supernova camp

it was the mid eightieswhen I was roughly 16 or 17 when marijuana (weed) was the big and profitable drug of choice.

Business was a booming success and continued to excel. In and out the customers would come. One part of the housing projects was a unique section where most of the business was conducted. This horseshoe shaped area was a convenient spot to do deals, sort of like a drive through at a McDonald’s. It was next to a church. I guess one can say that the church paid the game no attention and the game paid the church no attention. When your eyes are closed to reality you never see the big picture. The only picture I was seeing was the almighty dollar. The volume of traffic was at a fast and high rate, which meant there was more then enough money for everybody who was hustling on that block. So I started off as a mere nickel and dime dealer. The money came at an okay rate. In a days hustle, I made more than enough to buy new Jordan’s; I would buy every color in the store. The latest trends that were in the mall, I would buy the entire rack. But gradually, I graduated to bigger and better things. In my younger years, I was accustomed to the poverty part of life but now I was reaping the materialistic things of a fast buck. No more sleep for dinner nights and no more of one pair of shoes in a year’s time. This, I felt in comparison to my prior aspiration of wanting to do something more legitimate in life such as college or the military seemed to be an acceptable trade off to anything legitimacy had to offer. I never realized the extent to which my whole life would be changed because of these events as well as others that would follow. The weed business had started off just as I said, fast and quick money. For a minute I thought I was a business man in a sense. The hustlers in the neighborhood didn’t care if I hustled on the block just as long as I was buying weed from them. I was okay with it until I found out I was getting pimped. That is one thing about the game it plays so many parts. But by this time, my clientèle was in the streets. I was purchasing an ounce from the neighborhood hustlers at $80. So I found a cheaper connect for $50 an ounce from an older cat. The old coon basically watched me grow up in the projects. He also watched me hustle as well. He was a cool dude who had been around for a long time and was well respected in the streets and in the neighborhood. One day he stopped me at the corner store and told me to come see him. I took him up on that offer and never looked back. He made our relationship short and straight to the point. He was about business. He tried to school me to some real hustling tactics on how to carry myself, how to keep a low profile, and save my money. In a nut shell, nothing I wanted to hear. After seeing how he was eating, I wanted to be in his shoes. I wanted to be the man. What I purchased, he fronted, and that’s when my money graduated. Once the purchase was made, I then bag it all up into nickel bags into small brown envelope, and then hit the streets for my profits, taking no shorts. I loved living by that creed, but it was only mere greed for the dollar. My daily agenda was to make money nothing more, nothing less that was the bottom line. I went from ounces to pounds in a matter of days and the other neighborhood hustlers watched. At 18, I thought I was running things. I had my crew of captains rolling with me; my money was coming in daily.

The only picture I was seeing was the almighty dollar. The volume of traffic was at a fast and high rate,

But as any young individual who has never really had nothing, that craving was back again. I wanted more and then I wanted more. The only exception and black eye to this game would be when the competition aspect of the trade crept in, which unlike more legitimate businesses that compete over a market through TV ads, the game is usually dealt with through gun play. This was the case when I was told by the older dealers that I could no longer hustle on the block independent of them. Something they should have understood about me was that despite being young in the game I wasn’t trying to hear that. So I ignored the initial warnings the dealers had put in the streets about hustling on their so called block not knowing it would be a matter of time before the street beef would come. The simple fact is that my plans were far from being changed from getting money. They assumed that I was young and more of the laid back type and they thought I was a mere push over. Even when the threats were delivered face to face, I still ignored their warnings. I had no experience in street warfare and was totally outnumbered by them but I determined that they were not to keep carrying me like a sucker. What they forgot was that I was a product of the same environment from which they had come from. Shootings and killings were common in resolving disputes not lip boxing. So just as the streets had been incorporated into their well being it was as well incorporated into me. So I copped me a couple of semi-automatic .45 Magnums for my protection. The matching chrome and pistol-gripped handles with nine in the clip and one in the head (the chamber) twins sat pretty and perfectly in my left and right palms. To get more acquainted with my two new loves on the late nights, I would let off shots of my own just to witness the sparks exit. Now I was ready for war; any war. It only took the right situation to bring it out of me which unfortunately for these dealers would be the moment

that they tried to make good on their word and I heard the whistling sound of the bullet as it barely missed my head. Not knowing how the next man might have handled the situation, I handled mine by getting my hands on some of the most dangerous firepower known to the streets such as the 9mm Uzi and Ak-47. If the threat ever repeated itself I would be prepared to deal with it as need be. So not long afterwards as expected the situation did repeat itself, except this time the result wouldn’t be the same and there would be no running away from the problem. So we had a street battle over a piece of property that didn’t belong to any of us, and these dealers proved not to be as tough as they had always appeared. I shot one of them and the rest scattered like bitches which was not only an act of surrender, but also a statement that they were giving up any future claim to the block they had once attempted to run me off of. It was them who would no longer hustle on that block again. So despite my humble beginnings as the type who would never get in the next man’s business or do harm to another, I learned fast in this dirty and grimy game of the streets that motherfuckers will test you. When this happens you have to be ready and prepared to take it there with them or end up as in the words of Little Kim, the weak lamb that gets devoured by the lion in the concrete jungle which is real. So drama was brought my way and I dealt with it and so this was my first taste of the game and the violence sometimes associated with it. But if you thought the weed business was bad, it could never compare to what was to come when crack cocaine exploded on the scene (from 2000 to 2004 almost one million pounds of cocaine was seized by the United States.) This relatively new, inexpensive, and, highly additive form of cocaine with potency level so great that for those who dared to experiment with this high their lives would never be the same again. 14 indicted in weapons

So despite my as the type who would never get in the next man’s business or do harm to another, I learned fast in this dirty and of the streets.

The crystal-like, hard rock appearance never discriminated from its user (in the late eighties early nineties, the elusive cocaine trade was a major multi-billion dollar business in the United States alone.) Those who were mainly heavy cocaine and weed users were searching for that new high and found it with her. Rock cocaine (from the 1986 to 1996, crack cocaine was one of the most highly used drug of choice in the United States) by its intense high and inability of the user to come down from it was a phenomenon of the likes that had never been before in terms of the drugs ability to take control of the users mind. Whereas things that most people would find to be of primary importance such as their child, parents, bills, careers, whatever, they were second to last when it came time to get high. It was as though the rock took people who were hard-working before the crack craze and turned them into junkies whose only existence focused on getting high by any means necessary, which often times included robbing, stealing, or women prostituting themselves sometimes with the consent of their husbands. An ugly scene no doubt was the rock trade, but no matter how ugly it got for the user and the community, to a dealer it was a multi million dollar goldmine. This would bring many of us young and old up from poverty seeking to cash in off this growing market which on the west side of Charlotte would include the major drug holes of Kenney Street, Fairview Homes, and Pitts Drive, three hoods that that although are no longer in existence today because of there negative effect on the community, during their time were major distribution centers for the sale of crack cocaine. So in this heartless game of the streets, no matter what the effect the drug was having on the user, to the dealer the crackhead was viewed as the most important element to the game’s success since without him/her there would be no demand and no dope business. And recognizing that success in this business is predicted on others drug dependency you had to be either so cold and uncompassionate about the plight of others that you didn’t care or blind yourself to the destructive effect that the product you’re selling has on others and was destroying lives in droves. But the love of money has always caused people to do things that weren’t necessarily right, the rock game being just one of them. So being young and ambitious and trying to get a piece of the American dream that had missed so many who had worked their entire lives to end up with nothing, this seemed at the time to have been the right move for me to come up financially, although as they say it isn’t always good money.

The rock game would be nothing like any of the other drug trades that had come before. Two things in particular separated it from those. For one, there was a new and younger breed of dealer who was controlling the block and was more ruthless, without the understanding and proper grooming on how to handle the game and everything that came with it. They believed instead that all problems should be dealt with through the barrel of a gun. (Continued on p.20)

... no matter how ugly it got for the user and the community, to a dealer it was a multi million dollar goldmine.

CONSEQUENCES CRIME CIRCUMSTANCES THE SYSTEM TRUE STORIES

“Bear witness to the change that is about to take place in the music industry”. His name is Charles Herron.

Twenty-five year old Charles Herron was born and raised in the projects of Bronx, NY. From a young age, Herron was fascinated by the hip-hop culture of the city, and the young artist quickly immersed himself in all aspects of hip-hop: rapping, breaking, and “turntabilizum”. At thirteen, Herron and his family moved to Florida in search of a better life. While living in Tampa, Orlando and Brooksville, Herron became interested in different styles of music. This led to Herron’s decision to focus his attentions on his “craft”.Upon graduating from high school in Tampa, Herron attended the Full Sail Center For Recording Arts, in Orlando Florida, where he studied Psycho Acoustics (The Study of Sound), and earned an Associates of Science Degree in Recording Engineering. Herron became more and more involved in the legal, technical and professional aspects of the industry. Soon after graduating, Herron moved to Daytona Beach, and together with his brother, built their own recording studio, Starr Fleet Recordings. With Herron’s knowledge and the support of his talented staff, he believes that “...he is the future”. His first commercial release, *UNWORTHY*, has sold over 10,000 copies independently, and he has earned the 43rd spot in hip-hop and the 207th spot overall on the myspace.com music charts. His other recordings include Armageddon’s Weapon, Herron. the lost demos, Purple Top, 8thiest (HERRON BOYS L.P.), Mainline (Herron mixtape Vol 1 & 2), and the Star Fleet Compilation Album, Supremacy.

Herron hopes that his popularity will continue to grow. Influenced by life and the lessons he has learned, Herron hopes that his music will inspire others to believe that life “is never as bad as it seems”. His powerful lyrics and talent has earned him a widely growing fan base. “No one can stop him; no one can stop (Charles Herron and) the FLEET”.

word of threat to judge prompts steps

And secondly, you had the user of the rock cocaine who as I said earlier because of the sensational nature of the high would be willing to do anything to supply their habit, sometimes robbing which would no doubt play a significant role in the violence that was taking place in the game. A perfect example of what I am referring is a robbery attempt on me one night gone bad. We stood on Pitts drive talking with hustlers when a car pulled up and out came this robber/killer drawing his gun in an attempt to rob me to get high. He was trying the wrong group, and before he was even two feet from his car, we drew our guns and a shootout was on. He was shot, but luckily managed to get back in his car where his driver and him got away. BUT not before in his aimless shooting he had shot an older man from our neighborhood in the head killing him. His only error was being in the vicinity where the attempted robbery turned shootout took place. So despite making lots of money, the explosive mix of guns with the chaotic drug dealer/ hustler, would become the undoing of a game that seemed so promising at first, but would later prove to be disastrous. The game became less about what we were supposedly there for in the first place (the money) and more about violence and settling the score with rival crews. So sadly, this was how things were in the streets during this era despite constant warnings from others, particularly old timers. They would often tell us how wrong our approach to the game was and what the results would be. However, even they would never understand that an irreversible cycle had been created not of our own making but by a complex set of elements weaved together by our own government. They would and still do dictate when and how guns and drugs are allowed to be flooded into the black and poverty stricken communities. Many authors and authorities, including the United States Congresswoman Maxine Waters, assert that it was the work of the US government, knowing full well the effect drugs and guns would have among the underprivileged. These discouraged people were waiting and willing to use and sale drugs which in turn, destroyed them. So despite hearing the wisdom of the old timers, it seemed we were destined to stay on this destructive path destroying not only others, but ourselves as well.

So in the midst of playing my part in this game, I went about my money and business doing what I knew best, until this beef erupted between me and this other drug crew. (W**** B****, according to the government’s case as well as this dude testifying from the witness stand.). This crew would attempt to kill me; not with a gun, but instead with explosives tied to a brick and metal so that it would have a mangling and killing effect. They would have succeeded in doing just that had they not forgotten the detonator. They had to return to the scene to get the bomb and attempt to finish me off, but were instead stopped by the Charlotte Mecklenburg Police when the bomb was discovered. I am truly grateful that this happened because most likely I wouldn’t be here to write this piece if it hadn’t. Nevertheless, this incident would bring us to the attention of the federal government and would eventually lead to us becoming a target for investigation.

. . . So despite hearing the wisdom of the old timers, it seemed we were destined to stay on this destructive path . . .

Now while all of this was going on, the then current President George W. Bush Sr. was plotting a response to what he felt was a crisis in America with gun violence associated with the drug trade. He summoned all the United States Attorneys, lawyers for the government, to Washington, DC. Bush Sr. instructed these lawyers to return to their respective states and prosecute dealers who carry guns under a previously passed law, the Sentencing Reform Act. With the passage of this law, the government had delivered a critical blow to the hustling lifestyle although many including myself who were caught up never knew and never saw it coming. With sentences for federal crimes significantly increased and parole abolished, meaning you did day for day unless you cooperated even if you had 30 years or life which is common in the feds.

This in essence meant a legislative assault on the game particularly on the black urban element. It was a law so ruthless that it would not only change the federal system from mostly white to almost all black, but also set the stage for the erosion of the most basic principle of the streets; honor and loyalty. This law caused those who would once kill for one another to now take a stand against lifelong friends and family members for time reductions, thereby making the prosecutor’s job of incarcerating easy. Nevertheless, this act had essentially drawn a line in the sand which would separate the bitch ass niggas from the real ones. So out of this so-called gangster lifestyle emerged a culture of snitches, where they were rewarded, and a refusal to cooperate was punished in the worst way by the criminal justice system. Now those who were fast to bust caps were now trying to kill traitors from the witness stand. The funny thing is was the traitor had been given total immunity for their testimony only to return back to the streets just as vicious as the person they were telling on and ready to commit even more crimes and sell more drugs, basically with the government’s blessings. Many individuals would learn that they were not as gangster as they thought they were. Most are under the mistaken impression that standing behind a gun and shooting and killing someone that the government would rather see dead or in jail anyway makes them “gangster”. Selling drugs that the government has allowed to be put there in the first place for purpose of destroying the community makes them “gangster”. But being gangster is more than serving as a pawn as someone else sets the conditions because as this saying goes “knowledge rules the world and ignorance bares the burden”. This means that the wickedly wise in high places and a corrupt government, creates schemes and conditions which cause us, the poor and unsuspecting, to carry out their agenda on the ground. When it’s all said and done, they elevate our participation in the game by labeling us gangster while concealing their own participation, although they are the creators of most of the problems we are facing. Young Joey said it well in Soul Survivor “they give us the work and throw us in jail”, which is what the game is really about. The true motive and plan is not annihilating the drug game or stopping the streets from hustling, but regulating this thing so that they (Continued on p.26)

. . . they elevate our participation in the game by labeling us gangster while concealing their own participation . . .

The continuing criminal enterprise for which I was charged was originally intended for big boys like Noriega or those who were bringing stuff from across the waters.

can lock people up to keep up with the fastest growing billion dollar prison industrial complex that is becoming increasingly us and to continue to benefit from the billions of dollar funneled into the economy from the drug trade. So to me, real gangsters are those like Bush in the White House and those in the halls of Congress who sit back with hatred in their hearts for us. They never admit it though they legislate racist polices, such as the Sentencing Reform Act. An act that would help to expand the prison industrial complex making blacks and Hispanics primary commodities in this growing market wherein the Rat (snitches) is placed at the top of the food chain, as a necessary component of this elaborate scheme. So these political bandits use the stroke of a pen rather than pistols to accomplish their agenda against the streets when all the time they were the ones who created the condition that exist with our communities, black on black crimes, high incarceration rates, dope dealing, high HIV rates, etc. Nevertheless, being caught up doing your thing and also seeming to be the object of so many people’s fascination, you would start to have delusions of power thinking that you’re on top and winning when all the time you’re losing because the game is not yours. And so as you look back on things now as a fully matured man you can see the trap that was laid for your demise which would cause you to do dumb shit and also cause your eventual fall. So as we stay on watch for those on the street level that would try to take yours or do you harm, we would never recognize the greater threat that lies ahead from the real gangsta, the feds who are working their plan to deal with what they see as the nigga element. So what I got from my participation in the game was the honor of becoming the posterchild for this new federal initiative in Charlotte where the feds would go after the streets, a departure from how they use to carry it when it was basically about white collar crime, bank robbery and things like that. At a news conference announcing our indictments, they would call this a new and unique approach to getting drug dealers who carry guns off the street knowing that they consist of young black men. They would charge me and my cousin E*** W***** with operating a continuing criminal enterprise plus 13 counts of using and carrying a firearm during the crime. My brother O**** and my other co-defendants would be charged with conspiracy to posses cocaine as well with numerous gun violations. The continuing criminal enterprise for which I was charged was originally intended for big boys like Noriega or those who were bringing stuff from across the waters. But for the purpose of destroying me, they would make an exception and charge me with something that is commonly referred to as the kingpin statue and make sure that the witnesses, rats to like B**** M***, J**** B******, W**** B****, D****** G*********, testimonies were tailored to support a conviction, although they was untrue. So I did dirt yes, but nothing close to what I was set in prison for today. It wasn’t hard at all for the government to get these convictions, because as I said earlier they had drawn a line in the sand where most of these so called gangsters who were so vicious on the streets were now not only willing to take a stand against lifelong friends, but began to embellish a life beyond recognition. So with the government’s intimidation of witnesses and fabricated testimony, it wasn’t hard for us to be convicted for these bogus charges. In the world of the feds, you can be convicted on the testimony of a single witness, with no drugs or money confiscated. The government takes full advantage this and is able to lock up blacks and