by Corey Bryant
Garcia was told by Antonio about his son that was raised in Chicago. Neither of them was aware of Antonio’s son’s status with the indictment. If he was clear and a standup guy like his father, Garcia had plans for him.
Detroit, Michigan
I had been in Detroit 2 days before finally linking up with my partner Brian. hadn’t seen this nigga in years, since about the year 2000 at Talladega one of those federal joints. He knew my situation, so he agreed to come to my room.
“Wasup, nigga? Said Brian as I let him into the room.
“Wasup, bru? I said as I dapped Brian up.
“Maan, what the fuck you done got into?” Asked Brian.
“A bunch of bullshit!” I said.
“Bro, I have seen you all over the news and shit. You got to be careful on how you move.”
“I’m hip!” I said.
“So, what’s up? I know you got a plan.”
“Yea…I probably have to lay up here for a minute 'til things cool off then I have to head for the border!”
“I feel you bru. So what’s up? You need me to do something for ya?:” Wusup my nigga, I’m here!”
I like to hear people from back in the days talk like that and mean it.
“Actually, I do bru. I need a spot other than this motel. Somewhere laid back that’s not too exclusive but not hood, you feel me?”
“I feel you my nigga. Maybe a house in a good neighborhood!” Said Brian.
“Exactly!”
Brian pulled out his phone and called somebody and within minutes had a house somebody wanted to rent to own and with five thousand dollars down would move me right in.
“Now, that’s wusup. Now my second thing is I got some work that need moving.” I said as I gauged Brian back in the days. Brian used to move work and rob people. A nigga that dressed almost preppy but gangsta. A person a nigga would misjudge, and he was a Y.B.I. affiliate which was a Detroit click from back in the days.
“Shit, bru I been running my own clothing store and I ain’t been in the streets, but I know some niggas that do things.” Said Brian.
I thought about what he said about his store.
“Okay, I’ll get back at you on that but besides that, I’m cooling.
“Okay, I’ll get with the dude in the morning on that house.”
I went in my pocket and gave him a $10,000 scrilla roll. Then Antonio thought for a second went in his pocket and gave Brian another 10 band roll.
“That’s 20 racks, 5 down on the house & 10 on some basic furniture and 5 for you to keep.!”
Brian’s eyes lit up a little as he smiled. “You about your business, bru. I’ll handle it all in the morning. Other than that are you good for right now?” Asked Brian.
“Yea, I’m Gucci! Just hit the phone in the morning. I may ride wit ya. You know, learn my way around.”
“Okay, that’s wusup.” Said Brian as he walked out the door.
I hope this nigga still solid because right now I didn’t need any bloopers. I had gotten the Puerto Rican chic to get two rooms to throw things off. After I fuck this Joseline look-alike from Atlanta love and hip-hop. I was going to break her off and send her on her way because I got work to do.
Chapter 39
The U.S. marshals had spread their net wide and long for the manhunt of CEO/Kingpin, Antonio Deangelo. All federal offices in the United States were on alert in the wake of the execution-style murder of the famous rapper Jon-Jon. The feds were in hot pursuit for the capture of Antonio. He couldn’t be seen in too many public places because his face has been flashed on TV, electronic billboards on the interstate, and public freeways.
The media sensationalized the story prepping it for a movie. “So, it seems big-time CEO of famous rap label, entrepreneur and alleged drug kingpin wanted in a federal R.I.C.O indictment and a string of murders. Mr. Deangelo has alleged ties to a Mexican cartel whose boss has been released from federal prison through the court system.”
On and on went the stories which later would earn Antonio Deangelo a spot on the front of a Don-Diva magazine as well as a spot in a United States penitentiary (U.S.P.). Possibly at a supermax like A.D.X. Florence, Colorado! The spot Garcia just came from. The place where Larry Hoover along with a lot of more high-profile gangsters. The feds had traced a lot of Antonio’s family line so in those cities and states. The federal marshal had already hit and was still on the lookout. So far, the feds were unlucky, but technology brought them their break!
In big motels, they have their camera systems hooked up with the NCIC computer systems just for this type of situation to catch fugitives, wanted criminals, terrorists, etc...
The night Antonio stepped foot in that hotel in Detroit with the Hispanic chic the N.C.I.C. the computer went ape shit! As soon as Brian left the hotel that night, they apprehended Brian in the lobby and kicked both hotel room doors in while Antonio was fucking the Puerto Rican chic. At least he got a chance to get a nut.
“Hands where I can see them, loverboy.” Screamed the feds once they were in the room with pistols and rifles aimed at him and the girl. Antonio didn’t make any false moves; he just laid on top of the girl, hands outstretched where the law can see them. The way the police were killing blacks he wasn’t about to make any false moves.
“Finally caught up with you Mr. Deangelo. You have the right to remain silent.” The feds were reading Antonio his rights as they were handcuffing him butt naked.
“Let me put my clothes on man.” Said Antonio. They handcuffed him and allowed him to put his clothes on.
“Bingo!” Hollered and agent as he opened Antonio’s luggage and duffel bags and found the dope and money. They led Antonio out of the hotel and as soon as he hit the lobby he was met by cameras, news reporters, and paparazzi. Antonio didn’t say a word, he just looked straight ahead as he was led to a black Grand Marquis with tinted windows and rode off to the federal detention center in Detroit.
Chapter 40
2 weeks later
Atlanta Federal Holding Unit
The news of my arrest was plastered all over the news for 2 weeks straight. I was mad as fuck at first. I thought Brian had set me up, but then I found out that technology had got me. They were holding news conferences showing the drugs they confiscated in the investigation. They had shown the property, guns, and money as a whole and were posing with that shit.
They had the dope and money on long tables for display. They really tripped out about all the money and dope they got from me. A little under $150 million dollars in cash and 10 keys of heroin & 10 keys of cocaine.
“Mr. DeAngelo has ties to a Mexican cartel!” Said a prosecutor to the reporters.
“Which cartel?” Screamed a reporter. Questions were thrown around like crazy.
“Is he one of the next big drug kingpins like Frank Mathews from the ’70s?
My first court appearance after the extradition proceedings was a fucking arraignment hearing.
The present Time
Damn, I guess you can say this shit is ironic, ironically stupid, or maybe even janky as fuck. That is to name this organization after one of the most feared law statutes the government can come up with to lock people up for a looong time. But nevertheless, it is what it is R.I.C.O (Real Individuals Caliber on High. That means a click of real niggaz but high caliber real niggaz. Big money getting niggaz. The majority of us are real street niggaz who love to get money but got enough sense to clean it up. Got sense enough to get educated to become entrepreneurs one way or the other with the same abbreviation as the government’s United States code annotated title 18@1961 Chapter 96 Racketeer influenced and corrupt organizations.
The federal judge read the indictment and definition off as follows:
“Oh yeah, you heard it right, indictment! Racketeering activity means
Any act or threat involving murder, kidnapping, gambling, arson, robbery, bribery, extortion, dealing in obscene matter, dealing in a controlled substance or listed chemical which is chargeable under th
e state law and punishable by imprisonment for more than 1 year.”
Any action which is indictable under any of the following provisions of title 18 U.S. c-201 Relating Bribery section 224 (Relating to sports bribery section 471 and 473 relating to counterfeiting.
“Damn, I know I don’t fit all this shit that this cracka reading off!” Is what I'm saying to myself. And he continues…
“Pattern of racketeering activity requires at least 2 acts of racketeering on which on or after the effective date and the last which occurred within 10 years after the commission of a prior act of racketeering activity enterprise includes any individuals partnership corporation association or other legal entity.
“Do you understand this indictment which I’m reading to you, Mr. DeAngelo?” Said the federal Judge Barrett Thomas of the Northern District of Georgia.”
“Yes, sir.” I humbly answer when all the time I want to say fuck naw I don’t understand, and he continues.
“The next indictment Mr. DeAngelo is under 18 U.S.C.A.2, 848 often referred to as the kingpin statute CCE (continuing a criminal enterprise). You are charged and indicted with 1 count of that. Now, I’m going back to the R.I.C.O charges and read the other counts that you’re charged and indicted for.
I can’t believe this shit is what I’m saying to myself.
“You and your organization are charged with 100 counts of racketeering activity as I explained to you earlier Mr. DeAngelo what constitutes racketeering activity and what is a pattern of racketeering activity. A pattern of racketeering activity requires at least 2 acts of racketeering. 10 counts of murder are linked to you and your R.I.C.O organization which took place on.”
The judge is reading off these charges and indictments for murder and everything else they can pin on me and my click.
“17 counts of gambling in the form of running an illegal gambling operation from and through Sports bars and gambling houses with illegal bookies taking in money for what they call slick picks which coincides with the bribery in sports in the form of point-shaving in college and professional sports.”
A Couple of the athletes who are there to testify for the government shift uneasily in their seats as all eyes turn or cut their way. Shouldn’t have fucked with them square bitch ass niggaz is what I’m saying to myself. Although, there were some real niggaz stand-up guys that were athletes that didn’t flip on me so I got to be thankful a little about that.
“20 counts of sports bribery in college and professional sports mostly in the form of point shaving and 20 counts of extortion.
My lil young partner Brainhead is sitting there with a smirk on his face like fuck it while crossing his arms a little above forehead level in what they call the maxed out sign. He wasn’t bullshitting, him and his goons with their T.S.I. (turning something in) thing. Extorting niggaz out of their work and money.
“Yea, I was living like young Jeezy say… (my goons got guns) tried to cool them young niggaz down and get them on the tip of drama only when necessary.
“5 counts of kidnapping” read the federal judge which was linked to a branch of this R.I.C.O organization called T.S.I.
I’m thinking to myself that all these niggaz who so-called extorted, kidnapped, or both were supposed to be gangstas and now they got a nigga in court about to testify on them.
“10 counts of bribery, 10 counts of dealing a controlled substance. All of these counts and charges are in direct correlation to your legal enterprise, entity, corporation Deangelo enterprises to the furtherance of conspiracy of your criminal enterprise.
“Mr. DeAngelo," Said the federal judge pausing and taking off his glasses for effect “In a 6 year period. You understand what’s going on Mr. DeAngelo?” Asked the judge.
“No, not to this point,” I answered wondering why do they ask all these dumb ass questions, I guess it’s for the record.
“Well, I hope you will after this trial with the help of your legal team Mr. DeAngelo because you’re in a lot of trouble.” Said the judge.
I got lawyers on deck. Some of the best in the country so I’m not tripping. But now that we’re up to date about a 6-year span let’s see how it’s going to play out.
Chapter 41
6 months later
My trial date is about to roll around and I had some fire-ass lawyers. One of them is Garcia’s lawyer and they found out some of the government witnesses were muthafuckas my lieutenant's people were dealing with, not me. They can’t establish any kind of relationships like seller or buyer. Nope. Supervisors like they worked for me. Nope.
Through electronic surveillance when they tapped my lieutenant’s phone which led them to me, Paul the white guy who ran the logistics for me was rattin. Jamey who ran the slick picks was standing strong and my main partner Chee-Chee was working. Pressure from his ole lady made him turn himself in and give up all kinds of info.
I couldn’t believe it, a couple of the football players were flipping on me about sports bribery. They came to me wanting me to flip on the Vegas bookies, my connects, the cartel, and my plugs. No way Jose is what they got from me. My lil wolves who were locked up in Florida stayed strong.
The broad Kadia was testifying along with a host of others. My girl Tanya was going to be straight along with my cousin Bam-Bam in Jacksonville. It was going to be a long trial with me and all the co-defendants. All I can do is sit back and wait.
Ever since Antonio’s arrest, D’Anthony had been lying low. Him and his partner Sion had teamed up and had been putting heroin and cocaine into St. Louis and Gary, Indiana. However, he let Sion do all the footwork. He had family over there and knew a few people from when he was younger.
Sion had been getting money in Chicago on a smaller level, but D’Anthony introduced him to the weight game.
D’Anthony knew for sure that he was clear of his dad’s indictments, but was still kind of taking it slow. He’s still trying to get the record label back to pumping. It’s just that the distributors knew his label’s last name was R.I.C.O entertainment. So, that alone made the executives a little skeptical. He had potential with his label because a couple of his artists from Alabama were raw. Plus a couple of his artists in the Chi on his label were talented.
He had thought of changing the name of the label Antonio had been calling him every now and then to see what was going on in the streets. What was going on with him and the label etc? He told him that he would write a letter and sent it to his grandfather’s house.
It wasn’t long after their conversation that he received a letter from Antonio at his grandfather’s house. It was a short letter but valuable.
“What’s up D? I hope everything is going well with you. As for me, my future’s looking dim, but you know I can handle it and I’m going to beat this at trial or on appeal. Anyway, I’ll tell you later about the Benedict Arnold and turncoats. My trial is in another week you may or may not want to attend. If not, I understand and I don’t blame you. My partner is interested in meeting you if you’re still interested. He’s a stand-up guy and if I haven’t done anything for you this hook-up will make up for it. Just call him Migo when you text or call him. Tell him you’re Antonio’s son or just say this is D’Ant. Then he’ll know who you are and wusup. I’ve already talked to him so stay up, stay focused, stay cautious and stay alive. One. Pops!!!”
P.S. keep a line of communication open for me and go see your grandma.
After D’Anthony got through reading the letter he was thinking like hell. He knew his pops was turning him on to the plug. Not just any plug but the cartel. He had promised his girl, mother, and grandfather that he was done but he wasn’t so sure now. He had time to think about it though because since the federal sweep has been going on D’Anthony had stopped altogether.
He wasn’t supplying his Birmingham, Alabama people which was his main plate nor was he supplying his Chicago people. That left things kind of dry especially if those customers and workers didn’t know where to shop. He would make his mind up when he was close
to getting rid of his leftover work. He really didn’t want to keep moving dope through Chicago, because of the ill feelings it had caused with his old plug/ O.G.
He had to step to him and do like some players and talk it out before they get into some gangster shit and shoot it out.
Carlos Desendez had relocated to Tucson, Arizona ever since the failed attempt on his life at his ranch house in Mexico. He already knew who was responsible and he had lost 3 or 4 good soldiers in that attack.
He was now obsessed with the Abregados especially since he learned that Garcia got out. True enough, Carlos knew he had violated by ratting on Garcia, but Garcia had done the despicable in his eyes. He had Carlos Jr. murdered for something that Carlos Sr had done. So, he got him back by killing Garcia’s 3 sisters and a niece.
They struck back. Kool, thought Carlos to himself. All is fair in war and love. Carlos heard and saw the news that the nigger Antonio Deangelo was captured. He hated that because he wanted to kill Antonio. He still had his old phone from the witness protection and he was looking at old messages from agent Testado, missed calls, etc... L He thought about calling him and getting him to testify on Antonio in his son’s murder. Help authenticate his voice from the call made to him the night of his son’s murder.
He wanted to get back bad. He may have to settle with getting even with Garcia because he was the one who put the hit on him and his son. No doubt about it and he’ll run into him. He’s thinking better yet he’ll find him no matter what it takes and face off with him.
Chapter 42
Dallas, Texas
Garcia and his son had been riding around being chauffeured in a royal blue Rolls Royce Phantom Ghost discussing business. Garcia hadn’t done anything since he’d been out. Renaldo had been laying low since the feds captured Antonio. He was one of their main players so they had a feeling that the Feds were breathing down Renaldo’s neck.