Harry-O, a member of the Nickerson Gardens-based Bounty Hunter Bloods, had made millions by his twenties. In an attempt to leave the drug game behind, he created a number of legit businesses, but ended up going to prison on drug trafficking charges and attempted murder. While Harry-O was inside, he and Kenner set up a parent company called Godfather Entertainment.[19] Death Row Records was under the umbrella of this company.
Death Row would go on to make hundreds of millions from its roster of gangsta rap artists that included label co-owner Dr. Dre, Snoop “Doggy” Dogg, Tupac Shakur and, for a brief stint that surprised many, MC Hammer.
Suge Knight and some of his Death Row artists would go on to have beef with east coast rap label head/producer/rap artist Sean “Puffy” Combs and members of his Bad Boy label, including popular rapper Christopher “Biggie Smalls” Wallace. Both labels would repeatedly be investigated for their connections to criminal activity.
With the success of artists like N.W.A, DJ Quik, Dr. Dre and Ice Cube and as solo acts, Tupac Shakur, and Snoop Dogg, large swaths of the American public embraced gangsta rap, which was a marked difference from the initial reaction to the music when it first began to proliferate. Thanks to landmark instances like Miami-based Luther Campbell and his Miami bass-styled rap group, the 2 Live Crew, beating obscenity charges for performing songs from their album As Nasty As They Wanna Be (which had been deemed obscene by a federal judge,[20] a ruling that was also overturned), free speech in all forms of rap music was seen as paramount and worth fighting for. (This fight for freedom of speech in rap music would rear its head once more when Tupac Shakur graphically lashed out at politician, civil rights activist, and highly-vocal gangsta rap opponent C. Delores Tucker in his 1996 song “How Do U Want It?”)
Kids and adults of all races and socioeconomic classes connected to gangsta rap and its gritty, often violent themes, fueling the demand for even more of the music. Parental advisory labels let those concerned decide whether it was okay for their children to delve into these worlds.
Aside from the labeling precaution and bleeped-out words when the songs were played on the radio, there were seemingly no other sanctions.
Gangsta rap had secured, and was continuing to secure, a solid place in the hip-hop canon and in pop culture.
***
Tim and Bob were once asked to act as uniformed security for a video shoot for MTV that N.W.A was doing for one of the songs from their album Straight Outta Compton. It would be overtime pay for the two men, who each needed the money. The Compton P.D. wanted to make sure there wasn’t any violence at the shoot, so they okayed Tim and Bob taking the gig.
The irony of Compton cops being hired to protect Compton rap stars who had skyrocketed to fame shouting, “Fuck tha police!” was not missed on them. Neither was the fact that the opportunity to earn extra money from overtime was made possible compliments of this style of music. Gangsta rap, in that moment, wasn’t just a dark, gritty sub-genre of hip-hop. In that moment, it was a beneficent force raining largesse upon all present that day - the artists who’d created it, the fans who loved it, and the very men it had depicted in song as oppressors.
The shoot took place not far from the police station, at Oleander and Magnolia, in an alley that ran east-to-west. Tim and Bob arrived early. They were greeted by Eazy-E. The rest of the group - Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, DJ Yella, and MC Ren - were standing around a trailer. All of them were dressed as gangsters for the video.
Eazy pointed to craft services - a table with sandwiches and other assorted food and drinks - and told the cops to help themselves. He was familiar with Tim and Bob from his dope-selling days when they’d chased after him in the usual cat-and-mouse way cops did with drug dealers. They suspected Eazy-E had been surprised to see them turn up as security; two cops who were very familiar with him, and not exactly in a positive way.
Hundreds of fans showed up. It was the first time Tim and Bob were able to fully process just how big the group, and gangsta rap were destined to become. Fans idolized the members of N.W.A, as evidenced by how hyped the crowd was. These “hometown boys made good” had become their heroes, their idols. Some fans were already emulating the things they’d heard in N.W.A’s songs and had seen in videos, and it wasn’t just their style of dress, either. This was about more than black Dickies, black jeans, black jackets, black tees, thick gold rope chains, crisp white Air Force 1’s, Nike Cortezes, Jordans, Chuck Taylors, and L.A. Raiders ball caps. This was about a way of life where alpha masculinity was palpable. Black alpha masculinity, which historically in America, had been seen as a threat that needed to be suppressed or extinguished was now celebrated by gangsta rappers spitting bars that dripped with anarchy and misogyny, where they bragged about selling drugs for a come-up, gangbanging to flex a level of power, and the art of effortlessly macking the ladies. Guns, drugs, cash flow, and a surplus of fine women to choose from, to many young males, was an intoxicating allure.
Gangsta rap was that good shit, that hot shit. This was the consensus of millions. Record labels had the sales to prove it. Radio had the spins. The streets were thick with cars with blowing out woofers and frying amps as they pumped it to maximum levels. The music’s stark, dark imagery and explicit wordplay arrived at a time, in the late eighties, when the youth of America seemed to be looking for something more, an antidote to the hypersexual pop writhings of Madonna, the universally-adored and family-friendly King of Pop Michael Jackson, the funk-driven genius, electric gyrations, and peerless falsetto of Prince, the synth-rich stylings of the Duran Durans and Howard Joneses, hair bands like Bon Jovi, Guns N’Roses and other rocked-out groups, Kenny G’s inescapable safe saxophoning, and a host of R&B artists churning out smooth grooves and New Jack-swinging fare. Listening to gangsta rap was proof you were a rule-breaker, a system-bucker, or at least pretending to be. Or maybe you were a legit criminal and this music sang your heart-song. Either way, it was just as at home being blasted from a classic lowrider bouncing on hydraulics down a major drag in the ‘hood as it was being rapped along to in a cul-de-sac in the whitest suburban enclave. Posturing and wrapping one’s self in street swagger could raise a kid’s cool factor exponentially, no matter what that kid’s race.
Behind the curtains, however, and sometimes right out in the open, real shit was happening. A few years later, two of the biggest names in the rap world would die as a result of what came with the music: real-life gang activity, deep-seated rivalries, and people who wouldn’t, and didn’t, hesitate to kill.
The murders of Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. would provoke an even deeper look into the world of gangsta rap, but would leave more questions than provide answers. More than anything, family, friends, and fans of these fallen artists would want to know what the conflicts were really about, who the killers were, and how could it be that no one was ever arrested for their murders.
Tim and Bob worked on both investigations and knew the people involved, what brought the investigations to a halt, and techniques that could have been used to solve them and other gang-related rap murders.
Compton gang homicide unit had been its busiest from the time of the murders of Tupac and Biggie all the way through the end of the Compton P.D. in 2000. They were assigned the majority of the “must solve” murders. That included double murders, triple murders, and homicide cases involving children and innocent victims. They were also involved in investigating crimes related to the gangsta rap world.
Tim and Bob would continue to run into many of the gangsta rappers they’d known, long after those rappers had achieved a level of success and moved away. Many of these artists, once they left Compton, were viewed by the city as celebrities and were often invited back to be feted at various ceremonies and featured in parades.
***
Every year, Tim and Bob had to work the Compton Christmas Parade. This event, to them and everyone else in the Compton P.D., meant a full day of nonstop violence between Crips and Pirus. The parade spanned about a mile down Compton Bou
levard, from Long Beach Boulevard to Acacia Avenue. Crips - dressed in blue clothing, blue bandanas, blue shoes, blue ball caps, and blue belts - claimed the south side of the boulevard and lined up along the parade’s length. The Pirus claimed the north side, a mirror image of their foes across the street, except decked out in red.
Caught somewhere in the middle were the good citizens of Compton.
As the parade passed, a gang member from one side would yell out something. That would get things started. This was followed by more yelling from both sides, gang signs being thrown, and Crips and Pirus dissing each other.
Tim and Bob had a strategy at the ready. There would be an officer on call who’d been assigned to man the jail van. When it looked like things were about to really pop off between the Crips and Pirus, Tim and Bob would put in a call for the van to come through. Van loads of Crips and Pirus would be scooped up and carted off to the station. Sometimes they were driven to the far end of Compton and dropped off. That bought a little time for the parade to continue.
Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the violence. While Tim and Bob were having Crips and Pirus picked up at one area, fights between Crips and Pirus would be in full effect just down Compton Boulevard at another section. Sometimes five or ten gang members would be in the middle of the street fighting as the parade attempted to pass. Inevitably, someone would shoot and the crowd would scatter. It was mayhem. Parade days meant long hours, extended shifts, and violence, violence, and more violence. This was how Tim and Bob spent their Christmases, year after year.
Bob, in uniform, has a Christmas moment with his son.
***
One year, DJ Quik, who was now a famous and celebrated rapper, was invited to be the Grand Marshal of the Christmas parade. In this honorary role, Quik, a Tree Top Piru, would be sitting in the back of a convertible that slowly made its way down Compton Boulevard.
This posed an almost presidential-level dilemma.
Tim and Bob got to the staging area before the parade started. Quik was already in the convertible, posted up and ready to roll. Even though a good amount of time had passed, Tim hadn’t forgotten about the song Quik had penned about him since everyone still called him “Blondie.” Now here he was, a star, out in the open without a care. Tim and Bob approached him.
“So what’s up with that Blondie song?” Tim asked.
Quik laughed. “C’mon, Blondie,” he said. “You know I didn’t mean nothing by it. Shit, I made you famous!”
Tim and Bob laughed. Quik seemed relieved.
The parade was about to get started. The two cops’ role would be to make sure their gang-related Grand Marshal didn’t get shot or harmed.
The convertible made its way down the boulevard without incident, but once the parade was over, violence quickly commenced. Gunshot victims were carted, as usual, off to Killer King, but Quik made it out safely to rap another day.
***
The head of the gang unit, Reggie Wright, Sr., would often use Tim and Bob to maintain the peace at gangsta rap concerts. There were several rappers who were affiliated with or were themselves Crips and Pirus. The potential for some form of violence to occur at these events was high. Reggie, Tim, and Bob would approach the artist and the artist’s entourage beforehand and give them a pep talk. It was actually somewhere between an advisory and a warning.
“Colors better stay out of this.”
That put the onus on the artists to control the members of their respective gang if they wanted a successful event. This was usually effective. A lot of these rappers knew and respected Reggie, Bob, and Tim. They also knew that, if something did go down, the concert would be shut down.
When Suge Knight and Death Row Records reached a level of success, Suge introduced an annual event where he and the artists on his label would give out free turkeys at the Compton Swap Meet. Tim and Bob would be on hand to keep chaos at bay. No matter how good-willed it sounded, a gang-affiliated rap mogul doing a turkey giveaway was an invitation for rival gang hell to break loose.
One year, Suge - in yet another of his continuing attempts to give back to Compton - held a free concert at Lueders Park. The acts on deck to perform were Tupac Shakur and Snoop Dogg, both of whom were wildly popular. Suge was affiliated with MOB Piru and employed members of the Lueders Park Pirus as security for Death Row. Snoop was a member of the Long Beach-based Rollin’ 20 Crips. That meant both Crips and Bloods would be attending the concert. The potential for violence and gunplay to go down was a firm one hundred percent.
Reggie, Tim, and Bob gave another one of their pep talks, this time with Suge, Tupac, and Snoop Dogg. This time their tone was all warning, no advisory.
“No Crip and Blood shit better come up or this whole thing will get shut down.”
Tim and Bob stayed for the duration of the concert. A few fights broke out, but nothing that couldn’t be quelled by talking to the parties involved. Watching and working with Reggie had taught the two men how to manage large-scale, potentially dangerous situations simply by knowing the right way to talk to people.
9
MARKED MEN
By 1988, a year after the Compton P.D.’s first gang unit had been dismantled because of a manpower shortage, it had become more and more evident that a city so overrun with gangs couldn’t operate without having some sort of team dedicated to dealing with the problem. It wasn’t something that was an option. Police officers working their beats could, at best, be reactive to gang-related violence and crime. With over fifty-five gangs in the city, there needed to be a proactive focus on gang culture in order to stem the tide.
Sergeant Reggie Wright, Sr. was going to create a new unit. Most cities with half the number of gangs Compton had to deal with had gang units with eight-to-twelve officers. Reggie didn’t have that luxury. He wasn’t even going to be able to have as many people in the unit as there were the first time. This time around, there could only be two officers. Reggie decided those two would be Tim and Bob.
Hourie Taylor, now a lieutenant, backed him up.
The decision was a tricky one, especially in a department that was predominantly Black. There were several people who felt they should have gotten the job. To have two white guys promoted to what was considered a prestigious unit was a big deal. Most metro police departments had what were known as “salt-and-pepper teams” with a mix of Blacks, whites, and Latinos. Promotions of any kind in the Compton P.D. typically consisted of two Blacks, a white, and a Latino officer. Tim and Bob expected that would be the case with this revived version of the gang unit. They were shocked to be chosen. Not because they weren’t qualified. Their reputations for diving through windows as they busted dope houses and chasing down gangsters had not gone unnoticed. They were knowledgeable about gangs and were respected and trusted by them. The gang unit was where all the skills they’d honed and the relationships they'd nurtured, along with the street knowledge gained since joining the Compton P.D., could be best put to use.
The decision to promote them was as much of a surprise to everyone at the force as it was to Tim and Bob. This was a bold move politically on Taylor and Reggie’s parts. Tim and Bob were determined to show - through hard work, commitment, and results - that choosing them was the right decision.
They jumped right into their new roles and began infiltrating gangs, solving murders, and cases involving drive-by shootings. Their duties involved a lot of paperwork, but no matter how much there was to deal with, they were in the streets every day contacting and documenting gang members, tracking the various alliances and rivalries, decoding graffiti for intelligence, contacting witnesses, victims, and informants in cases of gang violence, and investigating gang crimes and homicides.
Hourie Taylor would keep their unit together for eleven years. They owed a lot to him for recognizing that this was exactly the kind of police work they were both cut out for. The gang unit was where the two men would shine.
***
They drove to every neighborhood known to have a gang a
nd talked to gang members about what was going on. It was a continuation of the relationship-building strategy that had made them so effective as beat cops. Gangbangers would tell them who’d just shot whom, who’d recently gotten out of jail, who’d recently gone in.
While driving these neighborhoods, Tim and Bob took note of the graffiti. To the untrained eye, graffiti just appeared to be some gang painting their names on a wall to claim it for their set. For Tim and Bob, it was a form of hieroglyphics; a whole coded system that could be cracked, if you understood the markings. Graffiti revealed a who’s who of players who were important within a gang. It told of rivalries and potential conflict. The two cops could predict future behavior based on what was tagged on the walls in a specific neighborhood.
Wall in Compton P.D. gang unit office identifying gang sets and their members.
They identified the hangouts of gangs and observed them. This tactic helped predict future assaults.
***
Every day for them in the gang unit was high-paced and adrenalin-filled, from start to finish. Their workday began around noon. People would be waiting when they arrived, usually detectives from other homicide units and jurisdictions who needed help. The secretaries, Ruby Kenney and Joanna Brennan, relayed phone messages that needed to be returned to prosecutors and police around the country who had questions about Compton gangs, or from F.B.I. and Department of Justice agents who needed assistance with ongoing investigations and arrests happening in Compton. D.A.’s called to request their appearance in court to provide testimony and discovery at hearings. The phones rang nonstop. At the same time, the dispatch radio would be blowing up, detailing gang activity and shootings that required Tim and Bob to hit the streets.
For the two men, it was like being shot of out a proverbial cannon with no ramp-up; like being crammed into the thing and blasted into action. The intensity and frustration levels would get so high, they would sometimes take their angst out on each other, even on their boss, Reggie. Screaming was their way of letting off steam. The three men understood it for what it was and there were no hard feelings or resentment once the yelling was done. They liked each other a lot and they loved the work.
Once Upon A Time in Compton Page 10