As official reports surface of accused drug lord Christopher Coke's escape from his barricaded Kingston, Jamaica neighborhood, where Jamaican authorities have been attempting to arrest him for extradition to the U.S., ABC News has learned that a U.S. government report refers to Jamaican Prime Minister Bruce Golding as a "criminal affiliate" of Coke.
Police patrol on May 24, 2010 in Kingston, Jamaica after two police officers were killed after...
Police patrol on May 24, 2010 in Kingston, Jamaica after two police officers were killed after coming under attack amid spreading unrest despite a state of emergency imposed by the government. Six police were wounded in the incident on Sunday after police responded to a call for help from a female motorist, the Jamaican police force's Constabulary Communications Network said. It said the two police officers died after being taken to the University of the West Indies Hospital. Jamaica's prime minister vowed tough action against a frenzy of gang violence in Kingston, imposing a state of emergency to curb armed supporters of an alleged druglord sought by the United States.
(Anthony FOSTER/AFP/Getty Images)
More Photos Golding, who led resistance to Coke's extradition before public opinion forced him to reverse himself, is described in a document read to ABC News as a "known criminal affiliate" of Christopher "Dudus" Coke. According to official U.S. accounts , Golding's Jamaican Labour Party (JLP) was voted into power through "Coke's murderous and strong-arm tactics."
Recently, Golding and other senior Jamaican officials have been electronically intercepted talking to Coke inside his fortified redoubt, US authorities say.
The major police action to capture Coke began Monday morning. On Tuesday, U.S. authorities said they believed Coke had escaped through a ring of hundreds of cops and soldiers who had surrounded the West Kingston neighborhood of Tivoli Gardens. Jamaican and US authorities report that Coke may have slipped through police lines and escaped into one of two adjoining areas, either Denham Town or Jones Town.
This could be the beginning of taking back Jamaica or allowing it to die as we have done.. We abroad have to give back:- our time, money, support and invest in a Justice System that is for the people. Politicians are to be prosecuted for corruption and police are to be policed, everyone has to an answer to someone. People it begins with us, the smallest thing that we may think isnt enough will be enough. As long as it is helping Jamaica . We need to start an organization that through funding we can help the youths: financially, emotionally and mentally.Migration has killed our nation, the minds that would help bring change to Jamaica have been discouraged and have stepped out, but its time to take it back. An organization that will make sure they money people send goes to the people it is sent for, on that builds centers to help the people and one that the corrupt government of Jamaica is unable to pressure into stripping it of its funds...WE R GOING TO TAKE BACK OUR JAMAICA.!
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Someone once said that ...”sex is more than an act of pleasure, it’s the ability to be able to feel so close to a person, so connected, so comfortable that it’s almost breathtaking to the point you feel you cant take it. And at this moment you’re part of them”.
There were no birds, no soft songs, no sweet nothings. We had sex how we knew we should. Without rules and restrictions. No borders. Old fashion understanding . Clawing hands. The release of tension. I wrapped my legs around his waist & pulled him inside me, holding his back tightly. This was it. He was sweating, moving with me. We were one. One heartbeat. We didn’t care. Marco’s pants was bundled around his knees, my dress was around my waist, the night air was cool and crisp, the heat from our bodies just right. Right for what was my now. With one hand he held the gun behind my back. With the other he held my face as we kissed. Nothing mattered at that time, His chest, muscles, charm, cruelty, him. He was all mine for that moment and that was what mattered. With one swift movement he tried the pulled the car door. It didn’t open. Still fucking, we moved to the next car, he tried the back door. It opened and we got in. Then he really started. I screamed and he covered my mouth with his hand and refused to stop. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted it to last forever. Too much, this was way too much, and I was loving it. My role was to obey his commands, his directions, his demands, his body. I didn’t care. It was raw, it was spontaneous. What was better than sex? Sex with Marco.
It was over. I sat in the truck and watched him get on his bike. He looked at me as he zipped his jacket and put on his helmet. He didn’t smile. No goodbyes. No see you laters. Nothing. We just fucked, finished, sorted out our clothes and walked away from the car. The owner is gonna be mad as rass. The bike was parked under a tree in front of my truck. He started it, took out a blue piece of paper from his pants pocket and placed it in his jacket. He rode off. The end. For now. It lasted only 30 minutes from the grab to him riding off. It seemed like forever. I was tired. My clothes, or what was left of them, needed changing. I had no idea where my shoes went. My makeup was a mess not to mention the hair. I turned on the vanity light and looked at myself in the mirror. What I saw looking back at me was satisfaction. How ironic. (1) My man, I mean my main man, I mean the man that people knew was my man, was hundreds of miles away in London living it up with his women. Marvin was probably married for all I knew. (2) I recently had a miscarriage. (3) Kelly was back in Jamaica up to who knows what. (4) I had no real friends. The girls were good company but I do know that they could be vicious bitches. (5) I was yet to have a child. (6) I just had sex in a stranger’s car, in a parking lot, with a man who I knew so much about yet he was still a big mystery. (7) Marco has his baby mother who he loved.
My life is now officially fucked up. And here I was, stretched out in the front of my truck, the air conditioning on, my legs outstretched, the smell of manliness all over me. Here I was talking about being satisfied. Where is the misery, the guilt, the shame? Fuck that. I AM SATISFIED. Something caught my eye. It was a bag on the back seat. I reached around and took it up. Where did it come from? This bag wasn’t here when I parked earlier. The doors to the van lock automatically when I am 10 feet away with the keys in my hand. I opened the bag. Several items were inside. Items that I wanted at the service station. Items that I took up and replaced when that Andre Blingers was putting the moves on me. I saw a receipt. The items were purchased tonight at the same service station. How the hell did he get in the truck? I was getting angry. I reached out before the front passenger seat and was feeling for the paper with his number that I had previously thrown there. That fucker Andre is going to get a piece of my mind. I didn’t see the paper. Did Andre really remove the paper when he broke in the truck? It was a blue piece of paper. I searched under the seat. No paper. No blue paper. The only paper I have seen since I left the service station was....was... the piece of paper....the piece of blue paper I saw Marco place in his jacket pocket right before he rode off. Shit. Did Marco have spare keys? Was he really following me? But if he stayed behind to buy the items, how did he find me?
The phone rang. I reached in the handbag and answered it. It was still ringing. Or should I say a phone was ringing but it wasn’t my phone. I looked around and felt under my seat and found a cell phone. It stopped. Did Marco forget his phone when he broke in? The phone rang again. I answered. “Hello”. “Yuh good?”, said Marco. “Yes”, I was getting more surprised at his antics. “Yuh get wat yuh want now so yuh good”, said he, cool and calm. I didn’t hear anything in the background, so that meant that he stopped somewhere quiet. “How yuh get in the truck?”, I asked, I really wanted to know. “You are the one who love to play games, you tell me”, cool and calm again. Games? Hold on. We just had sex. He came and found me. He refused to take my calls. He changed his number. And I was the one playing games? “Fuck off”, was all I could say. “Just answer the phone when mi call”, Marco said quietly. “How mi ah guh know that is YOU calling?”, I snapped. “Cause is me one have this number and is me one supposed fi call you”. “Then suppose I dont answer? Suppose mi give the number to someone else?”, I threw at him. “Gi anybody yuh want”, he said without any emotions, sounding kinda like a threat. Was this the man who I just fucked? Yes it was. This was the side of Marco that I was introduced to on many occasions. Contradictory. Rough. Cold. Intense. “Yuh going home”, said he. That sounded like an order than a question. “Yes”, I was way too tired to argue. He hung up. Typical.
The house was quiet and everyone seemed to be asleep. There was a slight drizzle. As I reached for the keys to the front door, it was then I noticed a new addition to the bunch. It was a gold heart shaped key ring with the words “FOREVER” engraved on one side. It was then the thunder and lightning started as the rain pelted the driveway.
