It is always peculiar reading public reactions to the ultraviolence of criminals in dispatching rivals or innocent civilians. The recent immolation of two victims sent the country reeling. “We reach!” was the exasperated cry. Eyewitnesses described young men setting one body alight with the casual ease of igniting a barbecue pit.
Somehow “We reach” trumpets our ignorance and denial, neither of which can be supported by the grim norms of T&T society which are decades in the making. Also not new is our collective amnesia, a crackhead-like memory which is a trait our political class much like our criminal class rely heavily upon to get away with murder.
Minister of national security Edmund Dillon appears invariably nonplussed by the extremes of rapacious criminals. This is as troubling as comments from civilians revealing a peculiar hybrid emotion: outraged resignation. “This gettin’ to be too much now, yes...”, “Trinidad relly gorne to de dogs.” All this diluted angst seems unhinged from our history of violent criminality. We needn’t go as far back as Boysie Singh and Mano Benjamin, whose criminal exploits have been elevated to almost folkloric status. In the 1990’s blood and gore were in steady supply and like today, society head-scratches at the source of this barbarism.
In 1999 nine men were hanged for the brutal murders of members of a Williamsville family. Trial testimony laid out events in which drug kingpin Dole Chadee assigned a gang of men to cleanse the Baboolal family. Hamilton Baboolal, a low-level drug dealer reputedly practised creative accounting in his business relationship with Dole—a capital offence in the underworld. Information given by a former special reserve police officer Clint Huggins who was part of the killer squad that dreadful evening told of how the gunmen swept through the house shooting Hamilton Baboolal, his sister, Monica and their parents. Only two children survived the slaughter, Osmond and Sumatee Baboolal.
Clint Huggins wasn’t at trial to give his account in person as he was eventually shot, viciously stabbed and burned in the back seat of a car to silence him. Huggins couldn’t be compelled to stay in protective custody and left regularly to go liming with friends and family. Joey Ramiah, Dole’s most feared lieutenant knew, this and set a trap for him. Huggins’ written deposition had to be buttressed by the testimony of Levi Morris, another Dole henchman trying to save his own neck.
Joey Ramiah was also involved in the murders of Stephen “Bulls” Sandy and Anthony “Tooks” Greenidge. The Laventille pair were murdered as part of drug-turf rivalry. That trial gave insight into the reptilian disposition of Ramiah. Court testimony revealed Ramiah’s disembowelling of Tooks and Bulls, explaining to his accomplices this would prevent the bodies “swelling”.
Unspeakable crimes aren’t the exclusive domain of gangsters and drug runners. Unconscionable criminality has invaded our lives, upending them irrevocably. In 1994, 16-year old Chuck Attin and his accomplice Noel Seepersad forced their way into a home in Westmoorings and lay in wait for Candace Scott and Karen Sa Gomes both of whom they subsequently raped and murdered, afterwards staging a half-assed robbery.
During the trial, when details of his crimes were put to him, a stoned-faced Chuck Attin, glibly told the court “Correck is right”.
Many interpreted the murder of attorney Dana Seetahal as the Rubicon in our murderous trajectory. But in 1995 a former attorney general, Selwyn Richardson was murdered in front of his home. The investigative trail went as cold as the bodies began to pile up in the wake of that brazen killing. With no means to stifle the unremitting trauma we keep pushing the point-of-no-return line forward.
No doubt, exhuming these dark chapters can reopen old wounds, echo the pain of loss among the secondary victims, families robbed of their joy and light. But this country must never be allowed to forget the lives cut short by greed, vengeance and carnal weakness.
We muddle on in an endless cycle of live, die, repeat, with ephemeral, dubious crime plans or no plan at all, just words of commiseration and thunderous resolve from the state with no action to reinforce cheap bluster. We cry “remember Asami Nagakiya!” while there are no signals from the police to suggest that it’s anything other than “business as usual”.
Investigators moan about uncooperative communities harbouring criminals. Police can never uproot criminals from besieged areas if the fear of gang reprisals outweighs trust in the law. What are the solutions? It doesn’t matter because there isn’t the will to put the enforcement into law enforcement, or fix a judicial system which utterly fails those whose lives are shattered by crime.
“Daylight robberies” have become plain old robberies, television murdertainment programming broadcasts the theatre of the macabre and citizens lose all hope along with all memory of the path that got us here.
Dangerous criminals in our communities will remain “known to the police” yet unknown to the prison system. And we wait for the next brutal murder to top the last, comforting ourselves with the false belief that this is something unprecedented, something new.
