Imagine living in a Caribbean backwater of the great (ahum) Dutch nation. Imagine being comfortably well-off, young, bored with school and a developing addiction to blackjack or something. Imagine boatloads of rich, blonde and generally OK-looking American tourists reaching the shores of your Happy Island every day.
Imagine those tourists emerging themselves in the laid-back attitude to drugs, drink and sex that prevails in such a place. You would take advantage of that, wouldn't you?
So you pick up one of those tourists girls, do shots with her and get her wasted. Tell her where she can obtain cocaine. Then take her out to the waterfront to have the full sex on the beach experience (imagine sand in places where you didn't know you had places). You find out her family's loaded but unfortunately you don't discover her family has a hotline to the Bush White House.
You have some vaguely defined form of sex with the girl, and she ends up convulsing in spasms during the experience. She passes out and becomes non-responsive, or, in your own words, she suddenly didn't work any more, like an ancient television set.
So you hide the body in the bushes, run to a pay phone and call a "buddy" with a boat. He takes the body, says he'll dump it somewhere in the sea and tells you to go home.
Once home, you establish your alibi on the internet and go to sleep.
This is normal behaviour, right? Anybody would do this. I always end up having to dispose of bodies after sex, and let me tell you, it's a damn sight harder out here, with no ocean nearby.
So tell us the full story, Joran. You ghb'd her, and some coke dealers on the island made sure she sleeps with the fishes, right?
Seven million people - that's almost half the country - watched this "confession" on TV last night.