In Trinidad and Tobago, the word “kidnapping” is a recurring nightmare that has shattered families, scarred communities, and exposed the fragility of safety in the lives of ordinary citizens.
For former government minister Christine Newallo-Hosein, the memory of her then 20-year-old son Imran—blindfolded, hog-tied, brutalised, and left crouched in a shallow grave for four days in 2005 with maggot-infested wounds—remains a haunting testament to the cruelty human beings can inflict on one another.
And for another former government minister, Nizam Baksh, the horror came in the form of his son Ashmead’s lifeless body, discarded in a secluded area after kidnappers shot him in the head and set his legs on fire—just hours after demanding a $5 million ransom that was never paid.
This is the painful reality of a country where kidnappings—once thought to be a plague of the past—have resurfaced with boldness.
And while these high-profile cases involving former politicians underscore the ruthless reach of this menace, no one is safe—kidnappers show no respect for age, status, or family background, striking fear across all walks of life.
From emotional torment and psychological warfare to unanswered prayers and cases that have long gone cold, the trauma of abduction is lifelong.
Victims return changed forever—if they return at all. And for the families left behind, there is no full healing. Only survival.
SHALIZA HASSANALI
Senior Investigative Reporter
shaliza.hassanali@guardian.co.tt
Christine Newallo-Hosein’s voice trembled as she recounted the horror her then 20-year-old son, Imran Hosein, endured during his 17-day captivity in 2005.
For four of those agonising days, Imran sat crouched in a shallow grave in Malick—dug by his captors—blindfolded, hog-tied, and brutalised, as maggots devoured the infected wounds in his ear and leg.
Beaten and fed only every four days, Imran feared he wouldn’t survive. But Newallo-Hosein held fast to her faith, putting her trust in God, believing he would reunite them.
Now, with a recent spike in kidnappings for ransom, the trauma has resurfaced.
Between July 5 and 21, 2025, five people were kidnapped—four for ransom. Two were murdered.
Kerry Von Adams was found dead in the Heights of Guanapo, despite a $15,000 ransom being paid.
Timala Rambaran vanished on July 10 after trying to buy a $25,000 car. His body was discovered two days later off Mausica Road South, Arima.
On July 13, 44-year-old Jankie Satie Karim was kidnapped and held for eight days in an abandoned beach house in Rampanalgas. She was rescued by police and left traumatised.
Then on July 21, Ryan Singh, 18, and Keeran Latchman, 21, were kidnapped while delivering scaffolding in Valencia. Their captors demanded $1.2 million.
Held in a forest shed, the men managed to escape.
These incidents have reopened old wounds and reignited fear, even as families search for healing and try to rebuild their lives.
“It’s very concerning for me that kidnappings for ransom have found itself back in T&T. There may be many reasons for kidnappings. But the root cause of any type of criminal activity is greed,” the former Cumuto/Manzanilla MP and minister of the people and social development said last week. Newallo-Hosein also served as an Opposition MP from 2015 to 2020.
She believes criminal elements are already testing the new United National Congress Government to gauge how far they can go.
The former politician expressed deep empathy for kidnap victims and their families, saying the trauma leaves lasting scars—not just on individuals, but on entire communities and the nation.
For 17 days, she said her family endured torment, shed countless tears, and had their faith in God deeply tested.
“I knew that God was going to make a way for Imran to return to his family. That is what kept me going, nothing else,” the mother of four said.
Yet, two decades later, the fight for justice remains painfully unresolved. The lead investigator, once determined to bring the perpetrators to justice, was murdered.
“I have no idea what the status of the case is. This police officer was so adamant that he was going to bring the perpetrators to justice. But he was killed. There are some things you just want to forget.”
While Newallo-Hosein had previously shared some details about Imran’s kidnapping two decades ago, in a candid interview with Guardian Media, she bared her soul, revealing deeply personal information never shared before.
“Nobody expected this to happen. No one!” she said, recalling the April 7 kidnapping that turned their world upside down.
“The family often spoke about people being kidnapped, but we never thought it would reach our doorstep.”
They had also agreed that if any family member was kidnapped, no ransom would be paid.
Imran, who worked in the family business, had just visited his girlfriend’s home in Trincity and was about to enter his car when abductors snatched him.
Less than 24 hours later, a $1 million ransom demand was made.
For 14 days, Imran was moved from one location to another. His abductors covered his eyes with duct tape. “He couldn’t see and fell and punctured his left leg.” Strips of the tape were used to tie his hands and feet. Every four days, he was given a meal—one time roti, another time Chinese food, which he refused to eat.
“And for me, that told me how emotionally strong he was because when you want to break somebody down, you know you would give them something they don’t like.”
His mother said Imran had to urinate and defecate on himself.
“He was brutalised, badly beaten. They used his head as an ashtray to put out their cigarettes. It was bad, really, really, bad.”
The lit cigarettes singed his hair and burned his skull.
‘I don’t negotiate with abductors’
When the abductors first contacted the family, Newallo-Hosein insisted on speaking with Imran, though his voice was barely audible. She demanded to talk to her son again, but the kidnapper responded with a threat meant to intimidate her. Undeterred, Newallo-Hosein stood firm and instructed the family to refuse all calls.
“I don’t negotiate with abductors,” she said.
“Sometimes we allow circumstances to destroy us. That is not the way we were designed. We were not created to be defeated by our circumstances. I couldn’t afford to allow my emotions to get in the way of being the strong negotiator that I needed to be. I was not going to allow the enemy to take control of my life and freedom. The kidnappings were so prevalent.”
This stance stumped and frustrated the kidnappers.
“So they kept using psychological warfare on Imran, saying that I did not love him because we didn’t want to pay the ransom.”
The family’s worry deepened when the Anti-Kidnapping Squad (AKS) informed them that Imran had been sold to another group of kidnappers.
“They said that normally happens when they can’t get the money, they would pass the victim over to another group of kidnappers to get the ransom.”
Everyone was on edge as the days passed with no word from the captors—or from the AKS, whose equipment was “inadequate”.
Police gave Newallo-Hosein a prepared script to read if the kidnappers called, but she rejected it outright.
Her other children began to question whether she truly loved Imran, believing she should have given in to the abductors’ demands.
But Newallo-Hosein remained steadfast in her faith, promising them that God would bring him back.
It became a waiting game as police searched relentlessly.
On day 14, Imran was taken to a hilly area in Malick, where his captors placed him in a hole.
“They dug the hole to bury him, and they covered it with grass and bush because the helicopters kept flying overhead looking for him. The hole was small, so he had to sit in a crouched position.”
Injuries from the beatings began to fester and grow worse.
“He had a huge hole in his left leg that had thousands of maggots … his left ear had thousands of maggots. You know, one maggot came through his eye,” she said, her voice dropping.
In pain, weak and terrified, Imran feared he wouldn’t survive.
When asked how he managed to escape the hole, Newallo-Hosein took a deep breath and replied, “It was truly God. I am telling you the truth.”
Imran had been asleep when heavy rainfall began filling the pit with water.
“He felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he opened his eyes, no one was there. It was the Lord who had woken him up and told him it was time to get out.”
Unable to see and barely able to move, Imran fought with all his strength to escape.
“He struggled because his hands and feet were still tied.”
Using his buttocks, he slid down the hill, his body slamming into gru-gru boeuf trees, where sharp thorns tore at his skin.
At the bottom, he encountered a man filling water at a standpipe and managed to get his attention.
When the duct tape was finally removed from Imran’s face, hands, and legs, Newallo-Hosein said it peeled off his skin.
Imran was rushed to the Eric Williams Medical Sciences Complex for urgent medical attention.
However, due to a shortage of medical supplies at the public hospital, he had to be transferred to the St Augustine Private Hospital. There, doctors treated his wounds with Nagasunt powder—a product typically used by veterinarians to treat maggot-infested wounds in dogs.
Imran also required counselling to begin processing the trauma he had endured. While his physical wounds took weeks to heal, Newallo-Hosein said the memory of the kidnapping remains vivid and unforgettable.
“It was an ordeal. But we were so happy to get him back and begin the healing process as a family.”
While the road has been far from easy, Newallo-Hosein said Imran has managed to live a normal life.
Now, two decades after the horrifying experience, Newallo-Hosein holds fast to the belief that has carried her through: “God is still in charge and it’s his faith that I still hold on to. To him be the glory.”
Former minister still haunted by son’s brutal killing 21 years later
While one mother welcomed her son back from the grave, another father buried his.
While Imran Hosein’s harrowing ordeal ended in a tearful reunion and slow healing, not every family is granted that grace. For former government minister Nizam Baksh, there was no escape, no phone call, no second chance.
His son Ashmead’s kidnapping ended not in survival—but in a crime so brutal, its horror still echoes 21 years later.
Baksh knows firsthand the agony of losing a child to violent crime. Twenty-one years ago, his son, Ashmead, was kidnapped and murdered after kidnappers demanded a $5 million ransom for his safe return.
Ashmead, a 29-year-old civil engineer and managing director of Aber Equipment and Rental Service, was never freed. He was shot in the back of the head, and his legs were set on fire. His body was dumped in a secluded area at Platanite Trace, off Roshard Road in Barrackpore.
The car he was last seen driving was later discovered in Monkey Town.
The brutal killing shocked the nation and spurred Baksh—who would later serve under the People’s Partnership administration—into action. He led a march against violence in his Barrackpore hometown, channelling his grief into advocacy. Ashmead was Baksh’s second son.
Two decades later, there is still no justice. The case has long gone cold.
“No one was arrested. Nothing came out of that at all. We have a new Government in charge. I am hoping they can take some drastic action against these criminals. We have to find a way to cripple them. Right now, they have the edge over citizens like us,” Baksh told the Sunday Guardian in a telephone interview.
He believes more must be done to tackle the root of the violence.
“The Government has to get the guns out of the criminals’ hands and stop the illegal flow of weapons coming in,” he said.
On May 15, 2004, Baksh was in Parliament when he received the devastating news of his son’s abduction.
“It was a Friday evening, Parliament was in session,” he recalled.
Before the call came, he said he felt something was off—an inexplicable unease.
Ashmead had received several calls that day to check on a specific project, but couldn’t find the time. Normally, he would attend sites with a team. That day, he went alone.
“That’s when they kidnapped him. They gave him some rough treatment and then murdered him that night.”
As the family clung to hope and prayed incessantly for his safe return, the police launched a search across the country.
“It was torturous. They got a tip-off from some students who saw him with some people. But when they got there, his kidnappers had already moved him to another area,” Baksh said.
The family never heard from the captors again. The ransom was never paid.
The following day, Ashmead’s body was found.
Baksh was the one who had to identify his son.
“Ashmead was lying face down. There was a gunshot wound in the back of his head.”
That moment has never left him. He remembers praying over the body, asking Allah to grant his son peace.
“There were no words to describe how I felt when I saw Ashmead’s body because he was very attached to us. He gave his mother and me the assurance that he would look after us when we get old.”
Ashmead had even started building a home in Mayaro for his parents to enjoy their retirement.
Just as his family loved him, he community held him in high regard.
But not having closure continues to weigh heavily on the family.
Now 85, Baksh said he has surrendered the matter to a higher power.
“I have no choice but to leave everything in Allah’s hands.”
