Dear Editor,
If the high office of Permanent Secretary is meant to be the engine room of a ministry, Sharon Roopchand-Edwards has just signaled to the nation that her vessel is drifting without a compass, a logbook, or a captain. To stand before a court of law, hand resting on a holy book, and suddenly find the intricate details of a high-stakes extradition process as hazy as a morning fog is not just a personal lapse; it is a professional catastrophe.
This is the woman tasked with the daily stewardship of billions in public funds and the oversight of complex international portfolios. Yet, under the mild heat of cross-examination, the architect of the ministry’s operations transformed into a bewildered bystander, clutching at the tattered remains of a convenient amnesia.
One must wonder how a mind capable of navigating the labyrinthine corridors of government budgetary allocations suddenly short-circuits when asked about the mechanics of $224 million in payments to foreign lobbyists. Does the memory only fail when the light of accountability shines too brightly? Her intransigence on the stand is a masterclass in gaslighting. To suggest that a 9:00 PM Friday night delivery of papers is a “tangential” detail is an insult to the intelligence of every taxpayer.
In a country where the wheels of bureaucracy usually move with the speed of a tectonic plate, a nocturnal, high-speed dispatch isn’t a clerical “whoopsie”—it is a mission. For a PS to claim she cannot recall the specifics of such an extraordinary event is to display a chilling disregard for the judicial process itself.
This “I don’t recall” defense is not merely a witness being “intimidated” by a courtroom; it is a public servant failing the most basic test of her mandate: transparency. Her disposition mirrors a wider, more infectious arrogance within this administration—an attitude that the public is not entitled to the truth and that the witness box is just another place to play political hide-and-seek.
If the “protection of the institution” is the goal, then the institution is currently being guarded by a fortress of silence. A Permanent Secretary is, by definition, an accounting officer. If the accountant cannot account for the time, the money, or the signatures on a Friday night, then she is either dangerously incompetent or calculatedly mute.
If the truth were as solid as the government claims, it wouldn’t require a witness who treats her own memory like a shredding machine. We should all be deeply concerned if this “selective amnesia” is the standard disposition for those holding the keys to the national vault. If Sharon Roopchand-Edwards truly cannot remember what she did two weeks ago, perhaps she should be relieved of the burden of remembering anything at all.