Pubdate: Sat, 06 May 2000 Source: Irish Independent (Ireland) Copyright: Independent Newspapers (Ireland) Ltd Contact: http://www.independent.ie/ Author: Martina Devlin SUN, SEA, SAND AND - QUIETLY SELLING DRUGS FOR A LIVING REMCO sells drugs for a living a few doors away from the murdered Irishmen's apartment block. ``These drugs are legal,'' he smiled broadly. ``Nothing heavy, nothing to get anybody angry at me.'' His shop in the heart of the tourist area specialises in cannabis, dope-related equipment and souvenirs with the plant's distinctive leaf design. A constant flow of customers bought his marijuana yesterday at less than pounds 5 a gram. Remco's favourite word is heavy: the dead men must have been involved in a ``heavy scene'' he suggested, they must have ``annoyed some pretty heavy people. Still, to die so brutally ... '' his voice trailed off. ``I didn't know them. But then they wouldn't have been interested in what I sell, it's no big deal. From what I hear it wouldn't have been heavy enough for them. It's not serious drugs.'' Remco, of Venezuelan extraction but Dutch-born, doesn't regard himself as part of the local drugs scene. Cannabis is decriminalised in The Netherlands, in common with some other European countries. He broke off to sell an English couple, obviously tourists, two grams and they examined some of his extensive collection of pipes starting at around pounds 7 but leapfrogging to 10 times as much. They were quickly succeeded by a stereotypical blond Dutch boy who proffered such a large note for his ``skunk,'' cannabis forced grown under strong lights for increased potency, that Remco went to the cafe next-door for change. ``Do you like my shop?'' he asked proudly. Er, lovely apart from the pornographic magazines. The shop is called Ja Ja - yeah yeah in Dutch. He returned voluntarily to the subject of the murdered trio, unusually for a Scheveningen resident. They prefer not to dwell on the gruesome killings. Remco, no more than 30 himself, was stricken by the youth of the dead men at 21, 24 and 29. ``They were very young,'' he said. ``Young to be in the drugs business and young to be lying dead.'' Philosophical musings were interrupted once again by a tattooed man who made a purchase. Was the shop always so busy? Remco acknowledged trade was brisk, although the public holiday meant the streets were unusually crowded. ``You Irish?'' interrupted the customer. ``My mate's Irish; hey, O'Shea, there's an Irish reporter in here, come and talk to her.'' He stepped outside in search of his friend, who had vanished. ``That's funny, he was here a minute ago,'' he frowned. The shop specialises in kitsch: cannabis leaf fairy lights, ashtrays and boxer shorts, postcards with the Easter Island heads smoking reefers, posters showing aliens saying ``take me to your dealer.'' There's even a picture of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, fig leaves replaced by the inevitable cannabis leaf. Ja Ja is on the road to the beach, crowded with sun worshippers. This appealing combination of sea, beach and promenade was the view from the picture window in the living room of flat 1058 where the Irishmen were slaughtered. Gazing up from the promenade, it was possible to pick out their windows and balcony in the Gevers Deynootweg block; no one on this tourist strip was bothered to attempt it. A carnival atmosphere was all pervasive in the dazzling sunshine and the shadow of violence seemed remote. A dark-haired teenager sat to have his portrait sketched in pencil almost directly beneath the apartment complex while behind him children bounced on a trampoline. Everywhere was shining and clean, no hint of that darker dimension to Dutch life fuelled by the drugs scene. Even on a national holiday, road sweepers were busy collecting rubbish and huge litter bins were spaced at regular intervals on the beach. Life was continuing as normal for the Irishmen's neighbours. Local man Axel struggled to explain their apparent indifference, as people drank cappuccinos outdoors opposite a fountain and open-topped American cars drove past. ``This is a transient community,'' he said. ``Remember we're close to The Hague, the embassy city. Diplomats, politicians and embassies are here temporarily and then move on. People don't notice different nationalities. ``It's a seaside resort so it attracts tourists and day-trippers, it's not the sort of place where you get to know your neighbours. Besides, the victims were in the drugs business.'' Doesn't brutality shock, doesn't it diminish any community irrespective of a drugs link? Axel looked sheepish and gave no answer. - --- MAP posted-by: Greg