Dear Editor,

When I lost my brother Nakiea Jackson on January 20, 2014, my immediate reaction was how could I prevent another family from facing similar fate.

The truth is, it wasn’t that I was not hurting, it wasn’t that my family wasn’t devastated, but in my eyes the act was done, and the need for immediate remedy was at my doorsteps, my promise to him would be kept.

I had the rest of my family to protect and by extension the nation. The accountability we clamoured for would temper the wanton disregard for human rights. The country was haemorrhaging and our youth are paying the price.

I made a call for action. I charged our leaders and those in positions of influence to work at a resolution. I wanted to help the nation, and with this change would come my healing.

The questionable deaths involving police officers and the subsequent stories do not offer consolation. They only give people the ammunition to describe me as an idealistic lunatic out of touch with reality.

In other words they have given up; hopelessness is the order of the day. Even in my unwaning optimism and love for country, I am forced to give thought to these opinions.

The tears flow unceasingly with each new case, causing me to think I couldn’t save my brother and won’t be able to save the next in line.

I honestly thought Nakiea’s death would have made a difference; it should have been an eye-opener; the right to live, the right to a fair trial would come from this, due process would take its rightful place.

Jamaica has to recognise that we are under the microscope, and our progress will be measured by how we treat our citizens. For every family that feels victimised at the hands of the safe-keepers of the law, policing becomes harder. Those who pass on are free from the perpetual hurt that those they leave behind are forced to navigate.

S Jackson

Kingston