My name is Carlton Victor Russell. I was born on the 27th September 1936 at 34 North Front Street, Belize City, Belize, British Honduras. Presently, it’s the independent commonwealth country of Belize in Central America. My passport number is 097108.

I was born to uneducated, viscous and cruel parents. My mothers’ name was Pearl Idoly Clother, and my fathers’ name was Ivan Russell. My father worked all his life for the British Colonial Government of British Honduras. His father was a logwood cutter brought over from the slaves of Jamaica, to cut mahogany, cedar and other hard woods.
My maternal grandfathers’ name was George Clother, a cabinet maker and religious man.

Before meeting my mother, my father was married and had four children (three girls and one boy) their names are Joyce, Eric, Alma and Grace. Grace acquired her nursing education in the 1950’s at the Royal School of Nursing in England. My father’s first wife died. He then met and married my mother, and they moved to 34 North Front Street, with his mother, his sisters and four children. I feel they never accepted my mother and rejected her immediately. When I was born they seemed to reject me as well.

My mother departed from my fathers house (or should I say my grandmothers house) with me when I was about four months old and started the struggle of having to maintain a child alone. In addition, as she had no education or work skills, hence no money, times were really hard and where my real problems began.

In Belize, as in most Caribbean countries, an uneducated woman who walks out on her husband with a child is finished unless she is courageous and intelligent. The reason for this is that her children will not be educated and maintained by the father, so the woman must fetch for herself and her children. My father had proclaimed in his stupidity that I will not be educated.

I believe that with all of this, she found it very difficult to look after me as well, so she was forced to get a job with an English family named Cyril A. Gibbs who managed a British company called Belize Estate and Produce Co. My mother had to live with them but I was not allowed, so I went drifting. After a few years I was sent back to live with my father and his family where I was treated as an outsider. My Aunt had a son the same age as me whom she always put before me. My mother found out about this, came to school one day and removed me. She took me to live with her mother, my maternal grandmother, whom I adored, her name was Vincent Clother: She was my angel. Sadly, she died and left me all alone.

Once my grandmother had passed away I started getting moved from relative to relative, which I found very distressing and traumatic. From my fathers’ family I experienced deep emotional and psychological suffering and then deep loneliness and violence from my mother and her family. My mother would use such a level of violent force that I would go to school with my eye severely blood shot and swollen. In an attempt to cover this up she would cover my eyes with dark glasses. My nose would bleed profusely once or twice a day, either daily or every other day. I was taken to a Dr. Heusner who said he could not find anything wrong. He suggested that I should just place my fingers at the base of my nose bridge to control the bleeding. This was caused by stress given the environment that I was subjected to. It was caused by small blood vessels bursting in my nose because of the pressure place upon them. This ceased immediately upon experiencing the freedom I encountered in the United States. Discontent with frequently battering and bruising my body, my mother would also often fire a constant tirade of abuse of how nothing good would come of me and how I should have never been born and so forth. Therefore, by this time I was so lonely and sad, filled with much shame, anxiety and much fear that all the will and psychological apparatus needed to study had shut down leaving me paralyzed. It is unsurprising that I then played truant from school for the last three years of my elementary education until I left. At no time did any adult ask me any question as to why I was not in school. I learnt absolutely nothing, at least nothing I could remember.

I have three sisters and one brother, from my father and his first wife and one younger brother, James D. Mitchell, from my mother. My sisters and younger brother all live in the United States. My brother Eric Russell is married to a Canadian woman and lives in Canada. I know none of them, they all know very little about me and most of what they know is hearsay.

I left Belize in 1958 with no education or skill and went to the United States of America. I set out with Bz. $20 and US $8 in my pocket. I traveled through Mexico and arrived in Kingsville, Texas, and started working for a family named Charles Andrews. He was the most powerful blackman in Kingsville, Texas; a redneck town in the height of segregated United States. He had a large barbershop and was just completing and establishing a cleaners, where I began to work and learn how to press clothes. He gave me credit in a café where I ate and a room where I slept. I worked with him for a few weeks, before a sister named Doris Pullam Hines, graduate of Tuskegee institute, Alabama, in segregated times, suggested I enter the US army. My serial number was ER18505366, and my social security number is in Washington D.C.

Because of the dreadful racism in the United States at that time, I saw that I would get myself in trouble by speaking up to white boys when they abused “negroes”, so I got a discharge and went to New York City.

I arrived in New York City on a Friday night December 24th and found myself at Columbus Circle on 9th Avenue at 57th street wearing a summer short sleeve nylon shirt, summer pants and shoes, and all in two feet of snow. It was as cold as hell. You could have looked across at Central Park and saw that it was just pale blue. As I realized where I was and how cold I was becoming, a car pulled up beside me downed its window and a voice shouted “Brother! What are you doing out there, you will freeze to death, get in” I got into the front seat of his Cadillac and then began to tell him my story that I had just hitched hiked to New York and that I did not know anyone there. He introduced me to himself as Van, shook my hands and said he was going to a little café in Harlem. There I was introduced to a black lady who would later give me food and a room. Van shortly left and said he would see me on Monday. And so I began my life in the most deadly, sophisticated, intelligent and wealthy ghetto in the United States: Harlem, in New York City.

After living in New York for about one year I started visiting a small group of extremely poor Belizeans. They congregated at 123rd street between 7th and Lenox Avenue in Harlem. I wanted to be around what little culture there was of Belize and feed my nostalgia, and impress them with how well I was doing; driving a brand new convertible car, wearing a diamond ring and tailor-made clothes and shoes, and so I visited them periodically and spent a lot of money with them.

Around this time Nelson Rockerfellow was governor of New York. He and his families clothing was made by the same tailor, shirt and shoe maker that made mine: Earl Benham and Company and T.C. Trapani and Edgar and Jerry on Madison Avenue (after I gave up Leightons, Phil Cromfield and Cy Martin of New York) and my diamond ring, cufflinks and Patek Phelipe wristwatch was bought at Tiffany’s and Co. on 57th street and 5th Avenue in New York City. I lived at an upper middle class address of Central Park just a few blocks from Harlem.

In 1961, I visited Belize and stayed only one day. While I lived in Belize for one year, I asked my father Ivan Russell who I can trust in Belize. He said, “No one but George C. Price”. I was surprised knowing he did not like politicians. I found out that even George C. Price could not be trusted in Belize.

In 1962, I visited again and stayed for two weeks. I had become a recluse in my apartment in Manhattan. I came in touch with no one but a few women who stayed just as long as I wished, so I spent most of my years alone pondering my suffering and good fortune, exercising and praying . In 1968, I went to Belize and bought a brand new Land Rover. I asked my younger brother James Mitchell, second son of my mother, who was a police officer at that time to find a driver for me. He sent a former paramilitary colleague of his to me whom I employed as my driver. His name was Wilbert McFerson. I, however, did not request paramilitary personnel as is suggested. He worked for a little while then he left and so another paramilitary was sent to me, again I did not request paramilitary he was sent to me. His name was James Saunders. They both drove me around Belize City and Belize country for one year, and in that year my house was broken into twice and robed. Then it was time for me to go back to New York.

At that time, it was the height of the Black Civil rights movement and social agitation in the United States. It was also the height of a movement in Belize called U.B.A.D. – United Black Association for Development. A group of young African Belizeans, conscious of their ties with United States slavery and poverty, adopted that style of agitation and formed a movement called U.B.A.D. It’s most influential member, or so I wrongly thought, was Evan X Hyde who was given a scholarship to Dartmouth University and returned to Belize with a minor degree.

This is one of the ways poor Belizean civil servants give their souls to the politicians of the Peoples United Party. By begging, violating their civil servant code and securing scholarships for their children. Even Hyde was the son of a prominent senior civil servant named Charles Hyde, and the nephew of another senior civil servant named James Hyde, who went on to become permanent secretary in the ministry of natural resources and later ambassador to Washington from Belize. One afternoon, about two weeks before I left Belize, I asked my driver to take me to see the leaders of U.B.A.D. I met them under the house of Evan Hyde’s father. The venue was as much as they thought of me. Evan Hyde was there with his brother whom I heard died somewhere in Africa, and Norman Fairweather. We spoke for a few minutes then I asked them how was I able to help U.B.A.D.

You see, I was never interested in politics and certainly not interested in becoming a politician, however I wanted to help poor Belizeans. I had a burning desire to see the conditions of poverty be removed from the earth and since Belize had such a small population, I knew that removing poverty would have been easy and use it as a model for developing countries.

They said they needed some transportation. I said you would hear from me within a few days and I left. A few days later I went back to them and told them I would sell them my Land Rover for US $600 and if they printed United Belizean Association for Development in the colors of black, red and green on the outside of the doors of the Land Rover, I would send them US $1,000,000 in four parts to carry on their work. In other words I wanted to change the meaning of ‘B’ from Black to Belizean to include all Belizeans instead of just black Belizeans. I learnt later that U.B.A.D had already been disbanded.

Evan Hyde asked me who will be the leader! I said to him, “Don’t worry about leadership, let a leader emerge”. I went down to the motor vehicle bureau, changed the ownership of the Land Rover into Norman Fairweather’s name and met him at the Royal Bank of Canada (now the Belize Bank of Commerce and Industry) owned by Michael Ashcroft and Company. He gave me a check for Bz. $1200 and I gave him the keys to the Land Rover and then left Belize. I never heard from them again. Later, I was told the Land Rover was seen over loaded with activists roaming Belize City Streets, leaning on one side with no painting on the door….

Taking a young boy, born in the back water mangrove and mosquito infested rainforest of Belize, who was violently, physically and psychologically abused as a child, with no education or skill, having him hitchhike through Mexico into the United States, enter into the United States Army acquiring an honorable discharge and then having him hitchhike to New York City with no clothes but what he is wearing - considering he is not a criminal, has never been a criminal, has never associated with criminals, was never associated with any illegality, when you see what he was doing and saying in Belize, you must say his life has truly been remarkable.

After one year in Belize, I arrived back in New York City where the full blown conspiracy against me manifested itself. I had invited my driver James Saunders to New York. I was beginning to think that he could replace my brother. I thought he was honest and loyal.

During the year I was in Belize, I told my younger brother James Mitchell to stay in the police force until I returned from New York. Then he would resign from the force and sit at my right hand. However, I was informed that my brother had emigrated to the United States. It then seemed to me James Saunders could take his place in Belize.

James Saunders arrived in New York and I spent a few days with him, then told him I was saying goodbye for now that if he implemented all the information I had given him over the one year he spent around me, we will meet again and he will be a strong and loyal man, and we will go back to Belize together. That he must go into New York City, and make his own way like I had done. There wasn't anything he could do for me in New York, so I said goodbye. Instead, he went to my grand-aunt, Mrs. Isabella Steavens who knew me very well, to gather information about me.

I went to my apartment and continued my solitude, praying and exercising. The praying sustained my spirituality and the exercising eased my stress and anxiety. I now felt for the first time in my life a connection, a purpose, a meaning for being born, a way in which I can make my contribution to society, to humanity.

I started to go back into the extremely poor Belizean community and talking about going back to Belize to take it over, and that I had very powerful people in Washington that will help me.

I told them Belize will be used as a model for the alleviating of poverty from the face of the earth, a new frontier, hence the name of the sports teams that I sponsored: New Frontier’s. A new nation that would lead the world into peace; a nation that would turn all its weapons into plowshares and ask all the world's people to do so and to use its resources for the betterment and uplifting of all human beings, a nation that would cry out for the sacred use of the earth, and the protection of our environment and ecology.

A nation that would require the world's people to demand that their economic priority be the building of schools and skills training centers, counseling centers and require that all those in their community enroll, the building of hospitals and clinics and the building of adequate and affordable housing for all human beings.

Belize would be a nation so clean, that it could be used as a model for beautifying the earth; as a model for poor developing countries to use as a foundation for sustainable development and existence; a nation that would not have a military and would use its police force to truly protect all Belizeans and all who may come to Belize. To use Belize as a voice for removing violence from among men, to use Belize as a leader in the preparation for the liberation of human beings, to ask Belizeans to stop smoking and moderate their drinking, to stop driving motor cars, to start using bicycles, walking and swimming, sailing boats instead of machines releasing oils floating on the surfaces of our seas and rivers, destroying our ecology, hence the world's ecology, and to do all this and much more by using persuasion, intelligence and the constitutional democratic principles.

Eliminating political corruption such as the use of money to sway, confuse and demean poor Belizeans, by removing the culture of gutter politics, real primitive Machiavellian gutter politics, that permits politicians, editor and the rich to run constitutional ruff-shod over Belizeans and nullify all precepts of human rights and constitutional democratic protection.

On one of my visits to the extremely poor Belizean community, a young fellow whose brother I knew as a young boy came to me and asked me if I knew a fellow named Gilbert Flowers. I said no I don't, I do know his brother though, James Flowers, who I was in class with at elementary school. He said Gilbert Flowers was in New York studying law. I immediately told him to let me meet Gilbert Flowers. Some time later he invited me to his house on a Sunday afternoon and told me Gilbert Flowers will be there. I met Gilbert Flowers and we chatted, ate dinner, and after dinner I invited him down town to my apartment, and as we talked I asked him to let me finance his education, and when he is finished his studies we would go to Belize together. He said, “No” as he had a scholarship from the Ford Foundation to study law. However, when he is finished he will come and see me, we said goodbye.

I believe this is where the conspirators started to extend the conspiratorial personnel from James Saunders to Gilbert Flowers. This question about knowing a Gilbert Flowers and introduction did not happen naturally, it was not a coincidence, it was planned.

About three or four years later, Gilbert Flowers came to see me, and told me he had finished his studies and was ready to help me. He told me he had graduated and was now a lawyer licensed to practice in New York State and in the Eastern District's Federal Courts of the US, and that he was in practice with two other lawyers, one of whom was Harold Briscoe, a New York City policeman who had supposedly turned into a lawyer. He befriended me as I got acquainted with Gilbert Flowers and it is possible that Harold Briscoe may just now be retiring from the New York City Police Force.

I immediately embraced Gilbert Flowers as my brother, and loved him and treated him accordingly. I took him to my tailor, my shirt maker and shoe maker. We started going out to dinner and to places where I knew he could meet powerful men and women in his profession that could help him. We would then go back to his office or my apartment and talk for many hours, and about many things and the whole truth of my life.

At this time, Harold Briscoe was inviting me to go out and socialise with him. I am a loner not interested in socialising. However, I went out on few occasions and on one of those occasions he introduced me to a woman friend of his named Sandra Marsh. Later on in the 1980's I was sitting in my house in Belize reading the New York Times and discovered that Sandra Marsh was in New York City and was now an assistant to the Commissioner of Police. I am sure that Sandra Marsh described me in her official report quite respectfully.

By now it was around 1971 and there was a lot of talk in that small and very poor Belizean community about me going back to Belize. Gilbert Flowers was talking to Belizeans and having groups of Belizeans at his office to hear what I had to say, although they talked so much I could not say anything, and to give me some kind of seaming constituency in New York, some sort of seaming political legitimacy, or to make me think all was real.

My association with Gilbert Flowers was the beginning of an association where for the first time in my life I had been totally forthright with any person concerning my personal life and to do so, I had to put myself in the position of a little boy, which I consciously and happily did, with no regrets. I also had to put myself in the position of a boy to go and live in Belize again, among all the egotistical boys, which I happily did.

In the coming up to Christmas 1971 the Amandala newspaper of Belize edited and owned by Evan Hyde published an article titled "Belizean Millionaires Coming to Belize for Christmas", without me giving anyone authority to print or include my name in such a statement. Evan Hyde and I were and never have been any kind of associates or friends, so where did he get this authority or information?

Amandala is Belize’s premier grass roots newspaper. It speaks to the extremely poor people of Belize. It also speaks to the intelligence offices of the United States, United Kingdom and Michael Ashcroft. It then went on to read, Belizean millionaires “Carson” Russell and a known Belizean drug dealer, who had a lot of money and property in New York is coming to Belize for Christmas. Now, this fellow is a fellow I Carlton Russell has utter contempt and dislike for, and whenever he is in my presence, sight or air-shot I let him know clearly how I feel about him.

I Carlton Russell have never been a criminal, have never done anything criminal; have never associated with criminals; have no criminal friends; have never been considered by any security agency on earth to be a gangster or a criminal, with the exception of Michael Ashcroft’s security agency; And have no criminal record so why would Amandala associate me with a criminal drug dealer. I have never in my life sold drugs to any person on earth!!!! That is what Harold Briscoe and Sandra Marsh were trying to find out, and this is how Evan Hyde uses Amandala to tell the American intelligence officers what is going on among poor Belizeans in the United States, who is doing what and who is who, especially those who would threaten his gigantic ego and regal historical plans…

The Peoples United Party colours are blue and white, so I instructed Gilbert Flowers to print on white paper with blue ink the following: It is a lie perpetrated by Amandala that “Carson” Russell is coming to Belize for Christmas, and it is an affront to him and his family to associate him with drug dealers and gangsters, and one day soon poor people of Belize will have a newspaper that will inform them truthfully and accurately.

I had about one thousand copies of them printed and Gilbert Flowers went to Belize and distributed them or so I was told. That was my response to Amandala's first written attempt to destroy Carlton Russell. Evan Hyde had said to me one day, “You are on a search and destroy mission, uh?”. He was actually telling me about himself: projecting himself!

A few weeks after this article there was another article in the Amandala newspaper written by Gilbert Flowers which I had no knowledge of, and it spoke about new leadership for Belize from qualified successful people who can help Belize. People like Kent Trench and Carlton Russell. I asked who is Kent Trench. Gilbert Flowers told me he is a marine biologist; here was the beginning of my name being in the newspapers of Belize. It was also the beginning of the literal conscious continuation of a willful, envious, diabolical and systematic campaign to frighten and tar Carlton Russell with that social black paint and to tell the American intelligence about Carlton Russell. It was to keep him in that society of out cast black sheep that my family had created for me and in which so many innocent people of the earth have been cast into. In fact, Carlton Russell is in no class, he is in a class of his own and unbeknown to any Belizean, with the exception of Sylvia Tennyson.

Just around this time I was in my apartment talking to Gilbert Flowers, when he said to me you better not go to Belize, they might kill you. I said council, if a man is not prepared to die for what he believes then he is not worthy. He then said to me he will need one million US dollars in a brief case to go to Belize and prepare the way for me.

I said council, if I had to pay Belizeans to work for them I would not work for them. I said I can’t imagine having to pay one million dollars to go home. I believe this is where the breakdown of a false relationship started. In the last months of 1971 I spent a lot of time in my apartment talking to Gilbert Flowers and Harold Briscoe, each one on different occasions, one on one until the early hours of the morning.

It was then Christmas and the beginning of the year 1972. By this time Belizean Politicians and Editor had a foreign private security agency investigating Carlton Russell in New York a long time ago and playing little games.

Belizeans had never known where I was living in New York. However, in the last six months of 1967 a few Belizeans had come to know where I lived. They gave that information to politicians and editor, and they then gave it to the foreign private security agency and that foreign security agency was now able to start following me and watching my movements. One night in the early months of 1972 I was lying in my bed around 2:30am when my doorman called me and said someone was here to see me. I asked what their name was; the doorman replied that he didn't want to give his name. I said I would be right downstairs, when I got off the elevator he said the person had left.

Evan Hyde had asked me some time ago what was the first rule for a Belizean to survive in the United States. My reply was never let a Belizean know where you live. I guess he knew why he was asking me such a question. He also asked me if I thought that I had beaten the system. My reply to this was that nobody beats the system. You can change it but not beat it.

Now that Belizeans had come to know where I lived, strange things started to happen. Considering what I was experiencing in the New York Belizean community since coming back from Belize after a year, and how I was interpreting it, seeing what I was experiencing from Flowers and Briscoe. That doorman incident told me it was time to move on, for it were the conspirators trying to draw me out.

Michael Ashcroft’s security agency was permitted to watch and carry out surveillance against poor Belizeans in Belize for the politician and editor that would have been illegal for the police to conduct. He was also able and capable of monitoring my movements and anyone who worked for me and who were not their informants or came to my house, or they thought were coming to my house in the United States and in Belize.

I had told Gilbert Flowers that I was getting tired of the United States so my move was to Belize. I went upstairs to my apartment, called my secretary Sylvia Tennyson and asked her to make reservations for me from New York to Miami and Miami to Belize, and also to give me US $1,000. I called Gilbert Flowers and asked him to meet me in Belize. At 9:00am the following morning, Sylvia Tennyson came to my apartment with both the plane tickets and US $1,000. I got in a cab to John F Kennedy airport and left New York City for Belize.

When I arrived in Belize, Gilbert Flowers met me at the airport. He introduced me to a few of his friends who were at the airport too. We then went to a hotel where I checked in. He then got me a new passport and invited me to lunch in a private room at the Fort George Hotel with the then Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Belize, the late Sir Albert Stain, who briefed me on what he knew was going on in Belize. He also gave me some intelligence about the police commissioner, Mr. Esmond Willoughby and I told him why I was in Belize. So, when I met the commissioner I knew all about him already. Within a few days I moved to my mothers’ house.

One morning I stopped at the Esso service station for petrol. There was this little head teacher named Joseph Belisle whom I went to elementary school with, a bright boy who sat at the head of his class, and whose shoulders I used to peer over to get my homework done. He saw me at the petrol station on his way to school. He came across to me and asked, "Carlton! What do you want in Belize?". What a stupid question! I was born in Belize. Belize is my home. I don't want anything, just want to be home. What gives any Belizean the right or authority to question another Belizean about what they want being at home? I had said to Sylvia Tennyson one day to go to New York and stay away from Belize, and not to come back to Belize! For that I must now apologise for it makes one look awfully stupid, to say such a thing to another Belizean. Doesn’t it? However, she continued to come back to Belize.

About seven days before I left Belize, after being there for a year, I went to Belize’s capital Belmopan and I visited the then Deputy prime minister Carl L. B. Rogers. During our little chat he asked me, “What do you want in Belize Mr. Russell?”. In reply, I told him I am leaving in a few days and when I returned I wanted them, the Government, the Peoples United Party, to give me an office with the words Carlton Russell assistant to the Deputy prime minister printed on the door.

He said to me, "We play gutter politics in Belize Mr. Russell". I smiled and said goodbye minister, and I left. I can add to the suggestion that they play gutter politics in Belize, they play brutal comprehensive gutter politics in Belize. Could you imagine Michael Ashcroft writing on dirty politics? But then again he should be well versed on dirty politics.

Carlton Russell is the first person to donate a first class comprehensive full-volume set of encyclopedia to Belizean school children. Wilfred Elrington can confirm that. Not a word was mentioned in the media; not even a whisper. Then when Michael Ashcroft came out in the open, he donated a set of encyclopedia and it was written about and broadcast all over Belize that he was the first person to make such a donation to Belizean school children. This, like among many other talking, is a cynical and calculated monstrous lie and nobody could account for my set of encyclopedia; it just disappeared.

On the importance of Michael Ashcroft? Wilfred Elrighton had said to me in a discussion I had with him one day, “Boy, the man has set up an educational foundation that will educate Belizeans”. I replied, “The foundation did and will not cost him a dime. It will be paid for with poor Belizeans wealth, and all the Belizeans that will benefit educationally will be the elite class and if they come back they will work for Michael Ashcroft….not for poor Belizeans”.

If Michael Ashcroft wants to benefit Belize and poor Belizeans let him advocate and practice economic policies that will give all Belizeans, old and young, access to comprehensive education and skill training, comprehensive health care and dignified affordable housing for all Belizeans.

I started getting visits from the Police telling me to go to police headquarters as the commissioner wanted to see me. I did not go. They came a few more times with the same message and again I did not go. The rank was changed to inspector of police and then to assistant superintendent of police - all with the same message. Still I did not go. According to my mother, one evening in my absence the commissioner of police came to see me.

A few days later, I moved to Landivar and Dunn Streets, CIB men immediately began to watch my house. For a few days, I confined myself to the house, as they watched me I watched them. Then I decided to go out. The police followed me, stopped me and searched my vehicle and its occupants.

A few days later I had some visitors from the United States. We were on the western road when they ordered me to turn around and follow them back to police headquarters. At gun point they ordered me out of my vehicle and into police headquarters only to be told you may go now. How humiliating! I left police headquarters and immediately sent a message to Gilbert Flowers to return to Belize as I was having some problems.

This is how the police misuse their powers and permit politicians to corrupt their powers, by breaching poor Belizeans and other peoples constitutional and human rights. Innocent people: poor innocent people who are made to have to pay exorbitant legal fees when they haven’t done anything wrong or haven’t committed any crime.

While I was waiting for Gilbert Flowers to arrive the commissioner sent me another message telling me to be in his office at 11:30am the following morning. I arrived at 11:15am and was told to take a seat on a bench in a hallway where people kept passing to and fro. I sat there until 12:15pm when the commissioner strolled past me and left without even looking at me. I was astounded.

Gilbert Flowers arrived four days later on Thursday. I met him at the airport. We went to my house and spoke. I asked him to inform the commissioner of police Mr. Esmond Willoughby on my behalf that I am not a criminal, nor am I involved in any criminal activity and I do not associate with criminals and I cannot be ordered down to police headquarters.

The police are breaching my civil, constitutional and human rights, and come Monday morning David will step into the courts of Belize and slay Goliath from there, and I wondered weather the police department can afford those law suits. A letter was sent to him.

Gilbert Flowers and I were riding in the streets of Belize when we were accosted by the commissioner of police. We were at the petrol station when the commissioner drove his official vehicle in front of ours, as the police would do when apprehending a person in a vehicle. We were not free to move, as if we were under arrest. I invited him to my house. He spoke with Gilbert Flowers and myself. He said the harassment would stop. The commissioner started inviting me out to his passing out parade and other political and private functions. I believed the commissioner was even looking out for my welfare by seating me beside one of Belize’s most prominent lawyer, though I never spoke. Although I had asked him who was the best lawyer in town.

The commissioner and I lunched and had dinner occasionally. He visited my house and we would talk. He seemed quite personable. I interpreted his earlier behavior to be due to his personal suffering. I was pleased that I now felt safe. He was independent minded, perhaps too independent for the ministers of the People’s United Party. I admired his abilities, he was important to me as I thought he would protect me. Why would a poor uneducated Belizean need special protection from the police?

Because there is a group of families, beginning with the Evan Hyde family, and foreigners in Belize, a group of men who are economic predators, dangerous right wing conservative men as Michael Ashcroft is, who see Belize and its population of poor people as an ideal opportunity to realize and continue their acquisition and amassing of poor peoples’ wealth to realize their dreams of wealth and power, and continued economic exploitation; Some see their historical, political and social place in the evolution of independent Belize; Some as the neo-wealthy and elite; Some as the new generation of political masters; And some as the controllers of Belize economy hence poor Belizeans wealth and some as the hangers on.

If poor Belizeans had listened to what I, Carlton Russell, had been consistently, slowly and subtlety saying to a few African Belizeans, and if that information had spread to the wider Belizean population, and had they accepted to change their thinking to such, then all the above parasitic groups would have lost their dreams of personal achievement and wealth by exploitation and I am talking about the educated and the rich.

Getting killed or just disappearing was a very real possibility in Belize, and especially to one who was as alone as I was in Belize. No one would have asked any questions, no one would have known anything and no one would have done anything. The rich and elite, the politicians and editor had utter contempt and dislike for Carlton Russell.

In my first days in Belize I went to the Fort George Hotel for lunch. At the door of the hotel I walked into a brother we call ‘Abba’, a Belizean brother with some sort of motor neuron disease. I embraced him upon greeting him. We laughed and were happy to see each other. I said, “Let’s go to lunch”. He picked up his shoe shine box and we walked into the lobby and dining room of the hotel. I pulled out a chair for him, he put his box under the table and pulled the chair up and we sat down. We were laughing together when the waitress immediately came to our table, interrupted our laughter, to sadly inform me that he cannot eat in the dinning room (That was the same thing I was told in 1958 while hitchhiking through Nacogdoches, Texas in the United States. Mine was a little harsher though – It was “We don’t serve niggers”). I asked her, “Why?”. She replied that it was not allowed. My response was, “He is my guest so he will eat here with me today”. She left and shortly after the manager, Paul Hunt, an English or South African white man came to the table and suggested that ‘Abba’ cannot eat in the dinning room. I enquired, “Why is he not allowed?”. He replied, “He is just not allowed”. I again explained, “He is my guest so he will eat here with me today”. From that day on the hotel’s owners and staff despised Carlton Russell. They projected a ‘who does he think he is’ attitude. All the guests disliked the fact that I had ‘Abba’ sitting along side them eating lunch and laughing freely. That is Belize!

I approached the commissioner humble and brotherly. Had he been able to look beyond himself as all Belizean boys have trouble doing, perhaps he would have seen me and would have reached out to me. Standing alone in Belize, standing away from it all, I was able to see Belize and Belizeans in a much clearer and objective light. I was therefore able to see the conspiracy around the commissioner by his staff, the editor and the politicians. I have been told they call him “Dada Amin” that’s because of the similarity in physical statue.

One week after one of his parades, I saw a grim picture of him on the front page of the Belize times, one of the newspapers controlled by the People’s United Party government (the other being Amandala), depicting him as Dada Amin. I knew at that moment that he was finished. I learnt a few days later while sitting in my vehicle at the airport that he had left the force. I saw him leaving dejected and broken.

I wondered weather it was so they could get at me without police hindrance, or weather it was that he had compounded Carlton Russell’s mythical powers by associating with him socially or both. For whatever reasons, I was now open game for the politicians and the Editor.

You can see how alienated Esmond Willoughby’s departure had left me. Had he been in office, no police would have dared such behavior towards Carlton Russell and if they did, they would be properly reprimanded. As a matter of fact, no police were allowed to deal with me unless they had authorisation from the commissioner. So I was well protected and I certainly did not betray that privilege.

They now had a new commissioner, Mr. Bert Bevans. I liked him; he was transferred to the Ministry of Defense, and then came Maxwell Samuels, who would soon resign and openly associate with the Peoples United Party and finally become a government minister. Then came Kent Haylock, and on his watch….

Gilbert Flowers came to Belize to rectify my problems with the Commissioner of Police Mr. Esmond Willoughby. He had reservations to go back to New York on that Sunday afternoon. I went to his mother’s house and ate lunch with him. When we were finished we got in my vehicle and I took him to the airport. When we arrived at the airport and he tried to check in, we discovered that his flight had already taken off.

He started an argument with the airline folks, which turned into him throwing a tantrum, and he railed. I moved up to him and said, “Council, the plane has already left, there is nothing we can do, reschedule your flight and let’s go”. He continued to rail, as if oblivious to my presence. Up until this time, Gilbert Flowers had always appeared humble and reasonable in my presence.

He continued to rail. I said to him, council this is not the behavior of an intelligent and responsible man, you are undermining our image. He paid me no attention and continued his tantrum.

Then I said to him as of today our relationship is finished and when you think you are prepared to behave properly around me then you can come back to see me. I walked out of the airport, got in my vehicle and left.

I never heard from him again. Norman Fairweather came to Belize from New York and we met, that was before he stopped talking to me. I asked him with caring concern how Gilbert Flowers was. He said, “Boy Gilbert is bitter and says he is going to destroy you”. My response was that if he is trying to destroy me, he will destroy himself in the process, which is now extended to all Belizeans who are trying to destroy Carlton Russell, including Michael Ashcroft.

Gilbert Flowers was well connected in Belize among (Creole) African Belizeans. He thought their children in school studied economics in England and received a doctorate in Jurisprudence from an American University. He was important to me, feeling that he would speak on my behalf to the educated Belizeans in the African community and that he would council me in the law. He learnt that I was a loner with no family, no friends, no country, no education or skill and that I was vulnerable. Gilbert Flowers had registered my land rover bought in 1972 in his name and also insured the vehicle in his name at his Belizean address.

After being in Belize for one year it was time to reregister and insure the vehicle, and I thought it was an ideal time to change the name of ownership and insurance to my name. There was an analytical chemist; he was the chief chemist and forensic scientist for Belize. His name was Leslie Isacs, a friend of James Flowers and an acquaintant of mine. We were in elementary school together. He was also a friend of Gilbert Flowers. We were having lunch one day and I said to him that I wanted to reregister my vehicle, and so I needed an insurance company, and would he suggest one. When we were finished eating he took me to an insurance company, and there the insurance broker Mr. K C Dunn immediately started the process and needed the signature of Gilbert Flowers. Leslie Isacs took a pen and said, “It is alright, I will sign his name”, and he signed Gilbert Flower’s name to the transfer document quite innocently and helpfully.

The details of the transfer were sent to his Belize address, and when he came to Belize he learnt that his name was signed without his permission. He assumed it was Carlton Russell who signed and forged his name. He saw this as an ideal time to start his legal campaign to destroy me. Apparently he went to the police and asked them to charge me with forgery, and no one told me this was happening. He was not satisfied with the police response, so he went to the then prime minister George C. Price, and apparently was not satisfied with his response either, I am assuming. He went back to New York more bitter and furious, and so continued trying to destroy me.

He wrote and distributed a damning and bitter booklet of total lies, accusing the prime minister, the commissioner of police and myself of colluding in all sorts of criminal immorality, although I had only met the prime minister once and that was when he trembled. I had never had any illegal discussions with the commissioner of police.

In my first weeks in Belize, there was a brother whose family I have known most of my life. His name is Edmond Penil. He worked at the registry in Belize City. I would occasionally have lunch or supper with him, and sometimes we would visit one another’s houses. On one of these occasions he asked me if I would go with him to meet the Prime Minister George C. Price. I said, “Surely”. I went to Edmond Penill’s office at the registry on a Wednesday afternoon; it was also Mr. Price’s surgery.

He took me to the Prime Minister’s office; we were ushered in. Upon walking up to his desk, I shook his hands and said, “Good afternoon Prime Minister, I am Calrton Russell”. I sat down, we spoke a few words then he said, “I can see you are well preserved”. I said, “Thank you”. I observed that he was an intelligent fellow and to some degree a wise man. I had now projected my spirit deep within the Prime Minister. I sat there just looking into his eyes. He asked me of my grandparents. I said that I did not know anything of my grandparents. As I looked into his eyes, he started to increasingly tremble. Then he said, “Mr. Russell we don’t seem to have anything to talk about”. I got up, shook his hand, bid him goodbye and left. Edmond Penill said to me on our way out that he had not seen the Prime Minister tremble like that before. I did not respond. I smiled faintly to myself, walked Edmond Penill to his office and said goodbye. I then got in my vehicle and left. I, in that faint smile, could not imagine the Prime Minister of a country, with all that collective and material power before him and with all that police, military and intelligence force at his fingertips could be frightened or excited to the point of increasing trembling by ‘one in his flock’ unless he is either a weak man, awfully wicked or both.

He later started telling people I was a bad man. He could not imagine God giving Carlton Russell such powers and not himself. He interpreted it to mean that I was a bad man, when all the time I was sitting there I was feeling nothing but spiritual love for him. I had never known him or anything about him. How could I have felt anything but love? His ego could not allow him to be humble and I could not appreciate his egotistical carriage. He became afraid to the point where he began to tell people I was a bad man who came back to Belize to cause violent confrontation, although I am a fellow who condemns the use and existence of a military and every PUP member must always remind Carlton Russell that they have guns and will use them on him. They were instructed to take out their guns whenever I appeared and exhibit them to me. I had even told one of them to be careful as he may shoot himself.

Gilbert Flowers also tried to demean my secretary, Sylvia Tennyson, when upon meeting her through me. She was only kind and respectful to him. Harold Briscoe and Sandra Marsh were working for the police commissioner of the City of New York, trying to discover weather I was distributing drugs. They learnt that I was not.

Gilbert Flowers wrote a lengthy paper about Carlton Russell controlling a $50 million empire in New York and was preparing to move that empire into Belize and establish such an empire politically.

Again, I had spent many hours in my apartment in New York talking to Harold Briscoe. He knew quite well what I was all about. However, he permitted himself to be sent by Gilbert Flowers with this document of total libelous lies to be delivered to the then attorney general and now prime minister of Belize, Said Musa, and was delivered without a word being said to me, without me even knowing what was going on. That document of lies was printed and published that Friday in two of Belize’s newspapers, the Amandala and the Reporter. They then came out with huge headlines that Carlton Russell was running a $50 million criminal empire in New York and proceeded with the story of that libelous document of lies. This was the period when the conspirators were in their conspiritorials elements.

The following week, Amandala wrote a piece suggesting that the article was written and sent by Gilbert Flowers in his anger because he was cut out of the possibility of getting some of ‘that money’. The following week Amandala published another piece apologising to Gilbert Flowers, making it seem as if Flowers was going to take him to court. Seemingly, Flowers had showed him how he would lose in court; and so he had to print an apology, all lies and trickery. During the whole process I was never spoken to. I played no part or had nothing to say about what they were doing with my name, I just sat there and watched with perplexing amazement. I did not know this could happen so blatantly in a democracy but then Belize is not a democracy, is it?

The week of Gilbert Flowers death in New York, I was out of Belize, and on that Friday I arrived back. As soon as I got off the plane I was given the Amandala newspaper by Philip Zuniga with an article written by none other than Evan Hyde. It inferred that Gilbert Flowers died because of his involvement with Belizeans, “slickies and smoothies” living on the wealthy Eastside of Manhattan. Well, Carlton Russell was the only Belizean living on the Eastside of Manhattan at that time and he was certainly no slickie or smoothie, and he was certainly not involved with me in any illegality. The story was supposed to be continued.

Sydney Satchwell, a head teacher in an Anglican diocese invited me to his house on a Saturday afternoon for a little socializing and to meet some of his teaching colleges and friends. We talked and laughed and had a few dinks, ate some cowfoot soup. Then he asked me what am I going to do in Belize. I replied that I would like to develop an organic farm for Belizeans to use as a model; for us to use Belize as a purely organic producing country, to have many groups of Belizeans producing different crops of organic food for export, and eventually, turning that farm into a dairy farm as we are sending a lot of our wealth away buying imported synthetic dairy products. He asked me how much land I thought I would need to do that. I told him, “About 1000 acres”. He said that he had a friend in Belmopan, the capital of Belize, and he will give him a call.

A few days later he met me and told me to go to Belmopan and see James Hyde. He was the permanent sectary in the ministry of natural resources, agriculture and lands. I went to Belmopan, met James Hyde, told him what I wanted to do with 1000 acres of land and he said that I would hear from him in a few days.

Within a few days I received a notice in my mailbox 391 that the government of Belize had granted me a lease for 740 acres of farm land at 37½ miles on the Western highway, on your way to the nations capital and the British High Commission. I was delighted!

I had lunch with James Hyde a few days later and he assured me that within a short period I will have 300 more acres. Also, I will have 2.2 acres at 4½ miles on the Northern highway to build a residential house. Also, three quarters of an acre at St. Georges Cay to build a holiday cottage, and within a short period of time I received lease authorization for all three pieces of land. This exercise was, so they thought, to inflate my ego.

This is how I acquired land in Belize. I did not go out soliciting land or trying to buy land. I would have never thought of it. If I was interested in land I could have had all the land I wanted since the 1960’s. My sister Alma Russell would have acquired all the land I wanted. It had to have happened naturally and if the farm had finished and blossomed, it would have happened naturally, without me bribing or paying any person or political party to let me be successful. That is not my understanding of democracy and only the holy spirit can make me successful and powerful, not mere man…

I was deeply saddened by Sydney Satchwells’ death; In spite of everything, I had come to like him very much.

Evan Hyde went to school at Dartmouth University in New Haven, Connecticut. While I was there I met a woman who had known Evan Hyde while he studied there. Although I had heard the name before it was the first time I had gotten a little insight into who and what he is. I knew he was editing the Amandala news brief for U.B.A.D. I had absolutely no feeling towards him; he was just another person to me.

Actually, although people like Asad Shuman and Said Musa's family were far removed from mine and as a boy I was far removed from them. While in the United States I had visions of going back to Belize and influencing them into seeing in, a dignified and just future for all Belizeans. I heard they were bright boys and I knew they were privileged; according to Belize's standards. I was also sympathetic to Marxism and they appeared to be. So I thought more about Asad Shuman and Said Musa than I thought about Evan Hyde seeing he and I are of “Royal Belizean stock”. He was also too sentimental and erratic.

Upon moving to Landivar and Dunn Streets in Belize City, Evan Hyde moved right around the corner from me, with his wife and children, his son Cordel Hyde would often past my house on his way to church at Jehovah’s Witness. I used to wonder why they would send him out of his way to pass my house when it would have been shorter by going the other way.

Evan Hyde would regularly pass my house in the mornings on his bicycle on his way to Amandala, and on occasions would stop at my house for a little chat, gift or both or to figure out his next strategy for the continuation of his cynical and diabolical conspiracy against me.

He would also go around Belize City and ask people, "how come Carlton Russell do not work?". Then he would come back and say to me, such a person asked me how come Carlton Russell don't work but don't say I told you though. He tried to make me think that he was looking out for me or playing his obvious and persistent little mind games.

Although my farm and boat building were going full speed ahead, and my football team, the new Frontiers, had just won the countrywide divisional championship and I was most certainly stimulating a stone cold dead economy.

Evan Hyde also had some idea, although vague, as to why I was in Belize. He had a vague idea that I saw Belize as an ideal place to experiment with the alleviation of poverty, which meant changing the economic structure that the slave and colonial masters had set up and left for us. This can be done by changing poor people’s values, starting with (Creole) African Belizeans, in Belize City (if it could happen in Belize City then it could happen all over Belize) and changing the fledgling capitalist free market and ‘lazyfare’ economy to one that would use the bulk of its wealth; created by poor uneducated Belizeans, combined with Belize’s natural resources, to establish and sustain education and skill training, comprehensive health care and housing for all Belizeans, old and young, and all who may live in Belize.

James Hyde had one day asked me for a place in University for his daughter, he also asked for a place for his nephew, Evan Hyde's brother, who was working with him in the shrimp farming industry. Let all Belizeans have access to all levels of education, and not just a chosen few.

Discontinue the quest for quick economic progress that benefits just a few and having money as a purpose for living; we can produce enough food to feed ourselves for the next fifty years. In twenty years we would have two generations of well educated and skilled Belizeans to start working for a sustainable and equitable economic system and conditions, and not just for Michael Ashcroft and company. He also understood that I wanted to see Belize at the forefront of environmental clean up and preservation and the protection of our ecological unity. He knew I wanted Belizeans to keep predatory and hostile hustlers like Michael Ashcroft out of Belize and well away from Belize's economy and natural resources. He also understood clearly I wanted to use him and Amandala to convey my ideas to Belizeans as I needed someone to write for me. I even offered to buy Amandala, when he said I should speak to Said Musa who was a partner in Amandala and his lawyer. I even asked on several occasions for him to teach me how to write, though he never responded.

Evan Hyde invited me to a dance of sorts one evening on Euphrates Avenue. We sat at a table for a few minutes then he suggested that we leave. Clearly the intention was not really to be there. The music had stopped, and everyone was sitting down, the dance floor was empty. As we strutted across the dance floor on our way out a firearm fell from his waist, and slid across the floor. He moved over and retrieved the firearm from the floor.

I said “Nigger what the f*** is wrong with you. Only a bungling fool drops his piece, and in public too”. And he looked like a bungling fool. He pretended to be quite offended. Considering his ego though, he was most offended with what I said. This was another reason for him not to like Carlton Russell; for speaking in that way to the editors.

I suppose he wanted to send a message to me, knowing that I kept a firearm in my possession at all times. The message was if you discover my treacherous, diabolical conspiracy against you, and you get mad and want to come at me, you will run into that nickel platted 32 caliber.

Evan Hyde came to my house one morning and said he knew of someone who might be able to help me. This is when the full blown and fearless conspiracy against me began. Within a few days he brought a fellow to my house and introduced him to me as Nicholas Pollard; a man who was one of the founders of the Peoples United Party; a man who I had never heard of; a man who had been grinded to smithers by the grinding mill of Belize's gutter politics; a man who had been a political and economic liability to himself, all his life; a man who nobody likes, including myself; And a man who is a cynical and diabolical liar.

Evan Hyde suggested that I and this fellow can put some writings together and he will help with the publishing, not a word was mentioned about cost, although it is obvious that it costs money to get things done. He sent one of his little apprentice writers to my house. They took some pictures of Pollard and myself and published a piece in Amandala that the consumer protectors had been formed.

I wrote down my ideas, sent the writings to Nicholas Pollard, we discussed those ideas, he would then write with great skill and experience, knowing Belizeans as well as he did, then he took the writings to Amandala. That Friday the first edition and subsequent editions came out with the ideas and production of Carlton Russell, not Nicholas Pollard. They must have been talking about the correct sentence structuring or the correct spelling and punctuation marks, and correct structuring of those ideas on paper, when the Belize times commented "It is the work of the brilliant Nicholas Pollard”. No! It is the work of Carlton Russell, and Nicholas Pollard is not a brilliant man, he is just a technician; just a Belizean political technician.

Monday morning after the first edition had been sold out, a bill was sent to me by Evan Hyde through Amandala heading charging me Bz. $700 for the first publication. I was furious that Evan Hyde would come to my house, under the guise of wanting to help the community of African Belizeans, then leading me into a relationship he knew was only a joke, and would be doomed, and which the Beacon, the other political party's news brief, would rightly call an unholy union that would never last and something to the effect of it being forged because of my naivety, rightly so to extort Bz.$700 from me.

I protested the payment of Bz. $700 for such a minor and primitive piece of work. However, as Hyde put his threatening machine into play, headed by Ray Lightburn, I decided that I would go along with paying this extortionate sum of Bz. $700. I wanted to put some more of my ideas into the community and so I went on for a few more weeks paying an extorted Bz. $700 to Evan Hyde.

The second weeks printing should of included a paragraph that suggested Belize be used as a country of peace, a country that would renounce war, renounce nuclear weapons and other weapons of war, and ask the worlds people to do so, and ask Belizeans to reject the idea of a military force within its borders. Belize would ask the United States and the United Kingdom to protect us against a belligerent Guatemala and against any other aggressive state in its region. It is time for the world’s people to raise their consciousness to a higher level, from war and aggression, greed and consuming, and they need new leadership. The world needs a new breed of leadership.

This business of a military is a very serious thing indeed. While living at Landivar and Dunn Streets, there were quite a few white men sent to my house to question me. Some to see if I would sell them drugs, others with other cynical games. There was this ageing white man, who came to my house, rang my door bell, and questioned me about my education, etc. I told him I was a doctor and that I studied medicine at Stanford University.

He wanted to know about my farm and my thinking on the military and weather I would favor a military in Belize. He left, and came back another day with a young boy, who looked like his grandson. He invited me to lunch. He also told me that he had been doing some checking and did not find my records at Stanford. I told him that I could of gone there using a different name, and had he told me he wanted my records I would have told him where to look, seeing we live in a democracy. “Now that I know you are investigating me, I must excuse myself”, and I said goodbye to him. That’s how I treated most white men or took their addresses and tell them I would meet them for some sort of a deal.

Belize with a military it cannot afford and a military that would be in capable of defending against any force in its region would clearly be a squandering of poor Belizeans wealth and would clearly be used against poor Belizeans one day. Those passages were deleted without my knowledge or authorisation, and I was still sent a bill for Bz. $700 in spite of my protest.

As a matter of fact I was treated with contempt and hostility because I dared to go down to Amandala and demand that they stop the press and not print a deleted work. The suggestion was who and what the hell is Carlton Russell that he thinks he could go down to Amandala when the sole owner and editor was not there and demand that the press be stopped.

Conversely, who and what the hell is Evan Hyde that he thinks he can delete from Carlton Russell's work and Carlton Russell should have nothing to say about it and should be demanded to pay an extortionate Bz. $700. Control of the police and the judiciary and having a military including a private security force owned by Michael Ashcroft was vital in the takeover of Belize’s economy by Michael Ashcroft and company.

Among the many things and items I had in my house, there was a sophisticated looking helmet with noise muffler wore while using the chainsaw on my farm. Evan Hyde came to my house one day, saw this yellow helmet and asked me if he could borrow it. I lent it to him. He took a picture of himself sitting in a chair wearing this helmet exclaiming that he has his ear to the ground; he is plugged in. He then published the picture that Friday in the Amandala implying that the colonial and slave masters were giving them information about Carlton Russell.

By this time the true colors of Nicholas Pollard were beginning to seep out, and after dealing with him and listening to him talk for a few weeks, it was time for me to sever my ties with him. I was giving him Bz. $200 per week, it wasn't a salary it was a stipend until we see where we were going. Soon I could see I was not going anywhere with Nicholas Pollard, and so on Monday morning when he came to see me, I told him we would stop our association, shelve the work we began and step back for a while. We need not have anything to say to the newspapers, he agreed, we shook hands and said goodbye. In that Friday's papers, without any question to me, there was an article in the Amandala and the reporter that Nicholas Pollard had severed ties with Carlton Russell....lies! I also got a summons from the labour board to pay him two weeks wages which I refused to pay. I had never hired Nicholas Pollard and he was only around me for a few weeks.

He went to court, placed his hand on the bible, lied and secured a judgment against me to pay him Bz. $300. Sheer thievery, I suppose Esmond Willoughby did not want to put me in Jail. He advised me to pay the Bz. $300 dollars, and quite reluctantly I paid.

Evan Hyde was coming from Belmopan one morning when he stopped at my farm. I was there tending my roses, one hundred and fifty, beautifully different and rare species of roses imported from far away and took a lot of research and work in New York to acquire. He brought his camera along and took some pictures of me admiring my roses. He even took some produce along. I thought I would have seen some positive information about what I was having and doing on my farm. This is what I was doing:

There were 150 varieties of beans, including gongo and soy beans, red kidney beans, black beans, black eyed peas, split peas, butter beans, nine different types of legumes including calalu, etc, cabbage, various types of lettuce, various types of tomatoes, cucumbers, carrots, aubergines (garden eggs), sweet peppers, and twelve different types of chili peppers, pumpkin, squash, ockroes, nine different varieties of rice, onions, garlic, one hundred and fifty cooking and eating herbs, ginger, nutmeg, cotton, coffee, chocolate, sugar beets, sugar cane, breadfruit, varieties of sweet potatoes, yams, dasheen, cocoa, yampie, pumpkin, watermelon, other types of melons, guava, papaya, pineapple, babone-cap, sunflowers, varieties of mangoes, thousands of coconuts of several varieties, thousands of citrus trees of various varieties, pomegranate, loquat, figs, strawberries, rose-apple, mamie, ackie, tamarind, bukut, passion fruits, crabo, cashew fruit, custard-apple, star apples, thousands of plantains, thousands of bananas, avocadoes, almonds, sour-sap, six different types of pasture grass, kinep, cohune, various varieties of Holland bulbs, ten different types of palm tree including date palm, all sorts of other indigenous and imported plants and roots, all the orchids of Belize, and had twenty two men working.

After employing 22 men to work my farm and before they begun working I called them together. I explained to them, “It will take you about one year to clean this land. When it is finished clearing, you will be sent home and I will own all the land although I have not done any work on it. The land belongs to all of us. Whatever I will pay you weekly; I will give you half and put the other half in the bank. At the end of the year when you are finished clearing the land we will take whatever monies there is in the bank and I will add an equal amount and we will buy cattle and we will become equal partners in the farm forever. Think about it. If you agree, I will go to Belize City and have some attorneys draw up some legally binding agreements or you could take all your salary and at the end of the year I will own all the land”. They chose to take all their salary. This is an example of the lack of trust for each other and ignorant greed. I said, “Then go to work”. This was the kind of labour agreement and policy I wanted to see for all Belizeans. Changing capitalism! A model for a new economic reality.

Ray Lightburn was running around Belize saying I was growing marijuana on my farm. Ray Lightburn is the bagman and the distorter for the People's United Party, and some time "chef" for its ministers. Instead of any positive information there was a half of a page with stars, and among those stars was a picture of Carlton Russell admiring his roses and a caption in bold letters saying ‘mystery man’. I was certainly not amused, in a sense though and to the street people, I was indeed staring.

Evan Hyde came to my house one morning and suggested "I want to do this peace on you. See what you think of it”. He left a piece of typed journalism with me, a piece making some quite misleading, untrue and very superficial aspersions concerning Carlton Russell and indeed intended to affect the subconscious psychology of Belize's young boys, men and women.

At this time I was sponsoring lots of young boys and girls, in school fees, football, cycle races, track and field, etc. In this article he suggested they say he is a homosexual and he has enough money to fill a horse’s mouth. Actually, I have much more money than that and he will cause the politicians concern, and so forth. He came back the following day and asked me what I thought about him publishing such an article. I told him that if you publish such an article you will upset the parents of the young people, and the young people that are around me. Knowing how Belizean men and boys in their egotism dread being called homosexual, and I did not want such an article printed about me because it was all suggested lies.

He left the piece of writing with me and said he will never write anything about me again unless he asked me, and he would never ask to write anything positive about Carlton Russell because he has deep rooted, childish envy, hatred and contempt for Carlton Russell and because they don't want Carlton Russell in Belize. For various reasons, although I had never done him, nor his family, nor his lawyer, nor brother-in-laws any harm in my life. I don’t even know them.

In my first weeks in Belize it was circulating that Carlton Russell did not want human beings to smoke cigarettes, and the question was being programmed into the heads of the street people of Belize City as to who does he think he is that he can come down here and tell us what to do although as a result of my stop smoking information and agitation he, Evan Hyde, stopped smoking cigarettes.

I was down in the Yarbrough area one day in a bar talking, when up comes Evan Hyde in his little red car, out jumps him, Santiago Castillo Junior, who is the agent for foreign imported cigarettes, and two of their football goons. They then walked into this bar, and Castillo takes out packages of cigarettes, throws them across the bar counter and urges everyone to take cigarettes and light up. Then they stood around watching me. I immediately walked out, got in my vehicle and left, wondering why Evan Hyde would be trying to intimidate and frighten me.

This is how the rich and powerful people of Belize behave towards the uneducated and poor Belizeans, and even to the educated ones. Frightening and driving them out of their jobs and country. The rich and powerful could also spread aspersions about people they don’t like, and once they spread those aspersions in certain points they just spread like fire in a summer forest - all over Belize and are absorbed by the ignorant and believed.

Evan Hyde asked me one day if I and Lindy Rogers had a fight in the streets, meaning if Rogers’ men in the streets and Carlton Russell's men in the streets had a fight, who do I think would win? What a diabolical and cynical question. I told him I wouldn't begin to think of coming to a man’s yard and having a fight with him and much less win. However, I would give him a damn good fight. The divide and conquer principle.

Evan Hyde said to me one day that when you want to know about a man’s secrets, talk to his driver and watch his driver when they are riding. So you must talk to Lindy Rogers driver, although I did not tell him that I was interested in Mr. Rogers’s private life. What he was doing was preparing me for the time when I would see James Saunders on the front page of Amandala in a hug-down with Said Musa, leading an Independence Day parade; I had already seen Saunders passing me on the barracks in the morning going to Said Musa's house. He used to say good morning to me while passing. As a matter of fact Said Musa and James Saunders were involved since 1968 talking about Carlton Russell.

Evan Hyde also said to me one day, “Lindy Rogers told me he did not have anything against you, he just does not like the ‘drugs’”. What drugs?

Evan Hyde invited himself on my radio programme one Sunday night. I had two programmes written, in case he did not show up, as perhaps playing one of his stupid little games again. Anyway, he showed up. His intentions were to show up and disrespectfully address Carlton Russell as “My boy”, and to suggest that I am autocratic and to ask stupid questions such as what am I going to do about Michael Ashcroft. I made it clear to him that I was not thinking about Michael Ashcroft, and furthermore, most certainly Ashcroft is not my problem. He is a problem for poor uneducated Belizeans and should of been so considered by Said Musa , who brought him into Belize, and Evan Hyde who manipulated poor Belizeans into thinking Michael Ashcroft would of been good for them. He walked out of my house one day and proclaimed, “That’s why I am going to manipulate them mother f***ers” (talking about poor Belizean people).

While in Evan Hyde's office one day, trying to get him to project some of my ideas in Amandala he said to me you should do like Said Musa; walk into my office and throw twenty thousand dollars on my desk. I did not answer him. I smiled to myself and walked away.

His uncle, James Hyde, told me one day at lunch concerning a man named Snell, who was establishing shrimp farming in Belize and needed his professional help and experiential advice in choosing and acquiring land. He said, “The man walked into my office and threw an envelope with US $8,000 on my desk. What do you want me to do?” I suppose he was telling me I should behave the same way.

I was having a discussion at lunch one day, with a retired assistant superintendent of police, Sydney Barber, concerning my confiscated piece of land. He said to me “chu man, just go up to Belmapan and walk into Florencio Marin's office and throw an envelope with a few thousand American dollars on his desk and you will have all your land back immediately and will be able to do whatever you want to do”. Florencio Marin was the minister of natural resources, agriculture and lands. I said to him Sid, “I have seen all the corruption I wanted to see in New York City, I did not come to Belize to be engaged in corruption”. Giving money as well as taking it is corruption.

This is one of the reasons I was held in such contempt in Belize by white colors and politicians. They could not get their hands on any of my money. I do not pay for political or institutional patronage.

After the United Democratic Party, for the first time in 40 years, came to power in the 1970’s, the minister of Natural Resources, Agriculture and Lands called the attorney and told him to ask me if I wanted my land back, and if so to call him. The attorney told me of the call and I said call him back and tell him yes I do want my land back, and an appointment was made for me to see the minister. I went to the minister’s office and he asked me the same question – do I want my land back. I said I certainly do want it back minister. He said, “Well????”, and laid back in his comfort chair and I laid back in my uncomfortable chair and just watched him. We watched each other for about 15 minutes, after which time I got to my feet and said goodbye minister, and left. I never heard a word about my land again. It remained confiscated. He disregarded any contribution and influence I had made in their winning the election. They are very brazen in their corruption, aren’t they?

While I was building my house on the Northern road or laying the foundation after I had endured a lot of trials in clearing and filling the land, a second tier civil servant, a fellow named Longsworth, second to James Hyde in the ministry of Natural Resources, Agriculture and Lands, Florencio Marin being the minister. Longsworth stopped me in the streets and said to me that the Prime Minister said he did not want me to build a house there.

The land was next to the Prime Minister’s brother and next to the brother was the sister Jane Usher, and they are part of the Belize V.I.P. group. I wondered why James Hyde would have given me a piece of property next to the Prime Minister’s family, knowing how social and consciously prejudice they are. This was the big set-up and the way to inform me that I am rejected socially. This is an exercise they consistently practice.

I said to the fellow, “Are you guys f***ing crazy?” I suppose they thought I was. I went about my business and stopped working on my house immediately, as the conspiracy from the builder had already begun. I said nothing to no one. At that moment, I also understood clearly that James Hyde was one of the conspirators.

Why would James Hyde give me a piece of agricultural property directly in front of all government ministers, and all the public? A piece of bastard land. It is because they knew I would fail. No Belizean black man could successfully develop one thousand acres of farm land, and when it seems as if I might be successful, they came in and disrupted my work.

Shortly after arriving in Belize, I was sent a transfer of funds from New York through the Barclays Bank of Belize. They informed me of this transfer. When I arrived at the bank to collect my money I was told there was a mistake; they had sent the money to an office at the Belize estate and produce company, near opposite the Belize post office and would I go there to pick up my money, what a laugh. Anyway, I did.

I went to B.E.C. and went upstairs to their office. As I walked in and told the secretary I am Carlton Russell, she pushed a button and a white man walked to the door of his office, looked me up and down and walked back into his office. The secretary came to me and told me they had sent the money back to the bank, and I would have to go back there for it. So I went back to Barclays bank and collected my money. I had nothing to say to no one. That white man worked for MI6 or the CIA; most likely the former. Alternatively, he was a manager of B.E.C and was the friend of someone playing a game or it was to frighten me or to test my intelligence.

Finally, one day I said to James Saunders, “I am not going to the bank, they are so disrespectful. I will let some money be transferred in your name and you go to the bank, will you?”. He said “yes” and so the first transfer arrived. It was a time when my farm was moving fast. They knew I used these transfers to pay my workers. They also knew that poor people do not tolerate not seeing “the eagle fly” on the day it is supposed to fly, especially poor Belizeans.

I said to James Saunders, go to the bank, there is a transfer there in your name, collect it for me. He went to the bank, came back and told me there was no transfer there. I sent him back the following day and the following day after that, etc. Still there was no transfer. I knew something was wrong, so I put my clothes on and went to the bank and inquired about my transfer. The bank told me that James Saunders had already received the money a few days ago and was over paid a few thousand dollars.

I called him and asked him where my money was. He said, “I have it at home Sir”. I said, “Boy go and get my f***ing money! I have to pay my workers”. By this time my workers were in a rage. They wanted their money.

James Saunders left my house to go and fetch my money (thousands of dollars), and never returned. And there was the collapse of my farm working crew. I eventually received other transfers and paid them, by then however, confidence had been lost. Shortly after the transfer was lost at the Belizean Bank of Commerce and Industry, it took them four weeks to find my money. This was all an orchestrated conspiracy. He even wrecked my land rover intentionally by driving it into a lamppost.

The bank told me they had over paid him a few thousand dollars and I did not want it to be on the record that I had swindled the Bank so, for the record, I went to Zuniga and instructed him to take James Saunders to court and charge him with stealing my money. Zuniga said he went to court and Saunders did not appear so he forfeited. At this time I was told he had bought new clothes, a car, and was driving around Belize City with his hair straightened. Zuniga was supposed to have seized his car. However, he said Saunders had driven across the Mexican border and sold the car, which I did not believe. I wondered if he had even bought a car. I was only told this. I did not see.

I was never interested in associating with educated or rich folks. I do not have much respect or liking for them nor do I have anything in common with them. Therefore, while I was in Belize my only social association was with poor and uneducated people. One of my main haunts was a poor peoples club they called Bismark. A club I later learnt was controlled by the Peoples United Party. Their guru was Evan Hyde. They call its proprietor Bismark, I knew him since I was a boy. Whenever I felt like mingling with people, I would go there. They played all sorts of games there: Dominoes, pool, cards, parapinto, etc. They were football enthusiasts. One of the reasons that I seemed to be circulating in a People’s United Party culture is that like the P.U.P. the United Democratic Party had closed me out from the beginning.

I went there one day and found out its proprietor Bismark had rented his club out to a little goon they called toad, and left the country. Most likely he was sent on a holiday somewhere in the out districts or to the Cays, or given an American visa to go to the United States for a visit and pretend that he is doing well. That little goon asked me if I would come and give him a play, meaning if I would come and spend some money with him. It was all a conspiracy.

A few days later on a Sunday afternoon I went to Bismark. Shortly after I arrived there, I found myself playing in a parapinto game. It was with a bunch of strange football hooligans, who in retrospect I understood were sent there by their guru especially to shed my blood. They tried to rob me, and I was aggressive in my insistence that they pay me. A large crowd had gathered around me. The regular Judases were urging me on to collect my money. Feeling they were sincere, I stepped up my verbal aggression to be paid. I was surrounded by a crowd of men when I was struck from behind on my head, and blood spewed from my head and oozed over my shirt.

I wanted to get to a doctor. A fellow whom I knew to have a car was standing beside me and I said to him, “Take me to the hospital”. His reply was “Carlton boy, I don’t want to get my car bloody”. I said, “So your car is more important than my life?”, and I walked away, and as I walked into the streets I saw a car coming whose driver I knew. I jumped into his car and said, “Take me to the hospital”. He took me to a private hospital, which I requested, owned by George C. Prices’ Family, where they sewed up my head and charged me. This was orchestrated conspiracy.

While at home in my grief, Ray Lightburn came to my house. Ray Lightburn is also the black painter for the Peoples United Party, who walks around Belize City and Country with a can of black paint and brush, tarring and painting anyone who is not deemed worthy for the corrupt P.U.P. ministers.

I thought he had come to pay me monies he had borrowed, but no, he just came to hear what I was thinking, and to see if I knew who had sent those football hooligans to shed my blood. Most certainly I know who! Ray Lightburn also washes the dirty linen for the Peoples United Party, a horrible and despicable little fellow.

No one could tell me who had wounded me. No one saw anything and no one knew anything. One hoodlum said to me that if I gave him one thousand dollars he would tell me who did it. I certainly did not.

Evan Hyde past my boatyard while he was motoring down the Belize River in his father’s boat one afternoon. He was watching me as I stood there admiring my yacht. He looked mean, like an insane rabid rutwiler. Sheer hate and envy oozed out of his face as I stood there congenially smiling and waving hello to him. He never responded in any pleasant way and that kind of hateful look with an occasional “What’s happening” was his behavior throughout my being aware of him and whenever we looked at each other.

I usually go to the Fort George Hotel on Thursday with Philip Zuniga for lunch, until those costly lunches with him became rather boring. One Thursday afternoon Zuniga and I walked into the hotel and Said Musa, his woman not his wife and Asad Shoman sat at a window overlooking the swimming pool. They might have been there so Shoman could have seen who Carlton Russell is.

As I walked into the hotel, the same insane rutweilerish hatred emanated from Said Musas’ face, and he gestured with his head, and mumbled to Shoman as if to say here he comes. Shoman and the woman turned their heads and hatefully looked at me. It was my first total experience of what a politician is all about. I never knew Said Musa felt that way about me. After all he does not even know me.

Zuniga and I sat down. He was facing them and I had my back to them. The next thing I knew, Asad Shoman is standing up in front of me facing Zuniga with his back to me, exclaiming “Philco, how are you?” and they laughed and talked for a little while as if I did not exist. Then he turned, keeping his back continuously to me and walked away, neither did Zuniga say this is my client.

Perhaps they thought their behavior would of offended or demean Carlton Russell. No, far from it! It did not. I saw their behavior as coming from the same, stupid, disrespectful, egotistical and educated fools they and rich people are all about, including Philip Zuniga. That is why the worl is in the condition it is today.

Wilfred Elrington had ignorantly said to me one day, “you buy friendship Mr. Russell”. Nothing could be further from the truth. Really, I find human beings quite disgusting and really do not like them. I am a loner and not interested in friendship.

Their political and legal education and intentions are not to represent and defend all Belizeans justly. It is for the creation of those Neo-Belizean elite in independent Belize, that would run roughshod over poor uneducated Belizean, and to give poor Belizeans wealth through the economy away to the slave and colonial master and arch capitalists’ child; How dare they.

I had a matter in the Supreme Court; Philip Zuniga was representing me. The matter was dragged out for three years just waiting to go to court. Before I went away for a while, I went to Philip Zuniga’s office and asked him to keep my file in his care until I returned. When I returned to Belize, shortly after he informed me that the case would be called in a few days. I asked him if he would let me have my file so I could refresh my memory considering I was going into the witness box. He told me that I did not leave my file with him. I told him that I am certain I did and asked him to look around. He never found my file, claiming that he was certain it was never left with him. So, I went to court, after neither discussing nor reading my files for three years, recited the whole truth verbatim like it happen, like your getting it here.

A few weeks after the case was over, I went to his office and he said to me, “Look what I have found”. It was my file. The moral of this story is that my file was lost intentionally so that I would go into court looking like a liar and a fool. They were certain that I would have gone into court and not remembered any part of the event.

Philip Zuniga sat in on negotiations where an agreement was made. He was the witness on my behalf. When the day came and he was supposed to confirm the agreement, he did not remember, so I lost a lot of money. A few weeks later he said, “guess what, I remembered the agreement”. It was too late as I had already lost. The matter ends there. His behavior was signaling the end of me having any legal representation in Belize. He went on to behave in a most incompetent and insincere way but he still was suitably paid.

The way the decision went in the courts was for in favor of Author Belisle. I had to pay Bz. $20,000 with interest. That was against my wishes and agreement with Belisle. Learning what I had learnt in Belize about political victimization and social ostricisation. I decided that I would not invest anymore money Belize until democracy and justice existed and prevailed. So like it had been all my life, I just stepped back on the periphery of the system and watched. Watch what they would do with my belongings and investment. This is what Philip Zuniga presided over and sanctioned without any discussion with or informing me.

I went away one period and when I returned to my house, my Mason and Hamlin vintage piano and my pure mahogany desk, made from the heart of a mahogany tree, (they were most beautiful) were missing. I asked Philip Zuniga what happened to them. He said the police came to my house, removed them, and sold them at auction. I was not told why or how much, despite asking. One of the conspirators came to my house and saw my piano, liked it and wanted it for his daughter. I never said another word to Zuniga, who claimed he sold my beautiful mahogany and cedar 45ft yacht, valued at US $200,000, and auctioned for Bz. $11,000. When I asked him what happened to my yacht, he said he sold it to the French council for that measly amount. I don’t believe that. I wonder who has my yacht. Who in Belize would have been able to buy my yacht? Only an exceedingly rich person would have been able to afford the rigging and upkeep of such a fine hull or would have been able to sell it for the right price.

My 12ft ship planked speedboat, made again from mahogany and cedar, with stainless steel and brass fittings, valued at US $45,000, was auctioned for Bz. $1,000. The 18ft powerboat; nobody gave me any account for it. All my stainless steel tools, nails, screws, bolts, etc. were sold for little or nothing. That brought to an end my boatyard that had great export possibilities. This brought a cynical and satisfactory conclusion to the process of depriving Carlton Russell of any bonified possession that would have given him legitimacy in Belize.

Winston Smiling, the fellow who put a knife to my stomach and said you could get killed in Belize, and I replied, “If you ever try that you will die before me”. He said, “I am only joking”. Also, he is the fellow that told me one day if my farm would ever get finished, it would be beautiful (it was already beautiful and producing). I said, “What do you mean by ‘if’ it will be finished”. He is the fellow I understand 300 acres of my land was given to. Land I had spent a lot of money on.

In my first weeks at Landivar and Dunn Streets my brand new land rover was parked down stairs. I was in my house reading when someone rang my doorbell. When I went to the door it was Winston Smiling. He said Carlton, can I borrow your jeep for the weekend. I have something I need to do.

I immediately wondered why a fellow I had never known, who had a vehicle of his own, and was doing quite well being the premier meat mongrel and distributor in Belize would come to my house wanting to borrow my vehicle. He would never lend me his, nor would I have wanted to borrow his.

I said sure, went to my desk, got the keys and gave it to him. He went downstairs and drove it away. On Tuesday evening he returned my vehicle to my mind properly bugged with electronics, eaves dropping and tracking devices. Even in my house. I hope they heard what they wanted to hear.

After 3 years listening to me talk in my jeep there was this drug seller deported from the U.S. who is a friend of Evan Hyde. They sent him to buy my jeep. I suppose they wanted to remove the devices, and after they removed the devices, they had the audacity to send Rufus X to ask me if I wanted to buy back my jeep. How brazen.

A fellow named Terence Belisle came to visit me in Belize. He said that he wanted to meet Evan Hyde, so I arranged to have breakfast at the Fort George Hotel with Evan Hyde so he could meet him. Evan Hyde brought Pulu Lightburn with him. I suppose so they could be rude and disrespectful. While we were eating, I introduced them to Terence Belisle. I said, “This is Evan Hyde and this is Pulu Lightburn. I’m in Belize so I can teach them how to eat and behave at a dinning table”. They looked at each other with obvious anger because of what I said. They could be rude and undermining. Speaking like this to the manipulating class is one reason why I am disliked in Belize.

They understood that I was always giving away money to poor Belizeans in New York. They also understood those poor Belizeans lived in a drug culture. One of the ways the conspirators thought they would break me down was by sending droves of people to my house for financial help and to extort money from me. For example, Pulu Lightburn stopped me in the streets of Belize City one day and said to me he was going to Medlin in Colombia and that he needed to exchange Belizean dollars for some American dollars, and could I help him. I said surely how much do you need. He said US $1500 which would be multiplied into Bz. $3000. I said when you are ready come to my house. A few days later he came to my house and said he was ready for the exchange and would I get the money for him. It is possible he did not even go to Columbia.

I went to my desk and got US $1500 and brought it to him. He gave me Bz. $1500 and said he would give me the rest when he returned, without even asking me if it was alright. When I saw him again he never said a word to me about my money and proceeded to be hostile whenever he saw me. I wondered weather he thinks he has swindled Carlton Russell and it is over. No, it is not over.

One day a group of street and football hooligans brought a black man to my house named John. They said they found him in the streets of Belize City stranded, having just arrived from Ghana in Africa and he needed help and had some diamonds to sell.

They left him at my house. I started to talk to John and found out he had supposedly just came to Belize or so he said. He may have very well been brought from England. He had no money but had eleven pieces of diamonds he wanted to sell to me. He showed me eleven pieces of what appeared to be tiny chips of glass, seaming to have been in the ground for many years. He said they were diamonds and he wanted US $500 for them. I told him those pieces of chips had no value to me and I did not think they were worth US $500. However, I said being an African brother and seeing your situation, I am going to give you Bz. $1000. He needed to find a place to live and buy food he said. I went to my desk, got Bz. $1000 and gave it to John. He immediately fell to his knees with his hands clasped as if in prayer, looking up at me exclaiming, “Thank you Sir, thank you sir”. I immediately put my hands out to him, held his hands and pulled him up from his knees, looked into his eyes and said we do not do that in Belize; Having human beings kneeling in awe of other human beings. I suspect this exercise was about the examination of my ego. The conspirators are very thorough you know.

He visited my house for a few times, even making me peanut soup. We talked and laughed and he promised he would have his friends in Ghana send me a gift.

I had not seen John for a few days when one day the post office sent me a notice that I had a package from Ghana, Africa. I went to the post office and discovered a big box with packages of what appeared to be marijuana inside. I was astounded. I immediately closed the box, asked for some tape and taped it up, then went home and thought about it overnight. In the next two days there was a celebration in Stanncreak. It was Garifuna day, so I told my driver James Saunders we are going to the celebrations.

Two days later I got in my vehicle and he drove me to the post office. The driver goes into the post office with me. I request the box, he takes it to my land rover, put the box in the back of the rover and we took off to Stanncreak.

We arrived in Stanncreak. I instructed him to drive out to the end of the deep water pier and there I instructed him to throw the box into the sea, having removed the name and address.

One of the stories that circulate around Belize about me, besides the many other stories is that I sold drugs. I have never in my life sold drugs to anyone.

Considering the value of approximately 250 pounds of marijuana, any person with any knowledge of the streets would jump at the idea of distributing 250 pounds of marijuana. The box could not have come from Africa. It was too fragile and even if I thought it did I still would not have gone into the drug business. I have never sold drugs. If it came from Africa it would have been intercepted before it reached Belize. Even if it reached Belize, I would not have received it without the police knowing. This was one of the ways in which they continuously tried to put me in jail.

A few days later, I am coming off the swing bridge, and who is crossing the street but John, all dressed up in a Foreign Security uniform with a fire arm on his hips, as chief security officer for one of Michael Ashcroft’s outfit. I heard he later died from drowning but I wondered if he died because of the secrets he held. When I was a young boy in Belize, lonely, homeless, illiterate and hungry, Michael Ashcroft was living in his fathers’ big colonial mansion with maids, one of whom I met in New York, chauffer driven to school and all well protected and cared for.

When I was a boy, there was an older brother whom I looked up to. His name was Roy Darrell Waite. My younger brothers’ second name was taken from Roy Darrel. One morning I woke up and the word was that he was killed. I went to see his body laid out in his yard where he lived. I was deeply moved. An ice pick had been pushed into his brains and he was carried and left on the Holover Bridge.

A few days later they arrested a man named Jackie Vasques, a man who had been on several occasions charged with murder. This is also a man who is a soldier of the Peoples United Party and who is represented by the Peoples United Party lawyers.

One morning at Landivar and Dunn Streets, I am laying in my bed about 5:30am and heard someone outside on the streets calling “Russ! Russ! Oh Russ. Oh Russ”. I got up and looked out my window and saw this man Jackie Vasques. I said “What do you want?”. He said he wanted to see me for a few minutes. I said to him to come in the gate and come upstairs. I went to the door and let him in, ushered him to a chair and pulled up a chair and sat right in front of him and asked “What can I do for you Jackie”.

He started rambling and in a few minutes as he rambled, a scent, a pungent, nauseating and overpowering scent. It was dreadful and could have come from an animal as he lives and works in the wild. I don’t know. It started to flow around me. I began to drift into unconsciousness. I knew I could not pass out with him in my house. I immediately got to my feet as I needed some fresh air. I said Jackie, “I’ve got to go”. I moved to the door, opened it and said “Jackie, take care of yourself”, and I pushed the screen door open. He stood up rubbing his stomach and said, “I always take care of myself Russ”. He walked out the door and I closed it behind him.

I swiftly moved to my bedroom, fell on my bed and passed out. I woke up around noon that day wondering what would of happened if I had passed out in front of Jackie Vasques. Was this to scare me or was it for real? And he just couldn’t get it off. Maybe I was protected by some higher power.

In my first weeks in Belize there is a fellow quite eccentric. His name was Menzies and he is another soldier of the Peoples United Party. He came to my house and asked me if my name was Russell Grant. I said “Yes”. He went away and came back with a membership card for the Peoples United Party. He also brought with him a little book. It was the biography of Margaret Thatcher. He asked me to read it and see what I thought of her. I knew already what I thought of Margaret Thatcher. I threw the book on my desk and when he returned I gave it back to him with no indication of what I thought of her.

I wondered who in Belize would have been interested in what I thought of Margaret Thatcher. She and all those who are associated with her and the conservative party in England are irrelevant and non-existent to poor uneducated, unskilled, homeless Belizeans.

Upon returning to Belize City after my ordeal in Corozal and after futilely trying to get someone to hear me, I thought I would take to the airwaves to try and inform poor Belizeans that I was not involved in any wrong doing in Corozal and that I was just a victim of a continuous, envious and fearful victimisation.

I went to Amandala and suggested I wanted to do a one hour radio programme, the consumer hour, I was charged Bz. $300 for one hour on Sunday evenings, and it was immediately decided that the cynical diabolical conspiracy would be extended to the radio programme.

Not having been on radio before with the exception of a short period at McGill University in Montreal, Canada. I wanted a co-host, so I was introduced to a fellow named Godwin Hulse, an Amandala and Krem associate, who admirably and effectively helped me.

For the first few weeks things went fine with Mr. Hulse, astute as he was in wicked comprehensive gutter politics in Belize. Then I had to go to Geneva in Switzerland for a few weeks and left Mr. Hulse to continue the consumer hour. When I returned they had planted the seeds of rejection and contempt in his head. We sat together for three more radio programmes before he removed himself and left me up there alone. The intention, I suppose, was that I would not have been able to continue alone, though I did, and for a novice quite well.

Although the Amandala compound has high fencing and are properly secured, drenched in floodlights, going to the last broadcast with Mr. Hulse, the compound was drenched intentionally in darkness. As I drove up to the gates it was an eerie darkness. I got out of my vehicle and entered the compound in its darkness, and as I walked through the darkness to the radio studio, I could see this human figure. It walked right up to me, peered into my face and I peered into his eyes. He asked, “Are you Carlton Russell”. I replied, “Yes. How can I help you?”. He said that he had a problem he wanted to discuss with me on the radio and would I help him. I said that you need to talk with Godwin Hulse as he is the host and I am only his co-host, and I walked away from him.

They knew fully well that I had a police licensed firearm in my possession. He might even have been sent there to kill me and couldn’t get it off. Suppose I had fell frightened, thinking someone was there to hurt me, pulled my weapon and started firing? That exercise was to instill more fear in me so I would be discouraged from continuing on the radio. However, I continued with a feared sergeant of police from the drug squad, driving me to the compound on Sunday nights and waiting until I was finished. They undermined every programme I hosted alone. Evan Hyde was by then training and preparing his son, Cordel Hyde, for a ministry in government. I suppose with an aim that he will be trained by Said Musa to be prime minister of Belize one day. He had the young boy running the radio station.

The conspiracy of my radio programmes was so bad that I walked off the station one Sunday evening. When I went to pay him on Monday morning he said I won’t charge you for last night. All planned and orchestrated to put him in a light of Mr. Honest Jack. All Belize is corrupt.

A machine boat was sent from the United States for me. One day I decided that I would go out to sea. I wanted someone who knew about machines and could navigate the Belizean coast. A fellow was brought to me by James Saunders who was an ex-police paramilitary and customs worker. I hired him. He is the brother of Rufus X, and I shall call him Calvin X. Rufus X thinks he is the hardman in the company of U.B.A.D. and Evan Hyde. He built the first primitive building on Amandala’s compound.

While we are out on the ocean, just around getting dark, and we were heading to Belize City, the machine of the boat exploded (sabotaged). In a few minutes a boat was following us and came alongside our anchored boat. This brother of Rufus X jumped into the rescue boat and proclaimed he is going for help, although I had suggested they take me in.

I am now left sitting in an anchored boat in the middle of the ocean, a pitch black night with a man who later turns out to be a killer, and bosom friend of Said Musa; James Saunders. He was also an associate of the once commissioner of police, Brooks.

Well, I sat there in the pitch dark of night for many hours, with this fellow sitting behind me in silence. Not a word being said. I have experienced many tricks like this before, trying to see if they could frighten me out of Belize, or truly intended to have me killed, and some how I slipped out of their net - protected by the Gods.

Tricks, like people coming out of the dark and springing up right in my face. Rufus X can tell you more about that. What do you do in a situation like that if you have a licensed firearm in your possession? I just smiled and moved on.

One afternoon in 1968, while in Belize, I came home and was going up my stairs when my driver James Saunders ran from behind me, up the stairs besides me, sort of covering me from view and exclaimed, “I don’t want them to shoot you!!” Why would they want to kill me, I enquired.

I had gone hunting one day with my driver James Saunders and returned home, got out of my vehicle and went up the stairs of my house with my riffle safely positioned and I thought safely locked as I kept all my weapons. I entered into my house and the rifle discharged. I was surprisingly alarmed. Since I am as careful with firearms as I am when driving.

One day in Harlem, I went to a Belizean club, ran by a Belizean man named Charles Foreman. There was talk of me going back to Belize. He looked at me and asked, “You guin da Belize?” I replied, “Yes”. His response, “They wem kill you rass” and that would have made him happy. Why would they want to kill me? I do not know.

Contemplating the hell I was going to encounter in Belize, there is this very intelligent Belizean woman who had put me before herself and her children, for many years, and I did not want to take her to Belize for fear of her having to deal with the experience of me being murdered. Knowing the possibility of them assassinating me was quite high. So I left her in New York, without adequate explanation as to why. Her name is Sylvia Tennyson.

Because of the stress caused by the hostility that was heaped upon me in Belize by the controllers, beginning with Esmond Willoughby, I started to have pain in my lower back, and that pain moved all over my body and lodged in my head, all my muscular system, head to toes, was racked with pain, and caused me paralysis. I was paralysed. I couldn’t walk, all my muscles were stiff as a piece of two by four, and I crawled with a tortoise like slowness and crucifying pain.

Sylvia Tennyson, always loyal and helpful, heard I was sick and came to Belize. While she was nursing me, I felt that it was the end of my life and maybe if I go to the hospital they could ease my pain and let me die in piece. The pain overwhelmed me. I asked her to call an ambulance and take me to the hospital.

As I laid there moaning and crying, she spent two hours on the phone with people on the other side of the line playing games with her, and not even permitting her to talk, and she persisted and finally asked them if they could send an emergency ambulance to Landivar and Dunn Streets, as Carlton Russell is gravely ill and needs to be taken into the hospital. We waited another hour when a half ton open back pickup truck arrived. A truck falling apart and grease laden filthy. Two older men wearing grease covered overalls, filthy themselves, puffin on their cigarettes. They got out and proceeded to pull an old military stretcher terrible filthy and stained with secretions, out of the back of their pickup truck.

My secretary asked them is that what you will take him in. “He is not going in that!” she said. Then comes to the bedroom to me and said, “You should see what they sent for you”. She helped me up to the window and I peered out and said I am not going in that. To myself I concluded that I would rather die before I would be put in such a condition and she sent them away, and I was left there to die, and they sat there laughing. I wouldn’t have been treated in that way without hierarchy instructions. In those days Belize had some degree of a decent ambulance service. I am sure the higher powers brought me through.

Things had gotten to the point where it became difficult for me to get a place to live, and so I brought some friends of mine (actually my white skin, blue eyed Canadian family) from Canada into Belize, so they could rent a house for me in their name and I would just move in and no one would harass me. However, as soon as they realized that I was living in their house the harassment started in the form of raising the rent, uninvited people entering the yard and trying to get into my house. This was the case on Princess Margaret drive where they had rented the house of the Shomans, Asad Shomans family.

Once they realized it was not the rich blue eyed Canadian and their blonde daughters living in the house, boy they were mad, and started the process of hounding me out, and when they failed, this was their last resort.

It was a quiet Sunday evening when all the ‘rich’ and ‘sophisticated’ folks were having a quiet time or entertaining their very ‘important’ friends. I do not have a television or radio, so I was laying in my living room reading, when all of a sudden there were vehicles with flashing blue lights at my gate, flood lighting my yard and groups of men, police and the military, charging into my yard and up my stairs, banging on my door and shouting demands that Carlton Russell open the door.

“This is the Police”, they shouted, “Open this door. We are the Police”. I just laid there, stopped my reading and listened, and they banged and shouted, “Carlton Russell, open the door! We are the police”. You see, the powerful people in Belize build their houses like fortresses; nobody can break through their door. Eventually, I got up and opened the door and they barged in, the police with firearms and the military with batons. They demanded to know why I did not open the door upon there command. I told them that I did not open my door for anyone after certain hours, and I proceeded to ask a question. The military fellows told me to shut up and only speak when the police sergeant ask you a question. Apparently I was under arrest. So I shut up.

The same military fellow who told me to shut up, his brother is a police C.I.B. officer, and got shot the following weekend after his military brother told me to shut up. 48 hours after he was shot and laid in the hospital lonely and frightened, Carlton Russell was the only person at his bedside consoling him. Not knowing this was the brother of the military fellow who told me to shut up. A couple of days later while carrying some soup for him made by me, while feeding him this soup his brother shows up. His brother is the same military boy who told me in my house, when I had not committed any crime, to shut up. None of the elite he worked and got shot for went to see him. Not even his boss the commissioner. When he walked up to the bedside, I looked at him and enquired, “Aren’t you the same officer who came to my house and told me to shut up?”. He replied, “Yes”. The same officer that was shot is the police officer they had taking my statement on the police atrocities I experienced in Corazal. They are playing quite a game, aren’t they?

They told me they had a warrant to search my house, and they proceeded to search my house and tear it apart. When they were tired and frustrated, the police sergeant walked out on the veranda and looked across into Said Musa’s house as if contemplating or looking for a sign. This is how the rich and powerful build their houses in Belize. They also build their houses so they can see right into each others house. He then said to his men, “Let’s go”. They left in sheer disappointment. I said “Excuse me, would you let me see the search warrant?”. He gave me the warrant. I looked at it and asked if I could keep it. He snatched it out of my hand and left with their lights blaring as they left.

For a few days after the police visited my house and tore it apart, I contemplated my next move, for I was quite embarrassed and thought I would just go away and travel for a while. I called someone to find a buyer for all my belongings in the house, sold them all, including a brand new half-ton pickup truck, for little or nothing, got in a cab and headed for Mexico.

I arrived in Corozal town and checked into a hotel. The following morning I got in a taxi and just started to ride around looking at Corozal, and talking to the driver. His name was Montalvo. He learnt that I would rent a house if I could find one, and he said to me that his sister had a house for rent.

He took me to his sister’s house, her name was also Montalvo. She had a relationship with a man named Ford Young, an expatriate American, dealing in real estate plus. She also has a son for an expatriate Anglo-Saxon man.

I met her, and rented her house furnished, with the exception of a freezer and a few other items, for six months at Bz. $1000 per month. If the house was rented in the normal channel they would of have paid Bz. $500 per month. I gave her Bz. $6000 in cash, rented other items from the son and gave him money too. He was an 18 year old boy. When I moved to the house I realised that the mother and son were living in the house, and just moved out to rent it to me. Although for Bz. $6000 most Belizeans would of moved out of their house.

Anyway, I decided I would settle down. I was there for two weeks, daily spending money on this family, lending the grandmother money, paying this driver absorbidant taxi fares, and they began to seem quite stupid to me in their little money games. So I asked them, including the taxi driver, to stay away from me.

The woman I rented from came to me one morning and said she had a person coming from Belize City to look at the house, and it would only be for a few minutes. I said certainly.

Early the following morning, a man and this landlady showed up. I was in the kitchen when they came inside and started to look around. As I went about my business a flash bulb went off, and when I turned around and looked it was Ford Young, this American expatriate, taking a picture of me. That was on a Wednesday morning. On Friday morning I went for a run and when I got back I filled the bath tub with hot water and sat in it, like I usually did after a run.

I had just gotten out of a hot bath when my doorbell rang. It was a police corporal in uniform. I let him in and he said he was only passing by and could he take a little search. I enquired, “Why would you want to search my house corporal?”. Tell me what you want and if I have it I will give it to you. He laughed and said he was only joking.

He left and about one hour later my door bell rang again. It was three police officers: One young Spanish officer in uniform, the same corporal that came first and an officer in civilian clothing carrying a blue and white woolen knitted shoulder strap bag with what appeared to be a firearm.

He identified himself as sergeant ‘Garifuna’ and said that he had a warrant to search my house. They came in and thoroughly searched my house. In my briefcase I had US $17,000. They ask me if I knew it was against the law to have more than Bz. $10,000 in your possession. I told them the law did not apply to me because my money came out of the bank. They said that they will have to take me down to the station. I said I cannot go outside as I will get terrible sick since I just came out of a hot tub, and if the breeze blows over me I would become gravely ill.

The Garifuna corporal said, “Give us US $500 and we won’t take you to the station”. They insisted they get money or I go to the station. Under no circumstance would I have gone out into the breeze. I said, “I’ll give you US $400”. The young Spanish officer stood out in the living room while the two Garifuna officers conspired against me in my bedroom. I had an impression that the young Spanish officer did not know what was happening. They took US $400 and left. Meanwhile I could see Montalvo, the taxi driver, standing under his house which was near opposite his sister’s house, watching.

About two hours later, there was this erratic ringing of my doorbell and demands “Open this f***ing door quickly, unless we break it down”. I went to the door and it was two Mestizo police officers in uniform; one a sergeant and the other a corporal along with the Montalvo landlady, and her mother. They came in and commenced to search my house, and when I spoke, I was told to shut up; A very arrogant sergeant indeed. When they were finished searching they commenced to throw all the furniture out of the house. I stood there and watched, quite alarmed. The grandmother was telling the police to ask me for identification and saying to me, “Next time you are in Corozal don’t mess with the Montalvo family”.

By this time the electricity and telephone were disconnected, all the food in my freezer spoiled and destroyed my freezer. When they were finished, they walked out and left me standing there, shocked, and feeling extremely vulnerable, and fearful….

I immediately got in a taxi and started to ride down to Belize City. As I drove out of the town of Corozal, there was a road block, manned by the same police corporal who came to my house earlier with a sergeant. He was alone and looked in my face with a troubling smile, and asked, “You are going to Belize City?”. I replied, “Yes”.

I drove straight to Belize City and to Philip Zuniga’s office, and told him what I had experienced that Friday morning. There he called the commissioner of Police Mr. Kent Haylock on whose watch all this police violation began. I sat there and watched Zuniga supposedly talking to the commissioner. He hung up the phone and said, “The Commissioner will call us back in a few minutes”.

I waited for an hour and he never called back. I stayed in the Villa Hotel for that weekend and on Monday morning I again went to Zuniga’s office and told him I wanted to bring the police department to court so I can understand what is going on, although I already knew what was going on.

I also wanted him to bring those two policemen into court and charge them with stealing US $400 from me. I asked him to proceed, got up and left his office and never heard from him again. I wondered if Philip Zuniga even called the police commissioner on the phone or weather he spoke to someone else or did he even speak to anyone!

I was now troubled; having been in Belize was quite a costly experience and now being in Belize was becoming a frightening experience. I had now realised and understand I could not live in Belize alone anymore. I rented a most insect and snake infested downstairs, for a most extortionate rent, of a house owned by and lived in with his family, a prominent member of the United Democratic Party. His name was Michael ‘Finigan’ Myvit. I thought I may have some degree of security there from the conspiracy conducted by the People’s United Party, the rich and the editor, and while there, the police sent an inspector Mehia to interview me. I was so embarrassed of my dark living conditions that I met the inspector at the door and asked him to give me a date, and I would come to police headquarters and be interviewed there. And so I did.

As they interviewed me, they asked me what I wanted them, the police, to do about this matter. What a question!!!! I told them I wanted the police officers to understand that this kind of behavior is illegal and wrong, and it should not be happening to any Belizean or anyone who comes to Belize. After the interview, I left police headquarters and never heard from the police department or the lawyer concerning this matter again. It almost seems a joke that a human being, weather they know who he is or what he is, weather he is a mystery man or not, could be treated like this in a democracy. I suppose for democracy to work it has to reside in men’s hearts, and so Belize is an unworkable democracy?

I went to Amandala’s office on Partridge Street and encountered Evan Hyde in his office, sat down and told him what I was experiencing. He immediately asked me if I wanted to go on his radio station (Radio Krem) with my story. I said “No”. He wanted the public to know that I could be harassed by the police too, that I was nothing special. He seemed quite amused. I suppose he was tickled, felt proud of himself to see his handy work coming to fruition.

I wanted a story written and published about what I had told him happened. He told me to come back tomorrow. When I went back, his father had a little box of an office at the door of the entrance of Amandala. There he told me to have a seat, and in comes Michael Ashcroft’s lieutenant, or MI6? An English white man, the slave and colonial master’s son. He takes out his tape recorder, turns it on, and commences to interview me on who I was and what happened in Corozal.

I spoke what I thought was necessary for him and I left shocked, nauseated and ashamed that Evan Hyde would use Amandala ‘freedom paper’ to bring foreign security agents into Belize to interview an African Belizean, and an African Belizean who gave lots of help to Belizeans including Amandala and Krem. Even to the rich. I felt violated….Betrayed. Now, you could well understand how Evan Hyde could support the United States of America in Grenada and England’s conservative party in the Falkland Islands.

Evan Hyde knows quite well who the enemy’s of poor people are, along with himself, Said Musa and their colleagues. Some pieces were extracted from the tape and scribbled in an incomprehensible piece of illiterate writing, and published in the Amandala that week. Belizeans, as ignorant as they are, might have thought Carlton Russell wrote the story, which was their intention.

The exercise is a persistent, envious and hateful effort to present Carlton Russell as someone he is not. Up until this present moment, for example, Carlton Russell dying in Haiti, the land of black magic (Obea) and death. No! I am alive and well and thinking about weather I want to go back to my country Belize or not, and how I want to deal with all those enemies of mine.

A little hustler of Belize City streets, an ex-employee of Krem and whose wife works for the bank, came to me and told me he heard of the problems I am having with the police. He knew of a meeting with some international journalists, taking place in a few days and if I wanted to go. I said “Yes”.

When I arrived they were all English and Canadian white men working for Michael Ashcroft, and this boy and his wife. Quite contemptuously, one of these little white men asked me what I did for a living. I told him what I did for a living had nothing to do with the way I have been treated by the Belizean police department. In other words, if you do not get up and go to work everyday, the police can violate your private life at will. That is not how the American’s taught me. Later on a film taken of me without my knowledge, unless they used videotaping taken of me by Bert Simon, without my invitation and excerpts taken from the tape interview doctored, edited and presented on a televised news presentation on Ashcroft’s and the Canadian television station. Again without my knowledge or authorization.

The morning after that television broadcast Arthur Barrow met me in the streets and said to me, “Major. I saw you on the television news late night. I was quit surprised”. I did not respond. I just smiled and went on about my business.

Bert Simon is a young fellow I knew when he was enthusiastic and fascinated with the American federal bureau of investigation. He wanted to become an agent. I wondered if he did.

A fellow, Bert Simon, came to visit me one day. We discussed some problems that I was having. The government had clearly violated my constitutional right to work a piece of Belizean land and violated the letter and spirit of the lands act by taking away 300 acres of my farm land, where I had spent a lot of money. I would not take them to court because of my spiritual rules. I also would not pay an attorney a fee as I had not done anything wrong to require an attorney. The problem with Author Belisle developed and I had to go to court so I wanted to have an attorney with me. Bert Simon indicated that he knew of an attorney that would help me. He took me to see Philip Zuniga. I told Zuniga that I needed some legal representation. However, I would not be able to pay him because I needed a friend more than I needed an attorney. If he wanted to represent me, he would have to agree to do it without charge. He agreed. When he severed his ties with me, he had certainly been properly paid. This is how I got involved with Philip Zuniga. Bert Simon was the Iman of the small American Muslim community in Belize around the time that I went there. This small community had shown me some ugly expressions of hostility. Instructed to do so by their Iman, I wondered. He was continuously cloaked in a Sherlock Homes character whilst investigating and asking questions concerning Carlton Russell.

I invited Bert Simon one morning to have breakfast with me. He brought along a video machine with him and immediately began to question and interview me while videotaping and recording. I found this situation quite awkward. He gave me no explanation as to why he was videotaping and recording me. Was it to show my sisters, brother and others in my family? Who was it for?

One morning I went to my farm. I arrived around 10am and was standing in the field watching the men work, when out of the blue sky came a Royal Airforce harrier fighter jet plane. It bore right down on me strafing as if it was going to crash right into me. I fell face down in the wet dirt and prayed. I prayed that when it ascended it did not blow my head open. When it ascended it did not blow my head open but blew all my young vegetable and bean crops away. I got to my feet frightened as hell. All the workmen stood around watching. Nobody said a word. I got into my vehicle and slowly drove to Belize City wondering where to go from here - terrorism in its true form. This is the first time I am mentioning this incident. I wondered weather the British government sanctioned this operation to happen to a Belizean. I wondered who in Belize would be powerful enough to convince the British government to come down on a poor, uneducated and unskilled Belizean boy like me in such a terrorising way, with that kind of gravity (bearing in mind that Margaret Thatcher was in power at that time); or weather a Belizean were capable and authorized to fly British war planes; or weather it was a powerful British man in Belize capable of influencing a British pilot? And what would have been testified in the courts if I had of taken this matter there? What would my farm workers testify they saw, bearing in mind that they were the only witnesses? If I had taken this matter to the courts, would they have testified that they did not see anything like that happen, considering that they were controlled from Belmopan? I would have been labeled crazy and that would have been a very serious blow indeed. This is where they would have succeeded in destroying me. That is why I did not take this matter into the courts. Contemporary democracy and capitalism is incompatible with Christianity. It forces human beings to have to violate their commitment with their God to survive.

I do not watch television so I was unaware that the editor, the politician and the rich and mighty were trying to make a fool of me in the Belize media, and suggesting to governments when I traveled to keep and eye on me, and going into Caribbean Islands questioning women about me. Taking pictures of my guests when they come to Belize, accosting them in the streets of Belize, Miami and New York. Talking about the big spread he has in Belize. The big spread is my farm. The farm moved with lightening speed in its first year, working the land by hand, machete, axe and chainsaw, and it caused a lot of attraction and was a model of how all Belizean land should be used. It gave human beings work.

The conspiracy by the workers was well on its way. Truly initiated and engineered by the Peoples United Party’s ministers in government. The men were stealing my property and not doing my work. It was so bad that I went to the farm one morning and dismissed all its workers. They protested that I had to give them two weeks notice or pay them two weeks wages. I said “No, you are all dismissed”.

I was summoned to pay them two weeks wages or go to court. I chose to go to court. The court is going to be heard in the Cayo district. I am out of my bed at 4:30am to be on the road so I will be in court on time. When the court convened, nobody showed up. The magistrate told me I could go. I had no case to answer and the attorney Philip Zuniga who was in court with me then told me that they could not bring me to court again, and that I did not have to pay them any money.

Two weeks later I receive a summons from the courts to pay two weeks wages or go to court. I went to the attorney Zuniga and he advised me to pay Bz. $4400. I paid! Cayo district is represented and controlled by Asad Shoman and his family. So I decided that the conspiracy on my farm was such that I would not hire any more workmen again, although I can still continue to cultivate the 1,000 acres. I rented some heavy machinery from some Jamaican men who were a constituent of the them premiere George C. Price, who then came to work and worked for the first week, and I paid them. They came to work a second week and I paid them, and I expected them to come to work a third week. They did not show up. A few days later their machinery were removed and I heard they had continued their migration to Florida in the United States of America. I never saw the machines or heard from them again. By this time whole scale looting was taking place on the farm.

Just as the farm was blooming beautifully; four foot high multicoloured highbred hibiscus hedges in front of barbed wired fencing with 350m length and 3m width of frontage of beautiful Japanese green lawn grass; 150 multicoloured roses; And 50 different species of multicoloured Holland bulbs imported from Holland and the United States bursting with beautiful colours. They were all blooming and the farm producing vegetables, ground food and fruits. The government of Belize, the People’s United Party sent me a notice in my mail box 391 stating that part of my lease for the farm was cancelled; A part that I had spent a lot of money on. That meant I now only owned 740 acres, and I needed 1,040 acres for my experimental and organic dairy farm. They had taken away 300 acres.

I went to my boat yard and instructed Arthur Belisle to make a signboard for me, again the colours of the People’s United Party, painting the board white with blue letters, reading: ‘The government of Belize has confiscated the land of this project which would have been an experimental organic and dairy farm. Unless the land is returned, the project stops’.

I took him to the farm and he erected the sign. Any person coming or going to the government of Belize and the high commission of the United Kingdom must have seen the sign, which was my intention for the media to investigate injustice and write about it. Not one person had a word to say on my behalf. By this time the farm was being robed of everything on the surface but lots of food remained underground.

By this time all three boat hulls were already built, finished and painted. They were polished and painted with varnish on green fiberglass bottom with the colours red, black and green at the waterlines, deck and sheer line. By now Author Belisle had been paid more than Bz. $23,000.

A young fellow came to my house one evening, as many young people came, and told me he was a boat builder and wanted to build a speed boat for me. He assured me that he knew what he was doing and just needed a break (this is the basis I used for the people I hired). I told him to bring me a list of all the materials he needed to build an 18ft speed boat. I believe that all a human being needs is the right information and help through education to be as great or as holy as another. He brought the list and I ordered the screws, nails and bolts, all stainless steel, from New York. I gave him money to buy mahogany and he started to work.

After a few weeks, the boy didn’t seem to be doing too well. A fellow named Lloyd Waite, whom I acquainted in New York, came to see me and I told him what I was experiencing with this young fellow. He said to me that he knew a fellow named Author Belisle, who is a good boat builder, and he would bring him to see me. And so he did. I spoke to Author Belisle and asked him to look at the young fellow’s work and give him some advice for me. I told the young fellow that Author Belisle will supervise him. The young fellow would have none of it.

I asked Author Belisle if he would finish the 18ft boat for me. His response was, “Do you want me to build you a fine boat Mr. Russell?”. By now the though of a wooden boat intrigued me, so I said “Yes”. In a few days he brought me a model of a 45ft, one mast, jib and sail yacht. I used to assume it was 48ft. we agreed it would be made of mahogany, santamaria and cedar. The keal or spinal chord was made from the mast of an old wooden ship that was wrecked in Belize bought from Author Hower: A very old piece of wood. I would order all the materials, all the screws, nails and bolts, again all stainless steel, and all the tools that were needed to build boats and produce wooden products, wooden toys including reproduced antique mahogany and cedar furniture. I ordered from new New York all the equipment necessary and materials for an efficient boat yard and wood working shop. Again, this took a lot of research and work in New York City and quite costly.

I told Author Belisle to build this boat, and if we were successful in finishing it we would open a first class boat yard and wood working house together in joint ownership producing for export. Again, another model for what we could do with our wood in Belize, and how we could build sustainable living for Belizeans. I asked Belisle how much he was going to charge me to build this yacht. He said, “Bz. $19,000”. I asked him how he wanted to be paid. He said that it did not matter. I said I would pay him Bz. $19,000 in payments of Bz. $200 per week and by the time the boat was finished he would have gained more than Bz. $19,000. By the time he was discharged he was receiving Bz. $350 per week. By the time the 45ft hull was finished, a 12ft speed boat ship planked and seal with cedar was also finished and paid for. The 18ft boat was partially finished and by now Author Belisle had been paid more than Bz. $23,000. This is how I came in contact with and what transpired between Author Belisle and myself.

I thought Author Belisle and I were getting on quite well. We had many superficial discussions on many subjects. He learnt very well that my spiritual laws do not permit me to carry a man or the government to court, nor to kill a man.

As he worked, building my boats, I visited one day, and as we talked he said to me that he had Bz. $16,000 in the bank and he was afraid of the Belizean economy falling apart, and that he wanted me to protect his money for him. I smiled and told him you will never lose your money. Don’t worry about that. I found his suggestions and request strangely naive.

A few days later he brought up the subject again. Again I told him not to worry. He came to my house in the following days. After his work one evening and told me he was serious about me securing his money for him because he was afraid. This is the third time he has mentioned this.

I said to him “Belisle, don’t worry about loosing your money. If you loose your money I will give it back to you! Just concentrate on building my boats”. He left my house, and about mid-morning the following day he walked into my house. I was at my desk. He dropped a handful of Bz. $100 bills on my desk and said, “Take care of it for me Mr. Russell”. I said, “Belisle, why are you walking around with that kind of money in your pockets? You will get robbed”. The appearance being that I am such a rich and trustworthy man that he wanted me to take care of his money for him. I continued to find his request and behavior strange. Not even counting the money, never touching it in any way and never checking with the bank or asking for a receipt and not knowing how much was there. In retrospect, the money that he threw on my desk could not have been Bz. $16000.

I told him to take his money back to the bank and draw from it every week his and his workers salary, and to buy whatever he may need for the boatyard. I used to go every week and give him money for his workers and materials, so I said I would stop giving you money. I told him that when he was ready for his money, he would have to come and tell me a few days in advance and I would return his money to him in installments as I did not have an account in Belize and received transfers from the bank.

I asked him if he understood the agreement and he replied “Yes”. I said “Then go ahead”. When the Bz. $16,000 was finished, he told me he had found Bz. $4,000 more, which made the sum I seemed to owe him was Bz. $20,000.

He continued to work and he is a master boat builder, a craftsman and master swindler and thief, and so his work was beautiful. We continued to talk. He told me one day that if I didn’t have money, the women that came from abroad to see me would not come. I simply smiled and went about my business. Someone told him to ask me that question as they wanted to hear my response. Another day he told me that I thought I am a little Jesus. I said you are exactly correct, that is exactly what I think of myself and went about my business. In these instances he spoke with aggressiveness.

Another day around noon, it was around Christmas 1973. I was at his house. He asked me if I ever had sex with a 13 year old young girl. He said he had one the other day. “A 13 year old right on the beds edge”, he said and pointed to his wife’s and his bed. I said, “No Belisle! And you better be careful. They could put you in jail for doing that”.

When I left and I thought about what Arthur Belisle had said to me (he is a cousin of Evan Hyde and would visit him quite often on my working time and holds him in high esteem). I did not believe Arthur Belisle was that kind of a man. The bed he pointed to was his and his wife’s bed, and I don’t think Arthur Belisle would have sex with a 13 year old girl in his wife’s bed, but maybe he would.

I believe that Arthur Belisle was told Carlton Russell is such a man, and was trying to see my reaction. Again, someone told him to ask me such a question. I have friends in Canada who leave their young children in my care….their sons and daughters visit me individually in other countries. They stay in the same hotel room with me. They came to Belize so they could be near me.

They were told to watch me and their young daughters; this is part of their conspiracy, to put their meaning or interpretation to Carlton Russell’s image, morality or character.

I went to my boat yard one afternoon, and Arthur Belisle started talking to me aggressively and boisterously disrespectful. I was taken back. Arthur Belisle is an older man than I, and I respect him. I told him to be careful of how he is behaving. He told me, “You and me are like married now. We are tied together”. I replied to him, “If you look into my life you will see that I am single. I don’t like to be married and we have just got a divorce”. Arthur Belisle went into a rage of insults, and I immediately told him that he is fired. He continued to talk and I said “Get off my boat yard”. He gave the keys for the tool house to his second man Russell Garbutt, got on his bicycle and left. I told Mr. Garbutt to take over and continue the work.

A few days later, I was at the boatyard when Arthur Belisle rode up on his bicycle and said to me, “I want my money. When am I going to get my money?”. This was the money he asked me to take care of. I told him to go to the attorney Philip Zuniga’s office and he will tell you how you will get your money. I told Zuniga to immediately instruct him to come to his office concerning his money. Zuniga pretended to have written him a letter. There was a confused argument in the court concerning that letter which I did not understand.

Instead of going to see Zuniga, he went to his lawyer, a Mr. Stain of Stain and Barrow Law Chambers, or so I was told, whose boat he has at my boatyard repairing with my materials and on my time, and without my knowledge or consent. I had nothing to say about it. I went to my boatyard one day and Arthur Belisle was constructing a coffin. Again, with my materials, on my time and I suspect to send me a symbolic message. A big casket completely finished. I knew nothing about it and was completely surprised.

I was served a writ to go to court and eventually I did. The courts decision was the beginning of a domino effect resulting in the conspiratorial dismantling of the elements that would have given me material legitimacy in Belize.

The decision was against me. Considering the Belizean judges at that time were controlled by politicians and the rich; in spite of the fact that I went to court and told the truth; and in the context of that truth it was that I pay the money back in installments as that was my only financial position. The decision was to pay it all immediately with interest.

As soon as the judge had left the court room, although I had placed my hands on the Bible and told the truth, verbatim as it happened, as you are getting it here. Arthur Belisle and his daughter who was a woman, although he had won his case, commenced to physically attack me in the court room, although he knew fully well that I had a loaded firearm in my briefcase while Evan Hyde’s reporter were right there wide-eyed watching and listening.

The attorney Zuniga was able to get between them and myself, and so I was ushered out of the courts. It tells you what kind of authority he is operating with in that he has absolutely no respect for or the fear for contempt of court, to behave in that way.

The description and structuring of what went on in court concerning this Author Belisle Vs. Carlton Russell case, printed on the internet (www.belizelaw.org), is a complete lie, a falsification and distortion, a fabrication of everything that happened between Author Belisle and I. I wondered what the purpose was.

I had never offered Author Belisle my diamond ring in lieu of any payment for work and material. He would not have known what to do with it. If I ever owed Author Belisle for work and material it would have only been for a few days as my transfers would sometimes be late or hidden by the banks, and within a few days he would be paid.

Russell Garbutt had nothing to do with what had happened. He did not even know of any financial transaction I had with Author Belisle, so there was no reason for him to be called into court as a witness: He knew nothing. I did not see Russell Garbutt in court concerning this matter, did not even know he was summoned. I do know or was told that he was summoned to court in a different matter concerning a discrepancy with the Lindo brothers, concerning the property which housed my boat yard. I was also told by Philip Zuniga that Dean Lindo in that case placed his hands on the bible and lied over Bz. $1,000 disagreement of rent. What happened between Author Belisle was straightforward as a needle and pristinely clear - absolutely no need for confusion.

Author Belisle brought a game of holding money for him to me, tying us together or so he thaught, with a personal expectation of swindling me or part of the collective conspiracy to destroy everything I set out to do in Belize; Destroying those elements that makes a human being seem productive, and hence substantially responsible.

I was visiting Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts one summer and met this intellectually and academically brilliant African Belizean brother who was teaching out there. I was happy to see him once again. I had not seen him since I was a little boy. He is older than I. He and my older brother Erick Russell were working together at the customs department in Colonial British Honduras. I visited with him for about two weeks. We went to the gym together and we talked about many things. He understood I had just come back from studying law abroad.

One evening as we sat in his house talking, he asked me, “So what are you going to do with your life now?”. I said that I wanted to go back to help poor Belizean people. He was shockingly taken aback! And exclaimed, “Don’t do that! They will destroy you”. I leaned back, stopped speaking, stared at him, and started to think to myself. Here is a Belizean whose brilliancy was nurtured in his roots in Belize who has turned his back on Belize. Now upon meeting a Belizean who wants to go back to Belize to help would alarmingly discourage him. I never expressed my thoughts to him. I left his house and never returned.

Upon our meeting we had never discussed Belize or Belizeans. He knew me as a little boy when I used to hang around the customs house. He has never known me to be in conflict with Belizeans although I have been all my life: So why would he suggest that they would destroy me?

Branston Clark was a solitary and sophisticated eccentric. The Belizeans he knew most and associated with were civil servants. So whatever knowledge and experience he had of Belizeans would have been gathered from among civil servants, and those civil servants would have been the permanent secretaries in government when I went back to Belize.

I now must apologise to a wonderful upright and righteous Belizean brother, Branston Clark, for in my ignorance and egotism, heaped scorn on his advice and dare to question his unprejudiced knowledge of Belizeans and in my best interests tried to warn me against them; my humble apologies to Branston Clark.

I had been coming to England since 1998. I first came here to see my tailor and shirt maker, Henry Pool and Co, at 15 Saville Row and my shoe maker, Edward Green and Company of Princess Arcade. I also did my shopping at Asprey’s of New Bond Street. In 1992, I went to see a dentist in Panama. He told me what I needed and what the cost would be. I felt I would have been safer sitting in a dental chair in London in spite of the alarming difference in cost; what a horrible mistake.

I went to see a Dr. David Crosley of 13 Harley Street. Besides leaving my mouth infected, he damaged my bridge and did not tell me he had done so. I had to go to three other dentists to have my infection healed. One of which was Dr. Cidy of 75 Portland Road, an excellent dentist, and winding up at Mark Akinson of 75 Harley Street who wrenched out my damaged bridge and replaced it; they cost me thousands of pounds.

I had to spend many weeks in their dental chair. I was so exhausted when it was finished. I just thought I would stay a few weeks until I felt better from my operations and was certain I was well. I stayed in hotels resting and walking around London and the countryside, and visiting four or five different gyms over the years.

As I moved around I felt myself being in the wilderness, and I have been in the wilderness since, just living here and thinking. What should I do: Go back to Belize? Or ask you to stay? Then my six month authorisation was over and I knew I was infringing on your immigration rules.

A Belizean named Evan Cayetano, whom I left all my computers and office equipment with, who was just starting to help me. He called me on the phone while I was in London and was surprisingly disrespectful because I was not back in the period I said I would and he was worried about his credibility. I realised I would not have anyone to work with me when I returned. Be it another conspiracy? I don’t know. All his family were card carrying Peoples United Party members. However, I forgot about my US $20,000 worth of equipment I left with him, and never spoke to anyone in Belize since, except during the hurricane when I sent someone some money.

How did I live whilst here? I have been receiving transfers for 15 years through the Royal Bank of Canada, Western Union, my visa and American Express cards, and friends coming to visit me and bringing me funds. My apologies for over staying my time and having my passport expire.

I am uneducated, unskilled, psychologically and emotionally damaged, as most Belizean, Caribbean and African westerners are because of racial abuse and abuse as a young child by my mother and father, sisters and brother, and most of those adults I came into contact with as a child. Although none could be held responsible as they abused me in their ignorance. Just as Evan Hyde, Said Musa, Asad Shoman, Philip Zuniga, Michael Ashcroft and those they control abused me as an adult, in their ignorance, though they will be held responsible.

Born under British colonialism, and the Union Jack, and influenced as to what a man should be by my father and Cyril Arthur Gibbs, I consider myself British born and bred. I have lived all my 70 years on earth not asking any government for welfare or any other kind of help and expect to continue to do so.

I survived all my life by my will to live a life with dignity and independence from my experience from the spirit of Jesus Christ, when I discovered it. I have never been sick, except for those times when the Belizean stress caused me paralysis, and never had to go to the doctors. Considering my age, I am in excellent health, and can probably teach the aged successfully how to stay healthy. I have always been baseless, without family and a citizen of no country.

Now, at 70 years of age, I need a country. I need a home. I want that country to be Great Britain. I cannot go on alone anymore. I need a friend and I want that friend to be Great Britain.

I have accumulated a wealth of knowledge and strength from the information and experiences I gathered roaming this earth. I want to write them down, and leave those writings as my contribution to the society of humanity….to do so I need to educate myself. I need to acquire an education. This is what I would be doing in England, besides being protected from the baronial wolves of Belize.

I ask for your leave to stay here. When I found myself in a position of fortune, I prayed for an understanding, for a purpose for my life, and I came to the belief that I should go back to Belize and put forth to poor Belizeans some of the ideas I developed and encountered during my suffering and searching for a deeper meaning than materialism, for a different meaning from what I know of human life.

I have come to understand that the people on the earth, as are the people of Belize are deeply suffering; Suffering because of the proliferation of the weapons of war and mass destruction and weapons of disfiguration; Suffering because of disgusting poisons, environmental degradation and ecology destruction; Suffering because of over population and fear of each other; Suffering because of the unwillingness to let capitalism to establish a sustainable existence for all human beings; And suffering because of the earths wealth. Human wealth being harnessed and used for destructive purposes, rather than human uplifting and dignifying and for ownership and control by a very few myopic and greedy individuals, groups and countries.

It seems to me that a piece of real estate should immediately be used as an experiment with a small population of human beings, poor human beings, who would change their values from blind greed, selfish and ignorant consuming, and living. To a sustainable way of life, to a life void of military violence, to a life void of the miss use of and over use of the motor car, to an agricultural system fundamentally organically based, to a demand that their wealth be used for the establishing again of education and skill training, comprehensive health care and housing for all its citizens, old and young, and not just for constant industrial economic expansion but human intellectual and spiritual expansion for all human beings.

To a demand that capitalism be made to evolve into an economic system where the bulk of its profit and wealth generation be geared to human development and sustainability, instead of ownership and control by a few individuals and small groups of people and a few nations, where human beings move in the direction of achieving a spiritual enlightenment and consciousness instead of a money, economic or wealth gathering consciousness and it is time for humanity to be told that they are endowed with a holy spirit. Born in that image and be shown how to achieve such.

To my mind, Belize seems to be an ideal country for such a human experiment. Belize is a country of very poor and deprived people. Even the educated are poor and deprived, including the new Baron of Belize. They saw independence coming and those that are educated saw themselves as the new elite, the new leaders, the new wealthy and powerful, the new royal class, and so would destroy any element that would seem to want to change a system that would propel them to realising those possibilities, of realising their dreams or modifying a system that would take them there.

Carlton Russell is such a ‘dangerous’ element that would sway poor Belizeans minds that would plant the seeds of change in their minds, and would continue to do so as long as he lives in Belize and so would be a hindrance to their quest, if poor Belizeans listened to him.

Wilfred Elrighton had said to me once, “Are you’re a rebel Mr. Russell?”. My reply was, “I am a rebel and a revolutionary. I just won’t take up the guns because it would be futile. You live by the sword and you shall die by the sword. Using guns is just not intelligent….”

So he will be continuously harassed, and made to live in fear until he leaves Belize; And if he does not leave, his blood will be shed and eventually he will be killed. I have seen the writing on the wall, along with a constant barrage of conspiracies of which you have only a small description of here. I have been experiencing for the past 20 years. I am now 70 years old and I am tired of being around those that are drunk with the quest for power and bitter with egotistical envy.