The Rocker in the Execution Room: The Dual Life of Thailand’s Last Executioner

To look at photos of Bangkok in the late 1960s is to glimpse a city caught in a whirlwind of cultural transformation. As American soldiers flooded Thailand for Rest and Relaxation (R&R) during the Vietnam War, a vibrant, neon-lit rock-and-roll scene exploded in the capital and near the US airbases upcountry.

In the middle of it all was a young Thai guitarist named Chavoret Jaruboon. Playing in a band called Mitra, Chavoret lived for the stage. He was known for a flamboyant, wild showmanship, sometimes playing his guitar behind his back while the drummer literally hung from the ceiling. He dreamed of music, freedom, and the bohemian lifestyle.

Fast forward fifteen years, and that same man was standing behind a canvas screen in Bangkok’s maximum-security Bang Kwang Central Prison, holding a German Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun.

Chavoret Jaruboon would go down in history not as a musician, but as “The Last Executioner”, the final man to carry out capital punishment by firing squad in Thailand. His life is a fascinating, deeply human study in duty, family sacrifice, and the complex ways a person reconciles modern state violence with ancient spiritual beliefs.

From Center Stage to Civil Service

The transition from a rock-and-roll rebel to a prison guard at Thailand’s most notorious prison was driven by the most relatable of human motives: love and family.

When Chavoret’s longtime sweetheart and wife, Tew, became pregnant with their first child, the unpredictable income of a gigging musician was no longer enough. Desperate to provide a stable future, a pension, and healthcare for his growing family, Chavoret took the civil service exam. In 1972, he traded his stage outfits for the crisp uniform of a prison guard, entering Bang Kwang at the lowest rank.

Chavoret was meticulous, emotionally steady, and highly disciplined. These traits caught the attention of his superiors, and in 1984, he was offered the role of the state’s primary executioner. It was a position that promised a slight pay raise and better security for his children’s education – the ultimate goal for a father who wanted his kids to go to university. He accepted.

The Rituals of the Canvas Screen

Between 1984 and 2003, Chavoret personally executed 55 inmates. In the West, execution squads are traditionally made up of multiple shooters to diffuse the psychological burden of who fired the lethal shot. In Thailand, the system relied on a single man operating a mounted machine gun aimed at a target aligned with the inmate’s heart, separated by a canvas screen.

The condemned person was tied to a wooden cross or cross‑beam, often with hands clasped in a traditional wai and sometimes holding incense, flowers, and candles.
A screen or sheet was placed between the prisoner and the executioner, with a marked target over the position of the heart. Chavoret, using a submachine gun mounted on a fixed stand, fired a short burst through an opening in the screen at the heart area to try to ensure instant death.

For Chavoret, coping with the reality of this job required an intense, ritualistic compartmentalization. On days when an execution was scheduled, he followed a strict routine to anchor his psyche. He would return home, take a long bath, take a short nap, and dress in a perfectly pressed, spotless uniform.

Before stepping behind the canvas screen, he practiced a deeply moving ritual rooted in Thai custom. He would perform a wai, the traditional Thai gesture of respect, toward the prisoner. He would silently speak to them, asking for their forgiveness, wishing them peace in the next life, and asking Mother Earth to forgive the spilling of blood. When the red flag dropped, he fired.

Reconciling the Executioner’s Karma

To understand Chavoret, one must understand the Thai-Buddhist concept of kam (karma). In mainstream Buddhism, taking a life is considered a profound spiritual transgression that generates heavy negative karma. How does a devout Buddhist spend two decades as an executioner?

Chavoret spent a lifetime reflecting on this paradox. He never viewed his actions as murder, nor did he harbour malice toward the inmates. Instead, he viewed himself purely as an instrument of cosmic and judicial balance.

In his philosophy, the inmates had generated severe negative karma through their crimes, and their sentence was the natural, inevitable result of that karma. He was simply the final civil servant delivering the court’s decree. By performing his duty without anger, and by praying for the inmates’ souls, he believed he was helping them close a dark chapter of their spiritual journey so they could begin anew in the next life.

Frank Sinatra and Fatherhood

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of Chavoret’s story is how successfully he kept the shadows of Bang Kwang from darkening his home. To his three children, he wasn’t a figure of dread; he was a loving, supportive father who successfully put them through university.

When he stepped through the front door of his house, the executioner vanished. The old rock-and-roller would reemerge. Chavoret loved nothing more than spending his evenings playing the guitar, tending to his pets, and singing karaoke with his family. His absolute favorite song to perform was Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”—a fitting anthem for a man who lived such an unconventional life.

An End of an Era

In late 2003, Thailand officially transitioned from the firing squad to lethal injection, rendering Chavoret’s unique role obsolete. His life marks a very specific transition point in Thailand’s judicial history. He retired from the prison service and spent his final years writing, publishing his English autobiography, The Last Executioner, in 2006 to share his unique psychological journey with the world.

When Chavoret passed away from cancer in 2012 at the age of 64, he left behind a legacy that was later turned into an award-winning biographical film.
Chavoret Jaruboon’s life reminds us that history is rarely black and white. He was a man caught between the strings of a guitar and the trigger of a state weapon, navigating the darkest corners of human society with a guitar in his hand, a prayer on his lips, and a fierce devotion to his family.