Stranger than fiction

ANYONE who doubts the validity of the saying, the truth is stranger than fiction, may consider events of the abortive coup attempt of July 1990 and its continuing repercussions. Up to now, for example, we get letters from readers expressing their outrage that perpetrators of the violent attack on the government, in which many lives were lost, have been compensated to the tune of millions for damage done to their property, while the State is still unable to collect on a $16 million court judgment against the coup-makers for their destruction of Police Headquarters and damage to the Red House. Laughable, yes, but outrageous and unbelievable nonetheless. Because of the image the insurrectionist group has since acquired and because of the collaboration it has enjoyed with succeeding governments, the feeling is now widespread that the State is no longer keen on pursuing its judgment order. So the rebels, responsible for the most destructive trauma in TT's recent history, have not only resettled quite comfortably in their headquarters but seem now to be enjoying the favours of the government which, some time ago, was even prepared to grant them more land for their sectarian activities. Could fiction be any stranger than this truth?

Now we have another absurd outcome of the events of July 1990. Some 70 city businessmen, whose shops and stores were totally gutted in the conflagration and looting triggered by the violent attempt to oust the government, now find themselves owing more than $1 million to insurance companies which they expected would have covered their losses. What an ironical twist of fate. The insurers are now claiming on the insured, 13 years after this holocaust in the city.

After they were wiped out, the distressed businessmen filed more than 100 writs against their insurance companies which refused to compensate them for the destruction they had sustained. According to Gregory Aboud, president of the Downtown Owners and Merchants Association, a test case was taken by DOMA to court but the Association lost; the insurance company successfully rejected the claim on the grounds that the business was not covered for acts of terrorism.

The other writs were left in abeyance, not formally withdrawn. And now the insurance companies are demanding that each businessman — some of whom had filed three and four writs — pay $15,000 in legal fees for each writ filed. Instead of the security they expected from having insurance, these unfortunate businessmen are now faced with a huge bill, amounting to more than $1 million. The fact is that some of them were forced into bankruptcy when their premises were destroyed. Aboud disclosed that others are still, in fact, repaying the loans they obtained in order to rebuild. It seems to us somewhat unfair for these insurance companies to demand such fees from their clients who had lost their businesses and whose claims, except for one test case, did not come to trial. In any case, why did they wait so long, more than ten years, to call for such payments when it should have been obvious that the failure to withdraw the writs was an oversight on the part of their clients?

The unbelievable outcome of this violent and bloody attempt to overthrow the country's elected government is that the perpetrators are the only ones to have benefited from their terrible adventure. Indeed, the coup-makers are now enjoying the life of Riley, apparently living well from, among other things, a cozy relationship with succeeding governments. Could any fiction be stranger than this truth?