TOM LEVINE VS. GENERAL STARKEY: THE JUNE 1, 1981 POLICE OPERATION THAT SHOOK JONES TOWN
A personal reflection and historical investigation by Christopher Porter for Jamaican Young Police. This article distinguishes firsthand memory from published reporting and unresolved historical claims.
The day Kingston remembers
June 1, 1981 remains one of the most haunting dates in the history of Jones Town and the surrounding communities. Anthony 'General Starkey' Tingle, a prominent figure associated with the violent politics of the era, died during a police operation on Love Street. The episode became part of Kingston's oral history, retold in yards, on corners, and by those who experienced the insecurity of the time. This feature examines the event alongside my personal recollections of Detective Tom Levine, the officer who inspired me to enter policing. Memory is valuable, but history also requires a distinction between what witnesses remember, what newspapers reported, and what official records can establish.
FROM THE BELLY OF THE BEAST TO TWO UNIFORMS: MY JOURNEY OF SERVICE.
From my upbringing in Jones Town and Concrete Jungle to serving in the Jamaica Constabulary Force and later the United States Navy, these two photographs document a journey defined by public service.
I came from the belly of the beast
I was born into a Kingston where politics was not merely a debate held at election time. In Jones Town and Concrete Jungle, party loyalties could influence where people walked, whom they trusted, and whether they felt safe after sunset. Children learned the geography of danger long before they understood the machinery of government. I did not learn about violence from a distant textbook. I saw how it shaped families and the choices available to young people. Yet I also learned that our communities contained hardworking parents, honest shopkeepers, ambitious children, and people who wanted nothing more than to live without fear. They deserve to be remembered as fully as the men who carried guns.
Why Tom Levine mattered to me
To understand my admiration for Tom Levine, understand the boy I once was. A police officer who could enter a tense community, speak respectfully to residents, and maintain his composure seemed extraordinary. I remember Levine as soft-spoken, well dressed, confident, and disciplined. I never associated his authority with foul language or humiliation of ordinary citizens. He looked like a man who took the responsibilities of his profession seriously. That example helped persuade me to become a police officer and eventually a detective. The greatest tribute I can offer is not to count bodies. It is to explain how a young man surrounded by violence came to believe that service under the law could be a different path.
The moment at Septimus Street
One image from my childhood remains vivid. At 7A Septimus Street, residents gathered by a chain-link fence as Levine arrived in an unmarked vehicle. I remember a crisp white shirt and tie and a composed manner that commanded attention. To a child, it was as if a famous figure had stepped into the yard. But what impressed me was not celebrity alone. He seemed approachable. He did not need to shout to be noticed. When I speak of the 'original name-brand detective,' this is the kind of memory I mean: an officer whose reputation preceded him, whose appearance communicated professionalism, and whose conduct suggested that the uniform ought to carry dignity.
The politics that made gunmen powerful
The 1970s were years of fierce political polarization in Jamaica. Armed groups and political patronage helped produce neighborhoods in which the authority of elected institutions competed with the authority of local strongmen. The tragedy was not limited to one party or one community. When any political organization treats an armed enforcer as useful, citizens become expendable. The young are taught that loyalty is more important than law; witnesses are intimidated; victims are told to remain silent. My criticism of political violence is uncompromising, but the historical task is to identify specific conduct and evidence rather than assume every supporter of a party participated in crime.
Who was General Starkey?
Anthony 'General Starkey' Tingle emerged from the violent political environment associated with Arnett Gardens and Jones Town. Historical reporting portrays him as an influential armed figure whose activities intersected with political patronage, community power, and the culture of fear. He was more than a nickname repeated in sensational stories: his rise illustrates how a young man can become powerful in a system where access to weapons and political connections substitutes for accountable leadership. The important question is not whether a feared gunman acquired fame. It is why a society allowed such fame to flourish and what happened to the families who lived under it.
A warning about mythology
History is often distorted in two directions. Some romanticize the gunman as a community defender, ignoring victims. Others romanticize every police shooting as proof of justice, ignoring the need for investigation. Neither approach serves Jamaica. A person may be wanted by police, feared by residents, or associated with grave wrongdoing, but those facts do not eliminate the right to due process. Police officers also deserve to return home safely and to defend themselves when lawfully threatened. A mature country can honor courage and demand accountability at the same time. That balance is essential if the next generation is to inherit something better than a cycle of retaliation.
What happened on June 1, 1981?
Accounts published years afterward place the fatal operation in the Love Street area on Monday, June 1, 1981. The Jamaica Observer's historical account, reproduced in later archives, says approximately twenty police officers surrounded a house and that eight men died after what police described as a gun battle. Those reported dead included Starkey and his brother Michael McLeod. The account also describes recovered weapons and two injured police officers. Reggae artist Eek-A-Mouse later recalled being near the scene and escaping death. His testimony offers an eyewitness perspective but does not settle every disputed detail. The circumstances and individual responsibility for each death would require contemporary operational and forensic records.
The detective and the operation
In my recollection, Tom Levine's name is inseparable from the pursuit of armed men who made Kingston communities afraid. I have long associated him with the Starkey episode. But association is not proof that one officer personally fired every fatal shot. Where later accounts describe a large police contingent, responsible history must avoid assigning all deaths to a single detective without reliable supporting records. Levine's reputation and the profound influence he had on my life do not depend on an unverified numerical claim. Indeed, his example deserves more than mythology: it deserves the careful historical investigation that serious policing and serious journalism demand.
The testimony of Eek-A-Mouse
The reggae artist's recollection is chilling because it shows the terror experienced by people who found themselves in the middle of a police operation. He described warnings that police were approaching, desperate attempts to escape, gunfire, and the fear that he too might be killed. The account reminds us that events described later as legendary confrontations were lived in real time by frightened human beings. A historical narrative must therefore make room for the perspective of the bystander, the police officer, the bereaved relative, and the resident awakened by shots. Their stories can conflict, but none should be dismissed merely because they complicate a preferred version.
The people who paid the price
Political violence did not end when a prominent gunman died. Mothers buried sons. Children grew up without fathers. Businesses lost customers. Residents were pressured to choose sides in disputes they had never created. Some families feared the gunman; others feared being caught between the gunman and the police. Every community death left consequences that outlasted the newspaper headline. When I argue that Jamaica needs fearless policing, I mean policing capable of protecting the ordinary person whose name never appears in a report. The measure of success is not how many funerals follow an operation; it is how many families can live without anticipating another one.
Why I became a detective
I chose a life of service because I believed the criminal path was not inevitable. Growing up in an environment scarred by political violence could have narrowed my ambitions. Instead, the example of officers such as Levine made another future imaginable. As a Jamaican constable and later detective, I learned that a badge cannot replace judgment. A detective needs courage, yes, but also patience, local knowledge, respect for witnesses, disciplined evidence gathering, and an understanding of the communities in which crimes occur. The strongest case is one that survives scrutiny in court. The strongest police reputation is one that ordinary people can trust.
Street knowledge is not an optional extra
Experienced investigators know that a street has a history. They understand who lives where, which families are frightened, which conflicts began years earlier, and why a witness may hesitate to speak. That knowledge cannot be manufactured from a desk. Yet it must be used ethically. Intelligence is not a license to punish by rumor, and familiarity with a neighborhood is not proof of guilt. Good detectives cultivate sources, corroborate information, preserve evidence, and work with communities rather than treating entire neighborhoods as enemies. Jamaica should invest in that professional craft instead of assuming that equipment and dramatic operations alone will defeat organized crime.
The difference between fear and respect
Some gunmen may have feared Tom Levine; I remember admiring him. These are not the same thing. Fear can make an armed man flee. Respect can persuade a child to choose the police service. Fear may control a corner temporarily. Respect can help a witness cooperate or a resident report a crime. In my memory Levine carried himself with an uncommon combination of resolve and courtesy. That combination is what I want younger officers to study. An officer who humiliates innocent citizens may gain momentary compliance and lose public trust. An officer who acts professionally under pressure gives the law a chance to command genuine loyalty.
No politician should own a policeman
The most important principle of public policing is impartiality. A police officer does not belong to the People's National Party or the Jamaica Labour Party. The oath is owed to the law and to the Jamaican people. In my recollection, one reason Levine was widely discussed was that residents could not easily attach a partisan label to him. Whether every historical judgment about him can be verified is another matter; the ideal itself remains essential. A commissioner, superintendent, detective, or constable must be free to investigate wrongdoing regardless of political influence. The same standard must apply when a suspect is connected to powerful people and when the suspect has no connections at all.
What the archives can and cannot tell us
Newspaper reports preserve names, dates, police statements, and eyewitness recollections, but they are not substitutes for complete investigative files. For the Starkey operation, important unanswered questions include the exact number of officers involved, who discharged weapons, what ballistic findings showed, what contemporaneous inquests concluded, and whether operational records identify Levine's specific role. Claims that he personally killed six or seven people in this particular event need documentation before being presented as established fact. The same applies to larger career totals sometimes repeated in oral histories. If records exist, they should be examined, not merely invoked. Data is king precisely because it can correct even a compelling story.
A question for the Jamaica Constabulary Force
I would welcome the responsible release of historical information about major operations from this era, subject to lawful privacy and archival limits. How many police officers were present? What did their reports say? What happened to the recovered weapons? Were independent examinations conducted? What can surviving personnel and community witnesses add? Answering these questions would not dishonor officers who served in dangerous circumstances. It would demonstrate that the force values its history enough to document it accurately. Jamaica's policing story belongs not only to those who wore the uniform, but to every citizen who lived with the consequences of police and criminal violence.
The danger of glorifying the departure lounge
On Jamaican Young Police, I have used the phrase 'Departure Lounge' as part of the language of street history. But no phrase should obscure the gravity of a death. The purpose of policing is to preserve life, apprehend suspects, and bring evidence before a court. Deadly force can be justified when legally necessary to confront an imminent threat, but it should never become an informal measure of an officer's worth. The officer who prevents a shooting, rescues a child, or builds a case that convicts a violent offender without another death has also performed exceptional service. That is the kind of standard worth passing down.
A message to young Jamaicans
To the young man standing on a corner in Jones Town, Denham Town, Arnett Gardens, or anywhere else in Jamaica: do not confuse being feared with being respected. The man who supplies a gun may disappear when the consequences arrive. The politician who praises loyalty may never attend the funeral. Your mother, your children, and your community are the people who bear the cost. There is another path. Become a detective, teacher, nurse, engineer, entrepreneur, or honest tradesperson. Learn the history of your neighborhood without surrendering your future to its worst chapters. You are not required to repeat the choices of those who came before you.
My tribute to Tom Levine
Tom Levine occupies a special place in my personal history. I remember his bearing, his courtesy, and the confidence he inspired in a young boy who wanted to serve Jamaica. I do not need to pretend that every story told about him is fully documented to express gratitude for that influence. His legacy, as I experienced it, is a reminder that professionalism can be visible even in the most troubled communities. He showed me that a police officer could command attention without surrendering dignity. I hope that the next generation of detectives will be remembered not simply for fearlessness, but for honesty, restraint, skill, and service.
What Jamaica must demand now
Jamaica needs investigators who know their communities, commanders who protect professional independence, courts that can handle serious cases promptly, and witnesses who can testify without terror. It needs credible firearms investigations, transparent statistics, and a refusal to treat political influence as immunity. It also needs to honor officers who act lawfully in dangerous conditions while investigating alleged misconduct without favoritism. None of these reforms can be reduced to a slogan. They require sustained training, resources, public trust, and leadership willing to measure outcomes honestly. Crime reduction means fewer victims, not simply more dramatic headlines.
The final word
The story of June 1, 1981 is bigger than one gunman, one detective, or one police operation. It is about the Jamaica we inherited and the Jamaica we must choose to build. I will continue to honor the officers who inspired me, and I will continue to challenge the political culture that allowed armed men to dominate neighborhoods. But the historical record must be treated with care, because a country cannot learn from a past it refuses to examine accurately. Let the archives speak. Let witnesses be heard. Let officers' service be remembered with dignity. And let the lives of ordinary Jamaicans remain at the center of the story. Substance over popularity. Data is king. You watch, you listen, and you decide!
Sources: Jamaica Star, June 1 2023, Eek-A-Mouse recalls the day cross-dressing gangster was killed: https://jamaica-star.com/article/entertainment/20230601/eek-mouse-recalls-day-cross-dressing-gangster-was-killed ; Jamaica Observer, February 3 2008, General Starkey lived only one score and six years (archived reproduction): https://jamaicangroupiemet.com/blog/2012/06/28/general-starkey/
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