Guyana Business Journal Editorial
“We Have Not Solved Walter Rodney, Monica Reece… Why Is This Different?”
May 1, 2025
The drowning of 11-year-old Adrianna Younge under suspicious circumstances has not just shaken our nation—it has exposed the rot of our unkept promises. As candlelight vigils multiply, schools empty in protest, and anger spills into the streets, one question burns through the collective conscience: Why does this feel different?
We have not solved Walter Rodney’s assassination. We have not delivered justice for Monica Reece. We have not explained Sheema Mangar’s. We buried Trevor Rose without answers. We still whisper about Lusignan and Bartica .
Yet Adrianna’s death strikes deeper because she embodies the one thing we cannot afford to lose: our children, our future, the last shred of moral coherence in a society teetering on collapse. In her, we see not just another tragedy, but the collapse of our most sacred obligation—to protect the innocent.
Guyana’s history is littered with high-profile murders that remain open wounds. In 1980, Dr. Walter Rodney, the revolutionary scholar, was assassinated by a car bomb—allegedly with state complicity. A Commission of Inquiry confirmed this. Still, no justice. In 1993, Monica Reece was thrown from a moving vehicle. Her killer walks free. In 2010, Sheema Mangar was abducted and murdered. No one has been held accountable. In 2015, Courtney Crum-Ewing was executed in cold blood—shot multiple times while urging Diamond residents to vote. A trial was held. Justice remains elusive. In 2020, the mutilated bodies of Isaiah and Joel Henry were found in a West Coast Berbice cotton field. Days later, Haresh Singh was killed in retaliatory violence. Despite international aid, the truth remains buried beneath bureaucracy and distrust.
Each case followed the same arc: outrage, obfuscation, resignation, and finally—collective amnesia. But Adrianna’s death has shattered that arc. This time, the nation refuses to forget.
This is not simply about solving a crime. This is about safeguarding the pillars of a functioning society: the rule of law, public trust, and national identity. In any country—but especially in one as young, resource-rich, and institutionally vulnerable as Guyana—the failure to deliver justice is not a legal lapse; it is a structural crisis. A functioning democracy requires legitimacy. That legitimacy is earned, not inherited. It is built on the confidence that laws are applied equally, that institutions act without fear or favor, and that every citizen—rich or poor, powerful or powerless—can expect fairness before the law. When justice is delayed, denied, or distorted, the democratic fabric tears.
But the consequences extend beyond political theory. They reach into the heart of Guyana’s economic future. Guyana is in the midst of a resource-driven transformation. Billions are being invested in infrastructure, oil, gas, and agriculture. The eyes of the world are on us. But capital, like trust, is skittish. Investors—local and international—do not merely assess returns. They evaluate risk. And there is no greater long-term risk than an unstable, unjust society. When public outrage simmers without recourse, when violence against the vulnerable becomes routine, when institutions falter under pressure or influence, the result is not only social breakdown—it is economic stagnation. No amount of oil can lubricate a system that has lost its moral bearings.
Worse still, the true cost is measured not in barrels or GDP points, but in the damaged psyches of our children. When they see that power protects the guilty and abandons the innocent, they do not grow up inspired to lead or serve. They learn to survive—cynical, angry, and disengaged. This is how corruption becomes cultural. This is how violence becomes endemic. This is how nations lose their way. If Guyana’s development is to be real—if it is to touch more than the elite, if it is to endure beyond the boom—it must be built on a foundation of trust, justice, and human dignity. Adrianna’s case is not peripheral to national development. It is the crucible in which our future is being tested.
This moment calls for more than public statements and imported pathologists. It demands swift, transparent, and unequivocal justice—no delays, no distractions, no political interference. It demands a national reckoning with our culture of impunity, from Rodney to Reece to Crum-Ewing to the Henry boys. It demands systemic reform—a reinvention of our institutions to ensure that no more names join this grim, ever-growing roll call.
We owe this to Adrianna. We owe it to every child who saw her lifeless body pulled from that pool. We owe it to the Guyana we still claim to believe in. Because if we cannot secure justice for an 11-year-old girl in broad daylight, then we must confront a final, searing question: Do we even deserve to call ourselves a nation?
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Dr. Terrence Richard Blackman
Guyana Business Journal
