Random brutality – remembering Wayne Hanson

Many years ago, over 30 years in fact, I was involved in the investigation of the first murder case of my career. I wasn’t in the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF) yet, but I was prosecuting the case as a private detective.

My roles were crime scene reconstruction and witness protection. I was almost 20 years old. To say I was stressed by the experience would be an understatement. Thirty-something years later, having attended hundreds of murder investigations in various roles and dozens of trials, I laugh at what used to stress me out.

The stress was largely caused by ignorance and underexposure to the system. It was also caused by players in the system who seemed inclined to make such a hard case. Let me explain.

The accused were from two rival gangs affiliated with two separate political parties. However, they seemed to have made peace over the case. They were jointly charged with the murder of a young man named Wayne. I often escorted the witness and family of the deceased to court in the old court, where both gangs were significantly represented. That alone felt like going through a gauntlet.

Keep in mind that I had inexperienced, underexposed female witnesses and family members with me. Couple that with my inexperience, an old car, an older .38 revolver, and every exit route out of that part of Spanish town under gang control. Now can you feel my fear?

Then there was this policeman who worked at the courthouse. He made it his duty to disarm me every time, and he did it in full view of the gangsters. So they knew I was indeed inadequately armed and a “nobody” in the eyes of law enforcement to begin with. I couldn’t understand this policeman.

A few years later, when I became a policeman and was working in the Criminal Investigation Service (CIB), I went to court and, “you bet”, he was right there, sitting in the same doorway. He probably didn’t remember me, so I made sure to remind him. After explaining myself and listening to her pitiful apology, I simply said, “Bredda, your world is as big as glass” and left. I’m not sure he understood what I meant, but you did.

Wayne’s killing then, as now, affected me significantly. You see, most of the crimes I’m exposed to, more than 80% in fact, are by gang members who, in many ways, caused their own deaths. Wayne was only guilty of stopping at the wrong bar to use the bathroom.

He was a truck driver. When he tried to enter the toilet to use one of the toilets, he was stopped by a thug at the door. He pushed past the thug, who was apparently guarding the door while his fellow assailant had sex with a go-go dancer in the bathroom. An argument broke out and Wayne was stabbed to death.

The incident shook me then because at that age it could have happened to me. It shakes me now because I have a son that age and I’m pretty sure it could happen to him. The 50-year-old version of me would leave that bathroom and find a tire, but I’m pretty sure my 20-year-old son wouldn’t.

The case was investigated and two of the three men who ganged up on Wayne were charged. At the first court session, the first accused was held. His alias was “Crawler”. During the introduction, the prosecutor highlighted the case and the fact that the witness was threatened.

“Crawler” stood up and practically yelled at the judge. He was a tall, hostile-looking man with violent eyes and the most antagonistic demeanor I had ever seen. You could hear the ferocity and aggression in his voice and you could see it in his body language.

At that time, we were already fighting internationally. I was over 200 pounds and strong. However, I had nothing in my arsenal that could fight such a man. Wayne had to fight three like that! And they were all armed with knives.

This case changed my training forever. I no longer trained with a ring on my mind, but rather with a cell. I knew that if I ever made it to one, I would have to be able to fight the Crawlers of this world.

The case was impeccably prosecuted by a young Martin Gayle, who later became a high court judge. But unfortunately it was hard to get a jury to come up with a verdict in those days in Spanish Town against gang members. It still is, actually. The interlocutors were acquitted, but both died horrible deaths within a year.

I learned a lot from that case and have worked on many more since then. However, losing the issue still bothers me. Wayne’s family is still mourning their loss. I lost my ignorant faith in the justice system for a while and still don’t think it’s victim-centered. However, I will admit that defendants get very fair trials. The random brutality that caused Wayne’s death is still a permanent part of our culture. It is also present in other countries.

There are, however, many countries where it does not. Therefore, we should not accept it. It exists because of the lack of consequences. Unfortunately, one of the reasons for the lack of consequences is the fair but defendant-centered justice system. It’s a terrible price to pay for a fair trial, but that’s the price.

In over a dozen countries I can think of, there would have been no way to release those criminals back into society. However, I wouldn’t want to live in most of these countries, and they would very likely arrest me for my journalistic exploits. Making a system fair but strong and inflexible is hard. I understand that. But what is the cost?

“Crawlers”, “Teshas”, “Blackmen” and others who kill on a moment’s impulse are a very small minority of our country. They’re less than one percent, but they’re the ones who make us live with a United States travel advisory that hurts tourism. They are the ones crippling our health budget. They are the ones who, every year, take hundreds of “Wayne’s” from their families.

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