Mick­ela Pan­day

A coun­try does not mea­sure its crime cri­sis on­ly in sta­tis­tics. It mea­sures it in the moth­er who waits for a child to come home, the work­er who hes­i­tates be­fore leav­ing home be­fore sun­rise, the busi­ness own­er who clos­es ear­ly out of fear and the com­mu­ni­ty that no longer knows whether the sound out­side is or­di­nary life or dan­ger. To­day, Trinidad and To­ba­go is liv­ing with that fear every day.

This week, the re­port­ed killing of tod­dler Aki­ni Kafi in Bel­mont shook the con­science of the na­tion. No so­ci­ety should be­come so hard­ened by vi­o­lence that the death of a child be­comes just an­oth­er head­line. No gov­ern­ment should hear the grief of a coun­try and re­spond with un­cer­tain­ty, ab­sence, or vague promis­es.

As of May 8, Crime Hotspots was re­port­ing 151 mur­ders in Trinidad and To­ba­go for the year, across 128 days of da­ta. That means the coun­try is still record­ing more than one mur­der a day. Be­hind every num­ber is a fam­i­ly, a fu­ner­al, a fright­ened com­mu­ni­ty and a na­tion ask­ing the same ques­tion: Where is the plan?

This is not about par­ty colours. It is not about pre­tend­ing that crime be­gan yes­ter­day. The PNM failed this coun­try on crime and that fail­ure is part of why cit­i­zens de­mand­ed change. But change can­not mean new faces giv­ing the same ex­cus­es. The Gov­ern­ment now in of­fice asked the peo­ple for re­spon­si­bil­i­ty and re­spon­si­bil­i­ty can­not be del­e­gat­ed when the coun­try is in cri­sis.

Af­ter one year in of­fice and af­ter months un­der emer­gency pow­ers, the peo­ple of Trinidad and To­ba­go are en­ti­tled to more than state­ments, so­cial me­dia posts and min­is­ters ap­pear­ing be­fore cam­eras with­out clear an­swers.

They are en­ti­tled to hear di­rect­ly from the Prime Min­is­ter.

At the time of writ­ing, cit­i­zens were still wait­ing for the kind of di­rect, sus­tained and de­tailed na­tion­al ad­dress from the Prime Min­is­ter fo­cused specif­i­cal­ly on crime that this mo­ment de­mands.

A cri­sis of this scale re­quires more than oc­ca­sion­al re­marks, con­trolled speech­es or state­ments de­liv­ered through oth­ers. It re­quires the Prime Min­is­ter to face the coun­try, an­swer the hard ques­tions and ex­plain the Gov­ern­ment’s plan.

The Prime Min­is­ter is not mere­ly an­oth­er mem­ber of Cab­i­net. She is the head of Gov­ern­ment. She chairs the Na­tion­al Se­cu­ri­ty Coun­cil. Min­is­ters may speak on their port­fo­lios, but the na­tion­al di­rec­tion must come from the per­son who leads the Gov­ern­ment.

When cit­i­zens are be­ing killed, robbed, ab­duct­ed and ter­rorised, the coun­try needs to know who is in charge, what is be­ing done, what has failed and what will change.

When an­oth­er State of Emer­gency was an­nounced in March 2026, the coun­try was again placed un­der emer­gency pow­ers in re­sponse to vi­o­lent crime. The Gov­ern­ment has since de­fend­ed the use and ex­ten­sion of those pow­ers as nec­es­sary. But emer­gency pow­ers, by them­selves, are not a crime plan. They may give the State tem­po­rary tools, but they do not an­swer the deep­er ques­tions about de­tec­tion, pros­e­cu­tion, bor­der se­cu­ri­ty, il­le­gal firearms, com­mu­ni­ty in­tel­li­gence, po­lice re­form, youth in­ter­ven­tion, vic­tims’ sup­port, or re­build­ing pub­lic trust.

On Fri­day, May 8, the con­cern be­came even sharp­er. When the Min­is­ter of Home­land Se­cu­ri­ty was asked by the me­dia whether he would ad­vise the Prime Min­is­ter to con­sid­er a cur­few in light of the on­go­ing crime sit­u­a­tion, his an­swer was yes. That is not a small mat­ter.

A cur­few af­fects work­ers, fam­i­lies, busi­ness­es, schools, trans­port, wor­ship, recre­ation and the dai­ly move­ment of law-abid­ing cit­i­zens. If a cur­few is be­ing con­sid­ered, the coun­try can­not be left to guess.

Where is the ev­i­dence that it will work? What ar­eas would be af­fect­ed? What pro­tec­tions will be put in place for work­ers, stu­dents, pa­tients, care­givers and small busi­ness­es? How will the Gov­ern­ment pre­vent crim­i­nals from adapt­ing while or­di­nary cit­i­zens bear the bur­den? What is the ex­it strat­e­gy?

What are the bench­marks for suc­cess? And if the Gov­ern­ment is not yet ready to an­swer those ques­tions, why is the coun­try hear­ing talk of a cur­few be­fore the full crime plan?

Writ­ten re­spons­es, con­trolled speech­es and par­ty plat­forms are not a sub­sti­tute for di­rect ques­tion­ing. The peo­ple de­serve more than care­ful­ly man­aged com­mu­ni­ca­tion. They de­serve ac­count­abil­i­ty. They de­serve the Prime Min­is­ter fac­ing in­de­pen­dent scruti­ny and an­swer­ing on crime, na­tion­al se­cu­ri­ty, the econ­o­my and the promis­es made to the peo­ple.

Trinidad and To­ba­go de­serves bet­ter than si­lence and ex­cus­es. We need a Gov­ern­ment that is present, an­swers that are clear and a crime plan that is se­ri­ous, mea­sur­able and ac­count­able. That means tar­gets, time­lines, re­sources, co­or­di­na­tion and hon­esty about what is work­ing and what is not.

Every par­ent, every work­er, every busi­ness own­er, every young per­son and every com­mu­ni­ty has a stake in whether this coun­try be­comes safer or con­tin­ues down this fright­en­ing path.

Madam Prime Min­is­ter, the coun­try needs to hear from you. Not through a post. Not through a min­is­ter. Not through a par­ty plat­form. The coun­try needs you to face the peo­ple di­rect­ly, an­swer the hard ques­tions and show that there is a re­al plan to pro­tect cit­i­zens.

Mick­ela Pan­day is Po­lit­i­cal Leader of the Pa­tri­ot­ic Front and an At­tor­ney at Law