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FATES

they had a warrant to search his house. Initially, Gabriel didn't believe they were cops.

One guy pointed to his T-shirt that had 'Police' written on it, and said, 'Me police,' and I said, 'I can buy that in Kuta. I don't care what that T-shirt says.' The next guy goes, 'Look, I have this, a badge.' I say, 'You can buy one of those too.' And then the third guy shows me a gun and I thought, okay, maybe you are police. I didn't want to believe it. I wasn't dealing; I wasn't selling drugs like Ruggiero. I didn't want to let them in just because of some police T-shirt, but the old Balinese man whose daughter's husband owned the villa talked me into it. He said, 'They're real police and that's a real warrant and they're going to search your place.'

I kept them outside for about half an hour. I was worried about being set up. I've always had that thought in my mind; you don't want to mess with the cops, they can just put something on you, do anything they want. And I was thinking I don't want these guys in my room, maybe a joint or something will fall out of my golf bag, something stupid. I just didn't want them in my house. There was seven, one boss and six plain clothes, they all came in at the same time. And they all did the search at the same time.

- Gabriel

As police searched his villa, rifling through his clothes, bags, drawers, cupboards and under his bed, he was watching, pissed off, but staying calm. But every time they touched his impressive stack of 22 surfboards he imperceptibly winced, tensed, held his breath, aware they were close. They'd shuffle through the boards, getting hot, hotter, scorching, then . . . they'd walk away – until the next time. They were so, so close. In a tiny Velcro pocket on one of the leg ropes, Gabriel