The cash jet pilot and the local politicians
Kaieteur News | Editorial | Oct 05, 2019
https://www.kaieteurnewsonline...e-local-politicians/
There is running and hiding -up to a point and only for a time. There is a time for everything and, sometimes, it could be a long time. Good times, however defined, run their course, and then there is reckoning: before the law, maybe the electorate, at the bar of commonsense.
The cash jet pilot is Exhibit A. Thirteen years is light: too short, too kind, when all is considered, with most largely still unknown. The facts are the facts; the public ones, that is.
But just from what surfaced, there is so much that remains unaccounted for, unasked, and unanswered. The public is due some telling and inquiring, though no answers will be forthcoming.
Sure, he got caught. Thatβs the can; now for the worms.
Because of the enormous constrictors they are, they leave breathless. For starters, all things being equal, that could not have been his first trip and only cargo of cash, and who knows what else.
Second, what was the source of those funds? Was such clean or (as is most likely) contaminated?
Third, who was that booty for: the personal, the political, or the commercial? Or all three? Fourth, if it was not his first trip, how many more did he make, and with what did he come?
Fifth, what was taken on the return trip(s) to the north? It stands to reason, it would not have been an empty plane, or two bottles of duty-free Demerara Gold (the other kind from the interior, too), or some bottles of pepper sauce.
Clearly, there were some powerful participants here, who have neither interest nor inkling in operating out in the open, or with the welfare of state and people foremost. They make people move and things happen for the worst objectives.
By any standards, the man could not have come and gone empty-handed or alone. Too many known local characters involved, too many political and business operators at the scene, since so much was at stake, and so much effort went towards creating a foolproof apparatus.
His activities encircled big business with big people with big reach. Look carefully, and all those were very much present.
A full-fledged machinery was in place and active, through that private hangar to whisk away; specialised officials who knew what to do; and sensitive security arrangements to form a barricade from prying eyes.
Word is that there are more such hangars and officials and security men-phantoms all-to facilitate a drop, an airlift, a flow. In the ways of the underground, this country is as sophisticated as any advanced society.
Taking all this into account, this much could be essayed with confidence: that the cash jet pilot was not a freelancer working in his own interests alone. How many? How high? How embedded in the cancerously corrupt bowels and brains of this society?
And when some semblance of answers comes, there is this most unequivocal of positions to take: there may not have been just one cash jet pilot. Not necessary a pilot, but in the many other imitations that move the wealth and radioactive materials of this country around.
Separately, it is heard and known that the then government had a man near to the top, who knew if a turtle climbed a tree on Monkey Mountain from all the way in the city; or wherever he was at the time. Yet on this there is feigned ignorance. Silence and distance by all and sundry, about this or that man, or the others.
It is hair-raising to contemplate the sinister implications of what came and what went. There are many who would make legally justified company for this felon. Those include politicians (in and out of power), captains of commerce, and the bureaucratic movers and shakers, whose hands are fastened up to their shoulders in what has devastated.
Unlike the cash jet pilot, most will never see the inside of a court. That is, others to perjure themselves.
