MEMOIRS OF A TOP COP
Western Cape gangbuster Jeremy Vearey has published the story of his extraordinary life, including torture, imprisonment and being Madiba’s bodyguard
THE man approaching me in the parking lot is alert, , wary and highly attuned to his surroundings. Behind him, at a discreet two-step distance, is his bodyguard, also watchful, always making sure he stays near his boss. For Major-General Jeremy Vearey, keeping an eye out for danger has become second nature.
“When you work for the intelligence unit the only engagement you have with your environment is to scan it for any hostile activity,” the top cop explains when we finally sit down to chat.
“I’d walk into a restaurant or pub and choose a particular position on the basis of what maximum field of vision it gave me. I’d look at what the obstacles would be if I had to exit, where I’d get cover if I was shot at. So my whole environment became operationalised.”
Vearey, the deputy police commissioner in the Western Cape, has seen it all. He’s witnessed murders, endured horrific torture at the hands of the apartheid government and put notorious gang leaders behind bars. He’s also had the privilege of working as Nelson Mandela’s bodyguard.
And now, at the age of 55, he’s documented his extraordinary life in his memoir, Jeremy vannie Elsies [ Jeremy from Elsies], a reference to being from Elsies River on the Cape Flats.
He spent three years writing it, relying on family members to help him piece together the stories that make up his life.
The book chronicles everything from his days as a barefoot six-year-old boy having his first political awakening to the man he is now – a grey-haired majorgeneralwho’s finally able to drop his guard a little after years of fearing for his safety.
“I’m only now enjoying life without an operational eye,” he says. “I can go to the beach and not immediately scan my surroundings for danger.”
HIS mother, Annette Vearey, inspired his passion for politics. As a garment worker in Elsies River, Cape Town, in the ’60s, Annette was actively involved in organisations such as the Garment Workers Union.
She was a no-nonsense kind of woman who was always ready to take on anyone who threatened her son.
Jeremy recalls one occasion in particular when she came to his aid. He was six and living in Elsies River with his mom, father, Dennis, and sister Merle. One day he caught a bus with Annette to nearby Parow. The minute the bus stopped at the terminus the excited barefoot boy leapt off and made a dash for the subway.
His mother yelled at him to stop but Jeremy didn’t listen.
Only once he was inside the dark alleyway did he realise he was alone – and it was too late.
‘I’m only now enjoying life without an operational eye’
A sudden kick to his stomach and a firm pull on his ear was followed by the hissed words of a man chasing him out of the “whites only” area.
But the next minute Annette was at his side. She and several other women stood defiantly, fists on hips, and warned the burly bully that if he didn’t let her son go, they’d teach him a lesson.
That episode was a defining moment for him, Jeremy says.
“You start asking your parents questions such as, ‘Why does that sign say ‘whites only’ and why does the other one say ‘non-whites’? It was the first time I experienced those signs practically and politically.”
Jeremy studied education at the University of the Western Cape and began his teaching career as a teacher at Valhalla Secondary School in Elsies River in 1985, teaching English and history.
But alongside his day job his political future was starting to take shape. Two years earlier he’d been recruited into uMkhonto weSizwe, the armed wing of the ANC.
Then in 1987, in the middle of a lesson, Jeremy was told that an important call awaited him in the headmaster’s office. But the minute he stepped out of his classroom, two policemen handcuffed him and led him to the principal’s office where a lieutenant was waiting.
Jeremy, then 24, was charged with terrorism and sent to Robben Island for three years.
“From there, I formed part of the command of the ANC’s intelligence wing in the Western Cape. I also trained as a bodyguard to Nelson Mandela.” He was released in June 1990. Jeremy’s role in the ANC had been to destabilise the security police department and military as well as to neutralise any attempts by the state to infiltrate the organisation.
“It destroys innocence,” he says matter-of-factly. “Seeing the world through the lens of an intelligence operative, approaching the apartheid world as a soldier – it’s a very isolated existence.”
And there was no time for romance. “You never wanted to be tied down to a situation where you could be emotionally vulnerable. That was a chance for the enemy to exploit.”
That all changed when he met the woman he’s now been married to for 22 years, Bernice Roeland. They were introduced by a mutual friend and it was love at first sight. The couple have two sons, aged 20 and 17, but Jeremy is a private man and is reluctant to say too much about his family.
What he will say is when he isn’t chasing bad guys, he enjoys the simple things in life such as walking his two dogs and reading.
Reliving some of his disturbing experiences while writing the book was difficult, he says. Especially when he had to delve into his time on Robben Island.
“You’re tortured to a point where things start becoming surreal,” he says. “Ja, it was definitely hard.”
He says working for Madiba helped to change his view of the world. “Madiba saw the world as grey – he didn’t see someone as being absolutely good or bad.”
CRACKING down on gangsterism as a member of the police force led to him constantly watching his back.
After leaving his job as Madiba’s bodyguard he joined the National Intelligence Agency (NIA) as a deputy director. In 1995 he was transferred to the police with the rank of colonel. He worked his way up to his current rank of major-general and post as deputy police commissioner and head of the anti-gang unit in the Western Cape.
The breakthroughs he’s made include jailing notorious gang leaders Rashied Staggie and Michael Booysen, but his work has also resulted in threats on his life.
“Look, the 26s (one of the notorious prison Numbers gangs) will say I work with the 28s until they realise I’m putting 28s behind bars,” he says. “Then the 28s will say I’m working with the 26s until they realise we’re putting the 26s away.”
He’s been repeatedly accused of corruption but maintains there’s no truth in the allegations. “Working at this level, when you can’t be corrupted, what’s the next step? To discredit you. That’s how the game works.”
In 2016, he and Peter Jacobs, at the time the SAPS crime intelligence head, were demoted for what Jeremy calls “purely political reasons”.
“There was no logical explanation for it. We were on the forefront of major investigations such as the Colonel Prinsloo case.” (Colonel Chris Lodewyk Prinsloo was found guilty of providing illegal firearms worth around R9 million to Cape Flats gang lords.)
Jeremy and Peter took their case to the labour court and won. Both men were reinstated.
“All those people who made those corruption allegations against me, their days are coming. If they’ve allowed themselves to be used by gangsters, they will face the consequences.”
The title of Jeremy’s book is a homage to his identity and how the area he grew up in shaped his view of the world.
“Our children living on the Cape Flats must see that there are people who grew up like they did. They must see there are those who have a story similar to theirs. For me it was important to show these kids their stories can also be told.”