Shal­iza Has­sanali

Se­nior In­ves­tiga­tive Re­porter

shal­iza.has­sanali@guardian.co.tt

When he was a teenag­er, Alex Philip left Venezuela, deeply en­trenched in a life of crime, to come to Trinidad to re­shape his des­tiny.

In­stead of clean­ing up his act, he end­ed up build­ing a hu­man traf­fick­ing ring that ex­ploit­ed Venezue­lan fe­males be­tween the ages of 14 and 25 for prof­it, sold drugs and was al­so of­fered $1.5 mil­lion to laun­der mon­ey for some­one.

Now 47, Philip con­fessed to the full ex­tent of his il­lic­it ac­tions in an ex­clu­sive in­ter­view with the Sun­day Guardian, in the pres­ence of his pas­tor Nicholas Con­stan­tine at the Streams of Free­dom Min­istries In­ter­na­tion­al church in Ch­agua­nas last week.

For years, he told about how he nav­i­gat­ed a shad­owy un­der­world of smug­gling both women and drugs, fu­elled a boom­ing il­lic­it sex in­dus­try, and built a ring of sub­ju­ga­tion that made him one of T&T’s elu­sive hu­man traf­fick­ers for years and did so un­der po­lice pro­tec­tion.

From pry­ing eyes, Philip cut deals with his bee­hive of male cus­tomers, many of whom he said were in­flu­en­tial and well-known in and out of busi­ness cir­cles.

By ex­ploit­ing these girls and women, Philip, a fa­ther of five, opened three nightlife es­tab­lish­ments and built an em­pire of wealth, pow­er and sta­tus that made him un­stop­pable for over a decade.

Now bur­dened with re­grets, Philip wish­es he could turn back the clock to change the path he once chose.

Ear­ly life of crime

As a teenag­er, Philip got swept up in crim­i­nal be­hav­iour and be­lieved that mon­ey was the so­lu­tion to every­thing.

“I want­ed to be as big and fa­mous as pos­si­ble,” he said with con­vic­tion.

With that mind­set, it com­plete­ly over­shad­owed his bet­ter judge­ment as he got deep­er in­to his il­le­gal op­er­a­tions.

He ad­mit­ted that greed, glitz, glam­our and glo­ry cloud­ed his judge­ment, dri­ving him sole­ly to make mon­ey at the cost of the young girls’ lives he ex­ploit­ed.

Born in 1979 in Ciu­dad Guayana, Venezuela, Phillip had every­thing go­ing for him as a child. He was the third child of Floyd Alexa Philip and Sylvia Weekes, both of whom were born in Trinidad and moved to the neigh­bour­ing coun­try to live.

At age sev­en, Philip lost his fa­ther in a bus ac­ci­dent that claimed the lives of 30 pas­sen­gers.

Weekes, who sur­vived the ac­ci­dent, spent six months in a co­ma in hos­pi­tal.

“It was a trau­mat­ic ex­pe­ri­ence for me as a child,” Philip re­count­ed.

Af­ter be­ing dis­charged from hos­pi­tal, Weekes had to do maid work to sur­vive.

Philip, who did not at­tend school, had to ac­com­pa­ny his moth­er on jobs, watch­ing her do la­bo­ri­ous tasks for mea­gre pay to raise her chil­dren.

As Philip grew up fac­ing one hard­ship af­ter an­oth­er, that tough­ness slow­ly stripped away his abil­i­ty to care.

He ran away from home at age 14 and joined a gang to prove him­self by han­dling sev­er­al il­le­gal tasks for the group that be­came a big part of his life.

Philip first be­gan run­ning er­rands.

Then he trans­port­ed drugs and grad­u­at­ed to buy­ing il­le­gal sub­stances for the gang.

His as­so­ci­a­tion with the group made life eas­i­er for his fam­i­ly, who were pro­tect­ed from harm and ha­rass­ment.

At 16, Philip had to un­der­go his first ini­ti­a­tion by com­mit­ting an il­le­gal act to demon­strate his loy­al­ty to the gang.

In 1994, he did some­thing- he did not dis­close what it was - that led to the po­lice and ri­val gang mem­bers hunt­ing for his head.

“My moth­er got scared be­cause what I had done was not a nice thing, and that is how she de­cid­ed to move me to Trinidad.”

Un­able to speak Eng­lish, Philip begged his moth­er to re­turn to Venezuela, promis­ing not to en­gage in any crim­i­nal ac­tiv­i­ties.

Un­for­tu­nate­ly, he did not ful­fil that promise.

In 1996, at the age of 18, Philip was sent back to Trinidad, where he start­ed to build his il­lic­it busi­ness.

Buy­ing and sell­ing girls

He be­gan smug­gling girls from Venezuela to fat­ten his pock­ets. The coun­try’s porous bor­ders al­so fa­cil­i­tat­ed Philip bring­ing in drugs with the help of lo­cals and Venezue­lan na­tion­als.

Philip ef­fec­tive­ly used these un­law­ful ac­tiv­i­ties as a launch pad for his busi­ness ven­tures and to amass his wealth.

“One of my first busi­ness­es that I did was traf­fick­ing fe­males to Trinidad,” Philip ad­mit­ted, hang­ing his head in shame.

He dis­creet­ly op­er­at­ed the hu­man traf­fick­ing ring from 2010 to 2016 with­out be­ing ar­rest­ed.

In those six years, Phillip met and pro­vid­ed ser­vices to peo­ple in high places and re­ceived pro­tec­tion from the po­lice.

The ma­jor­i­ty of his cus­tomers were wealthy busi­ness­men.

“The po­lice was around. They had all known me. When you are in that kind of busi­ness, you as­so­ciate with a lot of peo­ple, who you know take care of you. So most of those peo­ple help you get through things with­out any kind of com­pli­ca­tions. The po­lice have al­ways tak­en care of me, you know. They al­ways take care of busi­ness.”

Every six months, Philip re­ceived 23 girls, rang­ing in ages 14 to 25.

He said this was the age pref­er­ence of his cus­tomers.

Af­ter their six-month stint, the girls were sent back to Venezuela and “a fresh batch” would be sent to Philip to work.

The fe­males were sourced by Venezue­lan men who worked for Philip in the traf­fick­ing ring.

These men were paid hand­some­ly in US dol­lars to smug­gle the Span­ish-speak­ing girls to Trinidad.

“They (men) would search for girls and then send you pic­tures of them.”

From the col­lec­tion of pho­tographs, Philip se­lect­ed fe­males with cer­tain phys­i­cal fea­tures to meet his clients’ re­quests.

“You have cus­tomers who come and pay up front and say they (would) like to see girls with this colour eyes, this colour hair or this age.

“Trinida­di­an (men) like girls with long black hair, they like pret­ty girls … they like fair-skinned girls.”

Philip had to meet those de­mands, which in­clud­ed a high­er cost for his cus­tomers.

“They want to see dif­fer­ent fe­males all the time. They want the sub­stance to use while they would be with the fe­males. So that is a lifestyle that you just pleas­ing them … and they just do­ing it for fun.”

The women were giv­en free ac­com­mo­da­tion and meals.

How­ev­er, these fe­males had to cov­er their trans­porta­tion fees and re­pay Philip for the ad­vance he had giv­en to their strug­gling fam­i­lies in Venezuela.

“And they come with the idea that they will work, pay off their debt and they would leave. Most of them come with the idea that it’s a quick easy work. But when they reach here, it’s a dif­fer­ent sto­ry. You know peo­ple take ad­van­tage of them.”

The cost of each fe­male var­ied be­tween US$1,500 and US$5,000.

The re­quest for a cer­tain type of girl would be prici­er.

Philip said some men booked these women ei­ther on short- or long-term arrange­ments, pay­ing top dol­lar for their bod­ies.

A cus­tomer who sought a short-term agree­ment paid be­tween TT$10,000 and TT$15,000 for a few hours of a fe­male’s in­ti­mate com­pa­ny.

The rental of a fe­male on a long-term ba­sis came with a price tag of TT$15,000 and TT$50,000.

When a client se­lect­ed a woman for a long-term arrange­ment, she was ex­pect­ed to per­form wife­ly du­ties for a few days.

“It’s like buy­ing a wife,” Philip said.

The mon­ey flowed in eas­i­ly, and Philip found him­self rub­bing shoul­ders with high-end cus­tomers who fre­quent­ed his es­tab­lish­ments.

“You just want­ed more of it,” Philip said, re­fer­ring to his ill-got­ten gains.

The mon­ey came fast and went just as quick­ly.

“I was a wild spender. I would have par­tak­en in cel­e­bra­tions that maybe I would have spent $50,000 when the night comes.”

Philip said when the girls ar­rived in Trinidad, they hand­ed over their pass­ports.

Af­ter clear­ing their six-month debt, they are free to re­turn home.

Dur­ing their stay, he said these fe­males pro­vid­ed sex, en­ter­tain­ment, com­pan­ion­ship and so­cial host­ing.

Night club ex­pan­sion

Of the two night­clubs and one bar Philip opened in South Trinidad, they were fre­quent­ed by what he de­scribed as sex crazed men.

He ad­mit­ted that mon­ey gen­er­at­ed from his il­le­gal ac­tiv­i­ties fund­ed the open­ing of these es­tab­lish­ments, which at­tract­ed cus­tomers from all walks of life.

How­ev­er, the last night­club he opened in 2015 was re­served for spe­cial clients and cus­tomers who need­ed pri­va­cy and in­ti­ma­cy with these fe­males.

The night­club pro­vid­ed VIP ser­vices, pri­vate rooms and spe­cial events tai­lored to their clien­tele’s needs.

Ei­ther one cus­tomer or a group of men would rent the night­club for a night of fun, re­lax­ation and en­joy­ment.

De­pend­ing on who rent­ed the night­club, Philip col­lect­ed be­tween $15,000 and $25,000 in one night.

“So with the spe­cial cus­tomers there was spe­cial rates,” Philip said.

Busi­ness deals were cut.

Asked if any of his clients were politi­cians or promi­nent peo­ple in so­ci­ety, Philip did not an­swer but laughed.

With this busi­ness tak­ing flight, Philip said his con­science start­ed to both­er him.

“That is where I be­lieve I felt guilt … be­cause the last, as I say, group of girls that came in­to that es­tab­lish­ment there were all at a young age. And I think at that point, some­thing hit me. I have daugh­ters … I have nieces, and I think that day or that time, when those girls came in, some­thing both­ered me a lot. It was a dark place in my life.”

Phillip said he knew he had tak­en things a bit too far.

“The peo­ple I was deal­ing with had tak­en me too far. I was lov­ing the mon­ey … the at­ten­tion. The peo­ple who I was gath­er­ing with could have walked in any place in San Fer­nan­do (his busi­ness­es) and not pay for any­thing. Ba­si­cal­ly, I felt like if I had sell my soul at that point in time. I was par­tic­i­pat­ing in a lot of things that was not of God.”

Philip kept away from the night­club for four months.

The busi­ness’s fi­nan­cial records were sent to Philip’s home to mon­i­tor his dai­ly sales and prof­its.

When he re­turned to his es­tab­lish­ment in Feb­ru­ary of 2017, an un­ex­pect­ed in­ci­dent hap­pened.

Philip fell in his bar and could not move his legs.

Life chang­ing ac­ci­dent

He was rushed to a pri­vate hos­pi­tal where a se­ries of tests was un­der­tak­en.

“I had $300,000 in my pock­et.”

Philip made this mon­ey on Car­ni­val Mon­day and Tues­day.

This mon­ey was spent on tests, but doc­tors could not tell Philip why his legs had lost mo­bil­i­ty.

Fur­ther tests caused his med­ical bill to climb to $500,000.

“I end­ed up home ly­ing in my bed for months not know­ing what to do. I was sad­dened and ashamed be­cause I didn’t want no­body to know how bad my sit­u­a­tion was…I was like a veg­etable.”

The peo­ple who sur­round­ed Philip for his mon­ey turned their backs on him.

With funds run­ning low, Philip, who was con­fined to a wheel­chair, had to sell his busi­ness­es.

The bank re­pos­sessed his ve­hi­cle.

As a suc­cess­ful busi­ness­man who had gained his wealth through il­le­gal means, Philip’s world be­gan to crum­ble.

In the months that fol­lowed, Phillip was vis­it­ed by one of his aunts who took him to a pri­vate hos­pi­tal in East Trinidad, where tests showed that his spine had col­lapsed.

He was re­ferred to the Er­ic Williams Med­ical Sci­ences Com­plex for cor­rec­tive surgery.

Two days af­ter his June 20, 2017 surgery, Philip was di­ag­nosed with mul­ti­ple myelo­ma can­cer.

This type of can­cer af­fects plas­ma cells in one’s bone mar­row, and the doc­tors gave Philip five years to live.

As time ran out, Philip turned to God for strength, courage and guid­ance.

He al­so made a con­scious de­ci­sion to change his crim­i­nal lifestyle.

“That was the turn­ing point in my life.”

Turn­ing to God

He said the pow­er of prayer was what ul­ti­mate­ly helped him over­come his great­est chal­lenge.

Af­ter two years of deep faith, Philip not on­ly found the de­ter­mi­na­tion to walk again, but the can­cer mirac­u­lous­ly van­ished from his body.

Fol­low­ing his re­cov­ery, Philip said he found him­self in a quandary, as he had no mon­ey to main­tain his fam­i­ly or pay his bills.

“I couldn’t find mon­ey to feed my fam­i­ly, but I found mon­ey to go back in that busi­ness. The temp­ta­tion was there. My biggest re­gret was dis­re­spect­ing God when I should have known bet­ter.”

In 2020, Philip opened a bar and slipped back in­to his old ways.

Philip said he was ap­proached by peo­ple who asked him “to wash” $5 mil­lion, and his cut would have been $1.5 mil­lion.

He turned down the of­fer.

He said a guy who was stand­ing next to him when the of­fer was made agreed to laun­der the mon­ey but was killed in Oropouche short­ly af­ter.

Philip ac­knowl­edged that he had failed God by es­tab­lish­ing the bar, and by 2021 he be­came paral­ysed again and need­ed a sec­ond spinal surgery.

At this junc­ture, he re­alised he had to de­vote his life sole­ly to God.

Philip joined Con­stan­tine’s church, and with the pas­tor’s en­cour­age­ment, he be­gan shar­ing his life sto­ry with the con­gre­ga­tion as a mem­ber.

He changed his life and gave up his bar.

The fol­low­ing year, he was walk­ing again.

Philip said this was the di­rec­tion God want­ed him to take, as he found clar­i­ty and pur­pose with his re­aligned life.

“What I can tell the youths is that this life does not leave you. It haunts you. That lifestyle does not take you any­where.”

In 2024, Philip opened a car rental agency in Cou­va.

A month ago, he mar­ried his girl­friend An­na­gret Bran­ca.

Now, as Philip plans to be­come a mo­ti­va­tion­al speak­er to stu­dents, he views it as a step to re­demp­tion.

Po­lice ac­tion on hu­man traf­fick­ing

The US De­part­ment of State Traf­fick­ing in Per­sons 2025 re­port stat­ed that crim­i­nals net­ted be­tween $25 and $64 bil­lion glob­al­ly in 2023.

In this re­port, T&T was ranked as tier two, which showed that some progress on tack­ling hu­man traf­fick­ing was made but hasn’t ful­ly met all the stan­dards.

Ac­cord­ing to the In­ter­na­tion­al Labour Or­gan­i­sa­tion, an es­ti­mat­ed 17.4 mil­lion peo­ple are ex­ploit­ed in forced labour in the pri­vate econ­o­my.

These forms of ex­ploita­tion gen­er­ate an es­ti­mat­ed $236 bil­lion in il­le­gal pro­ceeds an­nu­al­ly, and through com­plex sup­ply chains, can con­nect le­git­i­mate com­pa­nies and un­know­ing con­sumers to this hu­man rights abuse.

The Traf­fick­ing in Per­sons Act of 2011 crim­i­nalised sex traf­fick­ing and labour traf­fick­ing in T&T.

Traf­fick­ing in chil­dren can re­sult in a fine of $1 mil­lion and im­pris­on­ment not less than 20 years.

Adult of­fences car­ry a fine of $500,000, with 15 years in jail.

In Trinidad and To­ba­go, of­fi­cial da­ta from the Counter Traf­fick­ing Unit (CTU) and the Min­istry of Na­tion­al Se­cu­ri­ty (Home­land Se­cu­ri­ty) in­di­cat­ed that ap­prox­i­mate­ly 80 to 85 peo­ple have been for­mal­ly charged/ar­rest­ed for hu­man traf­fick­ing of­fences since the en­act­ment of the Traf­fick­ing in Per­sons (TIP) Act in 2013 through late 2024/2025.