Garth RattrayMONDAY NOVEMBER 18, 2002 proceeded like most other Mondays, morning exercise, work and evening exercise class.
However, as I settled down to check my e-mail a friend called. Her shrill voice betrayed an unusual urgency and her hurried question gave everything away, "Did you hear what happened to Mel?"
She was referring to the cold-bloodied murder of one of my best friends, Mr. Mel Brown, owner/operator of the Constant Spring Wholesale Liquor Store at Mary Brown's Corner. Every nerve of my body hummed at a pitch that made my ears ring and my vision blur. The walls took on a greyish hue. I could hear my heart beating. A chill started deep in the middle of my chest and spread outwards filling the entire room. Numb legs barely carried me as I walked towards my wife with the horrible news.
The traffic leading to his store crawled at snail's pace because a large crowd of onlookers and acquaintances thronged behind police barriers and flowed into the road. The curious gawked and his friends choked as they saw his lifeless body lying still on the cold concrete with his blood seeping out around it. The finality of the event weighed heavily on everyone's minds. Silenced forever was his contagious laughter. Frozen in time were the memories of his animated shenanigans. Never again would his familiar form be seen sitting around the desk ensconced outside the front door to the business.
Who would pay the school fees of the needy children from the surrounding communities? Who would willingly extend a helping hand to the many that approached for assistance? Who would be friend to those who stopped by for a chat? Who would be husband, father and provider to his family? It isn't easy seeing your best friend stone cold dead and prostrate on the ground. We all wondered why and we speculated that it could be his refusal to pay 'protection money' that led to his murder.
Emotions ran wild but unspeakable sadness, horror and anger surpassed our fear. "Something must be done!" was the familiar refrain. People cursed the criminal elements and criticised the human rights advocates outright. They voiced the need to hear from them in times such as these. "Where are they now, aren't we humans too and don't we have the right to live?" Will crowds of demonstrators block the road for the spilling of his innocent blood? Will they shout boisterous condemnations of this cowardly act of loathsome murder? Maybe he's just another statistic for the books. He was no don, no important politician; chalk up one more to the ever-growing tally of martyrs.
Many members of the constabulary were there, Mel was very popular with them. Their appearance was grim and their mood sombre. Their faces portrayed disgust and a weariness of spirit as they methodically went about their macabre forensic duties. It was obvious that they had grown tired of traipsing behind the killers among us. The scene was surreal and the emotionally charged atmosphere hung heavily all around. Blank stares, dilated pupils and teary eyes looked back at one another in disbelief. Innumerable palms were upturned in mute grief-filled greetings conveying a quandary that no words could express. A life interrupted, a family's plans and dreams disrupted by malevolent forces in human form. The pain and sorrow was palpable and overwhelming.
What manner of creature could look Mel straight in the face and just kill him in cold blood? What kind of miscreant paid to have him murdered? Many stated their intent to migrate. They expressed the wish for all decent people to leave Jamaica and allow the criminals to devour each other. People wondered if the reward for hard work was a bullet to the head. Why make the effort when success only makes you a target for the criminals in society who are resolved to make their fortunes through extortion, drugs, politics and murder?
The feeling at the crime scene was sad but defiant. I envision a time when the people of this country will take no more. Unless we get the guns and stop this ridiculous killing, there will come a time when vigilantism will become a way of life. If our people feel cornered, trapped, unprotected and defenceless they will take matters into their own hands. This nation is not going to allow itself to be completely overrun by criminals. We need a speedy resolution to this plague. It's too late for Mel and no doubt it will be too late for a lot of us before this thing is under control.
The planned military occupation of identified inner-city communities is the first step but we must stop playing politics. Already there are simmering protestations about those selected for military attention. We must also seek to assist in social development programmes. Additionally, the government should not delay in recruiting, training, enabling and supplying thousands of voluntary covert 'watchers' armed with two-way radios for reporting suspected criminal activities. They can be the ubiquitous eyes and ears of the security forces, discreetly alerting the police to crime. Were such a system in place, Mel's murderers would probably have been identified, tracked and intercepted by the police.
The greatest deterrent to criminal activity is apprehension. We need to see and hear prime-time appeals for peace and a crime-free society from all politicians and so-called 'area leaders' from every single community on a rotating basis. We want to hear the human rights advocates say how disgusted they are with criminality every time that someone is murdered. Remaining this silent will cost them the support of the Jamaican people. Every voice counts. The message for peace obviously isn't getting to the right quarters as yet.
It rained at about 12:30 the following morning, but no amount of rain can wash away the pain and frustration. No amount of rain can ever wash away the blood of all the innocent lives snuffed out by callous, soulless killers. Once again we are left wondering who will be next.
Dr. Garth A. Rattray is a medical doctor with a family practice.
