Attorney General Anand Ramlogan last Tuesday told us that he had no knowledge of how businessmen Ish Galbaransingh and Steve Ferguson found out about the President's proclamation of Section 34 of the Indictable Proceedings Act — before it was announced officially.
This columnist may have been able to help the Attorney General in his investigations on how they found out before it was published in the official Gazette.
My information, obtained some six weeks ago, was that some kind of amnesty was being planned. I can tell him, too, that on the day of proclamation I was again made aware of it.
Two unrelated sources informed me of the scope of what I can now describe as an alleged "plot" — the persons involved, the proposals, the promises, and how far, up and down the gutter pipe the plot was supposed to spread.
The Sunday Express carried the story on September 1, mentioning that a number of "high profile cases" were likely to be thrown out because of the proclamation, but the story was not followed up.
I hope this will assist Senator Corinne Baptiste-McKnight as she continues to ponder how the two businessmen found out about the proclamation before it was gazetted on September 10. It may even help the Attorney General as he prepares his official statement on the matter.
The reality is that the proclamation of Section 34 on Independence Day was not just another of Herbert Volney's comedic "missteps"; it was well calculated.
Investigative journalism, if it is thorough, will reveal that the early proclamation may be among the most significant political misadventures this country has ever faced.
Journalists may discover that there are marked similarities to the Watergate affair in the 1970s which forced US government officials, including president Richard Nixon, to resign.
Government PR spin should not now be allowed to shift this issue off the national radar. In fact, all news editors, as professional gate-keepers, should seek to reveal the labyrinth of Section 34, the persons involved, and reasons that Mr Volney alone was fired.
They should enquire about what transpired in the meeting that National Security Minister Jack Warner held with Mr Volney on the night he was fired. Examine, too, Mr Volney's decision, as a kind of sideshow, to attack only the bumbling COP leader Prakash Ramadhar — "a political low fence" in the matter — rather than name the persons involved.
Neither the cancellation of projects in Tobago, the Sport Minister's counterfeit attack on Anthony Harford, nor Minister Warner's "ban" on the police release of crime statistics should distract this country from the dangers inherent in Section 34.
Journalists, working diligently, should be able to reveal eventually the planned dupery, the maze of cavities crafted since last year, and the strategies to obtain "official" cover.
But then there is also the other sideshow, the Jack Warner comedy hour. How does the country now deal with what is clearly a meltdown generated by "the intoxication of power"? It is the same hubris and incompetence that we saw during the last Manning government which led to its unravelling.
Former British foreign secretary, David Owens, a neurologist, describes it as "an illness of the office, as much the person", which is manifested when some persons hold power for some time.
Mr Warner now stands child-like before the country — resembling a six- or seven-year-old pleading innocence to us, as parents, when we are fully aware of his misdemeanor.
Let's face it. Mr Warner's behaviour last week has an implosive potential for his government and our democracy. He is now a political embarrassment, clearly buckling under the weight of local and international allegations.
His serialised "missteps" have placed his government in deficit — but yet he remains its lifeline. He is the only person that visibly crosses the racial divide, and appeals also to its working-class and underclass base.
Last week, he claimed that he still retains the PM's confidence; he is right; there is no politically substantive figure in waiting who has that gravitas.
He has stated, however, that he bears the "kiss of death", and is aware his colleagues have long sharpened their blades for a "night of the long knives", but they are all equally aware that such a bloodbath could be mutually fatal.
Mr Warner continues to be seen as a dark figure, with stark contradictions, without even a hint of grey in his personality.
To some he is considered a generous benefactor; to others he is politically reckless; a loose-lipped, shambolic non-performer, believed to be skirting thinly with his office — but with all his supposed knavery the Prime Minister herself cannot afford to have Jack boxed.
In addition, Mr Warner is reputed to be the holder of a bag of dirty secrets which, some my sources say, may have been enhanced lately.
So if anyone has the goods on the alleged Section 34 "plotters" one can speculate it is Jack.
• Keith Subero, a former Express news editor, has since
followed a career in
communication and management