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<![CDATA[ (RSS 2.0)]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/ RSS feed of en-us sBLOG 0.5.1 Beta (Build 20050402) Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:25:04 GMT Fri, 22 Jan 2010 15:42:18 GMT <![CDATA[Frank Matthews]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=69

In the 1970s the heroin market in the United States was dominated by a black distributor named Frank Matthews who operated out of New York. He was the most notable black figure on the east coast at the time and one of the first major independents who challenged the mob for supremacy in the criminal underworld. The Black Caesar, as he was known, was a new kind of super-criminal ruling a nationwide empire of dope. He was the boss of bosses and the DEA ranks him as one of the Top Ten drug traffickers in United States history. A pivotal figure in the history of the drug trade, Matthews was one of the nation’s largest narcotics dealers from the 1960s through the early 1970s, and he routinely handled multi-million dollar shipments. More importantly, Matthews was the first black man astute and confident enough to control an interstate organization the size and scope of his operation, at a time when the Mob controlled everything, illegal or otherwise. Astonishingly Matthews did it while still in his twenties.

He became a major dealer in twenty-one states with quality overseas contacts for both heroin and cocaine. Frank was a North Carolina country boy who seized control of the black rackets in New York City. The DEA said that Matthews imported heroin from Turkey by way of processing plants in Marseilles, France and cocaine from Latin America. Street legend has it that his wealth could not be counted. He had Pablo Escobar-type money in the early 1970s. It didn’t go to his head. To him money wasn’t but a thing. He controlled the illegal drug market in the inner-cities from the east coast to the west coast and had contacts with Cuban wholesalers who controlled vast portions of the South American coke trade to the United States. Matthews earned respect in the streets and criminal underworld by holding his own against the Mafia. When his profits became so huge that they took notice he didn’t bow down, he dictated. In essence, Frank was the first black man that had the Mob shook. He was a true trendsetter and set the standard for future street legends who followed in his path and tried to earn the title of American gangster.

Matthews was Mr. Big. In four years he made an estimated 300 million. By the early 1970s Matthews’ organization was handling multimillion dollar shipments in 21 states. He was running a well-oiled and profitable operation that functioned like a machine. He worked on strict business principles- high grade heroin sold at fair prices with a ruthless attitude toward payment. Dealers could cut Frank’s coke ten times and put an eighty on the heroin. Frank would descend on a town in his Cadillac and give local distributors the benefit of his wisdom. He franchised like McDonald’s.

A suitable candidate for a Matthews’ dealership would be identified in advance by one of several point men Frank employed to find market opportunities for him and it was almost always an agreeable experience. Matthews probably accounted for the distribution of about one third of all the heroin entering the country. His purchasing power was the kind the Corsicans couldn’t ignore and the deals he brokered showed his stature. In the summer of 1971 Matthews took delivery of 150 kilos at 623 East 37th Street in Brooklyn. Five weeks later he got another 100 kilos. That winter two more shipments of 112 and 152 kilos arrived.

His biggest problem was securing enough cocaine and heroin to keep his organization running smoothly. He also had to deal with shortages of cutting materials. A five percent bag of heroin was also ninety-five percent quinine, mannite, milk sugar, Epsom salts or some other soluble non-toxic base, so that by the time a 100 kilo shipment of pure reached the streets at five percent strength, it would’ve been cut with over two tons of filler. At three percent it would need about three and a half tons. Quantities of that sort weren’t available over drugstore counters.

Quinine, the preferred cutting material was hard to come by. After 1971, a license was needed to buy or sell it and many drug dealers diversified into pest control, one of the few businesses left that could use quinine legally on a large scale. Needing it by the truckload Matthews went this route. By the late spring of 1972 his stockpile of cutting materials was so low that he was unable to cut and distribute 50 kilos of heroin he had, though every dealer in his empire was begging for a package. Frank set up a company called Herald Corporation to buy stock in a bank and import mannite from Italy. Walter Rosenbaum was his partner in the venture.

Not all of Frank's shipments made it. In January 1972, Matthews went down to Miami to supervise the final stage of 175 kilos of pure coming in from Marseilles. The dope cost 1.75 million and Matthews was set to make 2.5 million on the one deal. By the time the heroin hit the street, cut perhaps 30 to 1, it would have generated $150 million. Agents of the BNDD acting on a tip moved in, as the first three couriers were leaving by air for New York and Matthews was hit. It was the biggest bust the government had to date, but by no means the biggest Matthews ever put together. Six months later 400 kilos were seized in the New York harbor, but crooked cops sold Matthews his heroin back, 180 kilos of it. Matthews just paid for it twice. Matthews was knee-deep in money so it didn't matter. A loss was a loss. He just needed the product from whatever source he could get it from.

The cop, Detective Joseph Nanziatta, a fifteen-year veteran on the force who signed out the 180 kilos, was later found dead in his car, an apparent suicide, in the Greenport section of Brooklyn. He had an appointment to see U.S. Attorney Whitey North Seymour Jr. that day.
The prosecutor was offering him immunity from prosecution, in return for his cooperation in an investigation of corruption among narcotics agents and police officers. A few hours before the interview Nanziatta apparently drove out to Greenpoint, wound up the windows and shot himself in the left side of the chest with his .38 caliber service revolver. The dirty cop’s death didn’t register for Matthews. He went on about his business as if nothing happened. He was about money, money, money. One associate told how Matthews, “Kept money bundled up in rubber bands, stacked in broad parallel rows, like green brick walls, three to four feet high, from one side of the room to the other, with aisles between them to help make the counting easier.” That was how Frank Matthews got down. To him it was strictly business.

Frank employed several stewardesses who worked for domestic airlines also, paying them $1,000 a drop. They would pick up packages at an airport locker, pack it in their airline flight bag and leave it in another airport locker upon arrival. Frank worked on multiple levels. Always scheming to make a buck. He had all types of deals going down simultaneously. He was a multitasking drug kingpin. Frank told associates, “When you travel, always get a round trip. Don't matter if you don't use it- one way tickets make them jumpy.” His associate said, “Makes air travel kind of expensive, don't it?” Frank laughed, “Expensive, oh man. That one way ticket of yours damn near cost you a hundred thousand.” For the lawyers fees incurred when or if his associate got busted. Frank didn't take too many precautions other than that. He traveled on a legitimate passport in his own name.

Frank was involved in every aspect of his smuggling operation. He bought a DC-3 in Caracas for $100,000 and made a deal with Venezuelan secret police for safe passage of his shipments coming in from Marseilles to avoid the usual customs inspection at Marquetia Airport. He did everything he could to make sure his investment made a safe journey. Frank was big on real estate also. Matthews was looking to buy some beachfront property in Port-au-Prince. He saw it as an investment. He wanted to diversify his interests. This international wheeler- dealer was balling in ways that later drug dealers couldn’t even imagine. The type of money and power he had access to was colossal.

The police had an organizational chart that showed Frank Matthews at the top of the tree, with branches that spread out to include 113 individuals. “Some of whom did not know they were part of his organization.” A detective said. Most of the people on the chart in fact, actually thought they were at the top of the pyramid. But they were only big shots in a small glass. Matthews was the real deal, the puppet master who was pulling all the strings. Dudes like Liddy Jones from Baltimore, who employed seventy-five people, including eighteen baggers, thirty-five bundle dealers and at least two hitmen were literally, little sub-organizations under Frank.

In 1971, one drug gang alone was buying as much as five kilos of heroin at a time from Matthews at prices of 26 grand a kilo. The gang would then sell 17,500 bags, to as many as 10,000 retail customers, for a gross of about $45,000 daily. That gang, the Dutch Shultz organization in Bedford-Stuyvesant, bought enough to keep an army of Cadillacs. In twelve months they took a hundred kilos from Matthews. In the same twelve month period Ray “Dutch Shultz” Daniels and his partner Donald “Keno” James had expanded their payroll from about forty people serving a Brooklyn/Queens clientele to more than 150 baggers, pushers, street lieutenants and enforcers operating in all five boroughs.

Keno regularly took delivery of five kilo or larger packages from Matthews himself, often making cash payments of $250,000, but when possible he liked to deal with Micky Beckwith, because he thought Frank was crazy. “One time I took a cab and met Frank in Brooklyn and he gave me a package of like five keys, all wrapped up. He offered to drive me back.” Keno said. “During the ride he was driving extremely fast. We ran across a couple of traffic lights and I got scared. He was driving a green convertible Cadillac and he scared the shit out of me. I said, ‘Maybe I ought to take a cab’ because I had the five keys on me and any minute the cops are going to stop us. He just laughed.”

Matthews and his crew were real casual when they hit dudes with packages because they knew the cops were in their pockets. They would just walk out on the street, meet dudes at the corner and produce the package from under their coat, handing it over. Since Frank had the cops in Brooklyn on the payroll he never worried. To Frank it was all a trip. He found a lot of shit comical. In the drug game there were all types, which really amused Frank. He got a kick out of the different situations that arose.

One time, a dude was trying to jump Brother Carter, Frank’s man in B-More, and buy directly from Frank. He told Frank he only wanted to deal with him and offered Frank a 50 grand down payment for his next package. It was street money- creased, dirty and in small denominations. Matthews glanced at it indifferently and told dude he only took money in big clean bills. An hour later dude came back, having somehow changed the 50 grand into $100 bills. Matthews smiled at him lazily, “Man, I got five times that much with me just to lose at the tables. Now you just give that loose change to Brother Carter and he’ll take care of you like always.” Dealers were always trying to get closer to Frank but he trusted his people. Through Carter, Matthews controlled at least 80 percent of the narcotics trade in B-More. That was good enough for Frank.

Matthews spent his time with wine, women, coke and gambling. Staying in luxury hotels and driving cars like his gold Lincoln Mark III, working his magic on hustlers across the United States to sell his dope. Matthews was suspected by the feds of trafficking heroin in seven or eight regions of the country. He was a marketing expert who flaunted his wealth. He would appear in all his glory- in a full length black sable coat or a black leather safari suit- driving yet another brand new El Dorado to hit the Persian Room on a Saturday night.

He used to tell people, “You know how it is when you got a hundred thousand things on your mind? The bigger you are in drugs, the more careful you got to be to stay clean. You got to keep away from the stuff. You got to stay off the streets and you got to line other people up to take the fall when there’s trouble.” But Frank didn’t follow his own advice. He was right down there in the mix. Doing everything he didn’t need to be doing and getting his hands dirty. Frank used cocaine, melting it with smack to make speedballs and despite his status, he never carried a gun. His presence was intimidating enough.

Matthews loved cocaine too. It was not just his business, it was his breakfast, lunch and dinner- a complete life support system. Cocaine imposed such a pattern of its own on Frank’s behavior that normal became abnormal. One day in February 1971 Detective Kowalski saw Matthews looking all around his car like he lost something. After Matthews left in disgust Kowlaski checked the area and found a small aluminum foil package wrapped in wax paper that had an ounce of white powder. By the autumn of 1972 Matthews showed all the classic symptoms of chronic cocaine abuse, shuttling between extremes of euphoria and irritability in an almost continuous macho delusional power trip.

He was Tony Montana come to life- the black scarface. He seemed possessed by a sense of invincibility and a godlike mastery over his own fate that was not to be shaken by such setbacks as the raid on the OK Corral or the collapse of a 100 kilo deal. What was one heroin mill or heroin source more or less to Black Caesar? The loss was annoying but it taught him nothing. It was an affront, not a lesson. Frank went about his business as blatantly as ever, still putting millions away in preparation for retirement. He was indifferent to the danger despite a kaleidoscope of factors swirling around him. The feds were circling him like vultures, ready to swoop down, while the Mob was watching him like a hawk, looking for any sign weakness, to pay him back for slights to their honor, real or imagined.

The legends and mythology surrounding Matthews are still relevant today, 36 years later. He left behind a trail of unsolved murders, a fleet of luxury cars and a lavishly decorated mansion. His reputation has remained impeccable. He is an icon to all those enamored with gangsters. A master of the drug game. “Frank was freed on a million dollar bail which was required by authorities to be posted collectively by three separate bondsmen so that in the event of his jumping he would have a triple threat on his tail.” Fats says. “Frank still managed to disappear, taking 20 million dollars with him.”

To dudes in the streets Matthews is a hero. An outlaw of epic proportions. The hustler who did it his way and got away with it. He gave the United States government the big fuck you and blatantly defied them right to their face. He bypassed the Mob, the preeminent criminal structure of the day by importing his heroin directly from Turkey by way of processing plants in Marseilles, France and got his cocaine straight from Latin American long before the Colombian cocaine cartels were in vogue. Locally he eliminated the middleman by handling the narcotics all the way down to the street sales, plus sold weight to big dealers in other cities. He was the original American Gangster- fuck all that other shit- Frank Matthews was the real deal and god's honest truth when it came to this gangster shit. He did it in the dope game like no one else, before or after him.

Check out the rest of this story and more in Street Legends Vol. 2. Order it today.

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"Have you ever watched American Gangster on BET? Author Seth "Soul Man" Ferranti brings American Gangster from BET to the books in Street Legends. He chronicles the six most feared and respected gangsters who live by the creed death before dishonor." Rawsistaz Reviewers

"Street legends is aptly named as it details the lives of six of the most notorious black gangstas in American history. The stories will leave you in awe- this shit is so real it reads just like a timeless gangsta flick. The book was on point from cover to cover." DaRevew.com

"Incarcerated author Seth Ferranti has compiled a who's who of the late 20th Century's most infamous kingpins in Street Legends, a compendium series documenting crack-era America's criminal enterprises. Ferranti has fashioned a rogues' gallery of drug lords that is as compelling as it is concise. This is a must read for true-crime enthusiasts." Harold Rodriguez, Smooth Magazine

"Gorilla Convict is evolving into the most potent voice of the streets. Street Legends is the apple of a street soldier's eye." Walter "King Tut" Johnson, NYC Original Gangster

Check out Raised By Wolves by Cavario H. and his interview with Gorilla Convict.

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The Guerrilla Hustler

In the world of street mags Cavario H. is well known. One of Don Diva's main writers and a force behind the magazines inception. Cavario has been down with the gangsta movement popularized by BET's American Gangster series since the jump. From Don Diva he moved onto Hip-Hop Weekly where he still resides as the Editor at Large. And now he's dropping his first book- Raised by Wolves, Inside the Life and Mind of a Guerrilla Hustler. Check out what he has to say about it in this exclusive.

What is your book about?

Raised By Wolves is the story of my life growing up in an ultra-violent, narco-criminal clan and how I survived 18 years of Guerrilla gangsterism to ultimately emerge Alive, Healthy & Free.

Why did you write it?

It began as a personal introspective, a sort of self therapy; after the deaths of essentially my entire family unit I began to reassess the three generations of criminal enterprise from which I was created. I had to write because I had no one I could discuss my past with. The book grew from that.

What were the early years with Don Diva like?

Those years, from its accidental inception in December of 1999 up to my departure in August 2006, were both difficult and exciting. It was my first ever legitimate endeavor. I did all of the interviews wrote all of the articles myself as well as took all of the pictures and did all of the promotions and distribution across the country myself. I wrote under several pseudonyms to hide the fact that there was really only one person providing the majority of the material so that we wouldn't appear to be the small operation that we actually were.

How did you get involved with that?

I started it with my ex, although a magazine was not in either of our plans. It grew out of another idea and was mistaken for an actual magazine after a promotional item to promote the initial idea was released. The promo item (although extremely slipshod) looked like a magazine so people, thinking it was a magazine, began asking me when our "next issue" was coming out. Since I had already been writing my book for two years prior it seemed the magazine was predestined. So we took our cue from the streets and in January of 2000 the very first actual issue of DD was born.

How did the hip-hop weekly gig come up?

In August of '06 after realizing that DD had hit a glass ceiling and that things would only go down from that point, I dissolved my interests and then immediately incorporated Body of Power publishing. With my two completed manuscripts I began focusing on publishing my books. Dave Mays, having heard over the radio in New York that I'd left DD, called me within two weeks and asked me to join him and Benzino in the launch of Hip Hop Weekly. I wasn't interested in doing magazines anymore but the concept intrigued me so I went to New York to check it out. We released the 1st issue of HHW on my birthday in Nov of that year and we've been making history ever since.

What are your future aspirations?

I aspire to bring genuine reality to the hip hop generation. The romanticized images of street life commonly perpetuated through popular media, i.e.; rap lyrics, rap videos, urban films, and so called "urban lit" has and will continue to confuse and mislead many more thousands, causing them to abandon their true paths. Most are far removed from the harsh hidden realities of that existence, because all they ever see are the trappings thus the choice to go that way seems sensible. Through the promotion of cult-ish materialism (in place of self-worth) many have been tricked into thinking that a couple of summers of fast cars and open bars is worth a lifetime in prison --if not a life. Having had it all, done it all, and survived I am uniquely qualified to say, "It’s a dirty trick and it simply isn't worth it." The way I did in DD.

BoPp books are about real people and real situations and through them I will provide insight into the deep-seated motives behind the blatantly self destructive choices too many young people continually make, motives that most of them do not overstand.

Order Street Legends Vol. 1 Today

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Check out what they are saying about Street Legends Vol. 1-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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Prison Stories is the hottest prison book of Y2K10, taking over where "In the Belly of the Beast" and Hothouse took off. Check out what the book reviewers of the major magazine are saying -

"Plenty of blood is shed in this intense record of the harsh realities of the penal system." - Smooth Magazine

"Prison Stories outlaw rawness mixes well with hip-hop's street essence. Fans of Iceberg Slim's pimp tales or HBO's 'OZ' series will really dig this." - Elemental Magazine

"Prison Stories reveals a world of fearless convicts, inconspicuous snitches and deadly gang rivalry." - The Ave Magazine

"An episode of 'OZ' couldn't capture prison drama the way Soul Man does in Prison Stories." - Don Diva Magazine

Find out for yourself by ordering the seminal prison book of this decade. Take a journey behind the walls and experience convict life and culture through Soul Man's stories and insights. You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 plus shipping & handling or request it at a bookstore near you.

]]> Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:25:04 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=69 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=69 <![CDATA[Today's Aryan Brotherhood]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=68

During the 1960's a group of White convicts serving time inside California's notorious San Quentin State Prison decided that they had had enough. Tired of watching their race fall prey to two deadly prison gangs, the Black Gorilla Family (BGF) and the Mexican Mafia (Eme), they came together and formed a little gang of their own. They called themselves the Aryan Brotherhood (AB) and they made their membership plan plain and simple. If you wanted to join, all you had to do was kill or attempt to kill a Black or a Mexican. Their motto was "Blood In/Blood Out," meaning once you've spilled blood to join their gang the only way you were getting out was in a body bag. There were no exceptions.

It didn't take long for the Aryan Brotherhood or "The Brand" as they are often called in prison, to establish themselves as a gang equal to or perhaps even more deadly than the BGF and the Eme. They soon had members in nearly every California state prison and became involved in criminal activities such as drug trafficking (both inside and outside of prison), gambling, extortion and protection rackets, and they laid down a host of laws that they expected all the White convicts to obey. For example, Whites were no longer allowed to eat, drink, or even share a cigarette with anyone outside of their race and all interactions with the "others" were to be kept at a need-to basis only. In a nutshell, their philosophy was "keep it White." Just show The Brand some respect, obey their laws and come to them if you're having any problems. That's all they asked.

For more than a decade the Aryan Brotherhood did everything they could to protect the Whites in the California Department of Corrections (CDC).

Then came the 1980s.

Most seasoned convicts who served time in California during the 80's have this to say about the Aryan Brotherhood: they turned on their own race. With their number of new recruits steadily on the rise and relations between the Whites and other ethnic groups better than the two previous decades, the ABs started abusing other Whites. Yes, the gang still committed violent acts against Blacks and Mexicans, but their victims were becoming increasingly White. Also, the gang's membership policy had drastically changed. From the early 80's up until the present date all someone has to do if they want to join the Aryan Brotherhood is follow orders -- do exactly what the gang's leaders tell you to do. And this mainly consists of assaulting, extorting, and robbing other Whites.

Subsequently, in the 80s, while the Aryan Brotherhood in California were turning from protectors to predators, more and more members of the gang that were released from the CDC were turning up in the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP). This gave the gang a much broader reach to conduct illegal business activities.

The 1990s would prove to be the worst decade yet for the Aryan Brotherhood. In an effort to thwart gang violence, prison officials in the CDC removed all remaining members of The Brand who were left in General Population to the Control Units in Pelican Bay and Corcoran. At these SuperMax facilities, inmates are confined to their cells 23 hours a day and have limited contact with other prisoners. This made it extremely difficult for the Aryan Brotherhood to maintain dominance and power over the White inmates in the general population institutions.

In the federal system, The Brand was going through some changes of their own. Following in the footsteps of the CDC official, slowly but surely officials in the BOP started housing members of the gang in Marion and Florence ADX, two SuperMax facilities similar to those in California. By 1999 in the in the Federal System there were only three inmates remaining in general population who were considered actual members of the Aryan Brotherhood.

Although state and federal prison officials hoped to ultimately destroy the Aryan Brotherhood, the truth is they did not. In fact, through notes written in code and smuggled out of the Control Units by willing prison guards and attorneys, and in some instances, even through letters mailed directly through the regular institutional mail system, the gang was able to make contact with people on the street who in turn would pass the messages from prison to prison. Equally important, the gang still had enough loyalists on the main lines (general population) to maintain some influence in both the CDC and the FBOP. This combined with the solid communication network allowed them to conduct criminal activity from their isolated prison cells, activity that included narcotics trafficking, drug dealing, gambling, extortion, attempted murder, and even murder.

But what nearly did destroy America’s most notorious White prison gang was some of its own members. Faced with the possibility of being indicted for new gang-related crimes, or just plain tired of being locked down in the Control Units, when prison officials got together with state and federal authorities and started offering members of gangs incentives to roll over, (immunity from prosecution, better housing, even food and cigarettes), killers suddenly transformed into cooperators, White Pride Warriors became Witness Protection Wannabes, and in the end, there were just way too many crackers that crumbled. Needless to say, prosecutors were eventually furnished with enough information to file charges against dozens of members of the gang, including a 140-page indictment that spanned three decades and involved 32 murders and attempted murders in prisons and around the country. It was the largest capital murder case filed in U.S. history.

One of the first members caught up in the government's crusade against the Aryan Brotherhood was Michael "Big Mac" McElhiney, a key member of the gang who sits on The Brand's Federal Commission, a governing body designed similar to that of the Cosa Nostra. In September of 1998 Big Mac was transferred ;from the Control Unit in Marion, Illinois to the Special Housing Unit (SHU) or "hole" at USP Leavenworth in Kansas to await trial in the Federal District Court of Kansas to await trial for crimes that he and others allegedly committed in 1994 while they were serving time inside Leavenworth. But new charges weren't the only thing on Big Mac's mind during his stay in Leavenworth. The future of the Aryan Brotherhood was at stake and intended to do something about it. Acting as his own criminal defense lawyer, Mac used the trial to bring members of his gang together by calling them into court as defense witnesses. And with luck on his side, the government and the warden at Leavenworth goofed and allowed everyone that Mac had subpoenaed to be housed together for the duration of his trial in an isolated segregation unit known as Building 63. For months, the only occupants in Building 63 were members and associates of the Aryan Brotherhood. This gave key members plenty of time to discuss the gangs’ future as well as helped Big Mac concoct a plausible defense.

By using cooperative prison guards and inmate food service workers who rolled meal carts in and out of Building 63, Big Mac and his brothers were able to correspond with inmates in General Population. On one occasion, perhaps under the impression that the Aryan Brotherhood still had some influence in Leavenworth, they sent a "kite" (note) across the yard ordering all the Whites to come together and "kill as many D.C. niggers as possible." (At the time there was an ongoing battle between the ABs and the D.C. Blacks. This battle resulted in the deaths of inmates at USP Lewisburg and the Control Units in Marion, Illinois.) This coordinated attack was supposed to take place on Halloween night 1999. It never happened. In another attempt to assert authority, big Mac and the boys sent a threatening message to members of a prison gang called the Dirty White Boys (DWBs) and ordered them to "cover their patches" and join the Aryan Brotherhood or be "hit on sight" -- assaulted or killed at the first available opportunity. The Dirty White Boys, the dominant White prison gang in the federal system at the time, ignored them.

At the end of 1999 Michael McElhiney went to trial and received a hung jury. He and the rest of his brothers were promptly returned to their Control Units at Marion and Florence ADX certain of one thing: they needed to find a way out of the Control Units -- and fast. Because with the exception of the federal penitentiary in Lompoc California (USP Lompoc), it appeared that the Aryan Brotherhood no longer had any real power left in the Federal Bureau of Prisons.

In 2002 the government re-tried Big Mac and in September of the same year he and his brothers were back inside the hole at USP Leavenworth. Only this time they weren't sent back to Building 63 nor were they allowed to be housed in the same cells together. Instead, Big Mac was housed in the basement by himself while the rest of his brothers were taken to the SHU and put on A-range. The only other inmates on A-range at the time were 8 members of the Dirty White Boys.

Using strips of torn bed sheets to pass kites from cell to cell and by draining the water out of their toilet bowls so they could use the sewer system as a make-shift telephone line (they talked directly into the empty toilets or "telephones", the ABs and the DWBs were able to communicate freely and talk prison politics. Their main topic of conversation: the merger of the two gangs. Only instead of threatening the Dirty White Boys, this time the ABs offered a peaceful acquisition. The reason they changed their tone? Because the DWBs had over 300 members Bureau-wide and the Feds were opening new prisons in Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia, Louisiana, Florida, California, Arizona and Pennsylvania. If the two were to join forces and use the name of a prison gang who was still widely feared and respected in many state and federal prisons, the Aryan Brotherhood, with the Dirty White Boys numbers they could get a foothold in all of these new joints and dominate the Federal System.

At least that's the reason they gave the Dirty White Boys. The truth of the matter is that the Bureau officials had the Aryan Brotherhood on "indeterminate SHU status," meaning they had no immediate plans to release The Brand from the Control Units and could basically leave them there as long as they deemed the gang was a "threat to the safety and security of the Federal Bureau of Prisons." But if the ABs could manage to pull off a merger with a gang on the mainlines, especially a gang the size of the Dirty White Boys, it would make no sense for prison officials to keep them locked down if there were 300-plus new recruits running around out in the general population institutions. For the Aryan Brotherhood, it was a strategic move designed to get them out of their tiny prison cells.

But the Dirty White Boys weren't going for it. They knew The Brand was desperate to get out of the Control Units and they knew The Brand was only trying to use them. And if they did agree to such a merger and The Brand did get out of Marion and ADX, the DWBs also knew that it would be only a matter of time before the commission ordered the gang to attack the D.C. Blacks. They were completely obsessed with kicking off a full-scale racial war with these particular prisoners and the Dirty White Boys wanted no part of it. They were just fine with The Brand staying right where they were at -- in Marion and ADX.

Ironically, it would be the government who helped resurrects the Aryan Brotherhood in the federal system. Pursuant to organized crime related charges, they targeted members of the gang in the California State Prison System as well as members who were on parole and convicted them at a federal level. Then for reasons unknown, rather than send them to the Control Units with the others, they let them into General Population.

Bobby Ray Shields was a convict from California who joined the Aryan Brotherhood the old-fashioned way -- by murdering another inmate. In 2003 after pleading guilty to RICO charges, he was sent to USP Lompoc where he received a warm welcome from the Whites. And in a short amount of time, with the backing of a California-based prison gang called the Nazi Low Riders (NLR), Bobby Ray began to take control of the yard.

Once again, the Aryan Brotherhood was on the rise. In 2005 a member of The Brand nicknamed "Ziggy" was released from the ADX and placed into general population at USP Florence. At the time there were a few Dirty White Boys on the yard, about a half-dozen members of a Utah-based prison gang called the Silent Aryan Warriors (SAW), and around 20 members of another Utah-based gang called the "SACs," or Soldiers of Aryan Culture. Yet Ziggy, a lone member of the Aryan Brotherhood, was able to take the reigns and start calling shots for all three of the White prison gangs at USP Florence based solely on The Brand's reputation.

In 2004 there were members or affiliates of the Aryan Brotherhood in USP Victorville, USP Beaumont, USP Big Sandy, USP Coleman and USP Pollack.

At the United States Penitentiary in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania the same year there were the following White gangs: the Dirty White Boys, The "ACs" or the Aryan Circle, the 88s, the Nazi Low Riders, the Soldiers of Aryan Culture, the Hell's Angels, the Pagans, and the Texas Aryan Brotherhood, which have no affiliation with the original California bunch. While there was no one gang who "ran the yard" per se, the DWBs had 13 members which was more than any of the other White gangs on the compound.

Bobby Ray Shields was transferred to USP Lewisburg in the in the spring of 2006 where he was in for a rude awakening. Because he was a member of The Brand, and because The Brand is still by far considered the most deadly White prison gang of our time, he automatically assumed that he was entitled to call the shots. He assumed incorrectly. When he realized that things weren't going to go according to plan, he tried to cut a deal with the Dirty White Boys where they could work together but Bobby Ray would be calling the shots. He even said that he ad been authorized by The Commission to propose a new deal with the DWBs. That is, rather than abolish the gang and join the Aryan Brotherhood, the DWBs could remain independent and become a stepping stone to join the Aryan Brotherhood, such as the Nazi Low Riders in the federal system have become. Put a different way, the NLRs and the DWBs would be soldiers for The Brand and only the promising members of each gang could "step up" and become actual members of the Aryan Brotherhood. Not only did the Dirty White Boys refuse the offer, but one DWB named Windell "Wilbur" Rigsby took it a step further and told Bobby Ray that as long as there were Dirty White Boys on the compound, the Aryan Brotherhood would never again run a thing in Lewisburg.

In prison speak, Bobby Ray got punked.

With his main objective being to take control of the yard, and knowing that the Dirty White Boys were standing in his way, Bobby Ray next tried to form an alliance with the other gangs in hopes they would come together and turn on the DWBs. With the exception of the NLRs (all three of them), none of the gangs went for it. When the plan failed, Bobby recognized that the Aryan Brotherhood needed more numbers so he sent a message to his brothers in the ADX seeking permission to pull two new recruits. If the Aryan Brotherhood was ever going to get a foothold in Lewisburg again, Bobby Ray reasoned they were going to need more members.

On January 31, 2007, with The Commissions' approval, Bobby ray got his wish. Two members of the Nazi Low Riders named "Grumpy" and "Boulder Head" officially became members of the notorious Aryan Brotherhood. But unlike most new recruits who have to "earn their bones" to join the gang, these two didn't have to do a thing.

They simply just became members of the Aryan Brotherhood.

Inside of these prison walls and in the "free-world" alike, there are many misconceptions about the Aryan Brotherhood. To begin with they are not a White supremacy gang. While there are members of the gang who firmly believe in White supremacy or White separatist ideologies, they also have members and close affiliates who are Hispanic, Hawaiian, Asian and Native American. Furthermore, the Aryan Brotherhood and the Mexican Mafia have formed somewhat of an alliance. Meaning, if either of them has a problem with an African American gang, the two will band together. Also, it should be mentioned that many ABs have Mexican wives, girlfriends and children. A true White supremacist gang would never tolerate any of this behavior. Next there are many state prison gangs who have adopted the name Aryan Brotherhood. This gives people the false impression that there is one very large organization or Brotherhood of white prisoners who all belong to a gang that is governed by one body and has members in nearly every state and federal prison throughout the United States. This is totally false. At best, some of these Aryan Brotherhood gangs are splinter-groups that no longer have any affiliation with the original California-based Aryan Brotherhood and most never had. Some of these gangs are the Arizona Abs, the New Mexico ABs, the Texas ABs, the Ohio ABs, and even the Universal ABs.

Today's Aryan Brotherhood -- the REAL Aryan Brotherhood -- is a disorganization that exists within the Control Units of the California Department of Corrections and in the Federal Bureau of Prisons. They are often used by prosecutors for political gain and portrayed by the media an evil racist regime. It’s like reporters -- often mislead by prison officials -- want the world to believe that lurking inside of America's prisons there is a well organized White supremacy gang who rules by deadly force and is capable of churning out droves of Aryan Warriors into society so they can pursue a supreme Aryan agenda, just like Hitler dreamed. And that's just not the case. Most ABs is prison junkies desperate to control the environment in which they live so they can make enough money to stay high. Although there is strong evidence which proves that some members of the gang do get released from prison and carry out "missions" for their brothers on the inside, the gang as a whole is currently incapable of putting enough money together to fill a piggybank Nevertheless generating the capital that they would need to pursue a genuine criminal, political, or racist agenda.

In the beginning, the Aryan Brotherhood had one true purpose -- to stop Blacks and Mexicans from abusing Whites. They used their unity for monetary gain and in the process they lost themselves. Yes the gang will continue to recruit new members and yes the gang will continue to commit new crimes -- including murder. And yes, the gang will probably take over a few prison yards. But so will scores of other White prison gangs...and that's my point exactly.

Today's Aryan Brotherhood is no different than you average ordinary White prison gang. They’ve just been around a lot longer.

Yes, the gang will probably take over a few prison yards. But so will scores of other White prison gangs...and that's my point exactly.

Today's Aryan Brotherhood is no different than you average ordinary White prison gang. They’ve just been around a lot longer.

This article was written by Robert Rosso. Check out his website at ConvictInc.com.

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What type of things are the brothers involved in?

White prison gangs and I guess you could even say ALL prison gangs, are generally into the same types of activity: Drug dealing, gambling operations, loan sharking, extortion, contract hits, running stores, and in some cases, prostitution - i.e. pimping. Let’s talk about the latter first.

Personally, I've never been involved with any of the pimping gigs. But I was at USP Leavenworth when Robert Wolfe, the shot-caller of the DWB's before Kenny, was selling white “punks" -prison faggots. He didn't run a whorehouse or have punks turning tricks, he would lease them. The truth is there are a lot of “Homo Thugs" (seemingly hardcore gangsta's and thug's that have sex with both men and women but don't consider themselves homosexuals or bisexual in prison that go crazy for Cracker-flavored Cream Puffs and there’s big money to be made off of them. So Wolfe would approach all the newly arrived Punks, tell them that if they wanted to stay he would protect them but they had to do what he said. He would then seek out a Homo Thug who had money or dope and broker a deal. I remember this one incident involving a Crip Homo Thug from Los Angeles named Reeves. He paid Wolfe three grams of heroin for this one punk who had long blonde hair, only to learn that the punk had one arm that was shorter than the other. Reeves complained that every time he fucked the thing all he could focus on was its short arm. He called the fag a “defect" and demanded a refund. It was actually very funny.

I'm also aware of many other instances of Dirty White Boys involved in making money off of punks. But again, I've never been into it.

Drug dealing is an ordinary part of prison life and I’ve never known of a prison gang that wasn't involved in the illegal drug trade. But before I go any further, let me get something straight: The Dirty White Boys have never dealt drugs as an organization. Meaning, it's not like in the movies where you see a prison gang leader get a bunch of drugs in and all of his guys distribute the stuff for him. Normally one person gets an amount of drugs in, he may or may not give one or more of the brothers an amount to either sell o use, and that's that. There's also been many cases where the DWB's wouldn't 1 any non-gang affiliated whites sell narcotics without braking off a cut - also known as a “tax". The Aryan Brotherhood started doing this in the California
Prison system years ago and just about all white prison gangs since have picked up on this.

When I was at Leavenworth I was involved in drug activity both inside and outside of prison (I brokered deals from the telephone) and I never gave any of my brothers shit. Why? Because the D in DWB stands for DIRTY - not honest. We all burn each other and laugh about it later.

The gambling rackets and stores are two money-making operations that I personally thrived off of, and for me, has probably been the most beneficial part of being in a prison gang. In Leavenworth, we controlled all of the white-ran card tables. If you were white, you were not going to run a card game without braking us off half - 50% of the take). We didn't collect the money as a whole and divide it amongst us equally, the way it worked was each one of us had a certain table or tables that belonged to them. In B Lower, were I lived, I had a guy named Matt Brown running the white poker table in the unit and every night he brought in between $50 and $300. I got half. In exchange, if there was any problems in the game I had to deal with it.

In USP Lewisburg I started a store that became the biggest in the joint in lee than a year. On a bad month I pulled in $5OO; on a good month $1,500. (For those of you that don't know what a prison store is, it's simply the reselling of all items that can be purchased in the prison commissary. The mark-up is normally $50%). The store supported me, my celly, and one other brother, Dusty and I also ran a sports betting operation that sometimes made as much as $1,500 on a weekend. (We lost our fair share as well).

Contract hits are also something that are common but I'm not willing to go into all that. I also want to make it clear that I left Lewisburg in January of 2007 and I have not been involved in any type of gang activity since. I came here to Butner for cancer treatment, my treatment is on-going, and I will have to be monitered for the rest of my life. So when I'm responding to these questions, keep in mind that I'm talking about things that happen prior to 2007. There are no Dirty White Boys where I am today nor is there any gang activity in this prison. I guess you can say, I'm out of the loop.

Are the DWB's strictly a federal prison gang? If so, why?

I heard rumors that the DWB's have started to branch off in some state prison systems, but I don't know that to be a fact. I know that shortly after Robert Wolfe was released from federal prison, he caught a new case in the state of Colorado for attempted murder. Because he was one of our shot-callers, and because he really loved prison drama, i can't see him NOT starting a DWB chapter in the State of Colorado's prison system.

As for why the DWB's are strictly a federal gang, it's because we started in the fed's. But as time goes on, prison gang members tend to get out of one prison system and filter into the next. The Aryan Brotherhood for example started in the California system and they've branched out all over the place. The Nazi Low Riders also started in' California and now they are in the Feds a: well. So if there are no DWB chapters in state prison systems, mark my words, there will be.

What is the status of the DWB in the feds today?

In 2002 when I went through the Oklahoma Transfer Center I was told by one of the classification officers that the DWB's had over 300 members. Whether o: not this true, I don't know, But if it is, keep in mind that this means that there is over 300 members in all of the federal system, not the USP's. And I'm sure a lot of people reading this don't understand the difference between a USP FCI, or camp, so I'll explain.

The USP's or the United States Penitentiary's are maximum security prisons that house inmate that are deemed high risk. The FCI's or Federal Correctional Facility's are medium and lower security prisons for inmates that need less supervision. And of course, there is the FPC's, Federal Prison Camps that house the lowest level security inmates.

Although the Dirty White Boys originated in an FCI, a medium security prison, the DWB's in the USP's don't consider the ones in the FCI's REAL Dirty White Boys, they consider them “suspect", “lames" or “wannabe's". The biggest reason that they look down on them is because DWB's in the FCI's are notorious for selling membership into the gang. At FCI Seagoville for example, I know of one case where a guy agreed to buy all of the DWB's in that prison ice creams every store day for his "patch". So really, he was paying to be in a prison gang. Also, those in the USP's figure REAL Dirty White Boys that join in FCI's wouldn't stay in a medium security joint very long if they were truly about something - they would be in a USP with the Big Boys. It's like this. If you're in a prison gang and you're not constantly getting into trouble, then you're faking - prison gang members stay in trouble. And if you stay into trouble, then your security points will go up which means that you'll end up in a USP. So this means that the DWB'svj-and all other prison gang members - the FCI's must not be putting in any real work or else they'd be in a USP, or so the theory goes, And I'll add this, the Dirty White boys that do start in FCI's and work their way up to the USP's get treated like shit when they get there. They go on just about all of the missions for the first year and have to do what all of the other brothers tell them to do. It's like they have to prospect all over again, but worse. I've known three DWB's that joined in an FCI only to come to a USP and figure out that gang life just wasn't for them - they couldn't handle the drama. They all “checked-in", requested protective custody.

Getting back to the question, I would have to say that the status of the DWB's in the Fed's is not good. Besides the fact that the ones in the USP's don't like or recognize the ones in the FCI's, here's a few more problems that's screwing the gang up.

(A) There is no line of communication. In order for a prison gang to truly be successful, they must be able to communicate from one prison to the next in a timely manner. This means that they need a person on the outside who is willing to receive and forward mail for them as well as pass phone messages/, Very few prison gangs have a solid line of communication,!)and the Dirty White Boys is not one of them. Therefore, we do not know exactly who is where for weeks or even months at a time, we don't know who all of the members are, and we have no way in selecting a shot-caller for the gang as a whole. Instead leaders are restricted to the prisons that they are in.

(B) There is still no structure. People on the outside sometimes believe that prison gangs are well organized, but that's rarely the case. Some are, b very few. Most are exactly like the DWB's - multiple factions totally independent from each other. There is no governing body of leaders, or a President, General, etc. I've met four Dirty White Boys in the last nine years that really wanted to fix the problem.-There names are Kenny Lassitter, Billy Weston, Windell Rigsby, and Michael “Cisco" Montgomery. They all believed that we needed a governing body, bylaws, and colors. It never happened. (Kenny, Billy, and Windell all got out of prison. Cisco goes home in two years and has since transferred to an FCI).

(C) There is no clear mission. Unlike the Aryan Brotherhood who started out with a purpose, to defend whites from blacks and Mexicans, the Dirty White Boys started as a softball team. Well, now there’s hundreds of members with no real purpose wasting potential. Meaning, what is the gangs mission? To be a criminal organization? To shoot dope? To protect whites? To make money And that's my point - no one really knows. The DWB's are just a bunch of guys that all share a tattoo. There should be a clear mission or purpose of the gang, a governing body, and bylaws. The Hells Angels went from being a white trash motorcycle gang to a full on corporation and they nave since marketed themselves - they are, in fact, a BRAND. The Dirty White Boys could actually do the same exact thing.

(D)The DWB's have a fucked up reputation. One of the worst things about being a member of the Dirty White Boys is having to prove that I'm not some piece of shit scumbag, like so many of my brothers are. White prison gangs in general have a terrible reputations but none worse than the DWB's. Well, aware of this, when I was at USP Lewisburg where I was the de facto shot-caller for nearly three years I went out of my way to try and rebuild our reputation, (yeah, I know. Kind of hard to do with a name like the “Dirty White Boys", right?) I stayed away from prostitution or pimping, I wouldn't take contract hits, and we didn’t do robberies. I also intentionally forged relationships with other white prison gangs as well as the D.C. blacks, a group we’ve had trouble with in the past. But while we DWB's in Lewisburg were busy repairing our reputation and building relationships across the board, DWB's in other prisons were busy fucking up and making us look bad. It's pretty-much a losing battle.

The DWB's are the most hated white prison gang in the fed's.

In the past five years there has been an explosion of white prison gang in the federal system and very few get along - and nearly all don't like the DWB's. We've had serious problems with the Aryan Brotherhood, the Aryan Circle, the Aryan Nation, the Texas AB's, the Ohio AB's, some skin Head gangs, and the Soldiers of Aryan Culture. (I'm sure there’s many more that I'm unaware of). And You Know what's crazy? The Aryan Brotherhood originally started so they could. PROTECT the whites from blacks and Mexicans. Now, all these white gangs are not only at each other throats but they abuse non-gang affiliated whites as well. There really isn’t a single white prison gang out there that people think are swell guys.

So let me rephrase your question; and answer it a different way: What is the status of all the white prison gangs in the feds today? Answer: CONFUSED!

Why do People in prison join gangs?

A psychologist would probably say that people come to prison and join gangs out of fear and I wouldn't disagree with that. I've seen guys join gang because they were suspected snitches looking for protection, because they were dope-fiends that owed pre-existing dope bills that they couldn't pay, because they were physically weak, or because they thought that they had to in order to survive. But I've also known guy's who just wanted to belong to something because they had no family of their own, because they were looking for a family to replace their biological ones, or because they just hung out with a certain group of guys that they liked who happened to be gang members, so they decided; to join. But I'll tell you something else. I believe that our Rap/Hip-Hop dominated culture has not only played a role in helping tear apart America, but I see the effects that its had on white youth in prison as well. These kids in their early 20's come to prison eager to join a gang, just like their Rapper/Hip-Hop heroes sing about. It's a trip...

Has There Been Any Big Rico Cases Or Federal Cases Against The DWB?

The short answer to that question is no, there has not. And the reason that there hasn't been any RICO cases I against the DWB is probably because we are a disorganization, just like I already said. The down side of being an organized prison gang complete with a governing body, bylaws, and a good line of communication is that it becomes much easier for prosecutors to nail you with Organized Crime statutes, such as RICO. Having said that, in 2000 we were investigated by the FBI for an alleged contract hit. Agents in the Kansas City office believed that reputed Philadelphia mob boss John Stanfa paid the Dirty White Boys to assault Nick Gio, a known associate of Chicago's Greek mafia. The two assailants, Dustin Burruss and Windel Rigsby were charged institutionally but were never indicted, nor was Stanfa or any of the DWB’s. in 20U1 federal agents from the Terrorist Task Force came to Leavenworth and attempted to interview several members of the gang. They claimed under the new Patriot Act that prison gangs could now be charged as Domestic terrorists and they were considering looking into prosecution. I just laughed and told them to run it consecutive with my life sentence. Nothing ever became of it.

There have been DWB's who have caught new cases in prison but to the best of knowledge none were convicted for crimes involving an entire faction of the gang. The few that I do know about are as follows... In 2001 at USP Leavenworth, DB received four additional years for Illegal Use of a telephone. The case stemmed from a drug introduction conspiracy involving non-gang members. In 2005 at USP Pollack, two DWB's busted the hinges off of their door in the Special Housing Unit and attacked a rival gang member on the tier. The victim, a member of a black gang known as the Dirty South, was stabbed repeatedly in the face and neck with a homemade weapon, specifically a melted down plastic roil-on bottle. One of the assailants, Otto Horstiene received an eight year sentence while the other, a guy called “Kid" (I forgot his real name) received a The Crime Enhancement and was sentenced to 11 years. (Kid yelled out racial slurs while he was stabbing the guy). And in 2008, at USP Big Sandy, Randy Shreve assaulted another inmate a received 18 more months tacked onto his sentence. I do not know the details of the offense.

Who Are Some Of The DWB Legends?

When I read this question I laughed my ass off. Legends? Perhaps there is a few that are legends in their own minds, but legends there is not. But I will give a few of those who I know their props...

If there is one DWB who comes close to a legend its DB. I will admit that he is one of my best friends and that may seem a little bias of me, but he really is the most notorious DWB in the feds. Not only did he call the shots at Lewisburg after I left, the boy can fight something fierce. I have run into people both here at Butner FCI 1 and across the street at the FMC (prison hospital) never met DB but they all had stories to t about him. I really miss the fag. Kenny Lassitter is also someone I miss and although he screwed my life up by getting me involved in the DWB's in the first place, I forgive him. He's been out for about four years now and I hear he's doing great. Windel “Wilbur" Rigsby was someone that really use to piss me off but he did love being a gang member and was true until the very end-- with only one week to go he until he got out of prison he volunteered to go on a mission and handled it. He's been out since 2006 and he married a fat girl and lives in the mountains of Tennessee somewhere. Tracy Carson or “TC" ran the USP Florence car for a minute and our paths crossed in 2002. We spent about three years at Lewisburg together and when he went home I knew he was coming back - he robbed a bunch of banks and just got a fresh 25 year sentence. Randy Shreve always made me laugh, “Cisco" was (is) a trooper, “Early" is a riot, and Billy Weston got out and I heard he met a chick and is staying out of trouble - shocker. Otto, Mark Dunlap, Weasel, Johnny Rotten, Scott Tolly, Jeremy Ites, Robert “Head" Rasnick, Spaz, Kam, Dago Joe. Ronny Wiggins, Jersey, Tank, and Jerry Mare are all names worth mentioning. I know I'm forgetting some but that's all I can think of for now.

Is there anything else that you would like to add?

As a matter of fact there is, when I joined the Dirty White Boys I was 31 years old, strung out on alcohol and drugs, trying to figure out what to do with a Life sentence, and in a very different state of mind. If I said that there weren't times when I absolutely had a blast being apart of the gang, I would be lying, the flip side of that is that I've had a lot of miserable times being a DWB as well. Specifically, I hated constantly having to put out fires that were started by my own people, guys that were often totally in the wrong and pulled some scandalous shit but I had to stick up for them because we share the same tattoo.

I have been away from all the DWB's for nearly three years, sober for two years, and I'm so far removed from that life mentally, that I don't even think about it and certainly don't miss it. For the first time in my life I am focused on myself, my family, my writing, my health, and world events. Politically, I even went from being a moderate to liberal democrat to a conservative republican and I've never felt so passionate about something in my life. (No, I don't want to see Obama fail as a person but I most certainly do not like his politics or political views - and I’m a person who liked him in the beginning, sent a campaign contribution to him, and was happy to see him win. In closing, I want who ever is reading this to know that I've written a memoir based on the time I spent in Leavenworth and it's the real deal -drinking, druging, gang-banging, assaults, and basically, just having a blast in a maximum security prison. My intension is to publish it through Gorilla Convict sometime next year. Also, I write a blog on Convict Inc.com and I hope you'll check me out. I write about everything - and I do mean EVERYTHING.

Some of Rob Rosso's writing from ConvictInc.com.

Wine's Cheap, Ball's Deep

I was in the hole living in cell A-220 with Kenny Lassitter, a guy who was not only one of my brother's but the shot-caller of our gang, the Dirty White Boys. Our days were very routine: Wake up around 6:00 AM, eat breakfast, then either go back to sleep, go out to rec, or stay in and read; eat lunch around 11:00; workout in cell from 1:00 to 2:30, take showers, then start to drink - I ain’t talking about water. After dinner, the automatic cell door would slide open and off to work I'd go.

I was an orderly on A Range.

As the A range orderly, my official work detail included sweeping and mopping the floors (upstairs and down; A-100 and A-200) and picking up the laundry bags. Rarely did I do anything. You see, the staff that worked in the hole at Leavenworth during the years that I was there (from Sept '98 to Oct '02) ran things how they wanted to, not how the warden wanted them to or how BOP policy mandates. As long as we didn't bother them they didn't bother us- they didn't give a shit what we did. Therefore, unofficially my job was to pass “kites"(notes) and contraband (tobacco, drugs, booze, weapons, etc.) from cell to cell, socialize, drink and do drugs, and to steal whatever I could out of the kitchen. Then depending on the officers that were on duty, we orderly's were sometimes allowed to make unmonitored and unrecorded phone calls from the Lieutenant's office. I normally used mine to broker drug deals on the street.

So what I'm trying to say is, the hole in Leavenworth was pretty fucking awesome - punishment it was not.

One night while I was out and about doing my thing, I decided to head on down to B 100 and check on three of my brothers, Randy Shreve, Jeremy Ites, and Wilbur Rigsby. They all lived in cell B113 together. A week earlier I had given them half of what I had taken from the kitchen - 400 apples. Ad some sugar and water to that, which they did, and they had enough fruit to make 20 gallons of hooch,

As I started down the stairs the aroma of homemade intoxicants and marijuana filled my nostrils. “Listen up", I announced on the range. “If anybody has anything for me to pass, set it out on the tray flaps and I'll be by in a minute to pick it up. Make sure you put the cell number you want me to bring it to on a piece of paper. And if anyone has any dope for sale, know that I got 20 books on me that are burning a whole in my sock". The books that I was referring to were U.S. postage stamps, not reading books. In Leavenworth, like many prisons throughout the United States, stamps are used as currency. At the time all 32 cents, 33 cents, and 34 cents stamps were worth a quarter, not their face value. So a book of stamps, which is 20 stamps, was worth $5.00. I had 20 books of stamps or $100 that I was trying to spend on dope, and I wasn't talking marijuana. In prison, “dope" is heroin.

"Rob! Come down here buddy, we need you". The person calling me was Randy Shreve. From the sound of his voice, I could tell that he'd been drinking.

Before I could reach their cell, a black dude named Double P stopped me. “Yo, Rob", he said through the open tray slot in the door. “Your Boys down there be havin' some drink for sale. Tell'em I'm tryin' to go but I aint got no money 'til store."

"I'll see what I can do", I said but had no intention of doing so.

"Come on man, Rob", he pleaded, sensing that I wouldn't be back. "I know them dudes don't be likin1 me much, but I'll be havin1 some stamps come store".

It's true - they didn't like Double P. Neither did I. He was a certified “Gunslinger", one of the thousands of sick fuckers in prison that can't control their sexual urges around female staff members. I also call them "Mad Jackers". "Maybe if you didn't run around jackin’ your dick in front of everybody people wouldn't hate you so much" , I said to him before I walked away.

When I got to cell B113, I looked in the window and saw Wilbur passed out on the bottom bunk, Jeremy sitting on the floor with a cup of wine in one hand and a rollie in the other, and Randy standing over the stainless steel sink-commode scooping wine out of a plastic trash bag that was sitting in the toilet. I bent down to the open tray-slot and said, “Daddy's here fuckboys. What'cha need?"

“Buddy!" Randy shouted, happy to see me. “Here, you've gotta try this shit. It's the bomb." He handed me a green 8 ounce plastic cup.

Without hesitation I slammed it. “Wow", I said feeling the homebrew burn my guts. "Good job. This shit's fire for real".

Next door, in cell B111, a guy named Trent who was looking at me through the tray-slot asked me to tell Randy to send him a "taster cup". Because their cell doors were only about two feet apart, and because they were both standing at their doors, Randy heard him. His response was "fuck Trent".

“What the fuck, Randy?" Trent shot back. “I'll pay for the goddamn shit if its straight. I just ain’t goin' through all that crazy shit with you like the last time you sold me some bunk".

"No money, no wine", Randy yelled back at him.

Before I go any further I should explain a few things about Trent. He was a convicted crack cocaine dealer from North Carolina that moved a lot of dope around inside Leavenworth. The problem with Trentt was that he could be a real asshole when it came to business. For example, if he was selling papers of dope for $40 (eight books of stamps) and you were so much as one stamp short, he wasn't giving you jack shit until you came back with the other stamp. If you were buying quantity from him, such as three grams of heroin for a thousand dollars, he wouldn't give you any of it until the money reached its destination. (When drugs in prison are sold in quantity, the money is almost always sent “street to street". Meaning, the buyer will have a person on the outside or in the “free-world" send the money to someone that the dealer knows on the street. Rarely is quantity purchased with prison currency, such as stamps.) Now, being asshole when you’re selling drugs in prison sometimes comes with the territory, and some would argue that Trent was being smart. The real problem with Trent taking such a position was that he wasn't cut like that - he was soft. He was a guy who would have never gotten away with selling drugs in a maximum security prison had it not been for all of his homeboys, and there were a lot of North Carolina Blacks in Leavenworth. Had there not been, he would've been robbed, beat, spanked and told never to come out of his cell. So when he'd not only deny a dope-fiend a fix when they were just penny's short but talk down to them for not bring all the money, he really made a lot of guys want to hurt him. I can't begin to tell you how many times that I've been in a cell where guys were talking about robbing him.

“Aint no fun when the rabbits got the gun, is it Trent?" I said,
laughing at him. "Now your sorry ass knows what it feels like to want,
be treated like shit, and forced to pay up front."

“All that noise you be talkin' ain’t for me and you Rob", Trent said. “Besides, lookie, lookie what I have here." In his hand were three little aluminum foils. "Now tell me, how does it feel to want?"

"I knew you had dope on you when they brought you in last week you piece of shit", I said. "Why'd you lie to me?

Trent smiled. "We can forget all the small talk. You want the shit or not? If you do, give me them 20 books that I heard you flappin' your gums about and hook me up with a cup of that wine that you callin' 'fire'. If the shits straight, I'll take a G (gallon) and I'll give you all three of these. If it ain’t, I'll give you two for twenty."
"Bet", I said with a quickness. I reached into my sock, pulled out the stamps and slapped them down on his tray flap, Turning to Randy I said, “Fill me up a cup for this greedy fuck over here and get me a gallon ready for him". I then looked at Jeremy and told him to get the “outfit" (syringe) ready.

“You've got dope?" Jeremy asked springing up from the floor. “Lemme get some, brother".

"Just get the outfit ready and grab a spoon and some cotton", I said. “I've got a paper comin' for me, one for Kenny, and you and Randy can have one for the gallon as long as Trent wants it. You guys can split it."

Randy, who acts very child-like and at times sounds like Barney (the Purple Dinosaur) on helium, shouted, shouted, “Yay, Buddy! I love shootin’ dope!"

Now is probably a good time to talk a little more about Randy.

Born and raised in Baltimore, Maryland, Randy was serving an 11 year sentence for bank robbery. A crackhead at heart, he came to Leavenworth in 2000 and joined the Dirty White Boys shortly thereafter. But his joining the gang didn't sit well with some of the members. They thought he lied to much and that he was to much of a clown. And both he was; his pathological lies were as frequent as his comedy skits. I've seen Randy get drunk, strip off all of his clothes, get down on all fours and scramble down the tier doing butt naked Donkey kicks, complete with “hee-haw" noises as he did. I've been in the cell with while he smoked crack and sang “Jingle Bells" at the same time (Randy loves Christmas music, and I mean LOVES it). I've seen him make paper arrows while he was in the hole, light them on fire, and intentionally shoot them out the window onto a courtyard full of dead grass and hay. When the flames shot up two stories high and the smoke started rolling in the cell windows and causing guys to choke, he laughed out loud like The Joker. Yes, I've seen Randy do hundreds of totally out there crazy things, including piss in a cup of wine and use his dick to stir the mixture around.

A cup of wine that he then handed to me, and I then handed to Trent.

"Mmm, mmm, mmm," Trent said when he tasted the piss-tainted hooch. “Lemme get that G , Rob, This shit is fire for real for real".

Do you know how hard it was for me to watch — a— man unknowingly drink wine with urine in it, say it was good, and keep a straight face? And keep in mind that in the cell next door - a cell that I could see into as Trent was doing this as well - Randy and Jeremy were Laughing their asses off.

I said Randy, “Trent wants that gallon now".

Even louder laughter erupted from their cell. "Come right up, Buddy!" Randy exclaimed.

“What's them fools over there laughing about?" Trent asked me. I told him that they were just being stupid.

What Randy did next made me lose it; I actually had to get up and walk away for a second. As I already mentioned, the trash bag that he had the wine in was sitting in the toilet bowl. The reason that we all put wine in the toilet when we're in the hole is because when you're dealing with more than a gallon it gets hard to handle. By placing the bag in the toilet we can easily scoop cups of wine out of it without needing anyone’s help. Otherwise, if you don't want to spill any, it takes two guys - and that's that usually two guys to many when we start drinking. If you remove all of the water out of the bowl (with a cup) before you place the trash bag inside, the bowl holds about four gallons. And that’s about the amount that Randy had in theirs. The reason that I know this is because from where I stood I could clearly see that wine was about a half inch from the rim. Therefore when Randy pulled down his pants and sat on the bowl, the wine was just high enough to make loud bubble-noises when he dropped his ass in it and farted.

Randy then started singing Tiny Bubbles: “Tiny bubbles/In the wine/ makes me feel happy/makes me feel fine."

As if that weren't enough, Randy stood up, straddling over the toilet, and peed in the wine. That's when I started laughing so hard that I had to get up and walk away for a second.

“Wine for sale! Get you're wine for sale!" Randy called out on the tier. “The wines cheap down here, Buddies, 'cause we're ball's deep in the stuff".

After giving Trent his gallon of fart-infested piss -wine, I did a shot of dope then ran around selling what was left of it to guys that we didn't like. And yes, that Mad Jacker named Double P got an issue of it.

Street Legends Volume 2 featuring Frank Matthews, Peanut King, Michael Fray, the Boobie Boys, Short North Posse and New World comes out December 2009

Order Street Legends Vol. 1 today

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 plus shipping & handling or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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GC: What do you think of the recent books on the Eme like Tony Rapheal's Mexican Mafia, Boxeter Enriquez's The Black Hand?

RM: No disrespect, but Tony Rapheal's The Mexican Mafia is a good recent case study of the Avenues street gang based on court transcripts, but does not paint a complete picture of La eMe and their ties to hundreds of other street gangs over the years. It also misses, in my opinion, many of the very early crime elements and important eMe figures that were investigated by the Gang Task Force. Boxer Enriquez's book, The Black Hand, written with renowned television investigative reporter Chris Blatchford does a better job of showing the various ties between La eMe, street gangs, and how they operate on a daily basis inside and outside of the system, but Boxer was not around when many of the early eMe members were investigated. He does cover "Topo" Peters fairly well who was a mentor to Boxer but later despised by him as he learned of all the treachery done by fellow eMe.

GC: Have you ever read Tony Raphael's blog In the Hat? What do you think the Eme think of him reporting on him and his book?

RM: Tony Raphael's blog In the Hat, started off as a pretty good discussion board, but appears to have stopped posting. I do not believe the eMe were very concerned because most of the correct info posted on his blog and in his book are already pubic info and court record.

GC: Do you see more American me type stuff happening in this day and age with the Internet and all the info on the Eme available?

RM: American Me, which several eMe and Gang Task Force members were advisors to, was a good thing and a bad thing. It was more accurate than say Blood In, Blood Out, but also has some discrepancies such as when they show La eMe killing the real Santana, "Chy" Cadena on the tier at Chino's Palm Hall. That did not happen! He was killed by Nuestra Familia. Gang Task Force members advised against the Film's Producer and Actor Edward James Olmos putting that in as well as the sodomy scenes, but it appears he thought it would have more Hollywood box office appeal and left it in. As a result some eMe and a former Associate were killed. Olmos also had threats on his life, so future Directors may not want to touch the subject, or at least not use real gang names for fear of retaliation.

There is a lot of info on the eMe available, but a lot of is flat out wrong, people mix apples and oranges, California eMe with Texas EME, etc. Good websites with good info are available, such as Gabe Morales' site Gang Prevention Services or articles written in Police Magazine by eMe expert Richard Valdemar, or DOJ Official Press Releases.

Some of the info out there is really bad, people should check the background of authors. Most of these people never met or personally dealt with eMe, they just heard about them.

GC: Has your life ever been threatened because of your book? Explain.

RM: If an author or gang investigator sticks to the truth and only puts out info that can be proven in court, has actual pictures, and relies on good informants and validated criminal justice info then they should not be worried about being threatened. eMe know the real facts!

GC: Who are the most powerful Eme members today and where are they located?

RM: Many of the Original eMe members are dead, there are a few early members still around like "Champ" Reynoso, "Rube" Soto, "Blackie" Segura, etc. There are also newer ones like Francisco "Puppet" Martinez from 18th Street and La eMe, "Huero Sherm" Leon and "Bat" Marquez from San Diego. Many are locked down in the BOP-ADX or at Pelican Bay.

GC: What was Joe Morgan like?

RM: Joe Morgan (deceased) was one of a kind. He was named the "Honorary Godfather" by Chy Cadena. Morgan's time in California Prison predated La eMe, he had ties to the Aryan Brotherhood and Italian Mafia. He was always respectful to staff who actually dealt with him. He did not like the name "Pegleg", very few said that to his face, and lived. He was pretty close to the character shown as "J.D." in the movie American Me. Even though he was white he grew up in Maravilla and knew the culture. He was deadly, but already made his bones early in life, other people would kill for him or even take the rap for him. No other Mexican Mafia member has ever had the power that Papa Joe did. While the Mexican Mafia is supposed to have no overall leader, and in theory every Carnales' vote is supposed to be the same, some like Joe had "la palabra pesada", their word and opinions carry more weight, people who disagree often end up being on bad terms with La eMe or end up dead.

GC: What were the original Eme like compared to the Eme today?

RM: The original eMe like Chy Cadena and "Huero Buff" Flores or relatively early eMe like Joe Morgan were a different breed, it has been said they were like the "Coke Generation". Later members who joined like "Boxer" Enriquez have been called the "Pepsi Generation". Many of the ones around today are more like the "Sprite Generation" but there are still some Old School left in La eMe. There are still some killers, but as they have grown, many of the old rules about honor and respect have gone away. Many former eMe stated that is why they left after feeling disillusioned. Of course, many also left eMe for their own selfish reasons.

Street Legends Volume 2 featuring Frank Matthews, Peanut King, Michael Fray, the Boobie Boys, Short North Posse and New World comes out December 2009

Order Street Legends Volume 1 Today

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]]> Sat, 26 Sep 2009 00:57:10 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=66 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=66 <![CDATA[Arthur "Plex" Pless]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=65

“Ain’t nobody pen’in like us man,” is Badland Publishing’s motto and they’re right. Most urban authors claim straight out the hood but Badland’s authors are straight out the penitentiary. They didn’t research the dope game on the Internet, they lived it. They are the real deal. Authentic as it gets. They are the ghetto superstars that the rappers rhyme about. There aren’t any cardboard gangsters on Badland’s roster. Many claim authenticity but Badland guarantees it.

Their author Plex, who wrote Boo Baby: The Secret of Sweet Donnie Mac, is doing a life sentence in the feds for the part he played in the notorious M.I.YAYO crew dubbed the Boobie Boys. But now 12 years into his bid Plex is writing gangster tales instead of living the tales he pens. Plex is the truth and Badland with their roster of convict authors like Plex and Mike Harper are primed to put the book game in a chokehold. Check out this exclusive with Plex, straight from the belly of the beast, USP Coleman II.

What made you start writing books?

I wrote it because I could. A lot of people chose to stay within their comfort zone, you feel me? I could’ve easily written about the bang-bang and the brick laying, but I wanted to do something different, something that they wouldn’t expect from Plex. I did something in Boo Baby that Miami dudes aren’t known for and still delivered the order.

What’s the book about?

The book is about me. It’s also about you, because everybody that was shaped by their environment is Boo Baby. My influence came from Derrick Ross, Big Daddy Conch, Whop and Bik Ike Hicks. Boo’s came from his sister Daphen- a hoe, and Pretty Black- a pimp. It ain’t no lawyers and doctors in Lil’ River or Robin Hood.

What’s up with Badland Publishing?

Badland Publishing is the Koch of the publishing game. It used to be a record label, so they run it as such. When Mike is the lane ain’t nothing else coming through. We all stop what we’re doing and lend our thoughts, pens and fan base. One mind, one book at a time. You feel me?

How did you get with them?

I used to be on Badland’s record label. I was the record label. Not because I was a real rapper, but because I was a real dude and I kept it real. People love me, dude! Because I love ’em right back. Plus I grind extra hard and I bring that same level of energy to books and the people who read them.

What do you think of the urban genre?

I think its love. It’s just like the rap game, sports or whatever else black people get into. They try to hold us out, so it forces us to create our lane. We relate to the shit so we support it. We start making money and the world is forced to accept it. I love it! Because it’s another form of expression that allows us to eat off of the expression without actually doing the shit that we’re expressing. Yet just like hip-hop we have got to keep it real. And I don’t mean live your books! That ain’t keeping real, because even though real life situations are in the books, that’s not a real smart way to live your life. Keeping it real is explaining that these books are entertainment and not real life examples of what life should be. You feel me?

Who are you and where are you from?

I’m Plex, man, that’s it. I’m every character in every book I write because I’ve seen a lot. I regret a lot, so I write about what I wish I could’ve been. I’m from Lil’ River, straight of 103rd. Silver Blue, the Colors, the Diamonds, all that. A lot of people get it fucked up with Liberty City, but it ain’t. It’s no hoes, cause ain’t no hoes around there. Just bread getters and head hitters, so I write to stay relevant and hopefully leave the lil dudes that look up to me with something other than the streets as a way out.

What’s next?

I have Street Raised: The Raw Deal, Part 2 to Mike Harper’s Street Raised: The Beginning, and Served: With no Regard, popping off this year. They pushed Buckin’ Da Dice back for whatever reason but I’m working with my main man out of New Orleans, Jessie Cage, on a fire project called Mistaken Destiny. Whether it comes out on BLP or not look out for it because it’s Plex approved. You heard me?

What authors do you like?

I’m feeling Mike Harper, Jessie Cage and Nathen Welch above all. But outside the camp it’s definitely Robert Beck, Walter Mosley, Guy Johnson, J.D. Salinger, Kwame Teague and um..Plex.

Anything else?

Buy my book! If you love yourself, you’ll love Boo Baby and if anybody reading this runs into my lil homegirl Tonetta Chester or Amie Whinehouse tell ‘em to get at me asap.

Check out www.badlandpub.com

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Order Street Legends Today

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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Mike "Chico" Harper

New writer Mike Harper arrives on the scene with a well scripted tale of one boy’s plight to gain mastery over privation. Though a work of fiction, he writes of this common occurrence in our inner cities with uninhibited exposure to graphic truths. The story begins in Miami, claiming it to be “the city of growing hustlers.” As a result of limited options and no proper guidance the book’s main character Chino, finds himself succumbing to that precept. The wretchedness of being part of society’s underprivileged is what mandates the calling. Chino answers and he answers hard. Bringing along some equally disadvantaged youths, Chino ascends through street life, becoming as legendary as the historic American gangsters of our time. Street Raised: The Beginning is sure to solidify Harper as a recognized name in the Urban-Street Literature genre.

Harper writes from a prison cell. Once a co-founder and aspiring young rapper on the Southern-based Badland Records. (Also home to Plex Nitty, Black Boy, Chrizac, DirtySouth Players, and Big Will) The future looked promising for Mike “Chico” Harper and label, until in 1997 a special federal task force was put together to arrest a loose band of childhood associates (erroneously dubbed), The Boobie Boys. With the label now struggling and short on its top artist, management reached out to Mike Harper to pen his life’s story. “People were really interested in my situation. Street Raised is not my actual life story, but it is what I was willing to provide, its close enough,” said Harper.

This book has been making its way through the underground scene for the past three years. “This is our fourth run with Street Raised. It’s that book in the hood and prison system. So we decided to have it edited again, redesign the cover and go mainstream with it,” said Tracey Carter, Co-President of Badland Publishing. Here is the Mike Harper Gorilla Convict interview.

Why did you write Street Raised?

I was propositioned to do a story about my criminal case. I didn't think the time was right for that, so instead I used the opportunity to pen out Street Raised: The Beginning. It's a similar circus of events. Based on my realities but exaggerated for maximum entertainment. The actual book on my criminal case will be coming after my legal affairs are resolved.

What is the book about?

Realities inside our inner cities. Most importantly though the immediate options we face in the hood when we're searching for a solution to deprivation, which is way too often selling dope, robbing, or stealing. From a female's perspective; selling sex. hooking a d-boy or scheming. Consequently, violence is automatically attached to these options (or perceived solutions). I paint a graphic picture of the details involved with this truth. Street Raised: The Beginning is a classic because of these graphic truths that I depict.

What is up with Badland Publishing?

They're new in the publishing game, but it's an old company. Music was initially their thing.

How did you get down with this publisher?

I had a previous rapport with them from the music business. I'd like to think that my talent was impressionable, which is why when the company decided to do books they reached out to me. They were amongst the first to proposition me to script a book on my criminal case, so when I decide to pen it that's who'll publish it.

What do you think of the street lit game?

The street lit game is much like the music industry. It provides equal opportunity for our culture of people to express their talent. For me it's an outlet to go on doing what I love, which is articulating my views on our culture. Because of my situation I can never give the world a rap album. Even if I win my pending appeal I'm too old for a rap career. But in this similar game of street lit I can go on presenting my craft without any pressure of fitting the mold. It's a vehicle to stay in the game.

Who are you, where are you from and what's your current situation?

I'm a person that refuses to give up. I believe in being positive and productive at all times. Under any circumstances. Even in my darkest hour. I'm from M.I.YAYO. Lil' River representa'. Currently I'm a decade into a life sentence. My fight for freedom continues. At this very moment I'm awaiting an answer from the district court of appeals.

What's next for you as an author?

I've written hundreds of songs. I've written four books Incorporated is coming next. Perhaps in January 2010. My next project is penning out screenplays. That doesn't mean that the books will stop. I have several more already visualized in my head. I'll definitely keep the heat coming. I'm just planning to broaden my writing.

Describe your writing style?

As I referenced earlier I think "graphic truths" describes my art best.

What authors do you admire?

There's a few that I can say I like, such as Sister Souljah, Noire, David Baldacci (he doesn't write street lit). As far as admire...you know I'm a big fan of my lil brother Plex' pen. It'll be fair to say I admire Walter Mosely and of course Iceberg Slim and Donald Goines.

Anything else?

Badland Publishing "Ain't Nobody Pen'in Like Us Man!" That's a true bill. I set the standard with Street Raised. Plex is about to take it over the top with Boo Baby: The Secret of Sweet Donnie Mac. Check for it. And for those who didn't believe, who quit and thought the value of a man depletes when he's incarcerated...may you awaken one day and realize that some of the most valuable gifts are found in the center of confinement. Such as a diamond inside coal, a pearl inside an oyster, or man inside a prison. It's your loss.

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Order Street Legends Today

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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Golden Eight Ball

The Posse’s unofficial headquarters was Kelly’s carryout at 1521 North 4th Street. Its social club was the Golden Eight Ball pool hall at 222 East 11th Avenue. An illegal after-hours bar called the Juke Joint on East 9th Avenue between Grant Avenue and North 6th served as the gang’s distribution center where they could pick up cocaine and guns to sell in the neighborhood. “The name Short North Posse, it was a bunch of kids, but they went hard. They handled their business.” The local says. “There’s always been Crips there, then Folks came. The SNP was mainly Crips and Folks.”

The Posse formed in 1989 after a friend was shot in a drug trafficking incident. Robert “June” Dotson and Marshon Mays decided to band together to form a group that would offer protection to its members in the area directly north of downtown Columbus. They began selling crack on the north side in the 42 block area south of East 11th Avenue. It was nothing new. Crack had hit southern Ohio in 1984. But the youngsters coming up wanted to do it their way. Dotson and Mays then came up with the name Short North Posse to describe their clique. Gang members bought hats and shirts with the letters SNP on them. After Therhan Jones was wounded in a shooting by a competing gang the SNP became even more determined to keep outsiders from their territory. It was a get mine or be mine mentality.

The group of street level dealers were tried and tested gangstas who ran a retail operation in their hood. Representing and holding it down for their area. Due to the government’s and media’s propaganda several myth’s have been perpetrated as truth. As the dude from the era says, “That shit was printed to get them convicted. Myth #1- they didn’t terrorize residents. Actually when the feds came in there was a lot of protest from the Short North natives, young and old, black and white. Myth #2- the Short North Posse did not rob people. They were gangsta’s. It was the crackheads robbing other crackheads. The reality of it is that the SNP are legends in the city for being real dudes, not bitch ass niggas.” From their inception the SNP aspired to protect their hood and to prevent anyone from outside the Short North from selling crack in the neighborhood.

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Anthony "Ant" Gibbs

“Most of those Short North dudes were gangbangers,” the local says. “A lot of weed, everybody was smoking that weed. They was on the corners hanging. You couldn’t go up in there. They lived up in the rowhouses with their babymamas. They was young boys, but they held it down. They were like baby gangstas. The dudes that had the biggest names were Trouble, Ant and Fridge.” They were the dudes in the Short North that were getting big props at that time. Theirs were the names that were ringing. And because of our reputation in the streets those are the dudes we talked to.

What was the SNP about?

Lamont “Fridge” Needum: I love my hood til this day. Short North. Just saying the noun makes me want to throw four fingers in the air. Anyone fortunate enough to be there in its glory will tell you ain’t nothing like it. The air, the buzz. I honestly think the place is haunted because it’s something about the Short that makes folks excel from Ohio State University football to street niggas getting it.

Anthony “Ant” Gibbs: The Short North Posse was a group of people that all grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same school coming up.

What was your neighborhood like?

Fridge: Short North is just what it says it is, the shortest part of the north side coming off of downtown. Columbus is the largest city in Ohio. Columbus is full of all the things that make cities pop, but the mentality of Columbians is- come, kick it, then get the fuck out.
Ant: It was like a well netted family that didn’t take no shit from anybody and always had each others back no matter what. We took care of our own whether they were nine months old or 99-years-old. We were one big family.

What types of things were you exposed to growing up in that neighborhood?

Fridge: Regular hood shit but if an old person wanted to walk the streets of the short at midnight for no apparent reason they were free to do so and not only were they not bothered, nobody else better not fuck with them, that’s how it went down. It was beautiful to see black men standing for one love and one hood. Ant: Just like any other hood I was exposed to just about everything from pimping, robbery, the dope game, beat down, murder but most importantly loyalty.

Fridge, Ant and their crew were from the old school of thought. They didn’t disrespect old folks or mess with kids. They protected their own. The youngsters banded together and went to war with outsiders to keep their hood sucker free. It wasn’t a matter of selling crack, making money or none of that, although that played a part, it was more about neighborhood pride, representing to the fullest and holding it down for everyone that lived there.

It was about holding down the neighborhood but then again it was about so much more. “They was young and thuggin’ like a muthafucka,” the local says. “It was money, cash, hoes but more than anything they was violent niggas.” And their violence was directed at any fools blatant enough to try to sell crack in their hood. The dudes from Detroit, Indiana and other places all tried to muscle in and set up shot but they were all sent running. Short North didn’t bow to anyone.

What was your all’s mentality and attitude?

Fridge: If you brought your ass in the short to put your goon hand down that ass was toast, no exceptions. Our turf was our domain. My old ass will always rep the short side of town for life. I’m not the same guy I was before. As you grow, your priorities shift, but surviving the bloody years of the short makes me a strong man. Short North for life.

Ant: My mentality was shit first and eat later. I was just one of them laid back niggas that you didn’t cross.
Feds: What kind of clothes, footwear, whips and the likes were you all rocking?

Fridge: I know folks read this book to hear about cars and jewels and bitches and shit, but I can’t find it in my heart to come with that. Those are merely the residuals of the game. What I loved more than anything about the Short North I lived in was the unity amongst its people, young and old, black and white.

Ant: Back then there wasn’t really a dress code, but you could find niggas rocking Polo, Tommy, Coogi, Guess, Nautica, Gucci, Nike shoes, Bally’s, Tims, Gators. Really you could find a nigga in just about everything that was in style back then. New cars, Vets, Iroc’s, old schools, Benz’s, Lex’s, Regals, Caddies, Monte Carlos. When we roll, you knew it was us.

Fridge: I was wearing platinum when niggas assumed it was silver. Styles haven’t really changed in the last 15 years, cause young niggas just do what we did with more glitter. We had all the flash, but it’s so lame now. That shit is outdated and overrated. The things that impress me are integrity, proper displays of valor, little black kids striving to be great, real love, not that canned shit.

“There was a lot of hype. They started making big noise in 1990,” the local says. “All you would really hear was its getting wild over there. Fourth and 8th was where shit was jumping off and shit could get violent real quick.” Dudes were known to get robbed too. Even a federal agent. In the first month of the probe into the Short North Posse’s activities Rodney Russell, an undercover agent from the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms allegedly was robbed at gunpoint by Fridge who was 18 at the time. Fridge allegedly walked out of an apartment and pointed a Tec-9 semiautomatic pistol loaded with a 32 round clip at Russell’s head and cocked it.

But locals dispute this. That’s the government and media line they say. What they sold to the masses to create a media storm that assured the SNP would be assumed guilty until proven innocent. “The biggest myth created by the feds in the whole case is that the ATF agent got robbed,” the dude from the era relates. “Rodney Russell was a crackhead who smoked up all the feds money and then started lying about being robbed to conceal his smoking activities. That dude was dirty. I was there. He was smoking.” And in his crack induced haze the agent invented a robbery scenario and pinned it on Fridge.

“At first I thought he was going to try and sell it to me. Then he pointed it at my head and put his hand on my shoulder. This guy weighs over 300 pounds.” Russell said. For a few tense seconds Russell said he believed that Fridge was going to kill him. “I thought someone had tipped him off that I was an undercover agent and I was finished.” Russell said creating the scenario for the papers. He said later that he kept his hand on his gun, which was hidden beneath his untucked flannel shirt, throughout the incident to portray himself as the cool ATF agent under pressure.

“You’re too busy thinking about your options to be afraid,” Russell said playing the hero role. “I didn’t want to take him down. I was thinking if I shoot this guy now it’s all over. We’d have to shut down the investigation.” To hear Russell tell it he kept his cool and allowed Fridge to lift more than $400 from his shirt pocket. But the dude from the era tells a different story. “Fridge sold the agent crack at his spot but he didn’t rob nobody. The nigga’s like 350 pounds. Nobody looks like him, why would he rob somebody at his own spot. All Fridge did was snatch dudes shirt pocket off because he saw a list with beeper numbers sticking out. He thought dude was five-O and wanted to see whose beeper numbers he had.” Russell’s boss Don Mapley, Chief of Columbus’ ATF laughed about the incident afterward. “The biggest mistake they made was robbing him. That made him more determined than ever to get these guys.” But was it all done under a crack induced haze of an investigation?

The state and federal governments continued conducting their extensive undercover investigation with Agent Rodney Russell of the ATF leading it. Russell prowled some of the meanest streets of the North side, making almost 100 drug buys from Posse gang members. From April 1994 until March 1995 Russell bought $40,000 in cocaine from Posse dealers and smoked a lot of it. “These guys are very aggressive," Commander Nick Panzera of the Columbus Narcotics Bureau said. “We’re supposed to target the most violent offenders. We key in on quality targets, the armed career criminals and narcotic traffickers. We’re finding more and more drug dealers are involved in street robberies and sometimes we are the victims of these rip-offs.” And the feds found it was hard to identify SNP members because they all went by street names.

“Street names allow them to remain anonymous. They cause a bit of a problem for us identifying people." ATF Chief Mapley said. The dealers rarely used their real names and matching nicknames with actual identities often took months of investigation. Still the ATF persevered. With one of their own allegedly robbed at gunpoint they weren’t giving up at all. “It’s a macho thing with some of them. We found out Antwan Woods was known as Trouble and he tried to live up to that name. Lamont Needum was known as Fridge because he was as large as a refrigerator.” ATF Chief Maply said. But in truth the ATF chief had it wrong. The local corrects him. “That name was given to Fridge out of respect by his niggas because of his athletic abilities. He got that name when he was nine.”

Police and federal agents were intent on smashing the Short North Posse though despite the obstacles. Actually they went after them with a fever. And the youngsters made it easy for them by wearing SNP t-shirts and hats that included the language ‘Death Row’ and ‘Caps get peeled’ along with images of tombstones and references to shootings, openly in their hood. Because being a member of the gang was an honor in the hood. The SNP thought they had everything on lock but the feds had other ideas.

“These guys are well aware of what they’re involved in. If they’re going to use guns and we find out about them, they’re looking at a severe hit.” ATF Chief Mapley said. "When it goes federal they’re in for a big shock. This isn’t state court. If they don’t like the sentences that are being handed out they need to find another vocation.” At the end of the investigation an associate of the SNP identified Russell as a federal agent but by that time he had been buying drugs from the gang for 10 months. Everybody thought he was just another crackhead. “They didn’t know whether to believe their own informant.” Russell smirked. During one cocaine buy Big Fridge became suspicious of Russell. He asked the undercover agent, “Are you a cop?” But Russell didn’t answer. Fridge turned to the crack addict who had introduced Russell to Posse members, “If he’s a cop, I know where you live.” But by the time the SNP found out for certain it was too late. The crackhead agent had enough info to get them indicted.

Authorities found a cache of handguns in a September 1994 raid at Woods’ home at 690 East 4th Avenue and they confiscated many semiautomatic handguns and assault rifles during their investigations along with all the buys that Russell made. On March 23, 1995 a federal grand jury charged 46 people with a total of 210 federal charges of drug dealing, money laundering and illegal use of guns. The newspapers were about to up the ante with a series of headlines portraying the Short North Posse as vicious thugs and hoodlums who terrorized their neighborhood. But in reality it was much different. “The Dispatch disrespected the shit out of those kids, especially Fridge. Those kids are stand up niggas. They held it down and stayed true. The whole indictment was some straight bullshit.” The dude from the era says.

46 Face Federal Drug Charges; Lawmen Round Up Reputed Short North Posse Members, The Columbus Dispatch reported on March 21, 1995. They were arrested without incident in night and morning raids on North Side bars, houses, apartments and street corners. The raids were conducted by the Columbus police, U.S. Deputy Marshals and agents for the U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. The arrested were held without bail in the Franklin County jail. The arrest capped a one year investigation by local and federal undercover officers.

Tell us about the indictment and trial?

Fridge: It takes a conspiracy to create one and no one is better at doing that than the feds. Our problem was that we were too close to O.S.U. In 1993 an ugly incident took place. An Ohio State student was raped and killed behind the campus by an unknown pervert. Last year through DNA evidence the punk bitch was nabbed, his name is Jonathan Gravely. The state allowed this whore to cop to 25 to life. Me and the homies are pissed. That bitch did something unthinkable and he brought major heat on us. With all the shit popping in the hood it was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. O.S.U. is Columbus. Something had to be done. First my cousin Jason (RIP) was killed in an accident in the Short, he was a linebacker at O.S.U. and then this. The powers that be had to show they were in control. That coupled with the visions of the prosperous and the Department of Justice’s mission to fill prisons under the Clinton Administration made us prime targets. Rather than find the sick motherfucker they decided to give 46 young black dudes over 300 years in prison. Everyone from the judge to the then mayor (Greg Lashtuka) were state alums.
Ant: Our case is really about politics. It’s a long story that Fridge touched on. The police needed a scapegoat so they sacrificed 46 blacks to kill two birds with one stone, so it was fucked up. I’m a drug dealer, so I knew I was guilty. The reason why I went to trial is to see if them hot ass niggas had the heart to look a nigga in the eyes while they testified and they had the heart. I couldn’t do nothing but grit and nod my head.

Tell us how you felt at trial?

Fridge: A black person should stand up every time they get the opportunity. Our lack of stick-to-it-ness is why we have no rights in federal court. A two point reduction for a selected few is not justice. People are being indicted for five grams of crack and being sentenced to life for kilos.

Ant: My hearing was fucked up. My PSI officer lied about the amount of drugs to boost my time, so they gave me 353 months. I was 19 at the time, so I didn’t think it was too bad until I went back to my cell and did the math.

Authorities described the Posse as one of the most vicious gangs in Columbus history. “When this happened it was big news,” the local says. "The news kept running stories about the SNP, hyping things up. The news was calling the SNP a violent drug dealing gang that could only be handled by the feds.” And one of the stories circulating in Columbus concerned the feds take down of Vickie Stringer’s drug ring, which precipitated the SNP’s fall.

Testimony during Vickie Stringer’s plea hearing revealed that her ring supplied cocaine for several Columbus area gangs, including the Short North Posse. Testimony during the plea hearing revealed that dealers bought large amounts of crack from Vickie Stringer’s smuggling ring and then sold the drugs to Posse street dealers. Stringer had already pleaded guilty to smuggling drugs to Columbus from New York. Terms of her plea bargain required her to testify as a government witness against members of her own ring and defendants in the Posse case. Carlos Hill also pleaded guilty. His plea bargain also called for him to testify as government witness against his fellow Posse defendants.

“For six years, this gang was terrorizing the neighborhood, spewing drugs on our streets,” U.S. Attorney Edmund Sargas said. “We were able to take action against them because of the high level of cooperation among law enforcement agencies. The deals were made often in broad daylight, in apartments and outside of commercial establishments. The Short North Posse literally took over the neighborhood with violence.” The government alleged that the goal of the group was to prevent anyone not living in the Short North from selling cocaine base there without permission. The government contended the SNP achieved this goal through threats and intimidation. The bulk of the government’s evidence would consist of testimony from cooperating witnesses, most of whom were alleged members of the SNP who had pleaded guilty and turned snitch.

The gang that stuck together to protect the neighborhood fell apart when the feds came after them and started talking football numbers. “The feds started picking all the kids up,” the local says. “We thought it was hype. The feds do large neighborhood sweeps in Columbus about every other year. But this time they were serious.” And armed with their snitches their game plan was tight, 46 suspects were indicted in the SNP drug dealing case but fewer than a dozen went on trial. A rash of guilty pleas kept most of the alleged members and associates of the North Side gang from appearing in the first floor courtroom of U.S. District Judge George C. Smith. Thirty-six Posse defendants pled guilty to a variety of drug and firearm related charges and a big majority of them turned snitch. Among those that stood up to face the charges were Antwan “Trouble” Woods, Lamont “Fridge” Needum, Chad “Boss Moss” Gibbs, Anthony “Ant” Gibbs, Robert Curtis, Donneto Berry, Richard “Manual” Hough and Jimmie Reed.

The most significant pleas came from Therhan Jones, a reputed leader of the gang and Raynard Wallace one of the gang’s cocaine suppliers. Terms of their plea agreements required both men to appear as government witnesses in the trial. Jones oversaw much of the gang’s day-to-day drug dealing, authorities said and Wallace brought large amounts of crack cocaine from Detroit and sold it to Posse members. Antwan Woods, another reputed leader of the gang maintained his innocence and went to trial. He was charged with seven felonies, including drug trafficking and firearm charges. Lamont Needum was charged with 8 felonies, including three gun charges. The most serious of which was his alleged robbery of the ATF agent who spurred on the case.

The government would argue that the SNP was a drug conspiracy. The defendants conceded that they were street level crack dealers but contended that the SNP was merely a neighborhood identification of a loose-kit group of friends and acquaintances, most of whom grew up in the Short North area. The guilty pleas left eight Posse defendants-charged with a total of 43 counts- to stand trial. The trial, which would last 6 weeks, commenced on September 27, 1995. Sixteen Deputy Marshals and courtroom security officers were assigned to provide security in the federal courtroom in Columbus.

Federal prosecutors laid out their case. They contended that the Posse had a monopoly on crack cocaine sales for six years in the 42-block area of the North Side called the Short North. Several members of the gang were making up to $10,000 every three days, agents testified. “They provided services 24 hours a day, seven days a week,” AUSA Salvador Dominguez said. He displayed scores of items of evidence including bags of crack, wads of money, gang t-shirts, six handguns and an assault rifle. Most of the bags of crack that Dominguez held up for the jury to view were worth only $30 to $50. “Crumbs of crack, perhaps," AUSA Dominguez said. "But guns are a part of crack dealing." The guns and drugs had been confiscated in raids on homes of some Posse members when they were arrested after the indictments. Other relevant evidence came from undercover officers, SNP members turned snitch and non-SNP drug dealers or users.

“It was easy money, quick and fast,” Robert “June” Dotson testified. As to the origins of the gang he explained how his friend got robbed. “We decided we're not going to let that happen again. We were going to stay together and protect each other.” Asked by AUSA Dominguez what would happen to outside drug dealers who invaded Posse territory Dotson said, “They’d get beat up, robbed. If you didn’t know nobody you weren't allowed out there.” The gang had no leaders and did not hold regular meetings, Dotson said. However members of the gang “did get together for informal discussions.” Also hatreds within the gang were put aside if a Posse member was threatened or got into trouble. “If anything happened to somebody you’d pull together even if you didn’t like him." Dotson testified. Dotson’s most damaging testimony was that he saw seven of the defendants selling drugs in the North 4th Street area between llth and 5th Avenues.

Quinton “Q Dog” Clausell testified but was vague about the times and locations of the defendants alleged narcotics dealing. Andrew Jackson though gave the most detailed description yet of cocaine selling by the defendants on trial in the case. Jackson named seven of the eight defendants standing trial as regular drug dealers in the area. Clausell told of beating people up. “I take it out on them. It all depends on how I feel. I beat them down.” Q Dog testified. Prosecutors stressed how guns played an important part in the Short North also. George Miller a 32-year-old crack addict testified that Antwan Woods brandished guns regularly. While complaining about police harassing his drug customers once Woods pulled a handgun from his pants and said he was sick of police hassling “my clientele,” Miller told the seven women, five man jury. Woods not only supplied Posse members with crack cocaine but also offered to sell them guns, George “Gee” Gladden a Posse dealer testified. Gladden said Woods offered to sell him firearms as they talked on an apartment porch along North 4th Street. “He would come to me and tell me, ‘I got the guns you need,’” Gee testified.

Posse members didn’t have any compunction about selling drugs near elementary schools, Jeremiah “Boogy” Berger, an 18-year-old former Posse member testified. He saw Hough selling crack across the street from Weinland Park Elementary at 211 East 7th Avenue, Berger said. A prosecution witness also recanted his testimony and said that federal authorities pressured him into lying about drug dealing activities by three defendants in the Short North Posse case. Defense attorneys said the surprise remarks of Reginald “Froggie” Crenshaw in U.S. District Court threw doubt on the testimony of the other government witnesses. “When you testified about Donneto Berry, did you lie?” Asked attorney George Luther. “Yes, sir,” Crenshaw replied. He gave similar answers to questions from attorneys for Reed and Hough. Luther also asked the witness, “You would have said anything they wanted you to say, wouldn’t you?” Crenshaw answered, “Yes, I had to say something. I was pressured for the whole testimony. I had no choice.”

Lawyers for the defendants argued that the SNP was not a gang and they claimed more importantly it was not a drug conspiracy. There was no business like distribution network, hierarchy of leadership or organization of members. The different members of the SNP claimed to have sold their drugs independently of one another, choosing their own locations, price points and working hours. Dennis Belli, Woods’ attorney said Woods grew up with many of the defendants and even considered some of them his friends, “but mere association doesn’t make a conspiracy.” While some of the defendants were friends others didn’t like each other, Belli said. “They engaged in turf wars,” he told the jury. “There was no particular leader. There was no chain of command.” Judge George C. Smith dismissed a total of seven charges against five defendants; Woods Needum, Reed, Curtis and Chad Gibbs, but they still faced a total of 25 counts.

“We’ve all heard stories about dope being used by everyone from three and 4-year-olds to grandmothers in the Short North side,” Steven Brown, Reeds attorney said. “But don’t hump all the evidence together.” He slammed the prosecution for putting a witness on the stand who testified about Posse members being involved in drug dealing and who later, as a defense witness, recanted his testimony. “Who are you going to believe government witnesses or government witnesses?” Brown asked. Judge Smith ruled that the jury should determine which version of testimony given by Reginald “Froggie” Crenshaw to believe.

After deliberating for nearly five days on November 8, 1995, the jury convicted seven members of the SNP on 34 drug dealing and gun charges. One defendant, Jimmie Reed, was acquitted. The defendants showed little emotion as the guilty verdicts were read. The judge characterized the Posse as one of the most dangerous gangs in Columbus’ history. U.S. Attorney Edmund Sargas praised the ATF and the Columbus Police Narcotics Bureau for their joint investigation. “The convictions say a lot about good solid police work, it shows by working together we can make the community safer.”

A federal judge imposed the stiffest prison sentences possible on the members of the SNP in April of 1996. The defendants were convicted by jury in the U.S. District Court of the Southern District of Ohio, George C. Smith presiding, of conspiracy, drug trafficking and firearms offenses. “This was a street gang that was a plague on the community,” the judge said. “They made life in the area unlivable. It is astounding to me the young age that some of you started dealing drugs. The brutality of threatening the life of an agent who was putting his life on the line in the war on drugs is untolerable.” The judge was livid and hell-bent for retribution on the SNP.

“The sentence, forty-six years and one month,” Fridge says. “I got a year for myself and one for all my co-defendants in what was the biggest gang conspiracy in Columbus history.” Anthony “Ant” Gibbs was sentenced to 29 years 5 months, Antwan “Trouble” Woods to 40 years, Richard “Manual” Hough to 22 years 6 months, Chad “Boss Moss” Gibbs to 33 years, Robert Curtis to 17 years and Donneto Berry to 10 years one month. “This is an indictment on the whole criminal justice system,” George Luther, Berry’s attorney said. “My client was a low level participant. This is an example of how the guidelines have disproportionably required judges to impose lengthy sentences that don’t fit the crime. All these sentences do is warehouse these young men. You can’t warehouse people and expect it to make a difference in the country’s drug problem.” But the war on drugs was in full effect and exerted its full force on the SNP.

“The gig was up. None of us really cared. Growing up in the projects was like growing up in prison. All my dudes were in with me so it was like my high school reunion on steroids. At six-foot-four and with a top-billing reputation in the streets and the joint, crying was not an option. My niggas expect better of me and I demand class of myself,” Fridge says. “We went to trial with an Ohio All Star defense team. We chopped their asses up, but nobody talks about that. Nobody talks about the good we done.” The feds were only spinning it one way. They wanted the SNP to go down and go down hard. They didn’t care about the community the SNP protected.

“Clearly people are getting fed up with violent crime. The judge sent a clear message, if you’re going to pick up a gun and use it in a violent crime, its going to be the biggest mistake of your life.” ATF Chief Mapley said. “The sentences were appropriate,” U.S. Attorney Sargus said. "The defendants were convicted of having played substantial parts in the conspiracy with a high level of personal involvement.” And ATF Chief Mapley added, “If you don't warehouse them, they’ll be back out on the streets doing the same thing. The money is too fast and easy." But justice would prevail at least to a point for the SNP, the sentences wouldn't stand.

Members of Drug Dealing Gang to Spend Less Time Behind Bars, The Columbus Dispatch reported on March 16, 2000. The stiff sentences imposed on seven members of the SNP were reduced because of a ruling by a federal appeals panel. The judges reversed a total of 12 convictions while upholding 21. The three-judge panel of the U.S. 6th Circuit Court of Appeals in Cincinnati found, “with respect to the other defendants the government’s evidence proved simply that these defendants independently sold a lot of drugs. No where do we see evidence that a specific defendant agreed to participate in the conspiracy.” The judges wrote.

“The case was bogus, I always thought they’d get some relief from the court/appeals.” The local says. “It was a trumped up drug conspiracy. You know how the feds do. They twist shit however it suits them.” Antwan Woods Attorney Dennis Belli said of the rulings, “It appears to be a general repudiation of the government’s theory that simply because individuals are selling drugs in a certain neighborhood that they're engaged in an organized conspiracy.” The appeals judges ordered Judge Smith to re-sentence the seven SNP members.

Tell us about the re-sentence?

Fridge: April 1999, two days before my birthday. I received a precious gift. The Dispatch announced that we had won our appeal. We all knew the conspiracy was pretty much a stunt. Shoot, three months grinding it out in trial proved that. I’m thinking new trial, but they didn’t grant a new trial. They re-sentenced me to 27 years.

Ant: The re-sentencing was cool, because I got the chance to see the posse again. We had beat the conspiracy along with a couple other charges, but we still got fucked. I was re-sentenced to 248 months.

His co-defendants got similar cuts. Hough to 19 years, Woods to 33, Curtis to 8, Boss Moss to 19 and Berry to 8. It was a victory but the defendants wanted more and they appealed to the judge who rejected their motions for leniency. “You were part of one of the most odious groups of criminals ever to exist in Franklin County.” The judge said. “The only thing the system can do is keep people like you off the streets as long as possible. You spread a slow death to many members of the community through your dread drugs.”

Big Fridge benefited the most because his gun convictions were overturned. The appeal judges ruled that Needum’s gun conviction be reversed because the weapon was not used in connection with drug dealing. The alleged armed robbery of the ATF undercover agent occurred after the drug sale. The feds were outraged. ATF Chief Mapley said, “This definitely undercuts the dangerous job Rodney Russell did. I’m shocked and dismayed." The feds couldn't leave it alone either. “Two weeks later the feds called in a favor from the state and had them drop an indictment on me.” Fridge says.

Needum was charged with aggravated robbery, robbery kidnapping and unlawful possession of a dangerous ordnance by Franklin County Common Pleas Court. “We want to make sure that he is in prison for as long as possible because we consider him a dangerous man,” Assistant County Prosecutor David DeVillers said. Talk about vindictive prosecution and what about double jeopardy? “If a prosecutor is going to press charges he isn't suppose to wait to see if you’re going to win the appeal five years later,” Fridge says. Fridge was facing fifteen to twenty-five years in the state. That is Amerikkan justice there, but it seems only to apply to people of color. Fridge ended up copping out to three years, so in reality the case was really weak. The state knew the testimony of the crackhead ATF agent wouldn’t hold up.

And as the Short North Posse members rotted in federal prison they watched as the unrighteous made money and fame off of their blood. With the release of Let That Be the Reason and the founding of Triple Crown Publications Vickie Stringer turned her life around after five years of prison and became rich and famous. After snitching on everybody she knew or even heard of in Columbus including her own brother, because she couldn't take the weight and do the time for her own crimes, Vickie Stringer was sentenced to five years in the feds. She wrote her book in prison but conveniently left out the part that she was one of the biggest snitches in Columbus’ history.

Vickie Stringer got busted in September 1994 and agreed to plead guilty and testify against others even her brother in exchange for reduced charges, the Columbus Dispatch reported. “Stringers information was found to be accurate and was corroborated by other confidential cooperating sources and independent investigation,” authorities said. “Everyone at the crib our own age knows what the deal is with her,” the dude from the era says. But people in other cities don’t. They are steadily reading and supporting her and Triple Crown Publishing as if they are really the epitome of the gangsta lifestyle that their books portray. When in reality the real gangsters, that she snitched on, are sitting in the penitentiary while she profits off their stories. And imagine how the dudes from the Short North Posse case felt doing decades of their lives in the pen as the person who caused their case to come about rocketed to hood rich and street star status off of their blood.

Tell us about Vickie Stringer and what happened with your case?

Fridge: Our case started a domino effect. Lames far and wide jumped on our case in an attempt to reduce their sentences. People lied about being our connects or getting dope from us or something to get a time reduction. Many of them couldn’t identify us in a lineup, but the first to tell can tell their own stories. I’ve stopped talking to homies because they mess with certain hot niggas and figure its cool, because they didn’t tell on us. Rats are spineless and their supporters are just as spineless.

Ant: Cases are like sequels to a book series, because one case leads you to the next. Because Rob Brondon got caught and he told on Vickie Stringer, she tell on niggas on her case, my case along with niggas on other cases. The shit goes on and on. A rat is a rat. There’s no justifying that. Now, the rats on our case most of them was niggas that brought me to the game. I guess you could say they took me out too. To name a few- Andy Jackson, Thomas Terry, Raynard Wallace, Robert “June” Dotson. Man, fuck them hot ass, bitch ass niggas. I’m not going to waste your ink on them.

Fridge: I’ll acknowledge the facts, but we’re not rappers. Real niggas don’t broadcast their business. Yeah, she bogus, yeah, he bogus, but that’s all I got to say. A warning to all those who may come into contact with so and so, but that’s it. That’s how real niggas operate.

On January 17, 2002, the appeals court ruled that SNP members could not get their prison sentences reduced a second time. So that was it, the gig was up. Appeal Judges Guy Cole, Karen Nelson Moore and John O’Meara decided one sentence reduction was enough. And as the years have passed the area the SNP once considered their territory has changed dramatically. “Some real estate and investors were interested in that area. $100 million was invested in that area. They had to devalue the property, create a high crime area,” the local says. “Since they got the SNP out of the way property values went up. It’s called gentrification. The legacy of the SNP is that of a group of young black men who were negatively exploited by the Department of Justice due to real estate and commercial interests.”

And in Columbus there was a big buzz after the prosecutions. “They were saying shit like they saved the Short North area from urban terrorism.” The local relates. “That’s some bullshit, the Posse was about their business but it wasn't any different then what went down in other hoods.” In reality was the neighborhood saved with the SNP convictions or were the SNP just a convenient group of young black males to take the fall so gentrification could occur? Being unconstitutionally locked down for a case that should have stayed on the state level. We will probably never find out for sure, but still we are here to salute the Short North Posse and the eight dudes that took the feds to trial and stood up.

What do you think your legacy is?

Fridge: It’s well known that we were not a threat to the university or our hood. We’re old school, we respected the turf. Yet they still caved in our little community, but there are reasons behind this that blacks aren’t looking at. It’s as easy as killing three birds with one stone. In the Clinton years he was responsible for the cleanup of NAFTA. All the factory jobs were pouring out of the country, but many of those jobs were replaced with prison industries, especially in rural areas. Blacks fill up those prisons. So here you have it. You indict whole neighborhoods of black males that are getting a little money, make them face doing life or telling on everyone they know, which causes a split in the unity forever. My legacy is as of yet unfulfilled.
Ant: Well, being that only eight of us took it to the box out of 46 I would say that we are respected and looked up to by few. The reason why I say a few is because if you are from a city that is filled with about 80 to 90 percent of hot snitch ass niggas what can we expect. Few stick to the street code, but a lot of them break like sticks.

How would you like to end this?

Fridge: Look around. Projects are being destroyed left and right. The trap I grew up in has trees and gates and shit, and at the bottom of the Short is $100,000 to $300,000 condos with more to come. Incarceration reduces the black populace, because incarceration is castration. HIV and Aids will take care of the rest. The state of black America is scary. But still I’m gonna be who I am. I slay dragons not talk them to death. Nobody cares about a grown ass man, which is what I am. They want to worship hot niggas and shit. I say let them have it. Niggas like us need to worry about one thing and that’s gathering real niggas. Connecting game on a boss level and wiping clean what you can when you can. I got to mention my man Sherman “Sugar Shack” Giles. Sherm is one of those real niggas that got out the way and didn’t roll his tongue. He was a big boy on the turf who chose to hold true. Much respect to him and all my other comrades. Real soldiers who go hard these days are a rare breed. I’m honored to associate with niggas on this level.

Ant: I’ve ran into a lot of good niggas that may never touch the streets again, so I would like to send respect to them- the posse, Big Fridge, Trouble, Richie Rich, Boss Hog, Sherman, Gangsta, Crusher, Dan Dan, Tom Cat, Style P, Too Short, Mike G, Sneeky Lord, Soup (Cuz), those Ohio Playas, Creed, Philly, Man, M and M, Bones, Cheeze and last but not least Larry B.H. and all the rest of the real niggas that took one on the chin and is still standing. Real eyes recognize real lies. Loyalty ain’t everything, it’s the only thing. Death before Dishonor.

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Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you

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Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

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Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

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]]> Thu, 16 Apr 2009 01:25:10 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=60 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=60 <![CDATA[The Anatomy of a Snitch]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=59

What constitutes a snitch? How far can one take it? When is telling not telling? In today’s world the lines aren't so clear cut and dried. Moral questions come into play such as obligations and family along with ideals such as integrity, honor and respect. The definition of a snitch is rat, informant or tattletale. The dictionary goes along the same lines- Snitch: 1) To turn informer, tattle. 2) An informer. The word came into usage in England circa 1775 and the origin is uncertain but the definition is clear or is it?

In today’s juxtaposed world of popular culture, the streets, hip-hop and the War on Drugs the word takes on several different connotations to different people, ethnic groups and social classes. But still a snitch is a snitch and as a society we've been conditioned to believe that nobody likes a snitch. From childhood parents teach their children not to tattle. The cops have their wall of silence, the military forces their secret tribunals, big businesses and CEO's abhor whistle blowers and criminals have their own code.

"The ideal of the stand up guy has always been the central element in the American underworld," one oldtime gangster says. "From the earliest immigrant groups people who refused to talk to law enforcement and were willing to do prison time if called for were admired for their toughness and loyalty. Being a stand up guy was like being a prince of the underwor1d and this attribute transcended ethnic lines." So gangsters and criminals off all creeds were expected to and rewarded when they kept their mouth shut and did their time. And snitches were marked for death for opening their mouths.

"Being able to accept your punishment for shit you get jammed for is important." Getto Boys rapper Scarface said in FEDS Magazine. "You gotta suffer the consequences. Fuck a snitch. A snitch might as well take a dick." And in criminal circles they say, "If you're gonna do the crime be willing to do the time." That is the ideal and any betrayal of that ideal is seen as snitching. The Mafia even has a word for the code-Omerta, the code of silence. What is done in the streets stays in the streets. Never talk to the police. Stand up guys take a position and maintain it when faced with adversity. Be it a life sentence of the death penalty. But the stand up guy was born of a time before RICO conspiracy laws, paid confidential informants and the Witness protection program.

"Back in the day when you got busted you could take the fall because even for murder you were only getting 2-7 years and 25 years was considered a life sentence," one DC convict says. "Going to prison was seen as a right of passage for criminals. If you did your bid, kept your mouth shut and came home your reputation in the city was enhanced. But now with the football numbers the feds are giving out dudes can't carry their weight and stand up. They could stand up for 5 but for 20? There’s only a few still built like that." And since the end of the 80's dudes have been rolling over on the regular.

With the toughest sentencing guidelines ever cooperation became the rule rather than the exception and the old time gangster and stand up guy became extinct. "It started with the mafia," says the oldtime gangster. "They became a victim of their own success. Hollywood embraced them and with that it was all down hill. The Mafia became pop culture and prosecutors around the country jumpstarted their political careers by taking the mob down." It became a repeating scene of the first one to the buffet table as mobsters rushed to be the first ones to cooperate and get the sweetest deals. Most Mafioso's instinct for survival outweighed all other criminal codes of behavior. Especially with the feds serving life sentences for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

And the explosion of the drug trade in the 80's has proven to be the biggest factor in people turning snitch. Faced with life sentences drug kingpins and their underlings switch sides to go to bat for the government in hopes of reducing their jail time. It’s a vicious world where prosecutors hold all the power. The War on Drugs has created a snitch culture where brother tell on brother. The ideals of the past have been trashed in the face of mandatory minimums and sentencing guidelines that congress enacted to usher in the War on Drugs as a direct result of the indiscriminate violence and brashness of the crack trade that boomed in the mid eighties. Nearly every drug case in the feds involves a snitch. "Right near the end of the 80's the game started getting shystier than a motherfucker," Scarface confided to Feds backing up the notion.

And as hip-hop has gone mainstream like the mafia before it everything from the underworld and the streets has become popular culture. Now one can find Crips and Bloods in the suburbs and gang signs and Crip walks are regularly seen in rap videos, DVDs and movies. And with the advent of the new crack rap by new artists such as Rick Ross, Cleezy, Weezy, the Dipset and 50 Cent the phenomenon is not about to end. But when does the culture envelope itself and when does entertainment blur with reality?

"The hip-hop industry is not making it easy for itself with the whole stop snitching thing," hip-hop cop Derrick Parker said in XXL of the Stop Snitching T-shirts prevalent in the hip-hop community. The backlash after 25 years of the War on Drugs is a welcomed sight but will the code go back to being the code or is it just a fad or an illusion to fuel record and DVD sales?

"Most of the cats advocating the stop snitching movement are not real gangsters," one New York convict says. "They are entertainment figures with little if any criminal backgrounds. I mean look at 50 cent, he did 9 months in a boot camp and he expects us to believe he’s a stand up guy, an old time gangster. Get real." But raps pseudo drug lords have their fans buying into the whole movement. The stop snitching phenomenon was even co-opted by USA Today, the most mainstream of newspapers as a headline and cover story to sell papers. But hip-hops connection to drug culture and criminal codes of honor are illusionary at best and hip-hop cop Derrick Parker sees nothing but problems for the rappers.

"The authorities see rappers who are no cooperating with the police and they see all these shooting and homicides. To them that borders on organized crime," he told XXL. With all the songs and high profile cases involving the likes of Shyne, Lil Kim, Cam'ron, 50 cent and Busta Rhymes the snitch issue is not going away. The movement seems to have originated with the Skinny Suge "Stop Snitching" DVD that featured NBA star Carmel Anthony. Now every rapper and their entourage are putting out stop snitching DVDs and exposing their competition as rats. But is it real or entertainment? Very few of them are facing jail time and even when they do it is minimal time. So what has the effect on real life been? And in y2k what exactly is a snitch?

"On the far right you got the police," the NY convict says. "On the far left you got the gangsters and in the middle you got the civilian. There is a difference between a witness and a snitch. A witness is someone who doesn't have and allegiance to the individuals who participated in the criminal acts. There is no breach of trust. A witness is doing their civic duty as a citizen and police consider anyone who doesn't provide info as obstructing justice. Most people are taught to report suspicious or criminal behavior to the proper authorities. But on the flipside a cat who gets busted with product and flips on his mans and them to get off is a pure snitch, plain and simple. No ands, ifs or buts." In the criminal underworld snitching is a transgression worthy of Judas, the cultural father of all betrayals. And in prison, where most criminals end up there is no sympathy for a snitch. But the lines aren't always so clear.

"Is your grandma that called the cops on the dudes selling crack on the corner a snitch?" The DC convict asks. "No way Joe. She ain't in the game. But what happens if she reports a murder and is gonna testify on dude?" He Pauses. "Still she's not a snitch. She has no vested interest in the crime. But let’s say the dude facing the murder beef gets his homies to kill your grandma the witness? Fucked up, yes? But that’s part of the game?" In the violent criminal underworld fair isn't always fair and innocent victims of witnesses who open their mouths can and will get killed but that doesn't mean they're a snitch. Snitches put cases on people. Snitches are law enforcement pawns. No snitch can ever be honorable. But on the flipside sometimes it takes a snitch to bring justice to some well deserving bad guys.

"A child molester or baby raper is the lowest of the low in prison." The oldtime gangster says. "I live by the code but I would testify against a child molester because that is wrong. But if I could get away with it I would kill them first." And this is coming from an oldtimer. So when do the ends justify the means? To some like the DC convict "Anybody who testifies for the prosecution is a rat." But he relates an even more complex situation.

"Dude T-bone from around my way is a thorough dude. No bullshit. An oldtime prison legend. Him and two other dudes were at a halfway house, just got out of Lorton. Some prison guards worked at the halfway house. T-bone and the two dudes robbed the place and beat the residents and got caught. All three of them. There were only two witnesses to the robbery and beating, the one dude who got beat and a female prison guard who was subdued. To get out of prison T-bone told the cops what happened and his part in it and agreed to cooperate against his co-defendants the other two dudes. When the cops let him out he went and killed both witness and then him and the two other dudes got the case thrown out due to no witnesses being available." The DC convict stops. "Now, is T-bone a snitch?" A lot of people would say yeas because he talked to the cops but you have to look at the whole picture. He got himself and his two boys off by killing the witnesses to the crime that he informed the authorities of to get out of jail for the express purpose of nullifying the witnesses. A twisted game for sure but snitch or no snitch?

In this post War on Drugs world no answers are clear cut. Sure there is the black and white, clean cut look but sometimes one must look deeper and then decide what constitutes a snitch. Because it isn't always as clear as it seems. A lot of variables can come into play. But be sure to know that if you are in the game or a criminal undertaking at one time or another you will be pressured to snitch or even told that your boy already has snitched on you. Just remember this when that time comes, if you're willing to do the crime be willing to do the time.

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They said FCI Mckean got tore up. And before the riots that institution was known as Dream Mckean, the sweetest institution on the east coast. I've spoken to prisoners that were there and they all said the jump off there was off the hook. A real live riot. Supposedly several millions of dollars worth of damage was done. FCI Memphis was another institution that I heard the prisoners went off at. Destroying and damaging buildings, setting fires, smashing windows- just outright and blatant destruction. They said FCI Bastrop got destroyed too and several others like Lewisburg had major disturbances. This dude told that at Lewisburg it jumped off in I-Block. The cops came up handcuffing dudes hands and feet and dragging them down three flights of stairs. Beating the shit out of dudes who were bucking. Supposedly the cops there were vicious and took it out on the prisoners. As for my experiences in FCI Manchester, now that was a different scene.

Like I said, there wasn't really a riot at FCI Manchester. I don't remember any jump off being planned at all. No talk of action or what we should do. Just a lot of grumbling about this and that but that was normal in any prison. Dudes are always complaining about something. Like the time they got, the food, the c/o's or whatever. In prison as in life people complain just to hear themselves talk. Dudes were going hard, or whatever you want to call it, but it was after the fact. When we were already locked down and rumors were filtering in. So it was all in vain actually. And after two weeks of being locked down and the goon squad being taxed to the max they unlocked us on a limited basis.

The compound didn't open but the units did. Everybody was locked in their own individual unit but at least you could use the phone, take a regular shower, move around, and watch TV. Plus it eased the strain on the goon squad. i think at the time they only had two squads outfitted and they were probably worn out after working two weeks of round the clock policing,

Any freedom after being locked in a cell for two weeks is good but there was always some knuckleheads who wanted to go hard. Nothing happened on my block but I heard in some of the others dues tried to smash windows, TV's, and light trash cans on fire. These units quickly got locked down again. As soon as they unlocked us they opened the compound on a limited basis. They called prisoners to chow one unit at a time. And when that went alright the same happened with the yard.

It was almost business as usual. But everything was on a restricted basis. In the hole they said cells were four and five deep. That means four or five guys in one two-ma n cell. Supposedly in the hole the prisoners were going off. Flooding the ranges, burning toilet paper and mattresses, throwing shit and piss on the cops. It was a madhouse. The dudes in the hole and the ones who had been taken there during the lockdown were going hard.

A couple of my friends were in the madhouse and these are the stories they related to me. One of my Chicano friends was already in the hole doing d/s time and when they started bringing prisoners to the hole who had bucked on the lockdown, shit started going crazy, he said. The hole got so crowded that they had to take two buses of prisoners approximately, out of the institution. To us on the compound these dudes just disappeared but we heard the whole story later. Like six months later in some cases.

The BOP practiced some diesel therapy on the prisoners who bucked in
the hole at FCI Manchester. But for real you can't blame the prisoners who caused disturbances because four and five men in one two-man cell locked down 24 hours a day is vicious. So what would you do? Go hard, buck, fight the man- what other choice do you have? Anyway my Chicano friend got caught up in the spirit and was one of the first to be taken out of the hole as he was shouting and encouraging other prisoners to flood the tiers and raise hell.

The bus they put him on went to FCI Beckley. A brand, new prison that was as yet unopened. He did six months in the hole there before they brought him back to FCI Manchester. He told me they took him out on a midnight transfer to Beckley. Supposedly the cops were beating the shit out of the handcuffed prisoners as they escorted them to the bus. My Chicano friend said some of the dudes figured they were done for. All out in the sticks and shit with redneck cops. The city dudes were wondering if they were on some Ku Klux Klan type of time and shit. But the cops didn't kill anyone, they just left them at Beckley, an empty prison, with a skeleton staff, until they healed up from the beating they took on the journey over. So my Chicano friend and 40 others stayed up in the hole locked down until everything cooled off. Acting as dummies for the Beckley staffs’ training routines. But it was all good because shit chilled and most of them didn't even receive incident reports or nothing.

My other buddy got taken to the hole after the two week lockdown period ended. He was setting fires in the unit by throwing matchbooks into trashcans. He was also trying to get, his block to riot or jump off as he called it. He told me horror stories of flooding the ranges, throwing shit and piss at the cops, and not sleeping for days on end and being crowded all up in the small cell with four other dudes. They were hardly fed he said and. were kept in a state worse then animals were kept.

He told me they took him out on a bus with other prisoners early in the morning and they all ended up at USP Terre Haute in the hole. He said the cops there were brutal and inhuman. Pulling him down the stairs fully shackled, kicking him, punching him, and striking him with their batons and shields. He said he spent 6 months in a dirty, wet cell with roaches, rats, and mice who ate better then he did. He related how he was lucky to get one meal a day and was taunted by the cops who seemed to get off on a sadistic sort of trip at his predicament. If any prisoners took the bait and started screaming or cussing the cops or throwing piss and shit at them they would drag the perpetrator out of the cell and beat the shit out of them for real. Dude told me that a couple of times he thought he was in hell and that he feared for his life but not from any prisoner but from the cops who were out of control and stressed out due to the nationwide lockdown, increased work hours, and rioting. But eventually as all the prisoners healed up they were shipped back to FCI Manchester. No incident reports or nothing.

So that is the story of the '95 crack riots. At least from my point of view. I'm sure that other prisoners could tell more horror stories but what I related here is what I experienced and heard about. Eventually Manchester went back to business as usual after about a month or so of the lockdown and semi lockdown status. So the lockdown didn't affect me that greatly. But when the compound resumed normal operation I remember a lot of dudes seemed to have disappeared. And six months later I heard their stories. And most of them came back looking worse off for their ordeals.

Soon after the crack riots the BOP went into action. They would not be caught unprepared again. Metal bars went, up on all the windows, metal detectors were placed at different points on the compound, the bunks were bolted to the walls along with the lockers, and the wooden doors were replaced by mental ones with food slots. All thee mediums in the system encountered these changes.

Before the crack riots, only the USPs were lockdown ready. But now all the mediums were equipped like this too. And in 1996 the BOP adopted policies which strictly curtailed inmate personal property, inmate programs, and privileges. Systematically the BOP stripped the prisoners of any little perks or so-called luxuries they had. I've always viewed this as the revenge factor for the crack riots. So steadily doing time in the feds has gotten worse. Visits, phone privileges, TV privileges,, property privileges and programs like college and inmate organizations have been cut. At the same time penalties for institutional infractions have stiffened dramatically. It seems to me that all the prisoners in the system are still being punished for the actions of a few and the lack of foresight from the administrators. And today almost ten years later things are getting even worse.

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]]> Sun, 15 Feb 2009 15:56:55 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=56 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=56 <![CDATA[MDC Brooklyn]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=55

The Metropolitan Detention Center in Brooklyn, New York is in essence a big county jail. Run by the Bureau of Prisons for the feds, this nine floor, two-sided jail holds about 3,000 prisoners in various stages of the criminal justice system process. The buildings house pretrial inmates, the newly arrested or indicted, those on federal writs, those just sentenced and awaiting designation to a federal prison, prisoners who are in transit transferring from one prison to another, work-cadre prisoners who are close to being released, INS detainees awaiting deportation, and inmates who are working for the US Attorney's office and can't be placed safely anywhere else.

The dentition center consists of two buildings side by side and connected by an underground tunnel that is used for prisoner movements. The old side is a crumbling and dilapidated, converted postal center and the new side is a modern BOP facility. The old side houses prisoners in big dorm like units while the new side has units with two-man cells. My first visit to MDC Brooklyn was in January of 2002 when I was transferred from FCI Fort Dix to FCI Fairton, both in New Jersey. My visit was quick as I was processed in through R and D, placed in Four South, a dorm on the old side, and then shipped out on a bus a couple of days later to FCI Fairton. While there though I heard some horror stories of dudes being stranded there in transit for months awaiting a bus to their destination.

Also the unit I was thrown into consisted of pretrial inmates and the newly sentenced so I was bombarded with questions about the BOP and prison life in general. I was surprised at how many dudes were telling me about their cases and almost asking my permission if it was alright for them to snitch or not. As a prisoner who had been down 9 years on a 25 year sentence I found the environment just a little surreal and disconcerting. I mean I had been "bidding and here I was in some county jail type joint. Snitch central, you know. I just counted myself lucky to get out of their so quick.

It used to be that USP Lewisburg was the main holdover/transit spot on the eastern seaboard bust as the prisoner population of the BOP quadrupled in the late 90's and new prison came online MDC Brooklyn become a prominent holdover/transit spot with the opening of the new side in 1999. I visited MDC Brooklyn again for a second time in January 2004 when I was being transferred from FCI Fairton to a brand new institution in West Virginia, FCI Gilmer. This time though my stay was far from quick.

The journey started with the unheard of midnight transfer. I was called to the Lieutenant's office with about eight other prisoners after the 10 PM count, stripped out, shackled, chained up, and marched out of the prison by the three members of the bus crew. In my 11 years of incarceration in the BOP this was the first time I'd been taken for a bus ride in the middle of the night. Supposedly it was unheard of due to security reasons but I guess with the population explosion a lot of security measures were waived. Anyhow I arrived at MDC Brooklyn at the ungodly hour of 3:30 AM in the morning, tired and bewildered.

I was placed on the new side in K8-2, which I learned was one of two transit units on the floor and in the building. Supposedly on the old side they had converted a whole floor to deal with prisoners in transit also. I guess they developed problems with the system they had employed before that I experienced on my previous stop there. Mixing fish (the newly incarcerated) with penitentiary veterans in transit isn't the swiftest policy in the world. I would assume that after a trial and error process MDC Brooklyn administrators discovered this.
The first thing I noticed upon arriving at the detention center for the second time was that the staff was predominantly black and predominantly female. And all the female correctional officers were thick. I'm talking baby got back. They were like boom- all ass, you know. And it wasn't just like one of them. It was all of them. From R and D to the block. I kept thinking of all the rap songs talking about a big butt and a smile. Well, it seemed like all the girls they rapped about in those songs worked at MDC Brooklyn. Maybe it was a qualification or something. Like big butt required, I don't know. But all the dudes on the block were lusting after those chicks. It was incredible. I don't know where they found all those women at but they could have formed the cast of a Lil’ John video. And it wasn't like they were pretty. They were just thick. It must be a Brooklyn thing. There was this one little gorilla mami chick who was just ugly as hell but she had all the dudes sweating her because her ass was phat as shit. Dudes would be standing around her like bodyguards and all that. Pressing her like she was their girl. These dudes were crazy. And the little gorilla mami chick loved it too. Big butt and a smile and all that.

The transit unit was mad corny too and I was not lucky this time around. The weeks went by and after a month I had been through four cellies, I tired to stay active by walking laps around the tiers for an hour a day. I did pushups and sit-ups trying to tire myself out so I could sleep the days away. It was kind of like being in the hole except you weren't locked in a cell 23 hours a day. You were locked on the block 24 hours a day instead. The unit was in constant flux as I waited for my bus or plane out of there. I was stuck in limbo. No mail, no routine to make the hours go by, awful food, and complete and utter boredom. This was some new jack shit and I resented it because I was a veteran. I had been doing time for 11 years, bidding you know, and I had developed habits and a routine which made my time pass rapidly. And here was stuck in a county jail type environment with no personal property, no programs, and no routines. The C/0's were lazy and incompetent. Leaving the unit locked down 1 1/2 hours at a time for the counts that took a half hour on a regular compound. And some of these broad C/0's would be walking around like they were tough or something. Trying to act all gangsta at soft-ass MDC Brooklyn. It was bananas. And my only relief was a book to read, the chance to buy something from the commissary, which was only once every two weeks, or using the phone and burning up my 300 minutes.

I burned my BOP allotted 300 minutes of phone time in a week and then had to wait two more weeks to get more minutes. It was mainly out of boredom. I called everybody on my BOP approved phone list. I scoured the unit for interesting books to read and waited a week for the chance to go to commissary when I first got there. Starving the whole time with the bullshit food and ecstatic just to be able buy some junk food and to get a radio.

After I bought the radio from commissary I spent my time listening to sports talk radio like the Dan Patrick show and the BBC news. This was my entertainment and how I made it through the days without going crazy. Howard Stern, K-Rock, Seton Hall's Pirate Radio, Hot 97, and the Staten Island college station. But after the first couple of weeks even the radio got old. I was used to being out and about on the compound. Moving, you know. And this stuck in the block shit was lame. There was no where to go at MDC Brooklyn anyhow. At first, I was in radio heaven because being in New York there were a lot of Radio options and just discovering all the different shows and stations on the dial was a treat but eventually I burned out on the repetition. Listening to the radio 10 hours a day will do that.

There were two English language TV's and two Spanish ones but the block was full of corny-ass dudes who wanted to watch Gone in 60 Seconds or the Mask of Zorro on TNT five times a day. I had been bidding and was used to going hard on sports. That’s how a lot of prisoners do their time. I always thought that real men watched sports but in the transit unit at MDC Brooklyn all you had was a bunch of suckers. A bunch of corny-ass dudes for real. Watching Charmed and Law and Order and shit. Dudes all up in the block with hot breath, rank, sleeping all day. Rolling out of bed for chow and then starving all night. It was some shit but just goes to show you the state of the feds today.

During my stay the toilet in my cell broke, got clogged up, and the C/0 didn't even care. I told her about and she kept bullshitting me about the emergency plumber coming up. I had the plunger all up in my cell plunging the toilet after every use so it wouldn't flood. After a week the emergency plumber finally showed up and fixed the problem. The showers were some shit too. Bugs all up in the shower. Cold water most of the time and I mean ice cold. If you got a hot shower then it was a good day, you know. I was bored, frustrated, and ready to lose my shit but luckily I was mature enough to take it all in stride. I just kept telling myself this is only temporary.

Ninety percent of the units were prisoners in transit who had been doing time for a number of years plus the newly sentenced who were moving on to their first designations in the BOP. But 10 percent of the unit consisted of special inmates. These dudes worked as orderlies and food servers. Most of them hadn't even been sentenced yet. A lot of them were suspect too and they had rackets going on with the food. They would steal the orange juice and other food that was meant for the dudes on the block and then try to sell it to dudes later. They would give out small portions so there was more for them. I had to finally step to one of the dudes and tell him that I was trying to eat. He would hook me up after that but a lot of the dudes in transit didn't say nothing and the cops just turned a blind eye. A lot of the special inmates were their wanna-be bodyguards and the dudes that were sweating them the most so they just shook their butts and smiled.
They enjoyed special privileges also from their status as orderlies and food servers. They always got unlocked early and got extra food like bread, bananas, milk, orange juice and chicken. I heard them talk about having been locked up for three or four years there without having been sentenced. That shit sounded funny for real. This one dude who worked as a food server came screaming down the tier one time with the cops behind him saying he better get his radio back and the cop seconded him on it. It turned out his radio was sitting on the table right in front of the TV.

There was this one Spanish dude who thought he was the case manager or something. A straight inmate-police. He was the head orderly and word was he'd been at MDC going on five years. Supposedly he testified against a bunch of Colombians and couldn't be placed anywhere else in the system. So the BOP had him hid up in the transit unit. A lot of prisoners mocked the special inmates and called them hot ass motherfuckers but you had to be careful because some of those dudes would run to the man right in front of you and get you locked the fuck up in SHU.

I had this one bunkie who came on a state writ. An oldhead who told me he was doing natural life for murder one in Attica. The way he described the routine from the famous prison I figured he was for real but then he started going on legal visits and it turned out he was fitting to testify against someone on a fed murder case to get a sentence reduction. The feds came and got the dude on President's Day, a motherfucking holiday, to brief him on his upcoming testimony. He told me he was keeping it gangsta. "I ain't doing life for no nigga," he said. That seemed to be the prevailing attitude at MDC Brooklyn and the overall new theme going around the feds in general. A straight snitch culture, you know.

But where there are drug dealers there will be drugs. I didn't pay any mind at first but after the weeks passed there I started to notice the little moves going on. Dudes were in transit but still shit was jumping off. There was plenty of weed and tobacco on the unit to be had. The building was supposed to be smoke free, but it wasn't and drug free give me a break. I didn't indulge, but so much for the War on Drugs. The proof that it's failed exists right in MDC Brooklyn.

As the weeks passed I had urges to hit somebody. I had flashes of walking by a special inmate and slamming him in the face. But I maintained and didn't give in to my baser impulses. It was the environment that did it to me because for real MDC Brooklyn is some straight shit. It exemplified the state of the feds. It's a big-ass county jail filled to capacity with prisoners and ran by lazy and incompetent staff who are basically just punching a clock. The inmate population consisted mainly of fake-ass dude, hot-ass motherfuckers, and scaredy cat types. Transit sucks but MDC Brooklyn is some pure garbage. I couldn't imagine finishing up my bid there like the work-cadre prisoners who exist without athletic programs, programs, weights, a gym, or recreational leagues. I guess the furloughs and the chance to go into the real world for at least part of the day must be the trade off. Because doing time at MDC Brooklyn is an adventure in futility.

Order Street Legends Today.

Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

Prison Stories is the hottest prison book of Y2K9, taking over where "In the Belly of the Beast" and Hothouse took off. Check out what the book reviewers of the major magazine are saying -

"Plenty of blood is shed in this intense record of the harsh realities of the penal system." - Smooth Magazine

"Prison Stories outlaw rawness mixes well with hip-hop's street essence. Fans of Iceberg Slim's pimp tales or HBO's 'OZ' series will really dig this." - Elemental Magazine

"Prison Stories reveals a world of fearless convicts, inconspicuous snitches and deadly gang rivalry." - The Ave Magazine

"An episode of 'OZ' couldn't capture prison drama the way Soul Man does in Prison Stories." - Don Diva Magazine

Find out for yourself by ordering the seminal prison book of this decade. Take a journey behind the walls and experience convict life and culture through Soul Man's stories and insights. You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

]]> Sun, 01 Feb 2009 14:22:40 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=55 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=55 <![CDATA[Inside a Blood Set]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=54
Terrell C. Wright

In California gangs are a way of life and LA is gangbanger ground zero. The Crips, Surenos, Nortenos, Eighty-Eights and Bloods all hold court in the streets, they all perpetrate in some form or fashion. Gangs in the city of Angels are recklessly rampant and gang activity doesn't just happen in the big city. The blueprints for bangin’ have infested smaller towns and spread across the nation. The ideology has transgressed ethnic, racial and geographical boundaries. Gangbanging exists in the hood, the suburbs and even rural areas all over America. Gangs have become a trend and the gang mentality is accepted in popular culture and society as a whole to a large degree. But how did it all start and what’s it really like inside a set?

Gorilla Convict decided to get the 411 and take a closer look at the Bloods and in particular the Rolling 20 Neighborhood Bloods, one of the largest blood clicks in LA today. Legend has it that the Bloods started in the summer of 1972 when a member of the LA Brims, a westside independent gang was shot and killed by a Crip member after a confrontation. Being heavily outnumbered by the Compton Crips and thus no match for them in a gang fight the LA Brims turned to the Piru Street Boys, Lueders Park Hustlers and Denver Lanes, three other non-crip gangs, for assistance. Before the ensuing rumble a meeting was called on Piru Street in Compton where the 4 non-crip gangs met and metamorphosed into the Bloods. To distinguish themselves from the Crips and their traditional blue bandanas the newly form Bloods decided to fly red rags and so the war of colors was launched. According to Blood legend the red symbolizes the blood they've shed, the white in the red symbolizes the celestial bodies, stars or heaven and the black in the red symbolizes the bangers as black people.

Throughout the 70's, 80's and into the 90's the Blood/Crips rivalry grew as did the numbers associated with the gang and their presence in cities and areas across the nation. The warfare has raged on unabated. Bloods aimed to be known as Crip Killers but recently the state of the war has changed as more and more Crips and Bloods have been fighting a more common enemy. The fight in LA has turned from Blood versus Crip and black versus black to Blood and Crip versus Surenos (Mexicans/Chicanos) and black versus brown. It’s rumored that the Mexican Mafia or Erne shotcallers have green lighted all blacks in Los Angeles. From their cells at Pelican Bay the Erne have started a war in the streets of LA. And this racial war has turned vicious. Because we are Don Diva we go right to the source for our interviews. In this case we went to the California Department of Corrections to speak with Rolling 20's Neighborhood Blood soldier and O.G., Terrell C. Wright aka Loko, age 38, who is serving time for a Beverly Hills jewelry store robbery. We spoke to Loko about set life, what being a blood is all about and what the current climate in LA is concerning gang warfare.

When did you first get involved with your set?

For many, many years I sustained that wanna-be status, amongst that rank and file who mostly stood on the side lines, jocking the gangsters shadows and presence. Until finally, I crossed that threshold of no return in 1982, blindly committing myself into that cesspool of violence, death and destruction.

What neighborhood do you all represent?

Me and my homies represent a gang calling itself the Rolling 20's Neighborhood Bloods. A gang that's reputable on the west side of Los Angeles, and practically one of the largest blood gangs inside Los Angeles today.

Did you grow up there?

As shocking as this may sound too many who may have never known this, but I didn't grow up in my neighborhood; at least not in the traditional sense of growing up somewhere. But I've been a part of the fabric and interior for so long, many probably haven't even noticed.

Was it always like that?

I would have to say yes. As far back as I can recollect it’s always been the way it is today: the gangs, the drama, the shootings, the murders and those that are legendary inside the gang scene. It's always been like that as far back as I can recall.

What kind of things did you all get up to?

As far as the neighborhood was concerned back in the early 80's we mostly hung-out on Vermont and 29st, drinking, smoking and flirting with the women who strolled by admiring our machismo. That was then, but as the drama intensified across the city with all the gangs vying to be dominate over the next, me and my homies committed ourselves neck deep into that which was taking the city by storm — (The era of the drive-by shooters).

When did things start progressing towards crime?

From the first inception into the Neighborhood Bloods as a member I soon learned that crime was an intricate part of the gang-bangers persona. Committing a criminal act for the gang-banger was no different than eating, sleeping and breathing. Plus back then crime paid. Our earliest form of hustling, prior to crack digging its claws into the many communities and jurisdictions, was that of snatching purses, jewelry snatching, home burglaries, stealing cars and selling its parts. As I mentioned to commit a crime was the gang-bangers hustle. So it's always been there; an intricate part of the gang-bangers life.

Give me a history and breakdown of your set?

Prior to my click -the 29st click of the Neighborhood Blood - becoming a part of the NHB's, we were known as the Vermont Villain Boys. Basically, we were youths who thought they were cool. And we had such names as Lover D. - soon to become Zig Zag; Ranger, soon to become Stranger; Baby Black, soon to become Big De Bopp; and me as Baby Boy, soon to become Mr. Loko. That's how we started off as players, wanna-be's, until finally we became known as the 29st click of the NHB's. Today we're one of the biggest click inside the Rollin 20's gang with a few hundred click members from our click alone.

Where are all your homies now?

Wow, that's deep to me, because I always think about the generation of homeboys I grew up with, especially my click of members. Homeboys like Lace Dawg, T-Dawg, Sparky, Boodha, Joker, Hen Dawg, Te-Bopp, De-Rock, Be-Rock, Nutty-Boy, Gumboe, Dez, L-Bone, Lil Jerr, Big-Tee are either retired, dead or strung out on drugs...and I haven't even listed those who are in jail. There are a few success cases, but not many. I always reflect back on my homies and those I started off with. I often wish I could go back to those early time periods to be able to hang-out with my homies that I miss.

Looking back how do you reflect on it all?

Looking back now I have many regrets in one sense. I would be lying if I said other wise. And in the same sense I don't have many regrets. I don't no how much sense that makes, but that's the way it is inside my heart. I am what I am: a soldier of the field who's totally equipped for any shit that hits the fan. I'm that gangster who stands his grounds when many suckas break and run, not certain of themselves. I am an epitome of a gangster, thug. So once more looking back I have regrets but not many.

Why did you all form in the first place?

If you’re asking as to why the neighborhood was started, I'm not exactly certain about that in particular, as the voyage was a generation before my time. But as far as my particular click, the 29st is concerned, it gave us the opportunity to be apart of something grandeur, majestic, mystical and dominating in the hearts and minds of those who stood on the side line, admiring and awing over the gang-bangers life.

What is the history of the color?

The chose of choosing red as the symbolical representation of being a blood, is beyond my reach in knowledge. In fact, I don't have the slightest inclination as to why the color red was chosen for the bloods, and even more so, why the Crips chose blue. I'm totally lacking in that area of history.

When did you first get involved?

Before I was an official made-man on the gang scene, I had my few tumultuous years circa 1979-1981 of being a wanna-be gangster. So I started in the gang-bangers track some time ago, and it wasn't much time later, where I concluded that I was ready to make that commitment.

What's it like for the young kids growing up there?

It's a continuance struggle for the youngster growing up in Los Angles. Especially, inside a city where the gang-bangers aura have a strong grip on the youths minds from an early age onward. They have to always battle the decision, of joining the rank and file of those before them, into the gang scene, or to march down a separate path. But in my humble opinion, it's a struggle in every aspect.

How do you see things in your neighborhood today?

Today is no different then the old: gang wars, funerals, lives destroyed and many more adversities to overcome. The only difference today, is instead of the traditional Blood -vs- Crip wars, and Mexican (cholos) -vs- Mexican warfare, the two predominate groups in Southern California, have now turned their guns on each other. It’s the new trend of black gangsters -vs- brown gangsters. But it’s a no win situation, as the only for sure outcome, is that there will be more chaos and destruction left behind then it was the day before. All across the L.A. county lines, and its many highways and byways, the black and brown gangsters are drawing up new battle lines, re-drawing and re-establishing new Demilitarized Zones, inside communities they once happily shared together, and are killing each other at an alarming rate. The excrement blood baths have the two groups taking it to dimensions of warfare that's considered something new to the many L.A. gangsters: racial targeting and culture clashes. It's the new trend and sadly enough it'll be here for a while and as it buries itself deeper into the fine woven material of the L.A. stage of drama, more lives will be lost, and many more heart breaks of family, friends, homies, brothers, cousins, fathers, and uncles loss of lives will continue to rise out of control.

What are all the dudes into?

Now days most of my homies are into grinding (hustling). Trying to attain that almighty dead president (money). And even some (although it's rare in a larger sense) are attempting to take their illegal proceeds and take a shot at making a legit living by up starting a legalize business of some sort. But for the most part most of my homies are grinding on one level or another.

How do you feel about all this?

I have no qualms with any of my homies. Just as they find that niche to do them, I'm doing me. My philosophy is you make your bed you sleep in it. That's how I feel.

What would you do to change how it is?

If you're referring to the gang scene inside the blocks I grew up on, I'd be more than willing to take a step forward to try and bring about some type of change for the betterment of the neighborhood as a whole, and for those who make up the community. I would be willing to make an attempt at trying to form a peace treaty of some sort to rid at least my neighborhood of the violence that have plagued it for so long. I'm at that point in my life where I'm comfortable saying the aforementioned and sincerely meaning it.

What can society do?

What can society do, huh? In my mind, society can assist in many, many ways. I would love to be apart of a (think-tank) from the many echelons of society, to try and come up with some radical solutions, viable solutions to bring about an overdue change inside the hoods. I wouldn’t mind doing my part, as long as society does their part. In the end, it's a group effort.

Will it ever stop or just stay the same?

In my philosophical mind frame, nothing stays the same — absolutely nothing. To me the one thing that remains constant is change. So in my humble opinion, I have a philosophical inclination to say that it will change one day. But the mystery behind that fact of life is what type of change will come. Will it be for the worse or for the better. But as a collective it would be most wise to have a hand in the dynamic that will be, so that change that is inevitable will hopefully bear something positive and not something negative.

Who were your biggest rivals?

Undoubtedly, the Rolling 30's Harlem Crips, are our biggest rivals, and always have been. We battle on sight, and the only time that we've had a tentative peace treaty with each other was during the 1992 L.A. riots, peace-treaty period. But keep in mind, it was a tentative agreement. We had rules in place, that we would stop our drive-by against them, and they would stop theirs against us. And unlike most rivals during that period, who openly visited each others turfs as a sign that the warfare was over, the Neighborhood 20's (my turf) and the Harlem 30's had an understanding, that we were not to visit each others stomping grounds. For months the tentative agreement held until one late night on Brighton Avenue and Adams Blvd my roll dawg, Lil Moe was shot 8-9 times at close blank range. And despite the early rumors that the Hoover Criminal (Crips at the time) had done the shooting, the Republic of the Neighborhood Bloods took our boiling wrath out on the entire Republic of the Rolling 30's. We struck at them from every angle, sending out messages that the L.A. peace treaty was officially over with, on the west side of the city.

What did you all beef for?

In the early days we beefed simply because we were Bloods and they were Crips. That was the unique dynamic all across the city. Simply because we were from opposite ends of the spectrum.

Does the animosity still exist today?

Yes! It still exist but not as it once did. The wars are fewer than it once was, but when they do commence they're bloody and violent. Unlike back in the days when the wars were more rampant as many L.A. gangs vied to be the biggest fish in the ocean. We did what damage we could with our simple revolves. But in today's time when wars jump-off the automatics are brought out and most times multiple body count of dead are the results. So most wars today are brief, but very, very traumatic. But don't get me wrong either it's always a state of warfare between the warring tribes.

What do you have to say to all the young kids coming up?

To not follow in any gangsters footsteps. To stay focused on something positive, and to remain steadfast in some constructive belief that will yield positive results. And never ever join a gang.

As an O.G. (Original Gangster) who are your contemporaries?

In my line of work, many of my contemporaries are either dead, doped out, or have fallen off the face of the earth. But there are some, and since I'm asked to acknowledge them, specifically from my particular tribe, I would have to say my homeboy Big Tray-Kay from the 27th.st, Big Krazy-Kay from the Avenue's, and Big Spook from the 29th.st. There are plenty, plenty more to be listed of who I would tilt my hat to, but those I mentioned, are active Generals in the field, directing, showing and leading divisions of cadres on the field of battle.

Who are the fallen soldiers that need to be recognized?

I have a laundry list of soldiers that I'd like to mention, who I feel need to be mentioned. First, I would like to tilt my gangsta hat to my O.G. homeboy, Original Gangster Santa-Klaus. For years I ran underneath his tutelage, absorbing all the street knowledge he had. And he taught me well. As well as my big homey O.G. Thunder. And of course, I have a list of names that I'd like to tilt my hat to, and of course who I would want many to remember: Billy Rob (1978), Fish-Bone (1984), Stoney (1986), Dopey (1987), L-Bone (1987), Don Don (1987),' Lil No-Good (1988), Sweaty-Teddy (1989), Tee-Lok (1990), Dez (1990), Lace Dawg (1990), Dipps (1991), Wicked (1992), Santa Klaus (1993), Lil Squidd (1993), Baby Reese (1993) Cee-Kay (1993), Lil Krazy-Kay (1993), Insane Wayne (1993), Killa Kal (1993), Wino (1994), Loko-Moe (1995), Lil Dee-kapone (1995), Tiny-Spook (1996), Tee-Spoon (1996), Kay-Dee (1997), Belizean Jerry (1999), Fat-Man (1999), Gee-Kev (2000), M-Dawg (2000), Big Bee-Rock (2000), Nipples (2001), Dre-Dawg (2001), Ant-Dawg (2001), Tiny Evil (2002), Roscoe (2003), Ise-Man (2003), Jay-Bee (2003), Kool Boy (2003), baby Tippy (2003), Evil (2003) Lil-Kay Kay (2004), Rick Dawg (2004), Jay-Dee (2004), Black (2006).

What sets are around your neighborhood?

My neighborhood borders with friends and foes. To the south of our neighborhood, we have our allies the Fruit Town Brim Bloods; and next to them, on our south-west border, we have our arch nemesis, the Harlem Crips. To our immediate west end, we have our allies the Black P. Stone Bloods (city stones) and to our northwest border, we have our enemies, the School Yard Crips. North of us, we have our rivals the Mid City Stoners-13, and the Playboys-13. But we have enough girth to feel comfortable inside our established borders. In fact, it is estimated that we have the biggest territory of any black gang inside L.A. We have five large clicks which make up our neighborhood, and we have a sixth click, that doesn't get much air play. They are called the BZP (Belizean Posses). They're small, but they're ruthless. They hold their own, as the Neighborhood Bloods have been known to carry their weight inside the gang arena. Before I west side roll out, I would like to give a shout out to my homies the Homicide Neighborhoods Bloods in New York, the 8-Mile Neighborhoods Bloods in Detroit and Bakersfield Neighborhood Bloods in California. And an almighty Su—————————whoooop to all the Bloods across the country.

Besides being a Blood soldier and convict, Terrell C. Wright aka Loko is also an author. Check out his books, Home of the Body Bags and the upcoming To Live and Die in LA, which chronicle his journey as a Blood soldier from the streets to the penitentiary. For more info on his books visit www.senegalpress.com or streetgangs.com and to learn more about the brown on black violence in LA check out the In The Hat blog at www.inthehat/blogspot.com.

Order Street Legends today.

Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

Prison Stories is the hottest prison book of Y2K6, taking over where "In the Belly of the Beast" and Hothouse took off. Check out what the book reviewers of the major magazine are saying -

"Plenty of blood is shed in this intense record of the harsh realities of the penal system." - Smooth Magazine

"Prison Stories outlaw rawness mixes well with hip-hop's street essence. Fans of Iceberg Slim's pimp tales or HBO's 'OZ' series will really dig this." - Elemental Magazine

"Prison Stories reveals a world of fearless convicts, inconspicuous snitches and deadly gang rivalry." - The Ave Magazine

"An episode of 'OZ' couldn't capture prison drama the way Soul Man does in Prison Stories." - Don Diva Magazine

Find out for yourself by ordering the seminal prison book of this decade. Take a journey behind the walls and experience convict life and culture through Soul Man's stories and insights. You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

]]> Fri, 02 Jan 2009 17:39:29 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=53 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=53 <![CDATA[George "Boy George" Rivera]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=52

Boy George was a multi-millionaire by the age of 21. A brilliant and powerfully ambitious drug entrepreneur who saw an opportunity and seized it. It’s alleged he made over $15 million in his two year run. Government sources say that Boy George and his Bronx, NY based heroin organization grossed $250,000 a week. Boy George, barely out of his teens, built himself a reputation of being one of the wealthiest druglords to come out of New York and one of the youngest to be charged with the kingpin statute. At the end of the 80’s while America concerned itself with the crack epidemic, Boy George was running one of the most lucrative and aggressive heroin organizations in the city. Flamboyant and charismatic, the Puerto Rican drug baron was one of a kind. Equal parts gangster, CEO and gentleman who juxtaposed street smarts, innovative marketing and ruthless efficiency to create a heroin empire, while other kids his age were still worrying about what clothes to wear or what girls to date. Boy George and the Obsession case are street legend-the exotic James Bond cars, the Christmas Eve yacht party, the harem of girls tattooing his name on their bodies, the glamour, the jewels, the stacks of money, Boy George had it all. And he had it all as a teenager. He was definitely one of the best to ever do it in the drug game.

Part 5- The Legend

Boy George was the master of the Bronx universe. Using a management style that might have been honed in a corporate boardroom and a brand of violence common to drug dealers, Boy George carved out an empire and flooded the streets of Manhattan and the South Bronx with a brand of high quality heroin with the brand names Obsession and Sledgehammer. He was ruthless and powerful, federal authorities said and they linked him to a dozen homicides that marked his climb to the top. The 20-year-old CEO allegedly ran a $9 million a year heroin ring. “Boy George was making crazy money,” Sports says. “Everybody knows that.” He was known for having a temper and had been involved in several shootouts to cement his reputation in the streets yet he never missed an opportunity to intimidate. Boy George didn’t fuck around when it came time to get paid either. “Don’t fall for tricks about ‘Oh, I’ll see you tomorrow, blah, blah,’ when you are dealing with someone who owes me money. You say, ‘Listen homie, I want to eat today. So I’m not going to wait until tomorrow to eat. I want to eat today. I’m hungry. Pay up dude.’ That’s it.” He said.

The authorities alleged George killed mercilessly with hired hit men, killing anyone who crossed his path, workers who came up short, anyone who stole- Boy George was merciless. The murderous and smart dealer was so young that his own lieutenants called him a prodigy. “He kept loyalty strong in this organization,” Sergeant Billy Cook of the NYPD said. “By distributing cash bonuses, gifts and free vacations- the identical incentives that the head of a legitimate company would lavish on star performers.” But investigators maintained that behind the generosity there was a deadly face. At least a dozen homicides, investigators said, could be directly linked to George’s rise to the top, which earned him a reputation that encouraged loyalty by force of death. “If you weren’t with that clique they didn’t really fuck with you,” Sport says. And the one thing Boy George was known for, besides being calculating and violent was his cars. “The first shit was the Benz. The 190, kitted up, music blaring.” Sport says. And Boy George was on some white boy shit too he liked rock and roll, jamming to Guns-n-Roses in the hood. “The first time I saw his shit I was over there on Brook Avenue. On a drive-by too. He was just passing by. Everybody knew him off the rip.” Sport remembers. Boy George didn’t play when it came to cars. He bought Ferrari’s, Lamborghini’s and a Bentley. All this only added to his legend. “He pulled up in a Lincoln Town car to show us,” Flaco says. “He had the Porsche pressing buttons showing how the license plate moved and the lights changed.”

Barely out of his teens, Boy George built an organization so lucrative that he registered a fleet of Mercedes, BMW’s and customized Porsches to one of his corporate fronts, Tuxedo Enterprises. “The press called me the Puerto Rican James Bond because of the gadgets in my car. I was on foot when I was arrested. If I could have gotten to my car they’d still be chasing me.” Boy George said. James Bond, one of George’s heroes, inspired 50 grand worth of special features added to the 190 Mercedes he had. Radar detectors manned the cars front and rear, the license plate slid into a side compartment and a strobe light blinded anyone following him. Secret compartments in the door panels and the floor hid weapons and cash. One device squirted bogs of oil from the tail while a hidden switch flipped a box in the trunk that sprayed nail-like tacks. Boy George also had a Ferrari, a Lamborghini, a Bentley and a Porsche in his garage.

His $140,000 customized black Porsche had a trunk full of stereo equipment, a telephone system, a VCR, a color TV, ebony finish, thick custom rugs, gun compartments that slid open at a touch and a host of other exotic goodies. A button in his customized BMW would cause loaded handguns to pop out of concealed apartments. Boy George spared no expense customizing his favorite cars with $12,000 ostrich-skin interiors, 630 watt stereos, 10-track CD players, televisions, VCRS and cell phones. Several of his cars were straight out of a James Bond flick with all types of features to assist in escaping in car chases. “The biggest influences in his life were probably Gleason’s Gym and James Bond.” Sport says.

At 21, he owned shopping malls and commercial real estate. He flaunted a lifestyle as lavish as a New York socialite or those portrayed on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. But his passion was boxing. “They used to be saying that he was into boxing,” Sport says. “His whole crew was all real nice with their hands. They would give you a fair one if that’s what it was. But they would beat dudes down too.” Boy George’s favorite charm was two tiny gold boxing gloves which symbolized the Golden Gloves boxing competition he’d trained so hard for. He trained at boxing and worked out religiously. “He’d always eat healthy food.” One of his girlfriends said. “He cycled and jogged.” And his trusted Lieutenant, Will “Love” Claussen, was the son of a professional boxer and helped to train George.

Handsome and debonair, Boy George wasn’t that big a dude. “He’s like 5-7 or something,” Sport says. In the South Bronx he was remembered wearing a black leather cap that matched his black leather trench coat. He cropped his dark brown hair short and kept his goatee neatly trimmed. His brown eyes were intent. “He had a good reputation,” Sport says. “Ain’t nobody got nothing bad to say about him. If you bubbling you got to respect that because he took that shit there. He was doing it.” Boy George dined at upscale restaurants like Victor’s Cafe in Manhattan. He liked expensive silk shirts and went by many aliases. He once sent a girlfriend to San Francisco on a day trip to fetch a pair of Nikes that weren’t in stock in New York. He was well-mannered, attentive and confident. Boy George had a big, echoing laugh. He loved Andrew Dice Clay, who was his favorite comedian. The in your face humor fit Boy George’s style but he had a generous side too. His workers would lug bags of groceries from the Food Emporium for the families of girlfriends, of which he had many. Most were Puerto Rican girls from the poverty stricken South Bronx. It was said he kept a harem of women in the neighborhood. “He had a lot of girls. He was all over with the broads,” Flaco says. George had all types too.

“One night stand girls who came back for more,” he explained. “Girls who clung to me like a cheap suit. Then there were girls who were my regular jewels of the Nile, more upper class than these regular girls.” Boy George’s girls were bejeweled in leathers and furs, reclining on ostrich-skin passenger seats of his Benzes and BMW’s. A lot of them tattooed ‘Property of Boy George’ on their bodies. To the girls sex was currency and they spent it on Boy George. He liked his girls customized like his cars. He demanded color coordination. He had a 50 dollar rule, nothing under $50 was to be taken off the rack while shopping. He had one girlfriend wear a twenty-two karat gold ‘Boy George’ name plate around her neck. And his women had to be on point. “He always liked everything spotless, house, clothing. He never liked to see anything dirty.” One girlfriend said. “He’d bring home a whole lotta videos and I would just watch TV. I didn’t have to get a job. I was to cook and clean and take care of things and I would get an allowance at the end of the week.”

Boy George would frequent Club 371, where his whole crew hung out. No waiting in line for Boy George. He strode to the front, sat in the VIP section and sipped on a bottle of Moet. Everyone treated George like a king. “They used to pass by the clubs- Riddler, Peoples and Kamikazi on Westchester, two blocks off of White Plains Road. Two opposite each other.” Sport says. “It was called herpes triangle. A lot of fucking was going on. Dudes weren’t going in. The party was outside the club. The bitches used to come to see who was driving up. Boy George and them drove up in all new cars, tricked out, jeweled up. All the broads were trying to get with them.” Boy George hosted several organization wide social events too including a fall 1988 party at a restaurant and dance club and the infamous 1988 Christmas Eve yacht party.

On December 24, 1988, Boy George threw a black tie party for his entire crew aboard a chartered yacht. He rented the Riveranda at World Yacht’s 23rd Street dock. He and about 150 others in black tie attire set out to party while cruising around the New York harbor. George paid $30,000 in cash to rent the Riveranda, which included dinner for all and a disc jockey. He spent 12 grand to have Big Daddy Kane perform for 15 minutes and laid out more cash for Loose Touch and the Jungle Brothers to perform. The menu consisted of steak tartare, skewered lamb, prime rib and 12 grand in champagne. Boy George paid for the tuxedo rentals, dinner, open bar and entertainment, including a raffle with luxury prizes. The party goers were seated at tables organized by spot location.

The men from each spot wore bands of the same color- red for one distribution group, purple for another and gold for a third. Those that arrived together, stayed together. The managers sat among the pitchers and dealers who worked for them. It was like prom night but with an open bar and no chaperons. As the employees waited on the dock at 23rd Street in Manhattan to board the yacht and begin the party cruise, the men adjusted their bow ties and touched their gold belt buckles emblazoned with their names in diamonds. The guests arrived by BMW’s, Mercedes, by rented limousines and by dollar cabs. Boy George arrived fashionably late in a silk tuxedo and Bally shoes as his tuxedo-clad troops cheered and clapped while he strode up the ramp and waved with a girl on his arm. The DJ announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Boy George.” The king had arrived.

“It’s good to bring them together so they know, ‘Listen man you have a family here. If anything goes wrong this is the type of force that’s coming behind you.’” Boy George said. And the highlight of the night was the raffle. A fully loaded Mitsubishi was the grand prize, 20 grand in cash first prize, a Rolex watch second prize, a trip to Hawaii was third prize and a trip to Disneyworld was fourth prize. Boy George gave Walter “Ice” Cook a BMW 750, Six-O a gold Rolex and 50 grand in cash and gold and diamond Obsession belt buckles to his top four men, each appraised at over 8 grand. As the night went on fights erupted and during the course of the party a man was stripped on the main deck, beaten and spit on by Boy George for stealing a necklace from one of the other party goers. As the yacht made for shore at the stroke of midnight a man attempted to dive off the bow and race the boat on a bet. He was restrained. Unknown to George and his guests, there were three off duty New York City detectives aboard as part of the yacht security. However when it came time to talk to the DEA, these detectives were uncooperative and during George’s trial they remained steadfast in their refusal to testify to what they had witnessed. And Sport remembers when the party went down too, it was legend in the South Bronx, “When they had the shit on the boat, niggas was talking about they was giving away BMW’s. They said they had bows on them and shit.”

This is an excerpt from Street Legends. If you want to read the rest order the book right now.

Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Seth Ferranti is a gifted author that brings the realness of the street to the pages of his books. Street Legends is a classic book that should be read twice by any young hustler that's thinking about joining the game of life and death." - Freeway Ricky Ross, (from BET's American Gangster)

"Street Legends is a classic book that will never leave my personal collection. It's definitely one of the realest books ever written about the rise and fall of some of the top kingpins in American history." - Jimmy DaSaint, author of Money Desires Regrets and on Everything I Love.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

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]]> Fri, 31 Oct 2008 15:49:33 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=51 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=51 <![CDATA[Aaron Jones]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=50

It was said that Aaron Jones was obsessed with the popular film The Godfather and crafted his persona in the mold of Marion Brando’s character Don Vito Corleone. In Philadelphia he was both admired and feared but the respect he commanded was paramount. The alleged founder and street boss of the Junior Black Mafia (JBM), he locked the city of Philly down. His organization was one of the most feared in the history of black organized crime in Philadelphia. Taking its cue from its violent predecessor, the Black Mafia. It’s said the JBM controlled a significant portion of the local cocaine trade and its members didn’t hesitate to use violence to eliminate the competition and keep its members in line. Their motto was “Get down or lay down” and Aaron Jones epitomized that ideal as his crew set the city of brotherly love on fire with some un-brotherly violence. If you crossed the JBM back in the day than you crossed one of the most notorious crews to ever come out of Philly. As their legend has grown, Aaron Jones, their leader has taken on a mythical aura as one of the top black American gangsters ever. His name and JBM’s rings loudly, living on in the hoods of Philly and in the streets across the nation. As they say real recognizes real and Aaron Jones was as real as they get.

Part 4- Media Hype

According to the Philadelphia Crime Commission, Aaron Jones and his associates built the JBM into a violent multi-million dollar drug organization that controlled all of Philadelphia between 1985 and 1991. It was alleged that the JBM was comprised of 50 members and had up to 300 associates that were responsible for the sale of up to 300 kilos of cocaine generating almost 30 million dollars a month. The JBM assets included plenty of money, mansions, luxury cars, furs, jewelry and weapons. Between 1985 and 1991, the organization infiltrated or obtained a financial interest in more than 33 businesses to launder money and provide legitimate fronts for their operations. They were linked to businesses such as video stores, delicatessens, detail shops, security firms, car washes, barbershops and restaurants. Law enforcement viewed members of the JBM as young, well connected, street smart hustlers with a no-nonsense approach to their business. And the media, well they fell in love with the notion of the JBM and ran headline after headline on them, seemingly connecting them to every crime in the city.

“I was not looked at as a man but as public enemy number one, a monster because of all the saturation of propaganda,” Aaron Jones said. It got so bad that every murder case that was unresolved during this period of time was put on the JBM to further substantiate the JBM profile of drugs and violence. Stories were told and embellished upon to the point that the truths of events were no longer identifiable. The papers reported that JBM leaders who were in their early 20’s wore diamond encrusted JBM initial rings, drove flashy late model foreign cars and ordered rivals, feuding members or associates skimming profits- Get down or lay down, cooperate or be killed. “That’s some media shit, it was never really like that. That was some paparazzi shit, it sounds good as a slogan, but that really wasn’t true. You meet somebody, you have some coke and 99 percent of the coke out there was on consignment. If you give them a good price they will accept it.” Derrick Williams explained.

“The motto Get down or lay down is the police motto coming from suckas on the street. No one went around telling people that or giving this ultimatum,” Aaron said. But the newspapers and law enforcement officials ran with it. They maintained that the JBM threatened drug dealers in Philadelphia to “Get down or lay down.” Weapons were JBM’s tools of the trade, the police contended. “Members of the JBM would and did carry semi-automatic handguns and other firearms in order to protect themselves and their drug businesses and to threaten and inflict violence upon rival drug dealers,” court records indicate. The motto was used to headline many stories done on Aaron Jones and the JBM by the media and it was used by the prosecution to further substantiate their claim of unchecked violence.

The JBM was so adept at intimidating witnesses that survivors of assassination attempts refused to testify against their assailants who usually carried high-powered, semi-automatic weapons. Authorities said JBM operative also tried to buy even more powerful weapons including hand grenades. Fancy cars, furs, jewelry, new homes and legitimate businesses made for a comfortable life, providing of course, the drug money continued to flow. And the flow of JBM financed cocaine turned into a flood. Law enforcement officials contended that the cocaine network established by the JBM began with the Colombians and included members of the Scarfo Mob family. They sold cocaine out of fortified house with armor-plated doors and windows. Drug deals were conducted through mail slots. Besides drugs they were also linked to extortions and gambling, Fred Martins, executive director of the Pennsylvania Crime Commission said. Martins also confirmed that JBM members were connected to “certain key people”- relatives of Scarfo’s crime family. And in the city they put their press game down.

“From what I understood dudes were submitting to their commands. Whatever they said went. If they felt dude was a problem he'd end up dead.” Ock says. The cars, the jewelry, the fly girls- JBM had it all. And the extreme violence that occurred was necessary to control their business. This was a given from the street point of view, but everybody knows how the media can flip the script and portray all the ills of society on the latest bad boy in town. America loves its heroes and it loves its anti-heroes even more. “The authorities used to name every drug murder in the city a JBM murder. One thing about the streets, every body knows everybody. They knew the so-called JBM murders were some hype.” James Cole said. But hype can make a man or break him. And the monster the media made Aaron out to be was far from the truth.

“He was like medium size build, he wasn’t all that big. If you was to see him you wouldn't even think it was him.” Ock says. “He was an average looking dude but his name carried a whole bunch of weight.” In the city it was all JBM and Aaron Jones. Every time something went down it was Aaron and them that did it as far as the streets were concerned. There was only one gang in town and that gang was the JBM. They were all over the city and their names were ringing. The media focused in on Aaron Jones as the leader but Ock saw it differently, “Ultimately you would think Aaron was the leader but it might have been Rick Jones too because he was around since the jump and he was behind the scenes. Aaron was riding around, his name popping up, he was too much in the limelight. He was the face of JBM. The enforcer. The street boss.” Ock says. And his whole click feared him.

“Around 89, it was real heavy. They had different corners, crack houses, people in the bars. In Philly everybody is on the corners outside. They’d set up abandoned houses as crack spots, have people on the block, watching for police, collecting money, giving out bundles,” says Ock describing the scene. And JBM was flossing too, with that platinum bling-bling. “Belmont Plateau in West Philly on Sundays was the popular spot. Everybody got their girls, their cars, music. Everybody drinking Forties- Old English, Saint Ides and Philly blunts or EZ Wider. They thought Top papers had the pork in it.” Ock relates. Anybody and everybody living in Philly was talking about Aaron Jones and the JBM during the mid-eighties and early nineties. If they weren’t talking about them, they weren’t down. Everyone had their own version of things and most made it up as they went along but everyone agreed “that they were not to be fucked with.” The JBM had Philly on lock.

The newspaper headlines were crazy- Inside the JBM’s Rise to Power, Brash Youngsters Rule Over Drug Trade, 25 Murders Linked to the JBM. The JBM’s cocaine empire rivaled the defunct Black Mafia’s in scope and violence. What took the Black Mafia decades to build though the JBM conquered in a matter of years. “There were anywhere from 25-40 JBM guys,” Ock says. “That’s how deep they were. That’s just the people who were in position. They had countless people under them. Dudes were associated with the JBM but they weren’t official members. They were just putting in work.” And as the media reports continued no one was ready for what hit next. It seemed straight out of a movie. The Shower Posse/Junior Black Mafia war.

The Shower Posse was a notorious east coast organization of trigger happy Jamaicans who were known for shooting first with wild blasts from Uzi’s and asking questions later. They had dominated the drug trade from Kingston to Miami to New York and eventually started branching out to other parts of the country as they brought more of their people in from Jamaica. They were rumored to have a Wild West attitude with no regard for human life. If someone was in their way they let out a shower of bullets, hence the name. They were also on point with their murder game and had a cadre of vicious Jamaican nationals who were stone cold killers.

The Shower Posse had a stronghold in Southwest Philadelphia and the JBM wasn’t having it. One of their goals was to take back the territory controlled by the Jamaican drug dealers. “Initially when I heard, I was apprehensive,” Willie Byrd, special agent for the Philadelphia Crime Commission said. “I thought some of it might just be street talk. But then we started to get the same thing from other informants and from other agencies and I knew there had been some conflicts between blacks and Jamaicans. I was aware of competition between the two groups. Some of the reports made sense.”

The Shower Posse may have met its match with the brutal and pragmatic JBM. The headlines in Philly said the JBM was balling out of control, definitely putting their thing down. But like all champions a challenger was put forth, to fight JBM for the street crown of Philly. It was like Ali vs. Frazier, Hopkins vs. De La Hoya. What was big news before, turned into real big news with the entrance of the Shower Posse, who were encroaching on the home team’s territory with a murder spree of their own. But was the war more hype than reality?

In March 1988, a man appeared on a television documentary, his face obscured, and claimed to be one of the city’s top four drug dealers. The man threatened to kill his rival Jamaican drug dealers. “We’re going to start exterminating them. I’m telling them we’re corning. Not maybe, might or we’re thinking about it, we’re coming. Just think when, where or how, who’s going to be first.” The man flashed his JBM ring and identified himself as the leader of the Junior Black Mafia. “The name Junior Black Mafia came about when a fellow, unknown to anyone, went on national television and stated his group was formed to rid the City of Philadelphia of a group of Jamaican drug dealers known as the Shower Posse. He claimed his group was more heavily armed than the Shower Posse. He declared war on the Shower Posse. He stated he was a group called the Junior Black Mafia,” James Cole said. “I called Aaron and asked him did one of his boys go on television claiming that he was the Junior Black Mafia. I asked him was it him. He asked me if I believed in the Easter Bunny, I laughed and understood.” Still the television appearance sparked a war, real or not.

“I’m familiar when the Shower Posse was in that era too.” Ock says. “Shower Posse was the Jamaican dudes. They were moving too. They didn’t believe in nobody owing them five dollars. They’d ride around in the Volvo’s with those baby Uzi’s- spray your whole family.” And that’s how the war went, death for death on the streets of Philly. Here’s what Tony Black who led the Philly branch of the Shower Posse said of the JBM situation, “The JBM were some clowns. Some of the guys that hustled with me had a beef with them after they left me and went on their own. I think one of the guys killed one of their leaders.” But in reality was the whole war concocted by the government to get the two groups to kill each other while police watched on the sidelines?

“Aaron said he saw the interview and didn’t know whom it was because the viewer had his face scrubbed out.” James Cole said. “He told me he didn’t understand how the dude got a JBM ring. Aaron knew the Philadelphia police took Lenny ‘Bazil’ Patterson’s ring when he was stopped in his car with Simon in Mount Airy. We never knew who it was until recently we put it together.” James Cole explained. “Through court documents we later found out that the ring Bazil had when he was stopped by the Philadelphia police, was turned over to the DEA. How someone got that same exact ring to go on television is unknown. But with the help of somebody in the government they started a war.” The guy on the tape turned out to be a drug dealer named Michael “Blood” Youngblood who was a known DEA informant with ties to the original Black Mafia, that later became an aide to a Philadelphia city councilwoman.

“Years later my co-defendant Joseph Cobb sent me an article his sister got off the Internet. In the article was a story about the city of Philadelphia’s councilwoman’s aide.” Cole said. “From the article we learned that a guy went on national television and claimed he wanted to kill the Shower Posse. The article stated he was a longtime federal informant who did anything and everything that the federal authorities asked of him. Youngblood could not have staged that event without the help of someone in law enforcement. He would have been locked from the door.”

In March 1990, the Pennsylvania Crime Commission issued a report that an organization called the Junior Black Mafia had been formed to take control of Philadelphia’s drug traffic. It also gave details on the alleged Shower Posse/JBM war for the streets of Philly. But in truth, much of what was reported was the invention of one man, Youngblood and his DEA handlers who were trying to throw some shit into the game by causing frictions between the crews. Divide and conquer were the feds tactics. “I read or heard that the Shower Posse had said something that the JBM was a crew of clowns or something of that nature but listen to this, the Jamaican Shower Posse had several members flip. Now, who is the crew of clowns?” Derrick Williams said. It’s rumored in the streets that even the leader of the Shower Posse flipped, but that’s another story.

With the feds orchestrating events, the so-called war had some casualties, but it didn’t take off like the feds wanted. It was all just some media hype in reality. But still there were some consequences. “I was in FCI Otisville in New York when a member of the Shower Posse who caught a case in Southwest Philly approached me.” James Cole said. “He wanted to know why Aaron went on national television and declared war on them. I told him how could a member of the mafia go on a television station and claim he wants to kill other human beings. I told him Aaron couldn’t do that. It was somebody with authority. He said that event caused a couple of his buddies to be shot. I told him I believed him because I read the 1990 Crime Commission report on the JBM and The Shower Posse drug war. The Crime Commission tried to say it was for control over drug turf in Southwest Philly. But he told me it wasn’t like that. He said they didn’t know who was who and some innocent people got shot because they were under the impression that everybody black in the drug trade was JBM members.”

This is an excerpt from Street Legends. If you want to read the rest order the book right now.

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“He was a big presence in Queens,” BC says and it’s said that while he was incarcerated Pappy gave Phillip “Marshall” Copeland a gold and diamond ring shaped like Africa worth $40,000 off his finger in a visit at Rikers to take care of future Bebo ventures. Pappy would call his crew in the streets from Rikers and go on tirades about the cops and word on the streets concerning the PO killing was that “the Bebos did it.” But Pappy maintained that, “I didn’t kill no PO.” And before trial started in January 1986 one Queens Native said, “There’s not a single soul who is gonna come in and testify against that boy.” In the borough that was the prevailing sentiment. Pappy had that much juice on the street and his cold blooded antics put fear into people’s hearts. “He was a motherfucking killer, BC says. “His influence was so strong. He had a big influence.” The prosecutor and judge in the case were living under constant anonymous death threats during the weeks prior to the trial and right before the case started the star witness Perry Bellamy refused to testify. Pappy had got his man. Only Bellamy's taped confession was played for the jury.

"They was all there when the PO got killed," Perry Bellamy voice said on the tape player. "Pappy, he just open fire. Pappy got him. That shit was swift." But without a live witness willing to testify the jury hung. As Pappy made bail in February 1988 after the hung jury he formed an imaginary gun with his thumb and index finger, turned to the prosecutor and pulled the trigger. Pappy Mason was free again. But this time he would only be on the street for 10 days. But during that 10 days he set in course the motions that would shock the nation.
Pappy was on bail and drinking a beer on a South Jamaica street corner when a beat cop accosted him. "Do me a favor," a cop called the Iceman told Pappy. "Don't drink beer in front of me." Pappy was stunned. No cop ever told him what to do. "Do you know who I am?" He demanded of the cop. "Yeah, the guy who is going to put his beer in a paper bag." The cop replied. "Fuck you," Pappy screamed and a shoving match ensued. After a couple of seconds Pap walked off, his beer on the ground spilling on the pavement. Pappy was in a rage. "That cop has to die," Pap said. "He dissed me." Death threats against the cop followed and he was pulled from the streets for his protection. Pappy’s gun case, for the Derringer he was arrested with, was remanded a week later and Pappy was back at Rikers. He had only lasted 10 days on the street since the Rooney murder. "He was out before they remanded him," one local said. "He was organizing at that time. It was already planned." Pappy Mason was about to set in motion a jarring set of events that would have repercussions for the decades to come.

"We lose one, they lose one," Pappy allegedly told Marshall. Pappy wanted the Bebo's to send the police a message. He wanted to send a message out. The message was that even though he was behind bars he still gave orders. The message was devastating. Pappy wanted a cop hit. He was eventually convicted on the gun charge but that was the least of his worries.

"When Pap went to jail after Cat most of Cat's strength in the streets was gone," Prince said and Pappy knew this. He needed to do something drastic to keep his power and the hood in check. Something unheard of. His message was carefully constructed to have a maximum effect. Early in the morning of February 28, 1988 NYPD Officer Edward Byrne, a 22 year old rookie was shot five times in the head while sitting in his patrol car in Queens 103rd precinct protecting a witness whose house had been firebombed after he testified against some local drug dealers. The rookies’ murder was front page news all over the nation and kicked the War on Drugs into high gear and let to the creation of New York’s Tactical Narcotics Task force (TNT). Informants said some Jamaicans from Brooklyn killed the cop. Pappy went to prison the day before the officer was killed.

Four suspects, all Bebos, were immediately arrested- Todd Scott, Scott Cobb, David McClary and Phillip Copeland. Three of the four suspects made video taped statements off the jump implicating themselves, Fat Cat and Pappy. The only one who didn't talk was Phillip Copeland. The police played it up to implicate the drug lord Fat Cat in the media. "This was an order, not for the murder of a particular officer, but any officer for the purpose of delivering a message of death to anyone who opposed Fat Cat," Lt. Phillip Panzarella of the Queens Homicide squad said. But behind the scenes a different tale was emerging.

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"Cat was mad about what that stupid motherfucker Pappy did," Viola Nichols, Cat’s sister said. "What Bebo did was fucked up," Cat raged. "Now nobody will make no money." And in a call to Viola Pappy explained his reasons "The man dissed me." It was because the police officer ordered Pappy to put a can of beer in a brown paper bag. But as Cat found out Pappy had the wrong cop killed. The execution style murder was said to have been ordered by Pappy from prison for revenge against the police. And to make matters worse on August 12, 1988 the feds indicted Fat Cat and his whole crew on racketeering charges. The New York Daily News headline read- Fat Cat’s Empire Crumbles; Feds Bust Drug Clan, $20 million in Dope Seized, 30 Suspects Nabbed in Massive Raid. The suspects included Pap and Cat’s mothers. While all this was going down Pappy was sentenced for the gun receiving a three and half to seven year sentence. At sentencing he told the judge, "You gotta do what you gotta do. I look crazy so people are going to judge me on that. This is two cops I supposedly allegedly killed. Cops come to me at precinct and say I'm the leader of a drug ring. I've never been arrested for drugs in my life. I don't know what they're talking about." The federal racketeering and conspiracy case included charges that Pappy and Fat Cat orchestrated and gave the order to kill the cop. The four suspects in the state case, the triggerman and his three cohorts had already been convicted and sentenced to 25 to life. Now the feds were going after the ringleaders.

"Todd Scott and them niggas are from the projects. Forty Projects." BC says. And Todd Scott is the one who said that Pappy ordered the hit. But he wasn't the only one who betrayed his man. It’s alleged that on September 29, 1989 in a secret court session Fat Cat agreed to testify against Pappy Mason. "The feds offered me and Pap 40 years under the old law to cop out to 848 for our mothers freedom," Cat explained. "Pap said he wasn't going to plead guilty. I took the plea." There was a lot of outrage in the streets at the time concerning Fat Cat’s alleged duplicity. And there was outrage at the prosecutor’s office too where one prosecutor said, "Using Fat Cat to get Pappy is like using syphilis to get gonorrhea." But to this day Pappy maintains that, "Cat never testified against me. His name is not in any of my paperwork."

Pappy Mason went to trial alone in the federal racketeering case. "I'm
not letting these crackers roll me," he said and about his mother facing the indictment he explained, "My mother knows about white people. She said god will make a way." Harry Butchelder, Pappy's lawyer tried to enter an insanity defense at the November 1989 trial. But it didn't play. Pappy was violent in court and the judge isolated him. So in effect he boycotted his own trial, preferring to follow the proceedings on a specially installed speaker system in his cell. "They did me wrong," Pappy said. "Jah is good, it was no trial. It was a KK meeting for real. That was not an indictment that was the government.” Scott Cobb was a witness saying he knew in advance of Mason's plan to kill a cop. The order was given to Marshall who was instructed to pay $8,000 a head. Mike Bones, from Cat’s crew also testified and Viola Nichols, Cat’s sister, spent three days on the stand. Fat Cat was never called.

"They say that me and Pappy planned this," Phillip "Marshall" Copeland
said. "But me and him never talked and I didn't go see him so I can say that he didn't play no part in it." David McClary, the accused shooter denied Pappy ever gave him an order. And even Pappy claimed innocence, "No, hell no, why would I kill a cop?" Still Pappy was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment after the jury deliberated three days before finding him guilty. "I look at it like this, they used me and my boy to make points during that election year Marshall said summing it all up from his point of view. But whatever the truth is the legend lives on.

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"I am a man amongst men. I am God’s son," Pappy Mason said. "I am strong I will never give up on Bebo. I'm the hip-hop kid from Southside Queens." And a lot of the kids who grew up on hip-hop and later became rap stars looked up to Pappy. He's had a strong presence indirectly in their lives and this has translated to their songs. Nas on God’s son's Get Down spit, "New York streets where killers'11 walk like Pistol Pete and Pappy Mason, gave the young boys admiration." Nas also namedropped Pap in The World is Yours, "Facin’ time like Pappy Mason," he rapped. And Southside Queens most controversial rapper 50 Cent used Pap's name in verse too in the Ghetto Qua'ran where he alluded to Fat Cat snitching on Pappy. "I used to idolize Cat/Hurt me in my heart to hear that/He snitched on Pap/How he go out like that?" And 50 also big upped the Bebo's in his song, "Go against crews like Bebo and killers like Pap Mason." Other rappers like Ja Rule, Fat Joe and Ghostface have also saluted Pappy in verse.

"He defied the police in the street. He defied them in jail. How real is that?" BC says. "Some niggas don't bend, they don't move, they fight. It’s in the nature of a nigga like Pap. He was a cool ass nigga but he could get violent in a minute. Bug out and all that shit. But still the nigga was cool." And for a guy with such an outlandish legend he wasn't a real big dude only standing maybe 5-foot-8 or so but what made him who he was, was that pit bull heart and attitude. That take all comers mentality. Like they said, "Pappy didn’t take no short.” But looking back another hustler from the era said, “I think these guys were living a movie. They used to watch Scarface and the Godfather and they wanted to be like that.” Maybe so but whatever the reason Pappy has gone down in infamy as one of the most notorious killers to ever walk the streets of New York. And even to this day the fearless soldier Pappy Mason who some say is as strong as an ox is ready to go to war.

Tales from the pen have circulated of Pappy battling the goon squads and cell extraction teams. They say he wraps his head with towels to soften the blows from guards’ batons and saturates his body with baby oil to wrestle with the guards so they can’t grab a hold of him when they storm his cell, six deep to try and subdue one man. They say he wages a constant battle against the guards throwing shit and piss at them through the little door trap where they put the food tray through. Because you know Pappy Mason is in 24 hour lockdown. He long ago forfeited his right to be on a regular compound. “Pappy Mason’s burnt out. I was with him at MCC in 92. He had dreads down to the floor, slept underneath the bed, smoked a carton of cigs a day,” said one federal prisoner.

“They said in Attica he was bugged out.” BC says. “He was crazy but that don’t take nothing away from him. Street niggas love this dude because they know he gets busy.” Pappy’s life now consists of threatening officers, cell extraction and cutting up snitches who he hates with a passion. After 18 years at USP Marion, Pappy was transferred to ADX Florence in Colorado, the Bureau of Prisons Supermax and home to the most notorious criminals in the U.S. It’s said that the feds shoot him up with large doses of Thorazine to keep him docile. Pappy even admitted this, “The government shot me up with Thorazine, but Jah makes a way, so God brings me back to Bebo. I am not crazy, I am in prions for something I did not do.” Pappy is still at this time fighting to overturn his conviction and life sentence in the feds, waging a constant battle on multiple fronts.

“The nigga took that time. He ain’t crying, he took it, he doing it.” BC says. “You got to salute a nigga like that. I just know this nigga is burned out but Pap a stand up nigga, they love that nigga son. They love that nigga because he stood up. He’s in the joint and he still don’t give a fuck. His influence is so strong a heritage that’s not even his salutes this dude. The Jamaicans claim Pap like he’s one of their own. He’s not. He’s American.” And on the whole Fat Cat snitch fiasco Pappy stands firm.

"They lie on Fat Cat and me word to mother.” Pappy said. Pappy calls Cat his brother. But street legend discredits pappy due to him being shot up with Thorazine. Some dudes say he doesn’t know what he’s saying but whatever the truth it’s caused a lot of controversy. Not enough to diminish Pappy’s infamy though. Even though he’s been locked away from the world for the last twenty years his legend lives on. As does his link with Fat Cat. "They will forever be linked together." BC says but unlike Cat Pappy will forever be recognized as a stand up dude whereas Fat Cats credentials, right or wrong, are in question. A chilling fact rises to the surface though in this story and that is no matter who ordered it the bullets that killed Edward Byrne - were meant for the other cop, the one called Iceman.

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“He was making $25 million a year,” says a dude from Holbrook Street who was around during the Nutt’s reign. “Peanut King had Hoffman and Holbrook. That was the most lucrative area. He was putting seven to 10 percent pure on the street. He had a better cut on the heroin. They’d be coming from DC, Virginia- all over to get that bang for their buck.” Most dealers put out three percent pure in that era so the heroin that Nutt’s people allegedly put out was of a higher quality and with the better product Nutt quickly cornered the market. The Peanut King Mob sold a lot of heroin and the price of a bag was $60 and $70. The Federal government said they estimated his mob made $45 million a year through his drug business.

“Peanut King was bigger than the mayor because he took care of the ghetto,” An oldhead from the era remembers. “He did things in different ways. He was a businessman with morals. He knew if he took care of the people the people would take care of him. He had big Christmas dinners at Lafayette, pulled up a U-Haul van and gave a way presents for the kids, so how can you say something bad about a man like that. He was like the savior of the ghetto. He was one of the best conmen in the business. If he could fool society and get them on his side while pushing dope and employing ruthless killers his game was tight. He knew how to play every angle.”

He drove a Delorean and had a huge house in Silver Spring, Maryland. It’s said the house had no windows, just surveillance cameras on all angles of the house. King and Meredith Market and Deli on East North Avenue was one of three stores owned by Joe Dancer, Meredith and Nutt. Peanut was feared by just about everyone. He wore bedroom slippers that cost $100 to $150. He dressed like a Mafiosi, top notch suits, top dollar shoes. A classy dresser well known in all the big nightclubs for his extravagant ways. It’s said he used to step out of a big old limousine in front of the clubs wearing flawless diamond pinkie rings that Nutt said cost 40 grand.

“He had police, city cops on his payroll. Might of had a couple judges. He got out of a lot of shit. His style was like no other hustlers I have ever seen in Baltimore City’s underworld. Him and his crew shopped at Bernard Hill, the best clothing store in the city.” The oldhead says while the dude from Holbrook adds, “He was a flyman. He had the Delorean. The stainless steel joint. The man was sharp. He had a lot of charisma. Real laid back. Very humble for the type of business he was in. He had the latest of everything. All the women gravitated toward him. They said he was a vicious crimelord, but we didn’t look at it like that. He was trying to put people to work. He was trying to bring a better quality of heroin to the people in a way that showed respect to the addict. His business was about respect and that’s how you get money.” And Nutt put his money back into the community.

“He owned El Dorado, a strip club by the old civic center. He owned the Gatsby on Charles Street around the corner from O’Dells. They said he had bail bonds and Delis and Markets.” A young hustler from that time remembers. “I was off the East B-More side but Nutt had the whole town, the power that he had, nobody knew who he was but dudes would compare themselves to him like ‘I’m getting it like Nutt.’ He was a quite dude. You never knew he was around but his name was bigger than life. We always had a vision of him with money, guns, cars and women. When you meet anybody from any part of B-More they all know of Peanut King.”

And eventually the feds knew of him too. Evidence linking Nutt with illegal gambling, firearms and drug trafficking surfaced. Nutt was shooting craps with the best of them and breaking them all. The Feds said he did his best shooting at Atlantic City casinos. They said he used it to wash or clean up his drug money. To legitimize the drug money. When he cashed the chips back to the cashier he would receive the cash with the casinos bands. The FBI said he would get three million in chips at a time. He had credit and could get a million in chips with just signing his name. He used to sit at the crap table with just him and the dealers alone. They were roped off from the public. He was dressed in a tuxedo and that was his thing. But the extravagance attracted unwanted attention from law enforcement. And Nutt would rue his demise. But understand it was only after a very long and successful run.

“In 1976, he was coming up in the drug world. Taking over territories.” Says the oldhead and street legend has it that in the beginning Peanut was just a street corner hustler near Preston and Bond Streets in East Baltimore. “Peanut comes from a long family of hustlers. His daddy was a gunrunner. Peanut had contacts all over- Florida, New York, New Jersey, Philly.” The oldhead continues. “He went in Lafayette and recruited all the young kids and their families and had them selling drugs and hot merchandise. He had a warehouse in East B-More full of hot merchandise.” This was Nutt’s start, but he still had to put together his crew.

“His crew came from a place called Lee Street in B-More. They called it Death Valley because more bodies were found in that area then in all of B-More, the oldhead relates. “Joe Dancer was the enforcer for his mob. He was a treacherous dude on the street. He was Nutt’s right hand. Whatever he said to get done, got done. Dancer came out of East B-More. He was a small town hood but Nutt took him under his wing. I knew his whole mob. Some trusted soldiers were Roland X and Spudie. They were youngsters in his mob.” Drugs, hustling, lots of murders, lots of contract killing. It’s said Peanut King snuffed out all the other dealers before him to gain control of every area he wanted to.

In 1979, Peanut was on the run. The city police were looking for him wanting to ask him about a murder. Nutt and Joe Dancer were locked up. They were in jail nine months and they let him out. He was found not guilty. When he came uptown after beating the charges he never looked back. He went from street level to king of the hill. His name started to ring and people from his crew started opening doors for him and driving him around. It was clear that he was in power.

“You couldn’t get close to him. He was protected by his crew. He controlled all the heroin.” The oldhead says. “He didn’t fuck with nothing small time. He had a piece of the action of every club on the strip. The clubs, gambling, strip joints.” Baltimore Street at that time was the strip and Peanut allegedly had his hand in all that. “He took over prostitution on Pratt and Monroe Streets and sold a lot of heroin down there. That’s when Lafayette was ringing. The big money was made at the projects. The money generated off his name was crazy. Twenty to thirty thousand a day coming off one corner selling halves and wholes.” The young hustler says.

“By 81-82 he done took over Baltimore. He bought some shops and had some clubs on the strip.” The oldhead says. “He had some clothes stores he used for fronts. He laundered all his money through businesses. Bailed people out through his bail bonds to clean money.” It’s said he had a Gold Cadillac Seville, went shopping at White Flint Mall in Rockville and hung out in West Baltimore near Park and North Avenues. “He had a good chunk of Baltimore. He owned it all. A real good chunk.” The oldhead says. And in Alfred Reed book about B-More’s underworld, A Barber’s Close Cut, he wrote of Peanut, “I used to see him go to his store on North Avenue, Grocery and Deli on the side. Peanut had a lot of class to be a drug dealer. He was very smart and he could feel you. Once I brought my nephew to personally meet Peanut. Nutt came down the steps to meet him and my nephew said after he met Nutt, ‘He looks like a gangster.’”

And a gangster Nutt was, but he was also an innovator and he revolutionized the drug game by taking Nicky Barnes use of kids to another level. Nutt used teenagers who, unlike the kids used by Barnes, were wise to the drug game and were dedicated to their jobs. Further, to make their jobs work more efficiently Nutt bought mopeds for all his young workers to get back and forth from the stash to customers. The mopeds gave the youngsters mobility, agility and speed in transporting the merchandise to their customers. Teens in Russell brand sweatpants, Coach shorts and bedroom slippers, the style Nutt made popular, became a common sight in Baltimore inner city streets.

“He had kids between 15 and 18 about 30 or 40 of them on mopeds selling heroin,” the Holbrook dude says. “This was one of his strategic moves because it sped up his deliveries with the transfer between money and drugs. The lore with the kids was that if you worked for Peanut King you got a moped, so all the kids wanted to work for Peanut. He always had hundreds of kids who wanted to work for him. This was his stroke of genius.” The use of teenagers by Nutt caused a new law to go on the books in Maryland though. It became a requirement for anyone driving a moped to have a valid driver’s license. That gave the beat police a reason to stop the kids on mopeds and also took a lot of Nutt’s kids off their bikes.

“Nutt was big from the early to late 70’s into the eighties. He was always present.” The young hustler says. “In 1980, a key cost like $130,000. It was part of that NFrench Connection/ Nicky Barnes hookup.” And if you weren’t hustling for Nutt it was dangerous to hustle. “You couldn’t sell nothing.” The young hustler remembers. “If you were a hopper you knew where it ended up. Nutt wasn’t having it. It was about them putting their hands on you. It was just Nutt. You respected him.” And Nutt was instrumental in the youth basketball leagues also sponsoring teams and tournaments.

“They were real avid basketball dudes. They ran the dope leagues.” The young hustler says and he remembers the times at O’Dells where Nutt’s crew styled and profiled. “O’Dells was like Studio 54- the hood version. It was over on North Avenue between St. Paul’s and Charles Street. The line would go around the block. It kicked like that from 75 to 85. They had a million dollar sound system. Thursday nights were the nights, it was rumored Nutt owned the club. The hustlers would be lined up in their furs and jewels, pimped out. It was a beautiful time. But Nutt’s crew, you would have thought they were business men. Peanut always had a reserved table and women all around him. His crew was deep up in O’Dells. O’Dells had a radio commercial that said, ‘The under ground is open. You’ll know if you belong.’ And Nutt and his crew definitely belonged. They were like royalty up in that joint. Police would be up in there dancing and everything. It was crazy.” And the photo booth captured the moments even the moments with Nutt.

“The thing about Peanut, that the run was so long was because he was taking care of all the Lafayette families paying rent.” The oldhead says and the young hustler gives Nutt’s strategy, “Nobody knew what part of town he was concentrated in. He was like hit and run, keeping his business steady. They were the guys. It was just that simple.” Wilkins, Fulton Avenue, Pigstown, Sandtown- Nut set up everywhere, but it didn’t help. Eventually his long run would come to an end.

There was a big shootout over at Lafayette Projects. Some say it was on the playground and there were about 30 people involved. Somehow Peanut got shot in the foot in a van. He was driven to DC, 44 miles away, to get some help for the gunshot wound and was alright. But the incident was never forgotten. A girl got shot on Broadway and Oliver Street. The girl was carrying a child. That corner was considered Nutt’s territory and they said Nutt’s people had something to do with it. The drug activity in and around the Lafayette Projects was heavy and the shooting incensed state and federal law enforcement officials and brought attention to the projects and Peanut King. The Feds were on Peanut’s ass, but his game was tight. The authorities stepped up their efforts to bring him down. Investigations were started, surveillances increased, raids conducted and arrests were made. They raided Peanut’s businesses and harassed his crew, but still they couldn’t get anything on him. The feds needed an inside guy.

“For a long time he couldn’t be touched.” The oldhead says of Nutt, but nothing lasts forever and Peanut’s time in the streets was getting short. “In that business you knew he was under investigation. His people were. His stores and businesses were. His name rang like that.” Says the Holbrook dude. In his book, A Barber’s Close Cut, Alfred Reed wrote that Peanut even prophesized his own end. “During the end of his run he was talking to me, Peanut said, ‘I am looking at the penitentiary and I know it.’" It was just a matter of time. A matter of time and a rat.

Mike Smith was in prison when his brother Howard Smith was shot to death at the corner of Hoffman and Holbrook Streets with his two sons in the back seat of the car. Mike thought that Peanut had something to do with it. The FBI, who had nothing at this point, were trying to find someone to wear a wire on a buy from Peanut. In Mike Smith they had their man. Court records indicate that Otis “Mike” Smith first assisted Detective Sergeant Gary Childs of the Baltimore City Police Department in the summer of 1980. After having his parole revoked, Smith reestablished contact with Childs in late 1981 and began assisting Childs in the Peanut King case.

Bankrolled by the Feds, Mike was made up to be as big time drug dealer from the Eastern Shore. Smith first approached Ricks about purchasing heroin in late 1982, court records indicate. Ricks refused, explaining alternatively that he was no longer in the heroin business and that he was being watched too closely by police. In order to develop his credibility as a drug dealer, Smith began making small purchases of heroin from individuals at the organizations Ellsworth and Bond Streets location and represented that he was reselling the heroin in the county where he could double his money. Accordingly Smith was plausibly able to finance even larger purchases.

On March 16, 1982, Ricks contacted Smith and indicated he was ready to deal with Smith directly, court records relate. Over the course of three transactions that same month, Ricks, assisted by Moffat, sold Smith large amounts of heroin. These purchases were made on 50 percent credit and consequently Smith owed Ricks a substantial amount after the third purchase. Ricks was arrested on April 1, 1982 on a homicide charge unrelated to the case and was in custody the remainder of the government’s investigation. Smith subsequently paid the balance of the transaction to King and met with King, Meredith and Moffat to arrange and complete sizable additional purchases. Smith was assured by Moffat that the debt to Ricks had been satisfied because “it was 11 in the same pot.”

The feds gambit with Mike Smith worked with a large amount of marked cash as bait. Nutt bit and the feds finally had him on a buy. When the smoke cleared Baltimore City jail became the new residence for all of Nutt’s sale force. Nutt’s crew all stuck together and did not tell on each other. This was the first time a black mob did not snitch each other out especially in B-more where it’s said the city breeds snitches. “Nobody in Baltimore got him. It was the special federal prosecutors,” the oldhead says. Peanut was arrested on June 14, 1982. Court records indicate that Ricks and King, along with defendant Clarance Meredith headed a major drug operation in Baltimore, Maryland. Moffat was a lieutenant overseeing distribution of heroin from one of several street corners controlled by the organization. The case against the defendants was proved largely as a result from Otis “Mike” Smith and to a lesser extent from Delphine Robinson who were police informers. Evidence was also collected as a result of the undercover efforts of Detective Arlene Jenkins who represented herself on various occasions as a companion of Smith and as a friend of Robinson. Detective Sergeant Childs coordinated the investigation, court records says.

Smith testified that he had known many of the defendants for years, had purchased heroin from King and Meredith in 1979 and 1980 and knew Ricks to be a partner of King and Meredith. The government presented evidence that two grocery stores owned by Ricks, Meredith and King, as well as gambling trips were part of a carefully concealed money laundering scheme. Smith testified unequivocally that it was King with whom he met on numerous occasions. Officer Childs testified that he personally observed King on several occasions in meetings with Smith and was able to identify King’s voice in recorded conversations with Smith regarding heroin sales. Officer Jenkins also testified regarding her personal observations of King as one of the individuals with who Smith dealt, court records detail.

During the course of the investigations the police locked up Peanut’s
mother and told him he needed to stand up and be a big man to get her released. There were also allegations by the defense of foul play and dirty cops testifying for the prosecution. Officer Marcellius Ward testified about Kings previous arrests for counterfeiting and possession of marijuana. “Officer Ward was a dirty cop.” The young hustler says. “He made the guys from The Shield look clean.” Officer Ward was murdered after the trial by another drug dealer. Prosecutors also entered into evidence the fact that lawyers had been paid a significant amount of cash over a four-year period to represent members of King’s network when those members were arrested on narcotics charges. Such proof was highly relevant, court records indicate, to the status of Ricks and King as organizers or managers of a criminal enterprise because it would show their payment of fees for underlings who were in trouble.

King’s defense was that he made a substantial amount of money gambling throughout the late 70’s and early 80’s and later invested in the two grocery stores. Ricks testimony at trial corroborated King’s contention that King was a successful gambler and at no point did Ricks link King with the narcotics transactions he acknowledged participating in as a middleman for Mike Smith. But the jury didn’t buy it. The defendants were convicted of a variety of substantive narcotics possession and distribution offenses and of engaging in a conspiracy to possess and distribute narcotics. In addition Ricks, King and Meredith were convicted of heading a continual criminal enterprise, court records indicate.

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Peanut was convicted in 1983 and received 50 years in federal prison with no chance of parole because of the Rico Act and his property and businesses were seized. He also got 10 years in Maryland for all the guns seized in the investigation. Following a second trial in 1986 Peanut and his crew were again convicted after the circuit court ordered a new trial because of prejudicial error with regard to jury selection. But Nutt and his crew couldn’t get any play.

“Nutt wasn’t no violent type of person,” the Holbrook dude says. “He would forego violence to try to work stuff out. He was about his money. His Lieutenants held onto that philosophy for a minute but when he went down the bodies started dropping. The murder rate went up. The police saw that Nutt was the only thing keeping it all under control. Bodies aren’t good for business because they attract police attention and Nutt had such a long run because of the way he carried it.” And to this day Peanut’s legend still resonates.

“Whatever was going down was going down because of the King.” The young hustler says. “What showed his power was when he ran his shit from the joint. When he went down it was still the same, but they started killing people. Beating people to death with baseball bats.” In the pen Nutt’s control was less but he still made his paper. “To this day he still got millions and he still got businesses. He was involved in organized crime. The man was smart. They never got none of his money.” The oldhead says but they did end up giving him more time as Nutt’s moves caught him a case from the pen.

In 1987, four years into his ten year bid, for the state, Nutt hooked up with a Pakistani who claimed to have a connect for high grade heroin. What Nutt didn’t know was that this Pakistani was an informant for the feds. The informant set Nutt up. Trying first to get the heroin on consignment Nutt was told that only cash was acceptable. He then got in touch with two of his trusted soldiers who happened to just get out of federal prison. Spudie and Roland X. They visited Nutt in prison to set up the deal. Several months later they flew to Boston and brought back samples of the heroin. It was just like the Pakistani said, pure high grade, so Nutt instructed Spudie to search for cop money. The deal required 1.2 million cash, in installments of $250,000 a pop. Nutt got Kevin Scott, a young up and coming dealer to do the deal for them. It was set up in a Boston hotel room. Kevin, Spudie and Roland X were busted by the feds, lost the cop money and got sentenced to ten years each. Peanut for his involvement received an additional eight years on top of the 50 year federal sentence he had to serve following the ten he was serving for the state to bring his total sentence to 68 years without the possibility of parole.

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]]> Wed, 06 Aug 2008 17:36:31 GMT http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/comments.php?id=48 ]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=48 <![CDATA[Anthony "AJ" Jones]]> http://gorillaconvict.com/blog/blog.php?id=47
Anthony "AJ" Jones

Born and raised in the mean streets of Baltimore, a
city famous for its culture of drugs and murder, Anthony
“AJ” Jones embarked on a reign of terror that the
city had never seen before and has never seen since. In
the violent world of Bodymore’s inner city drug gangs,
at the young age of 18, Anthony Jones reigned king.
Holding court in East Baltimore’s gritty neighborhoods
and holding fast to his thuglife ideals of “get mine or be
mine.”

The most feared drug dealer and gangster in Charm
City, AJ allegedly ordered murders from his prison cell.
He was a boss in every sense of the word, from the
streets of his hood to the federal penitentiaries. His
reputation of being willing to kill anyone who stood in
his way was demonstrated by the fact that AJ reputedly
had his own brother killed because he believed that he
was snitching on him. AJ played the game the way it
was supposed to be played, as long generations of BMore
hustlers had before him, but with his own vicious
twist. He will forever be remembered in B-More as the
legend that he is.

Part 5- The Beef

AJ was locking shit down but not everyone bowed
down. Dudes were still willing to get theirs, AJ’s reputation
or not. AJ was still flesh and blood, no matter
how menacing he was. Elway Williams was an East
Baltimore dealer with a $15,000 a day heroin ring that
prosecutors said competed against Jones. Instead of
sharing the market, AJ and Elway decided to battle it
out, turning East Baltimore into a killing zone. The
beef which started out as a death for death retribution
type-thing, quickly spiraled out of control, turning into
a murderous web between the warring drug organizations,
where victory or death became the only options.
“You had love from both sides,” Sweat says. “But that
shit turned into a snowball flip. The beef started over
some foolishness. Both Anthony and Elway had egos.
Anthony was quiet, but vicious and Elway thought he
was Al Capone. He was a Bumpy Johnson wanna-be
type nigga. And he didn’t think Anthony had it in him,
but he found out.” Elway would lock horns with AJ in
a battle to the death. May the victor win all the spoils
and be crowned the king of East Baltimore.

“It was always a twist to that.” Sweat says. “Who
was gonna be the king of East Baltimore? They was
playing for keeps. They was going back and forth. It
was some jealous type shit. They were trying to get
each other.” And in this environment of fear and
suspicion, bravedo and one-upmanship, retribution
and death were swift. “The streets make you. They
say who the boss is. Both Elway and Ant’s ego’s were
bigger than their pride.” Sweat concludes. Assistant United
States Attorney Christine Manuelian said that the Jones
and Williams groups frequently battled on city streets.
“There are a number of murders that have been allegedly
linked to both organizations,” she said. In East
Baltimore the bullets were flying. It wasn’t Beirut, but
it was close. The deadly dance was played out with
Mac 10’s, minu Uzi’s and sawed off shotguns.

Describing the duel of drug kingpins that created a
climate of kill or be killed, AJ’s rival, the heroin dealer
Elway testified that he was in a race against time to
assassinate his nemesis who was allegedly intent on
killing him. “He was out to assassinate all of us. We
had to fix the problem and the problem was Anthony
Jones. We had to continue to search to assassinate him.
It was either they kill us or we kill them.” Elway testified
after becoming a prosecution snitch. He testified
that no show of strength- he frequently had armed
bodyguards protecting him- seemed to be able to ward
off Jones’ attempts to assassinate him. AJ was on a
mission. And he was trying to win at all costs. It was like
50 Cent said, get rich or die trying.

“It was all dudes from East Baltimore,” Kid says of
the beef. It started in early 95 when Baby Dan and AJ
formed an alliance against Elway. AJ killed Elway’s
partner and his former running mate Anthony Green
first. On October 3, 1995, AJ was shot in the arm.
“The second time he was shot was when Elway put the
hit on him.” Kid says. And Sweat goes into more detail,
“Anthony told me, he said he came out some house and
somebody tried to assassinate him. His man was there
with the car to pick him up and when the shots started
busting off and Anthony got hit, he jumped on the back
of the car to get away. While he was in John Hopkins
Hospital they got his man Little Net. This was the
breaking point. Elway was the one he was beefing with
and the whole thing with this was when Tupac killed
Little Net for Elway and didn’t get AJ too, he basically
signed his own death warrant.”

Raymund “Tupac” Harrison admitted to the killing
on October 5th, 1995 of Deshane “Little Net” Carter,
Jones’ right hand man, who was gunned down on East
Madison Street. Tupac said it was done to avenge the
slaying earlier that year of Anthony Green, Elway’s
partner. Harrison said during his guilty plea that Little
Net was thought by Elway to have been the trigger man
in the Green killing. After AJ was shot up and Little
Net killed, Elway was profiling like he was the king of
East Baltimore. “He was at 32nd Street Plaza, when
we got over there, Elway’s sitting at the bar. He tells
the bartender all drinks on me. I noticed he was
celebrating because they killed shorty. I was wondering
what was running through Anthony’s mind. When Elway
left, his sky blue 735 BMW pulled up front of the club.
Tupac opened the door for him like he was a don.”
Sweat says. But Elway slept on AJ, who recovered,
planned and had his revenge six months later.

AJ coerced three teenage members of Elway’s crew
to cross their boss and kill him so that AJ wouldn’t kill
them. On February 26, 1996, the double cross went
down. The three dudes opened fire on Elway and his
bodyguard while they were sitting in the car with him.
From the back seat they put a bullet in the bodyguard’s
head and then started firing on Elway who was in a car
adjacent to them on a dark portion of Wilcox and Biddle
Streets in East Baltimore. Derrick Rivers, the bodyguard
was fatally shot in the back of the head. Elway said
the three men were Alan “Wali” Chapman, Warren
“Red Dog” Hill and Mark “Keedy” Coles. He said they
turned against him in favor of AJ. “I could smell
the gunfire,” Elway said remembering how he jumped
out of the car wounded and ran into the cold night
down the dimly lit street. “I heard footsteps behind me
and six, seven, eight gunshots. I was hit two or three
times in the chest and back.” Elway ran to a home on
nearby Valley Street, knocked on the door and collapsed
after a woman let him inside. He spent nearly three
weeks recuperating at a medical center where Jones
was alleged to have made the next attempt to get
him.

“This what they did,” Sweat says. “That’s how they
brought them down. Double crossing. Anthony told
me when the dudes came to make the deal, ‘You want
to make it right? You want to kill Elway?’ He was gonna
use them to kill Elway and then kill them. He was
on the double cross. You got to like his style. He was
vicious. Much love to that nigga. I almost got caught
up in that bullshit. When Elway got to beefin’ with
Anthony, Elway got in a bind, he was fucked up. I
gave him a couple of bricks. I didn’t want to get in the
mix. He called me, we breaking shit down at the stash,
he was like where you at? The day he called me he was
with those little kids, the ones who shot him. I never
got with them, that was the day the double cross was
in. They pumped three or four bullets through the window
to kill him. I could have been caught up in that
foolishness. We lost a lot of good people. It was going
both ways. You didn’t know who was who. People
were taking money for hits.”

And AJ took it a step further. He wanted Elway dead,
so he turned to his corrupt cop to kidnap Elway from
his hospital bed. AJ offered the cop 5 grand for info on
Elway’s whereabouts and offered 10 grand to the cop
to arrest Elway and turn him over to his crew. He even
attempted to get one of his crew to sneak into the hospital
with a hypodermic needle full of Drano to inject into
Elway’s veins. AJ was gangster for real. Court papers
filed in U.S. District Court accused AJ of conspiring
to have his rival, Elway Williams, kidnapped from
his hospital bed by having him falsely arrested and
turned over to Mr. Jones. But the cop didn’t do it and
Elway, 29, was arrested and charged with selling
heroin. At a later bail hearing U.S. Magistrate Paul M.
Rosenburg said about Mr. Jones, “One can only assume
that the kidnapping was for the purpose of an execution
or to inflict substantial harm to the individual.”
And before it was all over, AJ probably regretted that
the hospital bed kidnap move didn’t go down, because
Elway would turn into a snitch and the star witness
against him.

This is an excerpt from Street Legends. If you want to read the rest order the book right now.

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In every hood there’s an individual whose supreme talent seems to be a penchant for murdering others for whatever reason. These individuals are elevated and upheld as heroes in their hoods and for good reason. “He went home in the late 80’s and looked out for all the men he left behind," Sop-Sop says. “He did what he had to do to survive as a man in the streets.” And those things included terrorizing the streets of D.C. with homicides, shootings and armed kidnappings. It was in the heavy drug trafficking areas of Drama City where Silk plied his trade and made his name. Silk was a master philosopher when it came to that street shit. He played the streets like a game of chess. He was more than feared. “People feared Silk because he was said to have a lot of humps in the ground. People didn’t only fear that, they feared the fact that Silk got away with the shit he did.” Manny says. His reputation itself put an end to any investigations or court cases against him. Sop-Sop explains it another way, “I don’t think it was fear, but the possibility of what Wayne can manifest.” The dude was unpredictable. He kept people off balance and witnesses in check. Nobody knew what to expect. Maybe not even Wayne himself. That’s what made him so dangerous. In a world of ups and downs, betrayals and double-crosses he reigned king.

“He knew how to use fear and mind games real well.” E says. “He was one man that had a large percentage of the masses shook. He didn’t give a fuck what you thought about him as long as you didn’t cross the line. There were a lot of dudes in the streets at that time that were head hitters, but some of them moved on the D.L., you didn’t know they were killers unless you knew them. With Wayne it was a fear thing. Niggas knew he was about murder, it was no secret.” Wayne once bumped into a dude that was like that down Lorton, the dude thought he was still like that on the streets, Wayne told the dude, “You ain’t heard, I run the city.”

He was feared because of the many reasons that set his name to ringing. His name was behind a lot of things that were going on throughout the District. “A lot of people couldn’t understand how he was supposed to be behind so much shit and he was still moving around the city as if nothing was a problem.” E says. When shit went down and the drama jumped off dudes were like, “It was Wayne Perry and them.” He had a whole team of dudes that were very loyal to him. Wayne was the type of dude that if he came up on some kilo’s, he showed love, breaking it down with all his dudes. He might hit 30 dudes off with a couple of ounces each just on G.P. Just to inspire that loyalty to that do or die attitude. His team would go all out for him. No questions asked. They were a bunch of youngsters, and in their eyes Silk was a god.

“On the real, I think Wayne’s name started ringing because he was bussin’ ass. He wasn’t talking, it wasn’t no playing when it came to putting that work in, plus he had some serious killers on his team.” E says. Silk had a whole squad that he could sick on dudes in a minute. Wayne was the type of person that if dude had something and dude was weak or a sucker, then dude wasn’t supposed to have it. It didn’t matter what it was, Wayne was taking it and if dude didn’t like it, fuck it. Wayne only respected men. If a dude was a rat, he wasn’t supposed to breathe, let alone come out his hole. No matter how much money the rat had, spent or flashed or how hard he flossed, that shit meant nothing to Wayne. He was coming to get that. That bling-bling was his. Only integrity and heart counted to Silk. The whole, “he didn’t tell on me thing,” didn’t fly with Wayne Perry. Dudes had to play their position. And if their position was to be up under him and do what the fuck he said, then so be it. That’s how Silk played it. It was all or nothing with him. No half-stepping or in-betweens.

“One day me and Wayne went to pick up a bucket he had parked across town. He used the car to stash stuff in.” Manny says. “Wayne popped the trunk and he had hand grenades, sticks of dynamite and a rack of guns, coke and some more shit. We had this other dude with us too. Wayne threw the dude the keys to the bucket and told him to drive the car back around Potomac Gardens. The dude was like, ‘I can’t drive all that shit back around the way.’ Wayne pulled out his pistol and told the nigga, ‘You better get your ass in that car and take it around the Gardens and if the police pull you over tell them it’s my shit and if they take it I’m a kill your muthafuckin’ ass.’ The nigga got his ass in the car and did exactly what Wayne said. Silk ain’t play no games.” And dudes were wise not to fuck with him or try him in any way, because Wayne was quick to expose a dude and in vicious fashion. “One thing about Wayne, he went at whoever. If you was supposed to be like that and he had to see you he was gonna knock your head off. You would think he was some big 300 pound nigga, but when you see him he is this tall, skinny, funny nigga. Always joking and playing, but dangerous. Niggas didn’t want to be on his shit list.” Manny says.

There was no limit to the way Silk played either. He didn’t care who you were supposed to be, he was still going to play with you. He would play with you even if you weren’t trying to and if you got serious, he was cool with that too. A lot of times Wayne would try dudes he didn’t like by playing with them. “One time, me, Wayne and two other dudes were in my Benz on the way to the mall. Wayne knew that one of the dudes with us wasn’t who he thought he was in the streets. The dude was supposed to be a killer but Wayne could see through him. Wayne hated fake niggas. So Wayne starts playing with dude, trying to provoke him. When the dude gets fed up, he told Wayne to stop playing with him. Wayne said, ‘Nigga fuck you, I play when I want to and if I wanted to I could fuck you. You’s a bitch, you should be taking that dick.’ The dude gets heated and tells Wayne can’t no nigga fuck him. Wayne laughed at him and told him, ‘I ain’t no average nigga, I’m Silk and if you keep running your mouth I’m a leave your fake ass in this back seat with a hole in your head.’ I tried to tell the dude to leave the shit alone because I saw where it was going, Wayne was going to end up smokin’ the nigga. The dude wouldn’t let it go, his pride was in it. Wayne ended up telling the dude they could fight if he had something he needed to get off his chest. When we got to the mall Wayne took off his jacket and slapped the shit out of dude, he tried to make the nigga fight him but the dude wouldn’t fight. Wayne looked at us and said, ‘I told y’all this nigga was a bitch.’ Wayne then pulled out his pistol and makes the dude strip ass naked right in the parking lot, then he shot him in the ass and told him to get the fuck away from us. Everybody was laughing. Wayne exposed the nigga and it was all a big joke to Silk.” A dude from back in the day relates.

Wayne was on that extortion time real hard too. “He put me on a nigga one time, he wanted me to lean on the nigga.” Another one of Wayne’s old partners in crime says. “I put the squeeze on the nigga, told him I wanted 50 grand. I worked the move about two or three times and broke down with Silk every time. At the same time Silk was playing things with the nigga, getting close to him, making him think they were cool. Then Silk acted like he found out I was squeezing the nigga and told the nigga that he would get me to leave him alone for 50 G’s. From there he was milking the nigga for 50 G’s anytime he wanted to and he would still hit me off. Silk worked that move so many times on different niggas too, even some niggas that was supposed to be like that. It was like taking candy from a baby for Silk.” And when Silk’s friend came home from jail he used his reputation to put him back on his feet.

“I remember when I first came home from Lorton and was in the halfway house,” Manny says. “Wayne came to get me and told me to get in his CE and took me uptown. He asked me if I had money. I was just coming home, I was broke. I told him, no, so he said he was going to take me to get some money. We pull up in front of a well known spot that’s owned by some dudes that supposed to be major in the city. Wayne looked at me and said, ‘Go in there and tell such and such to send a bag of that money out here and don’t make me come in there and get it either.’ I thought Wayne was playing, he’s a real funny dude, always playing, but he was dead serious. So I went in the spot and told the dude what Wayne said and with no problem the dude gave me a bag full of money. Wayne had niggas scared to death.” He didn’t stop at street figures when it came to his extortion game either. It’s said that he went as far as extorting lawyers and Italians in Georgetown too. Silk was cool and calculating but he also fortified his bourgeoning reputation as the most feared man in D.C. with sporadic outbursts of violence that seemed to come out of nowhere with no rhyme or reason.

“I had a spot over Southwest on Orange Street. I had a few young dudes hustling for me,” another dude from the era relates. “One day Silk came over there to holla at me and me and slim was sitting in the apartment talking shit and joking when my little man came in the spot and told me that a New York dude around the corner told him that he couldn’t hustle until he was finished with his shit. Me and Wayne looked at each other and shook our heads. Wayne told shorty to go back outside and stand on the corner and sell his shit. Shorty acted like he was scared so I told him that if Silk said it was cool, then it was cool. The young dude went back outside and started pumping. As soon as the New York dude bent around the corner to say something to shorty, Wayne stepped out of the cut beside the building and hit his ass in the head with everything he had in the clip and stepped off with the hammer smoking. When the police and ambulance arrived, Wayne popped back up with a different set of clothes, just to see who was talking to the cops.” It seemed Wayne did what he did just because he could. His aura of fear was impregnable.

This is an excerpt from Street Legends. If you want to read the rest order the book right now.

Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Street Legends is gangsta with a capital 'G'." Wahida Clark, Essence Bestselling Author of the Thugs series and Payback is a Mutha.

"Street Legends is what every hood novel aspires to be, the Realness. This is history in the making." - Kwame Teague, Bestselling Author of the Dutch Trilogy.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 plus shipping or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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50 Cent

The murder of Black Just and Love’s credit card schemes cast a cloud of suspicion over the Crime Partners production but the worst was still to come. At the same time this was all happening a kid named Curtis Jackson from Queens took the moniker 50 Cent from a dead stick-up kid out of Brooklyn and started releasing a series of underground mixtapes including 2000’s Guess Who’s Back, which featured Ghetto Qu’ran and the following lyrics- When you hear talk of the southside/you hear talk of the team/see niggas feared Prince and respected Preme/for all you slow muthafuckers I’m gonna break it down iller/see Preme was the businessman and Prince was the killer. This wasn’t the first time the team had been celebrated in songs but the lyrics about Preme in his bulletproof BMW that reeled out a roll call of Supreme Team members like Black Just was the last thing Preme needed as he tried to pull it all together and go legit. And with 50 Cent’s ode, authorities had reason to believe Preme was back underground up to his old tricks with his life imitating his art.

“It was good that he paid homage to us for who we were and what we did,” Bing says of the verses. “But I felt different about it when I first heard that shit. It is what it is.” Preme’s legacy was now aired to the world and right at the most inappropriate time. The storied street dude was getting out of the life but the lines between hustling and hip-hop had blurred casting suspicion on his ventures. But 50 wasn’t the first to rap about Preme. In Nas’s Memory Lane on 1994’s Illmatic he rhymes- Some fiends scream about Supreme Team/a Jamaica Queens’s thing. And it wouldn’t be the last as Murder Inc.’s Ja Rule joined the fray with his intro on the Survival of the Illest CD- Funds unlimited/backed by Preme team crime representatives. That was something that the feds would eventually pick up on. It seemed the rap lyrics struck a cord with law enforcement officials. While many of the figures heralded in hip-hop lyrics were either dead or in prison, Supreme was in the streets-a real live gangster. He was both a figure in raps lyrical lore and an upcoming hip-hop movie-maker. “Preme is a legend. He’s proven and he's not a rat,” Tuck says. “That fact alone in this day and time says a lot. Stand up men are no longer the rule they are the exception to the rule.” The rappers 50 and Ja Rule’s status was less clear, as they started beefing about a world that Supreme had known far better than either of them. “The Ja Rule/50 Cent beef was partly because Supreme spoke up for Ja Rule and 50 Cent took this as a rejection of him,” T says. “Supreme thinks 50 cent is an angry young man that been venting, and his venting could be construed as ungangsta, because real men don’t put stuff out in the public that could bring about an investigation.” Adds T, “Supreme looks at 50 like he’s confused. If half the things that are said about 50 and Preme are true than 50 needs to send half his loot to Supreme.”

In the streets, it was also rumored that Supreme had something to do with 50 Cent’s mother’s death. Sabrina Jackson allegedly was a Supreme Team member who got strung out on crack and fucked up some of Preme’s money. She was found dead in her apartment. Somebody had put something in her drink and turned the gas on. Her body wasn’t found until four days later. In the streets it was seen as a message- Don’t fuck with Supreme’s money or product. “That’s some bullshit.” T says. “That’s just something that got picked up on. Supreme couldn’t even tell you what she looked like. She didn’t have anything to do with the Supreme Team.” But as rumors swirled and 50 Cent caught wind of them after he’d grown up he went on the offensive escalating the beef with Ja Rule and Murder Inc. He must have figured fuck Supreme, if he’s not with me, he’s against me. And that’s how it played out. “I try not to entertain what spills out of his mouth,” Preme said referring to 50. “Because I don’t wish to engage in a war of words. I’m not at war with him nor did I ever have a beef with him. I never knew his mother. I knew of her and from what I know she was cool people.”

A couple of physical confrontations that turned violent ensued. One at an Atlanta club that resulted in Ja Rule’s chain being snatched and another at a Manhattan recording studio where Murder Inc. cronies assaulted 50. These confrontations fueled the beef and it was suggested by police that the Ghetto Qu’ran rap caused bad blood between 50 Cent and Supreme. “Men that have been in the life you just don’t put their business on wax.” T says. “Preme showing love to Murder Inc. ostracized him from their counterparts.” But in reality T relates that, “Supreme never gave 50 Cent any thought because barking dogs don’t bite and 50 never been in the life. He’s a perpetrator to the death of the game.”

50 Cent built his career on the feud though. He called Murder Inc. out for what they were, making references to their menacing acquaintances in magazine articles and in verse. His pre-superstar hit Wanksta was a thinly veiled attack calling Ja Rule a fake gangsta wannabe, perpetrating a tough guy image. And in a battle rap 50 gave his take on Irv Gotti- Don’t nobody respect you nigga/you Preme’s son nigga/muthafucker been getting extorted since day one. The feds took this to mean that Murder Inc. was bankrolled by Supreme. They listened to 50’s lyrics like they would a wiretap. 50 Cent said the song Ghetto Qu’ran was a memorial to the street legends he grew up idolizing but The Source magazine took an anti-50 Cent stance and labeled him a snitch. Supreme even said as much, “When we was coming up there was a code of conduct. You didn’t speak about dudes who may still be in the streets.”

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T and Supreme

And the truth of the whole matter was that Supreme was trying to squash the beef between 50 and Murder Inc. “I sat down with 50 and said, ‘Listen man, this is nonsense.’ But 50 loves to keep things going. He would say ‘Yeah, all right Supreme, I respect you man’ and then turn around and go totally contrary to what we talked about.” And about Preme and the beef T says, “He’s a very diplomatic individual who feels that violence is an option that can’t be afforded. I think he feels if a situation can get to the point of physical violence and he knows both parties he would feel obligated to find a peaceful situation.” And Supreme did just that as 50 cent pointed out, talking about the Murder Inc. beef, “I had a conversation with an older god body that was holding them down. He was like yo, leave this little nigga alone. You know they pussy but this is my food. I was like okay.” And the god body 50 Cent was referring to was Supreme. “I was intervening to squash the issue because I thought it was meatball. I think he said Ja Rule didn’t say hi or something. Plus security can’t stop a real beef.” Supreme said of the situation. But it all came to a head.

On May 24, 2000, as 50 and a friend sat in a car outside his grandmother’s house on 161st Street in South Jamaica a gunman rolled up in a vehicle on his left side and pumped nine shots into his body, hitting him in the hand, hip, calf, chest and face. 50 Cent survived and went on to become a superstar but the shooting has always been connected to Supreme. After he recovered, 50 put out a song, Fuck You, that said- 50, who shot ya? You think it was Preme, Freeze or Tata? And Jon “Love” Ragin said later that he met with Preme the day of the 50 shooting and Preme said, “I got him.” Supreme, “Explained to me that they caught him coming out of his grandmother’s house and he got into a car and that’s when he got shot. There was a lot of blood.” Love recalled Preme telling him. The New York Post ran the headline, Slay Plot vs. Fitty, indicting Supreme of the crime. But even in court the shooting was never pinned on Supreme.

The subject of 50 being a snitch has been hotly debated also. “This dude sensationalizes everything. All his statements are incendiary. The government believes every lyric- and then he says, ‘Read my lyrics.’ Where I come from that’s dry snitching.” Supreme said and on the whole beef with 50 he said, “Kid you’ve never been through nothing. I walked around wolves, man. I walked among giants.” And he’s right. Maybe 50 is a snitch, maybe not. “The chump 50 Cent wouldn’t even be a factor in the rap game today if his lyrics weren’t snitch oriented,” T says. “He owe his success to the media and his beef with Murder Inc. 50 ain’t never been nowhere but to boot camp. A place guys like Supreme wouldn’t even go to. With dudes yelling in your face telling you to do 50 pushups. How gangsta is that?”

This is an excerpt from Street Legends. If you want to read the rest order the book right now.

Kilo's of cocaine and herion, millions of dollars of drug money, luxury customized cars, dime pieces galore, bling-bling to shine, multitudes of violence and vicious murder- these dudes were street stars and their lifestyles are what gangsta rap represents. Read their stories and ride shotgun with a hood legend.

Check out what they are saying about Street Legends-

"In this gripping gangstaography Seth Ferranti manages to once again take you somewhere you don't want to go." - Don Diva Magazine

"Street Legends is gangsta with a capital 'G'." Wahida Clark, Essence Bestselling Author of the Thugs series and Payback is a Mutha.

"Street Legends is what every hood novel aspires to be, the Realness. This is history in the making." - Kwame Teague, Bestselling Author of the Dutch Trilogy.

"If you ever were a hustler or just thought you wanted to be good at it, you will need to read this first. The streets are rough. This author, Seth Ferranti, engages your mind like a skill saw." - Street Elements Magazine

You can order the book at gorillaconvict.com or at Amazon.com for $15.00 or request it at a bookstore near you.

ORDER PRISON STORIES TODAY

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ADX Florence

USP Marion replaced the notorious Alcatraz and ADX Florence replaced USP Marion, which was put of indefinite lockdown from 1983 to 1994 demonstrating the need for a permanent lockdown prison. Hence the construction of ADX Florence, which has been called the Alcatraz of the Rockies„ "We just needed a more secure facility," said Tracy Billingsley, a BOP spokeswoman. "We needed to bring together the most dangerous that required the most intense supervision to one location.” And many states followed the feds’ lead. California copied the concept with Pelican Bay and now there’s over 57 other Supermaxes with over 13,500 beds in the U.S. Bob Snelson, a union leader at ADX said, “Most of our inmates are very violent. They have short fuses. We are dealing with people who can go from reading the bible to trying to kill you.”

People like Luis Felipe aka King Blood, leader of NY Cities Latin Kings, Larry Hoover the leader of Chicago’s Gangster Disciples, Mexican mafia leader Ruben “Nite Owl” Castro and Aryan Brotherhood commission members Barry “The Baron” Mills and TD “The Hulk” Bingham who were all charged with running their gangs from their ADX cells after receiving natural life sentences for their prior offenses. But the list goes on- notorious DC hitman Wayne Perry, Lorton prison kingpin Keith “Fly” Gaffney, B-More druglord Anthony Jones, NY City street legend Peter “The Pistol” Rollack and mob turncoats Anthony “Gaspipe” and Sammy “The Bull” Gravano. There’s also a literal bombers row at ADX with Richard Reid, the shoe bomber; Ted Kaczynski, the Unabomber; Eric Rudolph, the Olympic Park bomber; Ramzi Ahmed Yousef who planned the 1993 WTC attack; Timothy McVeigh’s partner Terry Nichols and 9/11 terrorist Zacarias Moussaoui. The father of actor Woody Harrelson, Charles Harrelson, who killed a federal judge is there as well as white supremacist Mathew Hale who tried to kill a federal judge, Robert Hannen, the FBI agent who spied for Russia and Yu Kikumura, the Japanese Red Army member who plotted to bomb the NY Navy Rec Center. Of all the high profile prisoners housed there, Krista Rear an ADX spokesperson said, “Sometimes we receive inmates here at ADX as a direct court commitment. The rest of our inmates are here from other penitentiaries where they were unable to be safely and securely housed in a more open population setting.” And with only 490 beds only the worst of the worst make it to ADX.

Terrorist, big-profile mobsters, gang leaders and white supremacists are imprisoned there along with political prisoners, prisoner organizers, prisoners who file lawsuits and voice other complaints about the system. And there have been many complaints from critics and former ADX prisoners that the Supermax is inhumane and cause its occupants to go crazy. The attorney for Luis Felipe aka King Blood said that his client broke down from the stress of isolation and requires medication. Christopher Boyce a convicted spy who was at ADX said, “You’re slowly hung. You’re ground down. You can barely keep your sanity.” And Eric Rudolph, the Olympic Park bomber wrote the following words to a newspaper, “Supermax is designed to inflict as much misery and pain as is constitutionally permissible. It’s a closed off world designed to isolate inmates from social and environmental stimuli. It’s a political prison. The government not only uses it to house problem inmates, it also uses it to add an extra measure of punishment for those inmates who have been convicted of politically motivated offenses.”

To get the real deal about ADX we reached out to penitentiary veteran and DC Blacks gang member Little Ceaser who’s been doing time in the federal system since the 70s with stints at both USP Marion during the 80s and ADX Florence in the late 90s. Of his time in the Supermaxes Little Ceaser says, “It’s like being in a tunnel for years where your radio and communication frequency has gone out, where you can’t reach out to anyone and it seems no one can reach you but you’ve got to navigate through the darkness with hopes that there is really a light at the end of the tunnel.”

Little Ceaser was first sent to lockdown at USP Marion after an attempted murder charge “on a rat that was trying to make bones to join the AB’s by cutting a borderline retarded brother’s throat,” he relates. “I pled out on the case and got a fresh 37 month sentence.” And a one way ticket to the toughest penitentiary in America at the time. “Marion was the toughest in regard to psychological effects. The early 80s was an era of aggression, an ear of murder as well as malicious wounding,” he says. “It was different then. Back then a motherfucker had to have good game on how to get out on the pound, be prone of violence or under somebody’s wing in some kinda way. I was fortunate enough to be around a lot of men. Convicts.” And as part of the feared DC Blacks gang Little Ceaser mad his way.

The convict who eventually ended up in ADX Florence in the late 90s has been locked up with a who’s who of American gangsters. “Nicky Scarfo, John Gotti, Jeff Fort of El Rukns, Big Naughty, Rayful Edmonds before he turned rat, Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff and many other kingpins and gang leaders, he says. He says the worst part of ADX Florence was the mental abuse. “The psychological abuse administered by staff was a key mind controlling factor.” Little Ceaser asserts. “There were subtle as well as overt battles of the mind and with the state of chaos being what it was you always needed a source to stabilize your thinking to keep you from crossing the line of psychological to physical warfare because the circumstances were so unusual. The underlying conflict between races and the different gangs and territorial factions was constant and kept both inmates and officers alike off balance thinking that the next incident might surely erupt in violence.”

Little Ceaser eventually completed the three year step program that keeps inmates in their cells 23 hours a day for the first year then gradually socializes them. In the last year prisoners can come out of their 7-foot by 12-foot cells into a pod like area with other prisoners to see how they act. “It was a matter of coming to grips with the fact that people were just people. Little Ceaser says. "That shit will make or break you. It’s incumbent upon each individual to either build themselves up or allow themselves to fall deeper into the folds of the system. The longer you’re in a situation like that the more you become apart of the environment, the more you become a part of the environment the harder it is to sustain ones sense of purpose and sanity relative to societal norms." And knowing that the feds bury undesirables at ADX with no chance of ever coming out or completing the step program.

Undesirables, political prisoner and those convicted of continuing
criminal activity from prison that the feds want to hold limbo incommunicado just like the war detainees at Abu Graib and Guantanamo Bay are housed at ADX. Whoever the government wants to keep on ice and away from the public eye. In ADX rehabilitation is not an issue- punishment, control and cutting the individual off from the rest of the world is the MO. Every occupant is kept in near total solitary confinement. Beds, desks and stools are all made of
poured concrete. Toilets have a valve that shuts off the water in case flooding occurs (prisoners are notorious for flooding their cells with water) and the sinks have no taps just buttons. A 42-inch window four inches wide looks out on a one man rec yard and a 12 inch black and white TV shows closed circuit classes in psychology, education, anger management, parenting and literacy. The extreme isolation is the way the BOP achieves extreme control over the individuals incarcerated there. But recently there's been numerous problems at ADX.

Opened in 1994 to replace USP Marion where 20 prisoners and two guards were killed by the likes of AB member Thomas "Terrible Tom" Silverstein the preceding decade ADX Florence was hailed in corrections as the safe new model for high-security prisons. But after 11 years with no murders, there have been two since February 2005. Clearly things at ADX are heating up and critics are attacking the Supermax structure from all angles. With budget cuts forcing 3,147 critical shifts left unfilled in the last couple of years a CNN report called it Superma, Superlax. A report by the inspector general found that the BOP "is unable to effectively monitor the mail of terrorists and other high risk inmates in order to detect and prevent terrorism and criminal activities. Inmate cells are no longer being searched on a regular basis and the fact that the Aryan Brotherhood and Mexican Mafia gang leaders ran their criminal empires from isolation made it worse.

“Every things changing, the laws, the penalties, the technologies and the old methods for controlling communication are passé, caput," says Little Ceaser and he's right. When gang leaders in the most secure facility in the U.S. can smuggle out instructions and direct their organizations from their prison cell then something is definitely wrong. "They have cut the" staffing budget so short that is just a matter of time before we have a riot." Union rep Mike Schnobrich said. And ADX union leader Bob Snelson reiterated this, "When they are supposed to get an hour of recreation a day and they get none for weeks or they can't make a phone call for weeks they go into a killing fury." And with threats of violence or murder against guards doubled from 55 in 2004 to 110 in 2005 there is room for concern. Officers are regularly pelted with urine and feces and one counselor was attacked by a prisoner with a papier-mâché spear and nearly had his eye cut out. But the pendulum can swing both ways and it does.

"Prisoners have been gassed, beaten, pepper sprayed, 4 pointed to the bed, strip searched constantly and extracted from their cells forcefully. Mind control, medications and chemical weapons are used to incapacitate prisoners. A guard at ADX said, "Its chilling to walk" down the cellblocks and glance through the Plexiglas sally port chambers into the cells and see the faces inside. It’s a bunch of terrorists and psychopaths. Inmates run showers all day and night and scream for hours when the water is cut off. Other prisoners yell that CIA agents are monitoring their thoughts. It’s sad. Many have lost all hope." With the routine excessive force, tasers, chemical sprays, shotguns, sensory deprivations and overload, pacification with drugs and violent cell extractions Supermax looks more and more like waging war. A security war.

Over the past 10 years prisoners political and civil rights have been
severely disabled. The language of security has authorized Supermax imprisonment by treating it not as punishment but as a set of administrative procedures for managing high-security populations. The procedures, now legally sanctioned were once considered violations of the U.S. constitutions 8th amendment prohibiting cruel and unusual punishment. "These are the most dangerous of people,
Attorney General Roberto Gonzales said but does that justify the way they are treated? The militaristic aspects of policing have intensified the use of lethal force inside the Supermaxes. The sophisticated weaponry and surveillance equipment- metal detectors, x-ray machines, leg irons, waist chains, black boxes holding cages and all the rest has dehumanized the prisoners. So how should we
expect them to act?

“I have seen them rot," prison expert James Aiken said. "They rot." And maybe that is what our government wants. Or maybe it’s like the former warden of ADX Robert Hood, who was remembered as especially restrictive and sadistic by former prisoners said, "No ones getting out of Supermax, period, end of story." And if that’s the truth then out society has truly degenerated. If a man doesn't deserve to live in society then why not put him out of his misery? Why this sadistic nature for the ultimate retribution? Is that what all the tough on crime rhetoric is about?

As Featured in Street Elements.

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