As constitutional questions hang in legal limbo, critics charge the ruling party with weaponizing the courts to silence the Opposition
The extradition proceedings against businessman Nazar “Shell” Mohamed and his son, politician Azruddin Mohamed, took a decisive turn on Thursday when Principal Magistrate Judy Latchman slammed the door on further evidence submission—but the real story lies not in what happened inside Georgetown’s courthouse, but in what is being orchestrated outside it.
Magistrate Latchman’s ruling came after defence attorneys objected to what they characterised as “late and piecemeal disclosure” by the prosecution—a pattern that has defined proceedings many observers view as less about justice and more about political neutralisation. The magistrate’s pointed rebuke that the case is “not a game of chess” rings hollow to those watching the PPP government move its pieces with calculated precision.
The United States seeks the Mohameds’ extradition on an 11-count federal indictment from the Southern District of Florida, alleging wire fraud, mail fraud, and money laundering connected to gold smuggling. Both men remain on $150,000 bail each, their passports surrendered, their freedom circumscribed by weekly police reporting requirements.
Their defence is being led by Senior Counsel Roysdale Forde, supported by attorneys Damien Da Silva, Siand Dhurjon, and Juman-Yassin Da Silva—a formidable legal team that has consistently challenged the procedural and constitutional foundations of the prosecution.
But the charges, however serious, cannot be separated from the political earthquake they threaten to suppress.
The Opposition Leader Who Cannot Lead
Since September 1, Azruddin Mohamed has been the people’s choice to lead the parliamentary opposition. The voters spoke. Democracy, in its most fundamental expression, delivered its verdict. Yet months later, Mohamed has neither been sworn in nor taken his seat in the National Assembly.
The reason is as transparent as it is troubling: the PPP government has refused to recall parliament.
No parliamentary session means no selection of the Opposition Leader. No swearing-in. No debate on policies. No mechanism to hold the government accountable. The ruling party has discovered that the simplest way to neutralise an opponent is not to defeat him in debate, but to ensure the debate never happens.
The timing of the extradition proceedings now takes on a more sinister dimension. With Guyana’s budget presentation expected to commence within two weeks, parliamentary oversight has never been more critical.
The country stands awash in oil revenues, transforming from Caribbean backwater to petro-state virtually overnight. The questions that need asking—about contracts, about expenditures, about the distribution of the people’s wealth—will go unasked if the Opposition Leader remains locked out of the chamber where those questions must be posed.
The Constitutional Question That Won’t Wait
Defence attorneys have repeatedly challenged the constitutionality of the Fugitive Offenders Amendment Act under which the Mohameds are being tried. Those challenges were rejected by the Acting Chief Justice—a ruling that surprised no one familiar with Guyana’s judicial politics and one that is being rightfully appealed.
Legal observers expect the decision to be overturned by appellate judges who can assess the constitutional questions on their merits, free from the pressures that permeate lower court proceedings.
Yet herein lies the procedural outrage: the magistrate’s hearing should have been suspended pending resolution of the constitutional challenge. When the very legal foundation of a prosecution is under appellate review, proceeding with the trial makes a mockery of due process. Instead, the matter has been adjourned to February 5—conveniently after the budget presentation begins.
The mathematics of injustice are not subtle. Sources close to the proceedings suggest a plan is afoot to commit the Mohameds to custody while their lawyers exhaust the appeals process. Imprisonment would achieve what parliamentary manoeuvring alone cannot guarantee: ensuring that Azruddin Mohamed is physically incapable of taking his seat when it matters most.
Taxpayers Fund Their Own Suppression
The government’s commitment to this prosecution extends to the public purse. Guyanese taxpayers have already funded US$62,558.78 to Terrence Williams, KC, and his legal team—reportedly for a single court appearance. The government defends this expenditure as consistent with treaty obligations requiring the requested state to bear local legal expenses.
But treaty obligations do not explain the zeal. They do not explain the refusal to recall parliament. They do not explain the determination to proceed while constitutional questions remain unresolved.
What explains it is power—and the fear of losing it to democratic accountability.
The Mohamed case is not merely about alleged gold smuggling or American indictments. It is about whether Guyana’s democracy can survive its oil wealth, whether opposition voices can be heard, and whether the courts will serve justice or political convenience.
February 5 approaches. The budget looms. And the Opposition Leader chosen by the people remains outside the parliament that belongs to them.
Democracy, in Guyana, is being detained without charge.
WiredJA
