A car crash in Thailand is not just a matter of life and death. It can be a matter of status, privilege and social connections.
If you disagree, take a look at the news clippings about a senior doctor who rammed his car into a security guard at his workplace -- the Public Health Ministry in Nonthaburi -- last Friday.
According to news reports, a white Honda Amaze driven by Yorn Chiranakhon crashed into the ministry's entrance gate and knocked down security guard Somchai Yamdee, 22, on the evening of Nov 10.
From CCTV camera footage, the car stopped briefly with the lower part of the unlucky guard still stuck underneath. The driver did not get out. Instead he drove on for another 20 metres, dragging the guard's body with him.
Eyewitnesses told police Dr Yorn appeared to be drunk when he emerged from the vehicle.
The footage also shows the doctor trying to pull the security guard out from under the car and using a cellphone to call someone. No, he wasn't calling an ambulance, despite what he told the media.
Amid suspicion of an alleged DUI incident, Dr Yorn refused a breathalyser test at the scene. He claimed he wasn't aware he had hit the guard because the area was too dark. He later ducked reporters' questions about the incident.
Police charged him with reckless driving causing severe danger and damage, DUI, resisting the order for a blood alcohol test, and attempted murder.
Dr Yorn promised he would not flee and was granted bail that same night, leaving him free to go home, a move that drew the ire of many observers.
The public is right to wonder whether the doctor tried to exploit his connections and privileged status in this case. But what if he was not a big fish at the ministry? What if he lacked the financial means to post bail?
Dr Yorn's case reminds many of the high-profile hit-and-run case involving a young member of the Yoovidhaya clan, which caused a death of a police officer. The rich brat, Vorayuth or "Boss", is still at large, supposedly enjoying his luxury lifestyle somewhere, while the investigation and prosecution process plods along.
But Dr Yorn is more of a disappointment.
His alleged DUI has tarnished the image of the Public Health Ministry, a lead player in the Don't Drink Drive campaign, which imposes stringent measures against motorists who drink over the limit.
Worse yet is the immediate reaction of some ministry officials following the crash, which created the impression they were attempting to protect their colleague. Some doctors blamed the the poor lighting at the entrance gate.
Public Health Minister Piyasakol Sakolsatayadorn told the media the ill-fated crash took place "after office hours". As it is under police investigation, the ministry cannot set up a disciplinary committee to investigate Dr Yorn, he said.
Clearly, no one wants to touch upon the subject of DUI.
It's true the Land Traffic Act protects the rights of drivers to refuse a blood alcohol test, with the provision that police can then take this refusal as a tacit acknowledgment of their guilt in exceeding the drinking limit. The problem is this creates room for suspects to claim their innocence later in court, citing a lack of medical evidence.
But police often fail to respect people's right to refuse the test.
A former drug user once told me he is always forced to take blood and urine test at police checkpoints because he has "the face of drug user".
Isn't this a double standard?
In other words, prepare for the worst if you don't have a high social status or powerful connections.
But Dr Yorn will never suffer such ill-treatment.
Nonetheless, I hope the speculation about the wrongful use of privilege and social connections in Dr Yorn's case is false. Otherwise, it would mark a new low for the Public Health Ministry.
In August, the ministry drew public criticism for its sluggish reaction to a sexual harassment case involving a senior official. Despite solid evidence, it took three months to conclude the male official breached discipline, and it still refuses to divulge his identity. What a privilege. Other suspects, those with "no status", have their names and faces exposed even before they are proved guilty.
Perhaps those involved in the concealment may want to protect the organisation's image. Yet they do more harm than good.
To save its reputation, the ministry must come clean.
