This afternoon, sirens suddenly cut through the heat as several police cars pulled up with a screech right outside the Notice Hotel in Phnom Penh. Officers stepped out, escorting a group of suspects back to the scene to walk through the crime site. The crew had been rounded up back in April, ranging from the low-level line workers to the high-level bosses—the "Pan Zong." People watching from the sidewalk had sharp eyes. They spotted the big boss right away, wearing a bright red shirt, head ducked low, surrounded by police as he was marched back into the lobby.
A decent crowd gathered near the hotel entrance and across the street. Anyone who has spent the last few years working or running a small business in Phnom Penh is used to hearing about these busts. Still, seeing police vans dump out handcuffed suspects in broad daylight hits a bit differently. Fellow countrymen running nearby grocery shops and roadside food stalls talked quietly among themselves. Most people cross the sea to Southeast Asia just to put in an honest day’s work—trying to scrape together enough to cover rent and send money home for the kids' tuition. But there are always those looking for a shortcut, hiding behind closed doors in these hotels and office towers doing dirty work.
Once the scene identification wrapped up, the police cars sped off, their sirens fading into the distance. The street quickly slipped back into its usual routine—the scorching asphalt and the endless cloud of exhaust from passing motorbikes. For those of us who came south to build a life and put down roots in Phnom Penh, all we really want is safety and a clean conscience. Watching those once-flashy syndicate bosses led away in handcuffs just reminds you of one thing: earning a tough, honest living for your daily rice and salt might be hard work, but at least you can sleep peacefully when you head to bed at night.
