The Cult of Complaint: Daly, LATT, and Bisram vs the Constitution

 

There are moments in public life when the law works exactly as written—swiftly, cleanly, and without scandal—and yet commentators still feel cheated of their outrage.
The appointment of Chief Justice Ronnie Boodoosingh is one such moment.

Faced with a sudden vacancy created by Chief Justice Ivor Archie’s retirement, Acting President Wade Mark followed the Constitution to the letter.
He consulted the Prime Minister and the Leader of the Opposition, exercised the discretion vested in his office by section 102 of the Constitution, and appointed the most respected jurist on the Court of Appeal.
The Judiciary avoided paralysis.
The Republic moved on.
And yet—like a Greek chorus of professional dissent—Martin Daly SC, the Law Association of Trinidad and Tobago (LATT), and Dr Vishnu Bisram have all rushed to announce that something must be wrong precisely because nothing went wrong.

Daly: nostalgia dressed as critique

Mr Daly, once a formidable constitutional voice, now mistakes efficiency for impropriety.
He concedes that Justice Boodoosingh is worthy, then insists the process was “botched” because it happened quickly.
But the Constitution imposes no timetable.
“Consultation” means exactly what it says—an exchange of views, not a seminar series.
The Privy Council in Re Application by the President of Trinidad and Tobago (1988) 39 WIR 409 confirmed that consultation requires listening, not obedience.
To invent new steps is to rewrite the Constitution by op-ed.

Daly’s lament about who attended the swearing-in ceremony—ministers, defence chiefs, perhaps a stray trumpet—reveals more about his appetite for theatre than about constitutional law.
The Judiciary’s independence does not evaporate because a soldier saluted at the ceremony.
Daly calls this “disturbing.”
Most citizens would call it orderly.

LATT: principle without precision

Not to be outdone, the Law Association produced a statement long on adjectives and short on law.
It declared it “cannot conclude that a reasonable process of consultation was done,” which is a polite way of saying “we have no evidence of wrongdoing, but we’re suspicious anyway.”
The Association then announced that the President must present names, reasons, and ample time for reflection.
Nowhere does the Constitution say any such thing.
These are administrative-law notions dressed up as constitutional duties.
The President’s obligation is procedural, not deliberative: to consult the two political leaders and then decide.
Confidentiality is not conspiracy; it is constitutional prudence.

The LATT’s attempt to expand the meaning of consultation beyond recognition does not safeguard transparency—it undermines executive certainty.
The country cannot afford a system where every constitutional act requires a town-hall meeting and a press release.

Bisram: agreement followed by protest

Enter Dr Vishnu Bisram, whose letter manages the impressive feat of disproving itself.
After conducting his own “consultations” with lawyers, judges, MPs, and civil society, he reports that Justice Boodoosingh was the overwhelming choice of the legal fraternity and the public.
He calls him apolitical, scholarly, hardworking, and “an excellent jurist.”
Then—without pause—he demands constitutional reform because the process that produced this near-perfect outcome was allegedly insufficiently transparent.

This is reasoning worthy of farce: we got exactly the right result, therefore the process must change.
Dr Bisram’s proposal to involve “civil society” in judicial appointments sounds noble until one asks which civil society and by what metric.
Judges are not elected; their legitimacy derives from independence, not applause.
To invite lobbying into the process would politicise the bench beyond repair.

The law versus the performance

What unites Daly, the LATT, and Bisram is not principle but performance—the conviction that every constitutional act must be wrapped in spectacle to be legitimate.
They confuse transparency with theatrics and consultation with consensus.
But the Constitution of Trinidad and Tobago is built on deliberate separation of functions: the President appoints; the Prime Minister and Opposition Leader are consulted; the Judiciary remains independent.
No amount of editorial hand-wringing alters that structure.

The truth is disarmingly simple.
Justice Ronnie Boodoosingh was the most qualified and broadly respected candidate.
He was appointed swiftly, lawfully, and with sufficient consultation under the Constitution.
Those who insist otherwise are not defending democracy; they are demanding drama.

If every lawful act must now be padded with delay, debate, and “civil-society engagement,” we will soon have governance by perpetual symposium.
The Republic does not need that.
It needs public officers who read the Constitution before rewriting it in the press.

The Judiciary has a new Chief Justice, and the Constitution was followed.
The rest is a chorus of self-importance—off-key, off-text, and out of time.

Who is Paying Roger Alexander’s Legal Bills?

The recent clash between Homeland Security Minister Roger Alexander and prison supervisor Garth Guada raises a question bigger than the personal reputations of either man: who is footing the bill for Alexander’s high-powered legal defence?

The backdrop

Alexander’s legal team, led by Senior Counsel Anand Ramlogan, has denied allegations that he improperly met with gang leaders while serving as a police officer. They have also rejected claims that his actions were motivated by vendettas or bias. These are serious allegations, but they mostly concern Alexander’s conduct before he entered politics, while he was still in the Trinidad and Tobago Police Service.

Why this matters

When a sitting minister hires some of the most expensive lawyers in the country, the public has a right to ask: is this coming out of his pocket, his political party’s pocket, or ours?

• If he is paying personally – fair enough. A minister, like anyone else, has the right to defend his reputation.

• If his political party or donors are paying – that raises questions of political influence, but at least taxpayers are not carrying the cost.

• If the State is paying – that is deeply problematic. Taxpayer money should never be used to defend allegations of personal misconduct that occurred before someone entered government.

The principle at stake

Public funds can be used to defend ministers only if:

1. The allegations arise directly from the lawful exercise of official ministerial duties;

2. The defence is necessary to protect the integrity of the office itself; and

3. The alleged acts were within the scope of authority.

That is clearly not the case here. Meetings with gang figures, alleged misuse of police intelligence, or personal vendettas are not “ministerial duties.”

A risk of abuse

If it turns out that Alexander’s legal bills are being covered by the government, that would amount to an improper use of public money. It would:

• Divert funds from public service to defend private reputation;

• Create a conflict of interest, since Alexander is now part of the government that would be funding him;

• Undermine accountability, shielding ministers from the consequences of their personal actions.

The public deserves clarity

The question is simple: Who is paying? Until Alexander or the government answers, suspicion will remain. If taxpayers are footing the bill, the matter goes beyond politics—it becomes an issue of legality, accountability, and the misuse of public funds.

Conclusion

Alexander is entitled to a legal defence. What he is not entitled to is a taxpayer-funded shield for personal actions taken before he became a minister. The public deserves transparency. Anything less is an abuse of trust.

Medical Negligence in T&T – Let’s Get the Law Right Before We Reform It

 

In the wake of the tragic death of young Jasher, emotions are understandably running high. The calls for reform of Trinidad and Tobago’s healthcare system are urgent and sincere. But if we are to achieve lasting change, our public conversation must be grounded in correct legal principles. Unfortunately, too many public statements – even by lawyers – muddle the law on medical negligence, vicarious liability, and accountability.

First, the Bolam test is not “the” standard for all medical negligence issues (cited by Pavitra Ramharack, head of chambers at Pavitra Ramharack Attorneys at Law in the Trinidad Guardian). Established in the 1957 English case Bolam v Friern Hospital Management Committee, it applies to clinical judgment and technique – diagnosis, treatment, and similar professional decisions – but it is not absolute. The Bolitho decision in 1997 refined Bolam, making clear that even if a body of medical opinion supports a doctor’s conduct, the court must be satisfied that opinion is logically defensible. In short, Bolam is not a blank cheque for the medical profession.

Second, when it comes to patient consent and risk disclosure, the United Kingdom Supreme Court in Montgomery v Lanarkshire Health Board (2015) replaced Bolam with a patient-centred test. A doctor must take reasonable care to ensure the patient is aware of any material risks and reasonable alternatives. Whether Trinidad and Tobago’s appellate courts have expressly adopted Montgomery is still to be determined, but it is wrong to write as though Bolam governs consent everywhere.

Third, the notion that “public sector doctors are protected by contracts” and therefore cannot be sued is legally incorrect. The Regional Health Authorities (RHAs) are statutory corporations and are routinely sued for medical negligence. They are vicariously liable for their staff. In some cases, doctors and other clinicians are named as individual defendants alongside the RHA. There is no legal blanket immunity simply because someone works for the public health service.

Fourth, the suggestion that healthcare workers should bear “some contributory negligence” for adverse outcomes misuses the term. In law, “contributory negligence” refers to the claimant’s own fault, which can reduce damages. The proper mechanism for sharing liability between defendants is “contribution” under the relevant statutes. Whether a clinician personally pays any damages depends on contribution orders and indemnity arrangements, not on a layperson’s redefinition of contributory negligence.

Fifth, public sector negligence claims already follow the principle of suing the body with primary liability – usually the RHA – and the courts have repeatedly confirmed this. What we lack is not a legal pathway for accountability, but an operational culture that enforces high standards across both public and private healthcare.

Finally, while it is tempting to speculate that “a few extra minutes” with a patient would have changed the outcome, in court such statements are meaningless without expert evidence. To succeed in a medical negligence case, one must prove breach of duty – judged by Bolam/Bolitho or Montgomery – and causation linking that breach to the harm. This requires admissible, qualified expert opinion, not post-hoc assumptions.

Public accountability in healthcare is achieved by naming and suing the correct defendants, holding professionals to the correct legal standard, and reforming systems to address repeated failures. Misstating the law does not help the cause of justice for Jasher or for the next potential victim.

If reform is truly the goal, it should be based on accurate understanding:

• Clinical judgment is assessed under Bolam/Bolitho.
• Consent and risk disclosure (in England and Wales) are assessed under Montgomery; T&T’s position is not definitively settled.
• RHAs are suable and vicariously liable; doctors can also be named.
• Apportionment between defendants is by contribution, not contributory negligence.
• Evidence, not speculation, wins negligence claims.

Getting the law right is the first step toward getting healthcare right. Reform based on flawed legal premises will fail. Reform based on precision and truth can save lives.

Citations

• Bolam v Friern Hospital Management Committee [1957] 1 WLR 582
• Bolitho v City and Hackney HA [1998] AC 232
• Montgomery v Lanarkshire Health Board [2015] UKSC 11
• NWRHA v Cheryl Miller (TT 2021 CA 33)
• Bevon Dollard v North Central RHA (TT 2019 HC 288)
• Kellman v Dowes & NCRHA
• State Liability and Proceedings Act (T&T)
• Singh-Weekes v South-West RHA [2025] UKPC 10

Analysis of Commissioner Guevarro's Language and Its Implications

Commissioner of Police Guevarro’s statement to the press, delivered shortly after assuming office, is littered with deflective phrasing, institutional buck-passing, and strategic vagueness. This style of public communication—commonly referred to as using weasel words—is not only damaging to public confidence but fundamentally at odds with the standards of public accountability, command responsibility, and constitutional leadership.

1. Abdication of Command Responsibility through Deflection

His repeated assertion that “disciplinary or administrative action... lies solely with the PolSC” is legally correct under section 123 of the Constitution of Trinidad and Tobago. However, the overemphasis on this legal limitation comes across as an attempt to distance himself from the moral and operational responsibility that comes with office.

➤ He is not merely an administrator of reports. He is the Commissioner of Police.
Leadership requires more than notifying the Police Service Commission—it requires taking a firm ethical stance, demonstrating public confidence, and leading by example.

2. Evasive Language Obscuring the Gravity of the Allegations

Guevarro’s phrasing—“certain acts were carried out against him” and “he felt it was bordering on criminal conduct”—is dangerously non-committal. The implication is that this is merely a matter of perception by the complainant (Brent Thomas), rather than a serious allegation of criminal abuse of power by a Deputy Commissioner.

This is institutional gaslighting by omission. When the public is told there is a criminal allegation involving high-ranking officers, clarity is not optional—it is obligatory.

3. The Illusion of Transparency

By repeatedly saying “we are transparent” or “we have nothing to hide,” without actually providing substantive details, the Commissioner engages in rhetorical self-justification rather than accountability.

This is contradicted by:

• The absence of a timeline for the investigation.

• The refusal to identify the nature of the allegation.

• The fact that DCP Martin remains in post despite a potential criminal matter against her.

Transparency is demonstrated by actions, not by repeated verbal affirmations. Saying “we are transparent” is not the same as being transparent.

4. Leadership by Euphemism

The refusal to even name the allegation (widely understood to involve misconduct, unlawful detention, or other abuse of power linked to international legal controversy) is telling. It reinforces the impression that the TTPS lacks the moral courage to confront internal wrongdoing publicly and forthrightly.

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Advice to Commissioner Guevarro

As the Commissioner of Police, your office is not merely administrative; it is symbolic. Every word you speak either restores or erodes trust. It is your responsibility to:

• Speak plainly and truthfully. Avoid legalistic hedging and sanitised language.

• Affirm command responsibility even where your powers are limited. You may not suspend the DCP, but you can recommend, publicly and forcefully, that she be removed pending investigation.

• Acknowledge institutional failings instead of hiding behind procedural correctness.

• Set timelines and report progress regularly to build public trust in the investigation.

The public does not want a bureaucrat. It wants a Commissioner who acts like a leader—not a spokesperson for the system’s evasions.

The relevance of the PCA

It is deeply concerning when an institution that is supposed to hold law enforcement accountable, such as the Police Complaints Authority (PCA) in Trinidad and Tobago, fails to take meaningful action following investigations of serious allegations, including extrajudicial killings and police misconduct. Based on available information, the PCA has indeed faced significant criticism over the years for its lack of effective follow-through and transparency regarding its investigations.

While the PCA is mandated to investigate complaints against police officers, including allegations of misconduct and extrajudicial killings, the authority’s actions (or lack thereof) have often been scrutinised by both the public and advocacy groups. The PCA’s annual reports have, at times, highlighted the number of complaints and investigations undertaken, but there have been very few instances where those investigations resulted in tangible outcomes such as disciplinary actions, prosecutions, or public accountability.

Key Issues with the PCA’s Effectiveness

1. Lack of Transparency: One of the main criticisms of the PCA is its perceived lack of transparency. Despite having investigated numerous allegations over the years, there is often little public information on the results of those investigations. Victims and their families are left without answers, and the public loses confidence in the authority's ability to act decisively.

2. Delayed or Inactionable Outcomes: In many cases, investigations seem to drag on indefinitely without any clear resolution. Allegations of extrajudicial killings, in particular, have been prominent, yet no significant action appears to have been taken. This can lead to a perception of impunity within the police force, undermining the public’s trust in both the PCA and the police.

3. Political Influence and Institutional Resistance: The PCA's role as an independent body is meant to ensure that law enforcement officers are held accountable without political interference. However, the influence of political actors and institutional resistance within the police force has often been cited as a barrier to the PCA’s effectiveness. This creates a lack of political will to take strong action against police officers, especially in high-profile or sensitive cases.

4. Limited Resources and Powers: The PCA’s ability to hold police officers accountable may also be limited by insufficient resources, legal powers, or support from other state institutions. For instance, the PCA does not have the same powers of prosecution as the Director of Public Prosecutions (DPP), which limits its ability to enforce actions based on its findings. Its role is largely investigative, but without the power to prosecute or make binding decisions, its impact can be limited.

Extrajudicial Killings and the PCA

The issue of extrajudicial killings by police officers has been a longstanding concern in Trinidad and Tobago. While the PCA has been tasked with investigating these serious allegations, many of these cases remain unresolved or have not resulted in the prosecution of officers involved. The lack of convictions or meaningful disciplinary actions sends a troubling message that there are few consequences for police officers who engage in unlawful killings or other misconduct.

Examples of Criticism and Public Sentiment

Over the years, human rights organisations, civil society groups, and the media have repeatedly criticised the PCA for its inaction. There have been public calls for greater oversight and reform, but the response from both the PCA and government institutions has often been insufficient. The perception of a "culture of impunity" among the police, especially in cases of extrajudicial killings, only deepens when investigations by the PCA result in no concrete actions or outcomes.

Moving Forward

For the PCA to become a truly effective body in ensuring accountability for police actions, it must:

• Ensure transparency in its investigations and outcomes, providing the public with regular updates and clear explanations of its actions.

• Strengthen its legal and operational capacity, perhaps by seeking the ability to make binding recommendations or refer cases directly to the courts for prosecution.

• Reform the institutional and political environment that may be preventing the PCA from acting independently, ensuring that the police are held to account in all cases, including extrajudicial killings and other serious misconduct.

• Engage with civil society to foster a stronger relationship of trust and accountability between the public, law enforcement, and oversight bodies.

Unfortunately, there seems to have been a persistent failure to take action in cases of police misconduct in Trinidad and Tobago, leading to widespread disillusionment with the PCA's effectiveness. Until there is a substantial shift in both the operational capacity of the PCA and the political will to hold the police accountable, it is unlikely that public confidence in the institution will be restored.