Tranquility Bay Statement E: From the Mother of a Former Student
[Name withheld by ISAC] was 15 when I saw the ad in a magazine. It advertised structure, excellent education while addressing issues of adolescents. I was 38, a single mother [identifying information withheld by ISAC].
Little things had started to happen after I was diagnosed. [My daughter] skipped school a few times, was involved in a car accident where another teenager was killed was drinking and driving, staying out and sneaking out.
I made the call from the magazine and discussed with my son then a freshman in college. He looked on the internet, called them and as a father figure in her life thought it was a good program and education.
We were familiar with Jamaica as a traveling family and felt like she would adapt and be happy in the enviroment. But, we didn't tell her we were going to take her to TB. After touring the island for a week, we dropped her off there at a prearranged time. Jay and Randall met us as soon as we pulled into the compound.
[My daughter] didn't realize what was happening or even why when she was placed in handcuffs and finally a straight jacket. Jay assured me this was normal and also reminded that I had chosen to "deliver" her. He wanted to have her scooped from her bed in the middle of the night by strangers and whisked to JA to TB. But, I wanted to see this highly "regarded program" about education and structure.
We did the paper work, I gave them $33,000 cash, US. They took her passport, school documents, books, clothes, etc.
We could hear her screaming and then she stopped. Randall said she stopped because she was with the other "students" and they were having lunch.
I ask to see her room and felt it was a long shot from what had been described as a dorm to me. But, I knew she was spoiled and could use a dose of reality. My son too felt it was time for her to have the structure I couldn't give her.
We were then told that we couldn't talk to her "anytime" as we had been told in the telephone interviews. But, that she would earn those rights based on behavior. How long I ask, "oh it could be six weeks or longer. It depends on her."
We didn't leave Treasure Beach for two days as I wanted to find out more. I tried to talk to guards as they would leave the main road, but they refused to talk as cameras "where everywhere."
We drove to Port Antonio and met with our friends [names withheld by ISAC]. [He] had family in [withheld by ISAC] and he felt he could find out more for me. I went to Kingston and talked to the Embassy, US and the Jamaica officials. There were no reports of anything that was alarming they said. I researched the newspaper archives for articles, still nothing.
We returned to the US. We were appointed a contact, a very nice Jamaican lady that would call me at my expense every week. After 3 weeks and no calls I started call TB every day and sometimes 3 to 4 times per day. I was taking chemo, trying to parent and keep our home and worrying myself to death.
Finally a lady called me, (I don't have her name as those records are in storage) She said [my daughter] was settling into the program quite well but that she had continous yeast infections "from the heat."
I ask for them to take her to the doctor. They didn't for a long time until she bled when she urinated. The doctor turned out to be a paid off quack that worked for TB and kept quiet.
I mailed her prescriptions for the yeast infections. She then became constipated and they said it was because she refused to eat. Soon, I would discover that she was fed so little that a bowel movement only happened rarely.
Finally I was able to talk to her, even though she had not received enough levels "because she needs to hear you say you will not remove her and that you can't!" I checked all the paperwork and couldn't find anything I signed that said that.
When I talked to her it was obvious we were monitored. She did't ask to come home and answered everything as "fine." She sounded so calm and even said, "this is what I need."
By then [my friend in Jamaica] was finding out information from his family.
So, I flew to JA and went with [my friend] to see [name withheld by ISAC] and told her what I knew and how sick [my daughter] was all the time. She told me that she knew several guards and would have them check on [my daughter]. Two days later she called [my friend] and told us that [my daughter] was kept in solitary confinement most of the time. That when she wet herself she had buckets of water poured over the top of the 4x4 booth that she was shackled in. She was given one bowl of cornmeal mush a day and sometimes a piece of fruit and water from a tin bucket.
I called and demanded to speak to Jay or Randall. I went to the site but was refused entry. I drove to Kingston to the embassy and filed complaints. I went to the police headquarters and filed complaints. I can't begin to tell you the hell that I was going through and I will never know all that [my daughter] was going through.
Finally the embassy advised TB to let [my friend] in to see [my daughter], but that I should be kept at a distance so [my daughter] would not see me and "cause problems."
[My friend] was allowed to sit across from [my daughter] in an outside gazebo. She kept her eyes down and barely spoke. Her mouth was covered with blisters and her wrists were bruised. A guard stood close enough to hear and watch everything. [My friend] tried to hug [my daughter] hello but she screamed and stepped back, even though she had known him for several years. I stood on the upper terrace of the dorms and could see she didn't carry herself the same and that she sat with her hands under her legs. She didn't have on any of the clothes that I had sent, but long pants and a man's shirt, even though it was over 100 degrees. She ask [my friend], "how bad to I look? We are not allowed to see in a mirror or even look into the water for a reflection." He said you look a little sad and sick. She didn't answer, but tears slid down her cheeks. She looked bloated. When she arrived six weeks before she was a 5'5" student, with beautiful shiny long hair and weighed 120 pounds. She had been a ballerina most of her life.
Now, she limped, slumped, slurred, and had large bald spots. I later found out they pulled out her hair to make her look as ugly as she really was.
The entire time I am watching her and [my friend], I was surrounded by Randall, two upper level students, and 2 guards.
In about 10 minutes the meeting came to an abrupt end and [my daughter] was led away. She looked up and I thought she saw me, but didn't let on.
I knew that I would get her out, I just didn't know how.
I flew back to the States but no attorney wanted to become involved because of "lack of evidence and no physical evidence."
Five days after I was back into the US, TB called. The call came from Randall on behalf of Jay. [My daughter] was in a clinic and very ill. She had been caught taking food from the night shift along with 3 other girls. "She became so upset that she has made herself ill."
I flew the next morning to Kingston and was met by [my friend].
When I went to the clinic she was not there. the "doctor" would not give me her records or info. He just said, that he "didn't know how she had lived this long." The doctor was in a small town nearby.
We drove to TB. They would not let our car or hand bags through the gates, but they let me go alone. [My friend] stayed with the car. I found her in an unairconditioned room, with no windows, open door no screen on a mat. She could not talk but her eyes were open and dry. Her mouth was matted with blood and her entire body was covered with blisters. She was so filthy that I couldn't stand the stinch. No one was with her. No one came with me. Someone took one bag of her things and threw them over the gate to [my friend].
I picked my child up in my arms and she flinched. She was in rags and I would not have even known her in another enviroment. I saw the lady that was suppose to be my contact. She mouthed, "i'm sorry."
I had just completed a series of chemo and had traveled back and forth 4 or 5 times to JA. But, [my daughter] was so bloated but weighed so little that even at my weight of 105 and sick she was easy to carry. They opened the gate just enough to get her through. [My friend] helped me load her in the back of his car. Someone threw a sheet over the fence.
We drove to Treasure Beach Hotel and I got a room. We put her on the bed and I undressed my child. The smell of the blisters was like rotten flesh. Her hair was full of lice and her sores had magots in them. Her blood pressure was so low we couldn't get a pulse.
We had something like gatorade and forced it down her with a straw. I put her in the tub in cool water but she only stared.
[My friend] went into the village a bought antibiotics and creams and things that I had not brought with me. [My daughter?s] fever was raging.
The next day we drove to Kingston, but the hospital refused to see her when they found out where she had come from. We drove on to Port Antonio and even [my friend?s] doctor, a friend was very guarded in treating her.
She would have to be quaranteened becaused no one knew what she had. But, I soon found out she had been raped, sodomized, beaten, starved, forced to bath in an infested river, wash her clothes in the same river and drink the same water.
I stayed in [Port Antonio] with her for 3 weeks. We slowly started to see an improvement and finally she agreed to go to the Beach for the day. She was afraid of the guard at the Beach and cried. She had to sleep with me. I had to cut most of her hair off to get it free of lice.
Her mouth and teeth were so unkept that she couldn't eat much. I left her there for three additional weeks because I wanted to go to the US first to find out where I should take her. The doctors said she might have "ganga"?
She talked a little to [my friend], but slept on the floor outside of their room. I called every day and finally felt as if she was strong enough to travel and well enough that she would not be put in quaranteen.
When we took off from Montego she started crying and didn't stop for days.
My daughter is now 22, a student and lives in [withheld by ISAC]. She is strong, resourceful, loyal and beautiful.
We now talk about all that happened to her, sometimes in the middle of the night she calls me and sobs.
I can't tell her story because it is hers. It's a story about a young girl and has grown into a strong woman, years older than 22.
My child is alive because I did't give up and because I had insight contacts. I will never forgive myself for my lack of judgement or forgive my government for lack of assistance or knowledge of these programs. And please don't forget, in the magazine ad it was approved with the "Good Housekeeping" seal of approvement.
This is the story of a mother that will never let the world forget what our children have endured.
