Police Informer

I have now been labelled “Police Informer”. Where I come from, that’s no compliment. It means you are marked for death.

I live in what I would describe as a “semi-volatile” area. The place I occupy is at the back or to the edge of this particular community and directly behind me is a “volatile” area. I hear the sounds of volatility – the gunshots, disgraceful family and territorial fracas – from time to time. I have learned to ignore them. There is really is no “neighbourhood” of such – the houses far between, with a few unfinished buildings, shacks and poor living conditions in the immediate environs. Some people are truly, like myself, residents – we are planted here in houses we call homes. Others come and go. I can’t keep track of everyone. The ‘regulars’ I talk with or at least greet. Others I ignore. I do not know them. They seem unfriendly, rude even.

In the recent past, there has been a ‘flare up’ in the area. It started – to my mind – with the murder of a pastor close to the end of 2005, just chains from my home. Then there was the hold-up of a taxi driver at my gate on the eve of New Years’ Eve 2005. As the hold-up men (I saw 2) chased the driver as he sped away, the taller of the two fired a shot at the car. This was done as he ran past my gate. I saw his figure clearly. Face – no. From then, it’s been mayhem. More hold-ups. Robberies, rapes and murders.

By early 2006, the so-called Leader of the gang, “Teacher” – my cousin, who also lived in this area – was charged for firearm and ammunition possession. The policeman who charged him was one I knew well and had worked closely with for years. My cousin was tried and convicted. A few months later, he and “members of his gang” were ‘executed’ in Montego Bay. And over the year that all this transpired, the criminal acts in the community continued.

In January 2007, I was told that I was targeted as someone who ‘pressured a youth’ in court (me, the Prosecutor). But someone sorted that out by explaining, they said, that that was my job; it was not personal. Frankly, I did not appreciate the manner in which this was communicated to me and saw it as a threat from the person who told me – he being the one to ‘explain’my role.

Over the Easter week-end of 2007, there were at least two incidents of taxi hold-ups at my gate (this could be seen as a crossroad where the taxis turn around). I was in my house when both incidents occurred and heard or saw narry a thing!

In my work, I cannot avoid the police. We interact. Having heard about the most recent hold-ups, I commented to a few officers that the area was just too “hot”. It’s not unusual for me to have conversations of the sort with them. My interaction with them continue through my work, both in court and at the cells where I meet clients in lock-up.

Now I hear I’m a police informer.

I don’t know if I should fear for my life, or just laugh my usual belly-bursting laugh. When ‘pea brains’ try to crack nuts, all sorts of things come forth. And when these same ‘pea brains’ hold a weapon, innocent lives are lost.

For years I have been trying to get it through to those I can, that when people are murdered in this my homeland of Jamaica, don’t look for a motive. It is seldom there and in some instances so flimsy it might as well be ignored.

See what I mean?