Dear Editor,
I have tried my best to distance myself from social and political commentary concerning Guyana.
Not because I have stopped caring, but because there is only so much frustration one can carry when watching the same issues repeat themselves, the same families plead for justice, and the same political figures condemn a system one day and defend it the next.
Following developments in Guyana can be emotionally exhausting, particularly when accountability seems to depend on who is involved.
However, after reading Randy Gopaul’s October 13, 2026, article published by Village Voice News, titled “Prem Narine Reminds Guyana of the Ugly Period When Yohance Douglas was Murdered by Police,” I felt compelled to write.
I found the comparison between the killing of Yohance Douglas and the recent shooting incident involving Opposition Leader Azruddin Mohamed deeply troubling and disrespectful to Douglas’s memory.
Let me make something clear from the outset.
I am not defending Senior Superintendent Prem Narine, nor am I suggesting that any police officer has the authority to discharge a firearm at someone merely because that person’s behaviour appears suspicious.
The incident involving Mohamed warrants an independent and transparent investigation.
If an officer acted unlawfully, there must be consequences.
That position does not change because the person involved is a politician, an ordinary citizen, or someone accused of wrongdoing.
But surely we have not reached the point where every confrontation involving a political figure and the police must be compared to the killing of an innocent young man whose circumstances were materially different.
On March 1, 2003, Yohance Douglas was travelling with friends when police opened fire on their vehicle.
He was a young university student who had been going about his life.
His friend Ronson Grey was also shot. Douglas did not deliberately position himself outside the residence of a police officer with whom he had an existing dispute.
He was not conducting surveillance or attempting to document the activities of an officer.
He was simply travelling with his friends when his life was taken.
Now consider what has been reported about the incident involving Mohamed.
According to Mohamed’s own account, he and two other men went to Barr Street, Kitty, to document what they believed was an excessive police presence outside Narine’s private residence.
This occurred late at night, against the background of an existing dispute involving the officer and Mohamed’s legal proceedings.
I am not suggesting that Mohamed threatened Narine.
I am asking why the circumstances that led to this confrontation are being treated as though they are comparable to those surrounding Douglas’s death.
Mohamed has reportedly acknowledged the reason for his presence.
That decision forms part of the sequence of events leading to the confrontation. It does not justify unlawful gunfire, but it cannot simply be omitted when examining how the incident developed.
There are conflicting accounts about who fired first, the circumstances under which shots were discharged, and the firearm allegedly recovered from the vehicle. Those matters require investigation.
Yet some have already characterised the incident as an assassination attempt.
On what established evidence has that conclusion been reached?
An allegation, however serious, is not a finding of fact.
What concerns me even more is the selective use of Guyana’s painful history.
The period during which Yohance Douglas was killed remains one of the darkest chapters in our country’s history.
Many young men, particularly Afro-Guyanese men, lost their lives amid allegations of extrajudicial killings, police abuses, and politically connected violence. Families were left to bury their sons, demand answers, and confront institutions in which they had little confidence.
Some families are still waiting for accountability.
Others have lived for decades without the answers they deserve.
Some relatives of missing persons have never even had the opportunity to recover and bury their loved ones.
These are not historical footnotes to be conveniently retrieved whenever a contemporary political argument requires an emotional comparison.
And since we are invoking that period, I believe we should be prepared to examine the political history surrounding it in its entirety.
What were the positions of Azruddin Mohamed and his family, including his father, Nazar Mohamed, toward the political establishment during those years? What positions did they take concerning allegations of police abuses and extrajudicial killings?
When did their relationship with the political establishment change, and what accounts for that change?
These are questions worth examining, particularly when the suffering of that period is now being invoked in arguments concerning Mohamed.
We cannot discuss the political history of police violence selectively while ignoring the political relationships and allegiances that existed at the time.
For years, I have watched political figures speak passionately against injustice while in opposition, only to become remarkably quiet about similar concerns when political circumstances change. I have also watched people defend institutions they once condemned, depending on whose interests were at stake.
This inconsistency is one reason public confidence in both the police and political leadership has suffered.
Justice cannot depend on political convenience.
The killing of Yohance Douglas deserves examination because of what happened to Yohance Douglas, not because his death can be used to strengthen an argument concerning Azruddin Mohamed.
If the intention of the Village Voice article was to highlight the longstanding dangers of unchecked police power, that argument could have been made without suggesting that these two incidents arose under comparable circumstances.
There is more than enough documented history of police abuses in Guyana to support a serious discussion about institutional accountability.
Indeed, I have been equally disturbed by the recent death of young Altaf King following a police chase.
My concern has been the conduct of the officers, particularly the manner in which his injured body was reportedly handled and what assistance was rendered following the crash.
Regardless of the circumstances leading to that incident, the conduct of the police must be independently examined.
That is what consistency looks like.
We examine the actions of law enforcement, the circumstances of each incident, and the evidence available.
We do not decide who deserves scrutiny based on political affiliation, public standing, or personal popularity.
I have no difficulty demanding an investigation into the shooting involving Mohamed.
I have difficulty drawing comparisons with people whose lives were lost under very different circumstances.
Yohance Douglas never had the opportunity to tell his side of the story after the shooting.
His family was left to speak for him.
That difference alone should encourage greater sensitivity in how his name is used.
I am particularly troubled by how easily the suffering of ordinary Guyanese becomes political currency.
When a family loses a child, that grief does not belong to the government, the opposition, or any political movement. It belongs to the people who must live with that absence long after the headlines disappear.
We owe those families more than selective remembrance.
We owe them an honest examination of the institutions that failed them, the political environment in which those failures occurred, and the accountability that has too often remained elusive.
Investigate the incident involving Prem Narine and Azruddin Mohamed.
Establish the facts, including who fired first, whether the use of force was lawful, and whether any criminal offences were committed. Let the evidence determine responsibility.
But please, let us stop treating the memory of Yohance Douglas as a convenient comparison whenever political circumstances make his story useful.
His life mattered in 2003.
His life matters today.
It should not require a confrontation involving an opposition leader for Guyana to remember that.
Yohance Douglas was somebody’s son before he became a name in Guyana’s history of police violence.
His family deserves to have his memory treated with that understanding and respect.
Yours faithfully,
Nakisha Sinclair (Martian Nella)
Writer and Social Advocate
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