Pages continue to be added to the book on ‘how to get away with murder in Guyana’. It tells us that where blood has been shed, and the tears of the grieving has watered the earth, justice would not always sprout. It suggests that some of our ideas of justice and progress are simply charades. There have been warnings throughout the pages that we are struggling to keep flames at bay, fearing that any minute combustion will destroy us.
Is there a threat of reverting to barbarism in this society? At chapter 55 of Guyana’s book a dominant theme like in many of the previous chapters has been injustice. Perhaps we are barbaric. Of course, not the collective, but when we think of how Joel and Isaiah Henry were slaughtered in a Berbice backdam in September of 2020 we know that savages walk among us. Are we comfortable with the moral collapse? Are we comfortable that in this land there are criminals roaming free who have never seen a day in prison? Is there a marriage between corruption and the law?
When Guyanese are murdered and there are hints or it is blatant that the murderers’ lives are thought to be worth more than the murdered, what does it reveal about us? Is this land cursed? Could it be the blood of the innocent that has been shed since chapter 1, in May of 1966, in the name of race and power? In the name of moving Guyana forward and wanting to restore peace we have excused atrocities. There are those who were buried without a funeral. There are those whose mothers still wonder if they were crucified and if someday there will be a resurrection and their lost ones will appear at the door; risen from the mysteries of Guyana’s backdams to whisper secrets about state-sponsored violence.
Here in chapter 55, we see that the people who voice their discontent and stand for justice are often the ones facing criticism from those who sit in seats of judgment. At Dartmouth, Essequibo this week, dissatisfied with the Director of Public Prosecution’s decision to charge the officer who killed Orin Boston with manslaughter instead of murder, the people stood up. Why does it appear that killers are often more protected than the victims or the families they left behind? Did the life of Orin Boston matter? Are we comfortable with what has been done to the Henrys? Is it business as usual when we think about Haresh Singh? What about Shonette Dover’s voice screaming from a shallow grave?
The people of Dartmouth burned and blocked the roads. They have screamed and cried because they know who the enemies are. They are hurt—hurt because they have seen that upstanding citizens who are guilty of no crime can be killed while in bed and if the people do not stand and speak for them, they can be criminalized after their deaths. The people are angry because they are tired and see the threats to their communities. When there is no resistance, it can be a season for those in uniform to shoot and kill citizens without mercy or any consequences for their actions.
We would like to believe that we can have confidence in the Director of Public Prosecutions to see that those who commit heinous crimes are charged for their crimes. Orin Boston no longer has a tongue to voice his pain. He cannot rise from the grave and testify. They entered his house to allegedly search for illegal items but found nothing and shot him in his bed. They said there was a confrontation, but his wife refutes that. While he lay next to his wife, they shot him. Did the officer know that he could get away with murder?
The choices we make in the name of protecting those who offend, whether they were instructed or not, expose us. Unfortunately, traumatized wives who watched their husbands killed and children seeing strangers enter their doors are often not protected by the law here.
The people of Dartmouth have refused to let the death of their loved one cripple them. All of Guyana should be standing with them but every chapter in our book has been bursting with divisiveness. Enemies of the people will condemn protesters and ask them to go home. We understand that any hint of revolution makes some people uncomfortable because they are comfortable with the charades. Or they may be weak and afraid to stand for anything or speak. Perhaps afraid that the Special Weapons and Tactics unit will knock on their doors to search for what they do not possess.
Our resistance must evolve from some of us being keyboard warriors or talking from behind a mask. To discontinue this book on ‘how to get away with murder in Guyana’, there must be a collective effort. The voices of those standing for justice must drown the voices of those who condemn the people but do not hold the murderers accountable.
We see through the charades of being on the side of peace and justice. We are sick of the insults to our intelligence. We know that masters and slaves have the same faces in these post-colonial, present continuous colonial territories. But still, we cannot continue to allow our society to descend into lawlessness. Yesterday it was Orin Boston and many others some whose names have been forgotten. We must stand for those who cannot stand for themselves and demand that no one gets away with murder.
