The name Whitey belonged to one man in Boston for the last fifty years.

Whitey Bulger, arch-criminal out of South Boston, had lived in the Old Colony, America’s first housing project. His first arrest for larceny predated my birth by nine years. He sold heroin in the projects. He killed friends, family, and Mafia. The FBI entered his name into the MOST WANTED list on 1999, despite his status as an FBI informant for several decades.

Whitey Bulger had remained at large all those years. Police sources had cited the fugitive as living in a number of countries without extradition to the USA. Some had even mentioned his hiding out in Thailand. The Land of Smiles has always been friendly to a man on the run, since Thais see every farang the same. Some foreigner who doesn’t belong here, but they’ll tolerate as long as he has money and doesn’t make any Thai lose face.

Whitey Bulger and I never crossed paths. I stayed out of South Boston except for St Patrick’s Day. My criminal activities in Boston were limited to simple traffic violations. The FBI could beat me with rubber hoses without my saying a single word to harm the fugitive. It was easy to hold your sand when you know nothing, but back in 2007 I adopted a white dog in Sri Racha. Khao or ‘White’ had belonged to Mam’s step-uncle. The truck driver treated the dog like dirt. We adopted Khao and I thought to change his name to fit his new life, except he didn’t answer to Jo Jo.

I always liked the band Jo Jo Gunne.

Mam and Uncle Nai and Fenway called the dog ‘Khao’. Fighting for Jo Jo was futile, however I Americianized ‘Khao’ into Whitey, although he doesn’t look a thing like #458 on the FBI’s Most Wanted list and I’m glad about that. The last thing I need in my life are the FBI. They are always a bore and Whitey Bulger is a rat murderer.

Always.

adn I am happy he is dead.