Dini Djalal, Jakarta – Luxury resorts across the country were inspected, as were fancy restaurants and race tracks, the favourite haunts of the youngest son of former President Suharto, 38-year-old Hutomo "Tommy" Mandala Putra. Family retreats have been under scrutiny, their closets and cabinets searched.
What could have been a watershed moment for Indonesia's threatened leadership is a wash-out. Two weeks after police attempted to jail him on charges of corruption, Tommy Suharto remains Indonesia's most famous fugitive.
Rather than setting the stage for the prosecution of a once-invincible family accused of pocketing billions of dollars during the patriarch's 32-year rule, the failed arrest is fast descending into farce. Legal reform is at stake, as is the presidency of Abdurrahman Wahid, elected partly for his promises to crack down on corruption.
Officials point out that Suharto crony Mohamad "Bob" Hasan has been detained, as have a handful of other graft suspects, including Tommy's business partner Ricardo Gelael. But many Indonesians believe that if the government is unable to arrest Tommy, whose estimated $800 million fortune amassed under the umbrella of his Humpuss group hardly makes him the wealthiest of Suharto's six children, other cronies – and new ones too – will never see a jail cell.
Already the government has postponed legal investigations of major debtors like Texmaco, whose 16 billion rupiah ($6.7 million) debt to the Indonesian Bank Restructuring Agency makes it the country's biggest debtor. Probes of two other major debtors, Prajogo Pangestu of the Barito group and Sjamsul Nursalim of Gajah Tunggal, also have been delayed.
Meanwhile, it is turning out to be dangerous for business executives from foreign companies who buy out local debtors. A senior Indonesian official of Canadian insurance firm Manulife is in police custody after increasing Manulife's stake in local life insurer Asuransi Jiwa Manulife Indonesia to 91% from 51%, though it is unclear what law, if any, has been broken.
Virgin Islands-based Roman Gold contends that it too bought a 40% stake in the local firm, a subsidiary of the bankrupt Dharmala group, days before Manulife's acquisition. The culture of impunity, it seems, applies only to some.
An open window to freedom
Tommy's escape from punishment has been especially galling because it was so easy. He had ample time to prepare his getaway. Seven weeks had passed since the Supreme Court handed him an 18- month jail sentence in connection with an $11 million land scam.
The police summons arrived at his residence one day after the president rejected his plea for clemency, making his arrest imminent.
When police and prosecutors finally knocked on his door on that rainy Friday, the multimillionaire, free from police surveillance, had quietly slipped away. Police and prosecutors banged on his locked doors, and then gave him what they called a few days' "rest" before actually searching his residence. The authorities goofed on their paperwork too, buying him time by sending Tommy's lawyers only photocopies of documents, and even then to a municipal office which, improbably enough, could not be pried open on the weekend. The lawyers argued that Tommy needn't appear before the papers arrived. Bureaucracy won over justice.
Critics say prosecutors and police have been sluggish because of their deference to the elder Suharto, a five-star general whose powerful patronage fuelled three decades of bribery. Many Indonesians believe that the Suhartos are still doling out "gifts," and that Tommy can match the finder's fee the police have offered.
The authorities "are too discriminative, even though Tommy has already received too many favours," says Hendardi, a human-rights lawyer. Even Attorney-General Marzuki Darusman has disclosed that his office's ability to function has been compromised by Suharto sympathizers who work there, many of whom are suspected of colluding with those they should be prosecuting.
Tommy's lawyers, meanwhile, are crying foul, contending that their client has been made a scapegoat for Wahid's political troubles. Wahid accused Tommy of being behind the bombing of the Jakarta Stock Exchange on September 13; when then national police chief Gen. Rusdihardjo failed to arrest him because of lack of evidence, Rusdihardjo was promptly fired.
Tommy's lawyers are arguing for a judicial review, as well as special jail privileges. Already prison officials have prepared a 12-square-metre cell in a block isolated from common convicts at Jakarta's Cipinang Penitentiary. Like many other well-to-do prisoners, Tommy will likely be able to have his own TV, cellphone, and perhaps even "holidays" out of jail.
But Tommy wants more than just air-conditioning and a soft mattress. His lawyers say he is ready for detention so long as his bodyguards can join him to protect him from other prisoners. The lawyers say death threats have come from Anton Medan, a former gangster who recently organized prisoners to protest against special treatment for Tommy.
Tommy, believed to be Suharto's favourite son, famously invites public contempt. The racing car enthusiast, who once owned a stake in Italian luxury car maker Lamborghini, arrived at a press conference for his controversial KIA-manufactured, tax-free "national car" in an imposing Rolls-Royce.
Even one of his six lawyers has lost patience with the fussy client. Erman Umar says he has not spoken to Tommy since his disappearance, and has quit the case.
"He does not respect our advice, and that hurts his case, our reputation as lawyers, and the integrity of the law," Umar tells the Review. Umar says he believes the assertions of Tommy's friends and family that he has not fled the country, but is merely "out of town."
Hence the "manhunt," which now extends overseas with the help of Interpol, which has put him on its wanted list. Citizens' arrests are now condoned, say police, but vague offers of a reward merely confirm public perception of police incompetence. "This is proof that law enforcement is weak and can be arranged," says Sri Mulyani Indrawati, an economist and adviser to the president.
Indeed, there is growing speculation that the current theatrics are nothing more than that. Many Indonesians suspect it is no coincidence that Tommy's surprise indictment came just two days before a state court declared in late September that his father was too ill to stand trial – a decision that sparked anger on the streets.
And prior to refusing Tommy's clemency request, Wahid met twice with Tommy in a Jakarta hotel – prompting suspicions that the rendezvous produced a face-saving settlement. The president has made no secret of his offer to Suharto of clemency in exchange for his fortune. "The public will be more convinced of a conspiracy if this farce continues," says lawyer Hendardi. Yet the coincidences continue. Last week, as police scanned Suharto's home for his missing heir, the Jakarta High Court allowed state prosecutors to resume attempts to bring the ailing 79-year-old former president to trial.
Presidential spokesman Wimar Witoelar denies that any deal has been struck, and attributes the muddle to mere inexperience. "We have never arrested the son of a person who was super, super strong and is still super, super strong," he says. In a fledgling democracy where the executive's authority is consistently being undermined by forces in parliament, says Witoelar, even presidential orders takes time.
But time is running out. With the blame turning increasingly towards Wahid and the police, some observers believe public anger may swell the ranks of conservative forces who yearn for political stability. "If the people feel the law is not working, then they will think that the old regime was much better. They will become much less critical of the Suharto family," says economist Mulyani. Tommy Suharto, wherever he may be, is surely grinning at that prospect.