I have had the privilege of engaging in high-level exchanges with Dr Stephen Sheppard over the years. Dr Sheppard is a professional, an academic and, importantly, a law-abiding citizen who takes his civic responsibilities seriously. His perspectives are shaped not merely by academic knowledge, but by significant professional and leadership experience across several important sectors of national life.
I endorse, support and commend his analysis regarding the recent incident involving the boats that crashed at Pigeon Point, Tobago. Dr Sheppard is a qualified and certified launch captain, bringing a practical dimension to the discussion that goes beyond theoretical observation.
I present his analysis for public consideration:
On the evening of September 20, Pigeon Point beach in Tobago became the site of yet another boat collision. Eight people were injured, one passenger reportedly thrown from one vessel onto another after impact. Just five months earlier, at the same location, seven-year-old Angelica Jogie was killed when a jet ski struck her. The same beach, the same tourist zone, two serious incidents in five months. This is not an accident. This is systemic failure.
The law is not absent. Trinidad and Tobago’s Motor Launches Act (MLA) clearly states that any person operating a motor boat carrying passengers must hold a valid licence issued by the Harbour Master, valid for three years, obtained after examination and subject to a medical fitness certificate. The act even specifies the consequences of operating without one: using an unlicensed captain or operating unlicensed is an offence committed by the owner. Yet, the reality at Pigeon Point is jet skis striking children in no-swim zones and vessels on test runs colliding head-on with boats full of passengers.
The failure runs along two tracks: training and certification are treated as optional, and enforcement is effectively nonexistent.
On training, Trinidad and Tobago does not lack a framework. The MLA establishes an examination board and requires applicants to pass assessments including knowledge of the International Regulations for Preventing Collisions at Sea. The Maritime Services Division has certified training institutions and courses, including launch captain and engineer licence programmes. But the existence of a system is not the same as the operation of a system. When a seven-year-old is killed by a jet ski in a clearly designated no-swim area, we are entitled to ask: did the operator hold a valid licence? Did his training include the basic rule that you do not operate at speed near swimmers?
The more critical question is enforcement. A law can be written as clearly as you like, but if the Harbour Master never boards a vessel, if police never ask to see a licence, if courts never impose meaningful penalties, then the law is nothing more than a moral statement on paper. The MLA empowers the Harbour Master, assistant Harbour Masters, customs officers and any police officer in uniform to demand production of a licence at any time, and refusal to produce is itself an offence. But daily reality at Pigeon Point suggests such checks either never happen or are purely cosmetic. After repeated serious incidents at the same beach, even minimally effective enforcement would have shut down or suspended the operators involved long ago.
The Maritime Services Division has itself acknowledged the problem in a policy document, noting that small craft and private jet skis are “widely used in T&T waters without an appropriate regulatory structure.” That draft policy proposes vessel registration and operator licensing, and explicitly states that training should aim to have operators pass a boating safety test issued by the Director of the Maritime Services Division. But these remain drafts and proposals.
While they sit in drawers, another child is dead and eight more people are injured.
A further signal of enforcement failure comes from the Tobago House of Assembly’s (THA) legal response. In the lawsuit brought by Angelica’s family, the THA denied responsibility, arguing liability rests “entirely with the jet ski operator.” Technically, that argument may have legal merit. But from a public safety governance perspective, it exposes precisely where the chain breaks: when a regulator shifts all responsibility onto individual operators, it simultaneously abandons its own core function — ensuring that operators cannot trade until they are qualified, and that the unqualified are removed from the market before they cause harm.
A licensed captain means someone has passed an examination and understands basic navigation rules, collision avoidance obligations and safe operating procedures. An effective enforcement system means those standards are continuously tested, not only after a fatality. Tobago’s tourism economy depends on the appeal of its beaches and water activities, but that appeal rests on safety.
When visitors must worry about being struck by a jet ski in a designated swimming area, when residents face unnecessary risk on ferries and tour boats, what is damaged is not only individual lives but the island’s reputation as a safe destination.
The law is in place. Training structures exist. Certifying bodies have been designated. What is needed now is enforcement — proactive, sustained and visible. The Maritime Services Division should take its draft small craft policy out of the drawer and turn it into binding regulation. The courts should use the suspension and disqualification powers the Motor Boats Act already provides, so that the cost of breaking the law is no longer pocket change.
Eight people injured. One child dead. The next accident does not need more laws to prevent it. It needs the laws that already exist to be taken seriously.
