people in the U.S. are reacting to my case.

June 30, 2014

I’d be lying if I said I was starting to go out of my mind. I’ve pretty much been stuck in a small, hot, cell since arriving. I’ve had a couple of visits from my lawyer, mostly to let me know how the preparations for my trial are coming.

I’ve also been visited by the official from the embassy, confirming that they could offer me no more assistance. I asked him how my case was being seen in the US. He gave me a quick rundown, since the news hit, the pundits have run with it, saying everything from “The U.S. should cut off diplomatic relations in retaliation” to “The U.S. should have similar laws.” I wasn’t too surprised.

July 15, 2014

I’ve not written for quite a while I see. I’ve not had a lot to write. But I now know that my trial will begin soon. I’ve asked for a quick trial, so this isn’t too unexpected. I don’t have an exact date, but I should know soon.

August 1, 2014

Trial is set to start on August 6th. Today, I was in court for a few preliminaries.

August 6, 2014

Today was the testimony part of my trial. As my lawyer explained, for all intents and purposes, it was his job to prove me innocent rather than the prosecution’s job to show I was guilty.

Most of the testimony was technical. First, the customs official discussed finding the drugs. Then a police officer discussed weighing and testing the drugs. There was some testimony about my claims during interrogation.

My lawyer did call me to the stand, and asked me to tell what happened. I’ll admit, I was almost tempted to actually tell the truth, but I decided to stick to my story: I was foolishly hoping to make a quick profit by selling the drugs here.

After testifying, the judge retired and I was brought back to the prison. My lawyer tells me it could be tomorrow, or a few days depending on the judge’s mood and thoughts.

August 8, 2014

I was taken back to court this morning. There were no real surprises. I was found guilty of drug trafficking, and received the mandatory sentence of death.

I was startled. Given all of the planning and thought that had gone into this, I wasn’t expecting my reaction. With each decision, I felt my stomach drop with fear.

August 9, 2014

For the first time in years, last night I had a nightmare I remember. It was simple. I kept seeing the judge telling me over and over again, that I was going to die – followed by seeing a noose hanging in front of my face.

I did have a two visits today.

My lawyer informed me that there would be one appeal, and recommended I take it even if I didn’t expect it to go anywhere. He also told me that the coverage of my case in the U.S. might actually make the government speed up my execution.

I also gave an interview with the reporter. During the interview, he told me that there were a number of powerful politicians who were advocating my execution. He said that one even said something to the effect of “let our drug dealers see how they should be dealt with.” Oh, there is strong opinion on the other side, and there is also pressure on the President and Secretary of State to ask for clemency.

September 8, 2014

I’m getting really sick of waiting. I’ve not heard anything for weeks. I know how it will all end, but I’m still waiting and waiting.

October 15, 2014

I finally heard, my appeal has been rejected. Now, it is just a matter of them deciding to carry out my execution. There are people here who have spent years in this state. But, somehow I suspect I’m being moved to the head of the queue.

I heard that there is a lot of political pressure building here to carry out executions. Few have actually been carried out in recent years. I know that my status as an American will carry more weight that many of my fellow condemned inmates.

October 30, 2014

A guard brought me an article from a newspaper, probably somewhat against the rules. It was from the Asian edition of an American paper, and the headline was enough to tell me what I needed: “President Rejects Calls to Push Singapore for Frye Clemency.”

The rest of the article pointed out how this didn’t stand well with some members of his party, but was generally agreed to be the for the best.

December 25, 2014

Christmas on Singapore’s death row. No word on when this will be over.

At last report, the American press has forgotten about me, for now. They’ll probably be told when I’m going to be executed before I am.

March 16, 2015

I just noticed that I’ve not recorded anything here since Christmas. This goes to show how after the furry at the start of this, how long it is going to take.

I’ve tried to ask that it be hurried up, but I don’t think that they can do much, really. It will happen when it happens.

June 10, 2015

One year. One year since my life ended. Almost one year since I decided that I needed help to actual stop living, and started this insane plan.

I suppose there would have been easier ways to go about this. But I think all of them had that factor of being too easy to back out of. Now, I’m just stuck waiting for other people to decide that they are ready.

July 7, 2015

It doesn’t look like I’ll be the next to go after all. A pair of murders just got the word that they are scheduled for Friday morning.

July 10, 2015

I just saw two men led out of here with their hand strapped behind their backs. One was screaming about being innocent, and was having to be dragged. The other just had a vacant look on his face.

July 28, 2015

Just over a year. I’m told that the last couple of westerners executed for drug trafficking took three years to get to where I am. For me, almost exactly 13 months.

Friday is the day. I’m getting some more privileges, like TV and more visits.

I cannot say I’m happy. I’ve not been happy since my family was destroyed by a drunk driver. Just to improve my mood, I was given an article from my hometown newspaper. The idiot who killed my wife and kid was already released due to some technicality. Alas, I doubt that they’ll ever hold him responsible for my death.

July 30, 2015

This will probably be my last entry. Tomorrow, early in the morning, they will come for me.

I have a good idea of what will happen. Guards will enter my cell and strap my hands behind my back. I’ll then be led to the gallows. My feet will be strapped together and a hood will be pulled over my head. The noose will be placed over my head and tightened, with the eye that the rope passes through just under and a bit forward of my left ear.

The trap will open and I’ll fall about five and a half feet. The sudden stop will break my neck, severing my spine completely high up. This should cause very rapid unconsciousness. It will still take a while for me to actually die. But by 8:00am Singapore time tomorrow morning, I’ll finally be dead.

In a couple of minutes, I’ll be placing this journal in an envelope that will get mailed to a paper in the states. I hope that they publish some or all of this.

Assuming that they do publish this, I thank you reader for your time reading my story.

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