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prisoner had been asked by Tony to do a special job: to get his girlfriend, Nita Ramos, out. He ran across to the women’s block, now completely engulfed in black smoke from the nearby kitchen and office fires, and opened it with the master key Tony had given him. He went inside, shouting, ‘Nita Ramos, Nita Ramos, which cell is Nita Ramos in?’ ‘She’s in Room 2,’ several women called back between hacking coughs, desperately hoping he’d been sent to save them. The prisoner found Nita’s cell, unlocked the door and then ran for his life out of there, ignoring the hysterical cries for help echoing behind him.
    Nita was terrified. She flew into the bathroom in a panic, painfully bashing her nose on the edge of the door as she went. She crouched on the floor, curling her arms around her knees. She’d recognised the prisoner’s voice as someone’s who worked in the kitchen and who she sometimes chatted with. But she had no clue what he wanted or why he’d singled her out. ‘It was only me they were looking for, that’s why I was so scared.’
    Within moments, sirens were blaring across the jail. Time was up. Any men still in the jail were now running for their lives. Prisoners were pouring out of the large side door used for delivery trucks and out of the main front door. The streets were frenetic. A long line of taxis, booked by prisoners on their mobile phones, stretched along the roadside. Prisoners were piling into them. Others were using their criminal instincts, hijacking passing cars and motorbikes, bashing people if necessary. Others simply ran away on foot. Fleeing inmates were everywhere – running for their freedom along the roads, leaping across open sewers, darting through traffic, jumping over fruit stands and dodging stray dogs.
    It wasn’t long before police and journalists turned up. One policeman yelled out, ‘Freeze or I’ll shoot,’ to a group of five prisoners running barefoot across a paddy field behind Hotel K. The officer didn’t have a gun, but his threat still worked. The escapees instantly froze, and turned around with their hands up, aware how trigger-happy Bali police could be. The officer waved them over and the group obediently walked towards him, surrendering themselves.

    I think it’s the funniest prison escape in the whole world. We saw people scramble. I was just watching the commotion. It was quite exciting .
    – Journalist Wayan Juniartha of the Jakarta Post

    With shields up and guns drawn, teams of police entered Hotel K, unsure what dangers would be lurking within. Small fires were still burning in many of the offices. Frantic screaming and banging was coming from inside one room. The police kicked in the door and discovered the fourteen angry guards. Further inside, they found twelve prisoners hiding in the garbage area; one covered in blood from a passing beating for not fleeing; the others still cowering in fear of being bashed or killed for not running with the pack. As the police went deeper into the jail, they saw it had been evacuated en masse. It looked like an abandoned village. Spot fires were burning across the jail and black smoke was billowing out through the cell windows.
    The door to the women’s block was ajar. With their guns drawn, two dozen armed police stormed inside, struggling to see through the thick smoke. They rapidly did a check of the cells and found only Nita’s unlocked. Several police stood on high alert outside the cell door and window with their guns held ready to fire. Three officers entered with pistols. They encountered twelve quivering women huddling under blankets and pillows. No one had run. They were too scared to move. Nita’s cellmate, Gina, stayed crouched under her blanket, wailing, ‘What’s going on? What’s happening?’ as she caught a glimpse of the black leather boots walking past.
    The three police walked between the women, calling ‘Nita Ramos, come out. Nita Ramos, come out!’ She was still hiding in the