Autobiography
Who KilledMiss Che Che?
An Autobiography
Episode5: The Accident
On the 22nd December 1982, the police cameto my house with a search warrant. While they searched and foundstolen clothes in my room, my mind was working up a lie.
"Where did you get these clothes,"a policeman asked.
"My mother bought them from Miss Lucindafor me for Christmas." I had thought of Mrs. Lucinda becauseI had bought clothes from her before.
My mother was asked and she denied buyingthem. That was one lie that led to another.
The police then found the stolen shoes."Where did you get these," the same one asked, holdingthem up.
"I bought them from Mrs. Lucinda."Another lie. Mrs. Lucinda denied selling them. All of this convincedthe police of my guilt so they kept at me.
I was escorted to the West Bay Police Stationwhere my mother was waiting for me and she was present when Iwas interviewed by an inspector from Scotland Yard. I said nothing.I told them where I was the whole evening that Miss Che Che wasmurdered and who I was with after I had gone home, which was alltrue. I left out seeing Mike and Jeff on my way home: I had madea vow with them and I was determined not to break it. I also leftout the fact that I had a rifle.
The police interviewed Nicole's people andit was confirmed that I was there late that night before I leftto go home. I did not know that the police had checked this informationout until 6 years later when the statements popped up dated backto December 1982.
Later that day I was charged with murderon the slim evidence of finding me with the stolen clothes andshoes. That's all! They also charged me with burglary. I was expectingto be charged with handling stolen goods but murder!
My mommy left to get an attorney, Mr. Levy.I spoke with him and he said he would see me in court the followingmorning. I cried, worried, and did not sleep. I was locked intothe cells in the back of the station. I pled with the police thatI was innocent but no one cared or listened. Someone was chargednow.
They questioned me about the rifle. "Iknow nothing," I told them.
I could not tell them what I knew becausepeople would get into trouble. I was already charged and I knewthat I would not be convicted of murder. My mommy and friendsbought food, cigarettes, clothes and shoes for court. I smokedtwo packs of cigarettes that same night.
My first time in jail, 17 years old. I becamethe killer of Miss Che Che in the eyes and minds of everyone inthe Cayman Islands!
I was escorted to court the next morning,23rd December 1982, a Thursday. The court building was surroundedwith people all staring at me, come out to see the killer. I heldmy head high and looked around at the crowds of people, even heldeye contact.
"Hang him!"
"You murderer!"
"Hang him high!"
I ignored the crowd and walked into thecourt through the front doors, handcuffed, up the stairs intothe court, then down to the cellblock. I was full of rage butnever showed it and controlled myself.
Then the judge called my case. The officerstook me upstairs. My lawyer was sitting in a chair behind a longtable. I was standing in the dock. The court was full of people,those who couldn't sit were standing. My friends were there, Nicoleand most of her family, and my family. I never saw Jeff or Mikethough they must have known that I was charged. I figured theywere worried to death somewhere, hiding out, waiting. I vowedthat I would not break my promise but I was scared.
The judge, who was Judge Hull at that time,was writing. He stopped and looked up at me. He read my chargesand asked, "What do you plea Mr. Ebanks?"
"Not Guilty!" I turned and lookedaround the courtroom. People, hateful eyes staring at me, I lookedright back at them and I still do today.
The prosecution said the case was stillunder investigation and requested I be remanded into custody.I was remanded until the same day the following week, Thursday30 December 1982. That was where I spent Christmas that year andmany more years to come.
I was locked into the same cell I had occupiedpreviously until later that evening. My lawyer told me not toworry, that I would soon be out and assured me he would come tothe prison to see me. The police escorted me out the back door,downstairs and into the police car. It was about 4:30 pm and peoplewere everywhere from Nova Scotia Bank to Comart's store, everyonestarring. My family was there telling me not to worry, that theyloved me and would come to look for me.
In the police car I sat with tears runningdown my cheeks looking out at all those people. I was still cryingwhen I got to Northward Prison that evening where my father, whoI had not seen for over 6 years, worked in the kitchen as a ChiefLead Officer Cook.
I stepped out of the police car after ithad stopped in the heart of the prison's main gate lodge. I wasplaced in a detention room, waiting. I was then taken to the reception'soffice and handed over to the prison. The police left. All ofmy property was handed over, bagged and put away.
I was given a prisoner's kit which consistedof: 2 blue pants; 2 blue shirts; 2 towels; 1 bath rag; 1 mattresscover; 2 sheets; 1 pillowcase; 2 white t-shirts; 2 pairs of socks;1 gray sweater; 1 pajama suit; 2 pairs of white underwear; 1 bluecap; and 1 pair of sneakers.
A prison officer then escorted me down tothe cellblock, which was referred to as "phase one".I spoke with the commanding officer there in the office, Mr. KeithDixon. Some inmates referred to him as "Sergeant Rock"and he was very muscular and hard, but nice in character. He haslong since resigned and is now working at the courts in GeorgeTown. I faced this man.
"Do you know who your daddy is?"
"Yes sir. Mr. Vernon Ebanks,"I said.
"Do you know your daddy works hereat the prison?"
"Yes."
He then said that my father was in the kitchenfixing some supper for me because the other inmates had alreadysupped. I started to cry again right there in front of the facesand eyes peeping out at me through the dorm's bars.
I was too young to be placed in the maximumcellblock unit on my left, referred to as D Spur. That is whereprisoners were placed after committing a discipline breach againstthe prison, a place to be punished. The doors are thick, the windowsare high up the wall, and one can hardly see outside unless hestands on the face basin below the window. That is where
I am today, in one of those cells. I wasplaced in C Spur, which was for young people in a minimum-securitylocation from there is where I escaped in 1988.
Next: Philip describes his firstexperience at Northward Prison, only seventeen years old.
*All Names have been changed to protectthe rights of individuals.
Disclaimer: The preceedingexcerpt from the Autobiography of Philip Glennan Ebanks is copyrightedby Philip Glennan Ebanks and does not necessarily reflect theviews of Cayman Net News, CNN employees or its affiliates. CaymanNet News does not accept responsibility for opinions expressedin this series.©