Society as a whole in my opinion has not really stepped to the plate and point fingers to self and realize that some of the things "we" say and do have a deep hardcore effect on many around us. Maturity is not available because one is an "adult". Being an adult and mature means making the RIGHT decision.. Taking responsibility for our actions.



It seems that at this point and time I don't have a lot of time. And I have time to write this long letter. And it doesn't seem at this point and time my pencil can't hit the paper fast enough and I can't write fast enough. I am filled at this point in my life with tons of adrenalin and a lot of energy. The decision that was made in regards to me was truly the right decision. Little do they all know. But so that I can get right to the point. I will write this letter to those whom I have oppressed in parts. But first, first I must take you back to the beginning.


It seems I was destined to be famous and someone that would make good with their life. But that wasn't the cards that I was dealt in this life. I was dealt a shitty hand in life. A cruel one. I lived most of my young life in poverty and pain and a lot of disgust and no respect for those who were suppose to love me. When I have heard some tell their story about the horrible things they went through in life I relate. As Richard Pryor was raised in a whorehouse so was I. My mother was not only a hoar but later became a Madame but started out with my father being her pimp. My mother from what I understand was my fathers bottom bytch. And she was like gold and more money more money to him. My mother was a nymphomaniac and I was also told that she turned out every man that she had been with. My father was one of her “clients” and when his nose was wide open realizing he could never have her and my mother would never stop being a whore. He had the wonderful idea to become her “captain save a whore with a pimp” her protector. They had a strange kind of love, which I am sure no one can or will ever understand including myself. My father was jealous and insecure of my mother. Beautiful, and she knew how to talk, walk, act and make money. My mother was a true hustler and possesed skills my father didn't have. But each and everyone of his dreams or ideas she made them work. And I guess you could say he loved her for that as well.

See my father was I guess an alright guy to begin with but then on the other hand he couldn't leave my mom alone as I was saying. So my mother wouldn't get beaten, raped or have some john steal her money or not pay. He was her bodyguard and the “enforcer” so nothing ever happened to her. And she never had sex with a john in a car, alley or inside or outside of some trashy building. The motel she used wasn't top of the line either. But it was cheap and they paid for it weekly. Same room, same bed and my mother made sure she kept it extra clean and herself extra clean. My father was the only man she had “unprotected sex” with.

My mother started off in Chicago, whoring that is. And when she got tired of Chicago. She left and went to New York. She loved New York a lot! And so did my father. Mind you at the time my parents met my mother was seventeen and was also a runaway from a father that beat her and was her very first lover for two years when she was fifteen. When she told her mother what her father was doing to her. Her mother called my mother a liar. And with this my mother ran away from home. Stealing all the money out of their pockets and taking whatever it was that she could to pawn. She packed up all the things that had given her joy, clothes, some albums and in the middle of the night she left never looking back!

She was so-called “trained” by some older whores and young ones that knew the streets and so they gave her a lot of street knowledge and she learned very quick and was not scared to ask questions. She learned how to hide razor blades in her mouth. She had learned quickly how to fight and hurt a man. And she knew not to use drugs! My mother said that she had gone to the Y to learn self-defense. She took every class she could! And this also gave her a very taunt and toned body, so she never stopped! She took up boxing classes and her beloved was kick boxing. So she trained when she wasn't on the street at night.

My father worked menial jobs and then there were jobs he got where he made good money. I don't really know a lot of my fathers past. But one thing I do know for sure my father was an orphan.

My father was proud to have my mother on his arm when they went out together. And so was my mom having him with her too. See, who in their right mind would ever love a woman who was tainted like her? Who would continue to support a person that loved being a whore? So my mother loved my father for that. And even though she really didn't need him, she loved the fact that he had her back and through his insecure and jealous ways she had someone to come home to. Someone to hold her and “make love” to her and really mean it!

My parents had finally married at the justice of the peace in New York on February 14th, and I came into the world the next year on that same day February 14th! My mother I was told stayed home with me until I was able to walk. After that my parents hired what they called a nanny (but really wasn't) you see I was a blessing and a curse all at the same time. My father was jealous of me because my mother gave me so much attention and loved on me a lot. So after time goes by and my father abusing me behind closed doors and my mother knowing this tried to keep my father busy so that he wouldn't abuse me. So that she could make her money and also keep me out of sight. So that meant that I lived in a lot of places growing up and not in the same house with my parents. Though I was fully aware of who they were.

I was six years old when my mother had decided to buy a brownstone and turn it into a whorehouse. Now at this time my mother had gotten close with the mayor and some city officials and cops. No one never entered the front of our house (tricks) and my mother and father always threw parties for the neighbors on the weekend. Keeping them fed and drunk and filling their head with complimenting lies so they would keep their mouths shut. And whoever was in need my mother and father helped them out with money. My mother was still turning tricks and I will say that at this time they were making all types of crazy money! Selling food, gambling; poker nights and of course the whorehouse. As I was growing up I saw all of the comings and goings. I saw plenty of things no child should be privy to see. Naked women and men doing the wildest things sexually to one another. All of the whores that came and gone all loved me and looked out for me. I had become their golfer, assistant by making runs for them or getting towels, sheets, water liquor or whatever else.

I raised myself and it seemed being in the house I was more ignored than when I was away. I went to school sometimes it didn't seem to be an issue, and I learned also to stay away from my father if he walked in a room, I walked out of it. One day I happened to get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. It was one of those nights where the activity of the house was quiet and empty which was rare. When I walked into the bathroom I saw my father sitting on the toilet with a needle in his arm. He didn't yell at me or get mad that I had caught him. His words were, “If I don't do this I will kill somebody. And we don't want that do we? I shook my head no. I can't fly on one wing. And I am not able to withstand the shyt that goes on.” And then he pushed the liquid in his arm. I saw the syringes fill with blood first and then he removed it once the semi clear liquid was released. He removed the rubber from his arm and leaned back on the toilet. His eyes closed and I saw tears fall down his cheeks. Then he began to nod. I peed on myself standing there, my pajamas wet; and for some reason I understood my father for the first time.

When my father used more he left the house not wanting my mother to see him high, or get high I should say. But my mother was no fool or dummy. She just stayed a distance away from my father and was now hiding money in crazy places like tampon and kotex boxes. And she had hired the same cops she had hooked up with to watch the door and the whores. This had petrified my father so he stayed away even more. Which worked for me because there was always a beaten coming from him when he was in “his right mind” of course this was when my mother was running some errand. And thank God for the whores that were in the house that would pull my daddy off of me.

It happened when I was eight and a day away from my parents anniversary and my birthday that the house was filled to capacity with neighbors and tricks and umm don't forget the cops. My father was running from an azz whupping! He now was addicted and practically living on the streets. It was no secret in the neighborhood at all that my father was a drug head. Well my father at this point wasn't allowed in the house anymore. Locks had been changed and my mother had given word to everyone that he was not allowed inside the house. Just so happened the man that had opened the door when my father was knocking didn't know this info. So when my father had busted in and his enemies right behind him. My father out of breath yelled for my mother. She came running into the foyer and then we all seen my father get beaten. The cops in the house came to defend my father but with one lift of my mothers hand they backed off. And we all watched as he was beaten to death right there. My mother then gave everyone a plate of food (quickly) and placed money in the cops hands and her guest. She cleared the house and then called the “police” She told me to go upstairs.

The next day everything went on as if nothing had happened. We did not attend his funeral and no one spoke of the incident ever! It was that same week that my mother seemed to have a hundred things going on in the house at one time. She had the hardwood floors stripped, shellacked and polished. Walls painted, new furniture and beds. And the basement apartment or house shall I say had also been refurbished. It was actually two floors, and had never been used. It hosted four bedrooms and three bathrooms. There were also new fixtures placed down there. Once it was done my mother and I had moved in there. We had basically stayed in one of the apartments in the brownstone not this huge castle it seemed to me. It was here that I had “invisible friends” and many hiding places in the house. My mother at this time had hired a maid who cooked and cleaned for us. And she had now employed Mrs. Jackson to cook on the weekends for the “parties” I was too ashamed to go outside and play because now I knew that this type of life was far from normal. My mother seemed to stop the hugs, the kisses, the shopping sprees and any time with me. It was Mrs. Norma Gentry who had become my benefactor (the maid/cook) she taught me how to read and write and how to do math and always talked to me and took me shopping and to the park, zoo, movies and baseball games. I loved going to Coney Island with her. She was my friend.


It was one night that I couldn't sleep and I was restless and angry all at the same time. I was angry that I didn't have a “normal” life that there were always people in our house and that my mother was a huge shame. Bitterness seemed to overwhelm me daily! This is when I had started walking the streets and “finding” friends. I caught the trains by myself to places I shouldn't have gone or been. I saw the world or so I thought. I had an excellent memory so I never got lost. I remember when Mrs. Gentry took me out on our dates and I took a mental picture of the streets and subways. I saw the winos, street prostitutess who looked like shyt compared to my mother and the prostitutess that worked for her. I saw the drug addicts, the wanna be gangsters, drug dealers. I saw life!! I saw Time Square with all it's wonderful lights! The busy city and night life! And I was hooked, this was my life my new life and my escape from my world.

Just like my mother I had learned and seen a lot at a young age so I was far from a dumb kid. But I was stupid and dumb for being out in the streets. But no one knew me here or knew what life was like at home. So I made friends with the drug dealers and pimps. I became a runner for one of the slickest drug dealers in Harlem, “Mack” Mack had a fly ride, woman, clothes and it was nothing for him to lace my pockets with hundred dollar bills which I never spent. He taught me all there was to know about being a drug dealer and told me to stay looking “innocent” to not dress or talk like the rest of “those dumb azz kids” who looked like they were doing wrong. I dressed down and didn't buy expensive sneakers or name brand clothes. I delivered dope to so many places and no one was the wiser. Mack had bought me a bike and I had a backpack. If I was caught by a cop I would always tell them I was on my way to my uncles house and I had a number “they could call” that would be Mack's unlisted number only for me. Sort of like calling Batman, only the chief had that number so it was with Mack. I always had clothes in my backpack and never dope. Nooo that was taped on me, around my waist and my legs tightly.

I was never given money to take back to Mack just delivered the dope. I did that for two years. I didn't have to hide money from my mother it was Mrs. Gentry because she cleaned house and she was also very nosy when it came to me because she knew my mother was not watching me. By this time I had believe it or not $10,000 saved up that I had bundled up tightly with a rubber band around it. I was smoking cigarettes now. Only when I was nervous, and just as quick as I had started I had quit because Mack said that was what grown ups did and I didn't need to start that habit. So I stopped. But I did smoke the hell out of some weed. It was now that I was becoming more and more rebellious and really hated school! I argued and cursed my mother out as often as I could and I lost my virginity to one of the whores in the house which my mom had encouraged. At this point I was paid by the whores who had “weirdo tricks” example. One man liked for me to watch while he had sex with one of the whores, and he also liked to watch us have sex while he masturbated. Things like that.

Of course no one knew I sneaked out at night. And my mother knew that I was getting paid by tricks and and the house whores to full-fill fantasies. For me it was money, and I wanted money and lots of it! I wanted to get the hell away from my mother as soon as possible. Now Mack was my mentor and he was the one telling me to save my money, don't hang out on corners and look suspicious, and that I was smarter than the snot nose wanna be hard azzes that stood on corners and were worthless stick up kids. Every time Mack and I were together he was schooling me on things. Little did I know at the time (why would I) that I was being used in a big way, and Mack throwing me hundred dollar bills and fifty dollar bills I was doing his bidding so that he would never be caught. I never got dope from him I always went and picked it up and dropped it off. I never knew where Mack stayed, I always called the “bat phone” and he met up with me. I worked allll night, and by the time 3a.m. hit I was on my way back home. That gave me at least five hours of sleep before Mrs. Gentry got there. And when and before she got there I would go into one of the empty apartments and sleep all day having her under the impression that I was at school. I made sure that I took a shower before she came and I left my bed un-made making it “appear” I had gone to school. Now one thing for sure was I loved math and reading. Something Mrs. Gentry and Mack encouraged me to do. So I was always buying books and when I felt I had free time I would go to a bookstore and I could sit all day reading. As I stated before I loathed school but I enjoyed learning!

I worked seven days a week for Mack, and what I saw in the streets was nothing surprising. Beatings, fights, shoot outs, drug deals gone bad. I seen men stabbed and laid down to death and kept on walking never saying a word. No one was the wiser in my home. My mother slept most of the day and she shopped and hung out with the whores and they were close and loved each other. It was one day that I had come to learn that my mother had taken on two lovers, Joshua and Lilly. Lilly was a bad whore that got a lot of request and I guess you could say my mother took her under her wing. I walked in on them one day in bed together. My mother laughed and Lilly asked me to join in. My mother laughed even harder! I was disgusted that she didn't slap the shyt out of her for suggesting such a thing! It was now that I hated my mother and was filling up with rage more and more!

I was watching a movie and in the movie the lady was secretly poisoning her husband with rat poison. Little by little she would put some in his food. So this gave me an idea. I had gone to the store and bought some rat poisoning, I did this when I was in Manhattan not near my home. So now I made sure that I was at home when Mrs. Jackson cooked for the parties and for the house sometimes throughout the week. I “offered” to take the plates to the guest. Lilly and Joshua were the two I concentrated on. Joshua was a big bully and a hateful man! I hated his guts! So it was Joshua and Lilly that I worked on for a week. Joshua I put the most of the rat poison in his food. Lilly I wanted her to have a sloooow death and feel it!I had the rat poisoning in a clear plastic bag in my pocket. When I brought Joshua his plate I took my finger and mixed it up in all three sides of his food. He liked hot sauce so he would load his food and cover it. I put poison in that to. It was a great move because Joshua always ate outside in the back by his self. So he would die by his self!

He snatched the plate from me and walked right to the back. And I went out the front door and snuck out to the back and watched as Joshua choked his food down not knowing of course he was being poisoned. After he finished he reached in his pocket and got a cigarette and lit it. After his first puff he stood up and then started swaying and trying not to fall. He bumped into the wall, grabbed the door but his hand had slipped off of the door knob. He screamed for help but because of all the loud noise and music no one heard him. Good! He tried to bang on the door and that was fruitless as well, he started vomiting and and looked as if he was turning colors, his eyes bugged out of his head and he basically choked on his own vomit. I wasn't leaving until I knew he was dead. And when he did fall out and die I walked back in the house, went to my room and went to bed. Lilly was next!

Lilly was sick by morning, I got up early and Mrs. Gentry was making her some soup. I offered to take it up to her. And again poisoned her, now just as usual there was no noise or conversation about Joshua, it was like it was swept under the rug. Which I knew it would be. When I made it to the bedroom Lilly was in, my mother was in the shower. I am sure that she was sad but in true to her form she never showed emotion. As Lilly struggled to sit up and eat the delicious homemade chicken soup Mrs. Gentry had made her. The soup was laced with not only rat but boric acid too. When she ate it, I was smiling on the inside. I quickly went to the pot of soup Mrs. Gentry made and “called” myself getting something from the cabinet above the stove and purposely dropped a opened jar of seasoning into the pot ruining her big pot of soup. Of course it was no good and she threw it out and me apologizing. She forgave me of course.

My mother had left the house to go get Lilly some medication thinking she had gotten a stomach virus of some sort. But with Mrs. Gentry running errands and mom out Lilly was going through it! And when my mother had made it home she had to rush her to the hospital, but Lilly died before she made it there. This is when my mother had finally broke down and cried. And when I had packed up my clothes because I was ready to leave the house.

I had enough! And if I had stayed at the house I would have killed my mother. She was a sorry person and worthless in my eyes.

I had found an apartment in another Burrough far from my mother and her shyt. I found a shady landlord telling him a fake BS story and I gave him the deposit and six months rent in full. He was a slum lord and the place wasn't good but it wasn't bad. True that I had lived in luxury at the whorehouse, but I would only do as much as needed to live comfortably here. And I made sure I bombed the place, put out mouse traps, sprayed with at least seven cans of Raid roach spray. And hired some young girl to scrub the house up. Paying her a hundred dollars. She was a young junkie in the making and I knew she would do a good job to get that money. I had all the windows up to air the place out and I went shopping for my first apartment!

I felt now I needed more money, money seemed to be important to my mother so it was important to me as well. I had hooked up with a low-life, lower than Mack. He was a cocky son of a bytch that bragged a lot and had a lot of enemies. I knew this, but I wanted money. Besides I only worked for him for a month. I gave him the same set up as Mack had given me. I wanted my money up front, and he appreciated a young “punk” like me that was smart. I charged him $500 hundred every night I worked for him. And I was clocking almost two thousand a week with Mack. Still I had a mad savings of money on me. And I trusted no man!

As far as I was concerned I lived the fabulous life! I had my own spot, I was eating very good, I had great clothes but never wore them on the street. I was having sex on a regular, and for the girls I really loved, or so I thought. I made sure they had the best. Bu t they also got back handed and beat up her and there and made to do degrading things in order to get money or clothes from me. And they had no problem crawling but naked or doing sexually degrading things for the money. As far as I was concerned all women except for Mrs. Gentry and Mrs. Jackson were worthless whores. And they should be treated as such.

As I was on my way to “work” I seen it, I was walking up to Mack about to cross the street and meet up in an alley. He was having a heated conversation with some dude. Then they started fighting! I walked back across the street and hid. Next thing was Mack getting stabbed in his stomach and he fell down to the ground. When the dude walked off and was out of sight I ran over to Mack, I grabbed his cell phone and called the police. I had then quickly searched him and his car. I knew all of his hiding places. There was no dope but there was plenty of money. And he had some in a duffel bag which I quickly removed and threw in a dumpster. That was not his style, well not that I know of. After that I screamed for help and woke up the people in the neighborhood. Of course this is normal for them. When the police came they asked me did I know Mack. Of course I said no, and told them I was waiting out front for my aunt to pick me up. And I saw him laying on the ground. I was nervous that they would discover the duffel bag in the dumpster but I know I hid it really well. I also knew that the police would have it taped up for most of the night. But after all the hoopla was over and I waited it out, I went and retrieved the money. I was semi sad, I'm lying I was heart broken. Mack was the only person in my life who loved me and cared for me. And now the money was over. I would have to work some things out!


I stayed in my apartment for thee days with the blinds shut and curtains drawn closed. I was depressed and the money that I had gotten from Mack, that duffel bag had over a hundred thousand dollars in it. The money in his hiding place I recovered ten thousand. Of course I couldn't attend the funeral or even go to his wake. And that had me in a real depression. I smoked weed and I slept and I barely ate. I didn't want no whores around me, no one could make me feel better.

I had come up with some scames to make money here and there but I had decided that I would continue to sale heroine and coke. But I was now going to steal the dope and not buy it. This was a crazy and stupid plan. But I wasn't thinking clearly, I had set up many of dope dealers and stole a lot of dope and money. How I got away with it I will never know. I had become a very good liar and that had opened up a lot of doors for me. I was able to get my license and I rented cars and never bought them. I still clung close to the words that Mack gave me. But it seems that his death had pushed me on the edge now. I had went and bought a few guns for “protection” and hate and hurt had now came back and resurfaced his ugly head! I felt every inch of shame and painful memory. I had to get away!

I was messing around with this girl that was nineteen years old and I asked her if she wanted to go to Miami Florida with me. Of course she jumped up and down and wanted to go. She was a uppity bougie type chick. Nothing but designer clothes, shoes, handbags and the best of the best. Her father was a doctor and her mother was a lawyer. She was in college and it was the Mercedes Benz I rented that drew her to me. So I felt, but we met at a bookstore. I guess I liked smart beautiful women because I couldn't stand to be around a dumb whore.

I bought the tickets and we rode first class sipping on champagne and having great conversation. I had us right on the boardwalk in a penthouse suite. The first three days went very well until she stepped out of her bounds. She said she would meet me at one of the clubs we had planned to check out. When I got there I seen her flirting with another man! How dare she! I was hot and mad as hell! I couldn't let her see me, and she had the audacity to stay in the club all night! She had to pay, so the next night we went out I put a mickey in her drink, and unfortunately I had to carry her to the car. No one really paid too much attention to us. Thinking she was drunk. I had rented another car and as she was knocked out and incoherent I drove to the swamps. I put a bag over her head and suffocated her. And I threw her azz in the swamp in a swarm of alligators!! I walked away feeling good about myself, killing made me feel powerful! Taking lives made me feel good to those who deserved to die! She shamed me and disrespected me. And since I knew she told no one of us going to Miami, because I told her not to. The dumb whore kept it to herself!

On my way back I saw a young girl walking, too young to be walking late at night. I pulled over, and she was crying. I offered her a ride, and a towel I had in the car I wrapped around my hand, pretending it was bleeding from my cut. Truth was I had wrapped the towel around her wrist to drag her out of the car. I pulled over to wrap the towel over my hand tighter, she had no idea of what was coming next. I had punched her in the face hard! I hit her so hard I knocked her out! I then drug her out of the car and raped her and then left her on the side of the road.

I stayed in Miami for three more days. I went home feeling good!

My lease was up and it was time for me to move. I bought some fake ID's and social security cards. And I left New York, I wanted to go to Chicago. I had some connects and met a sleuth of people from there. And some serious gangsters! The seedy life was pulling me deeper and deeper into it. And New York had bad vibes for me anyway.

Once I got there I picked up work real quick. Dressing down and not letting any of these fools know where I lived. I acted as if I knew and didn't know at the same time. I respected the game. I had done a little bit of everything, I robbed people I had to to prove my loyalty. I had to do a lot of demeaning things to let them know I was down and trustworthy. I had even killed a few people which was nothing to me. Once I had proved myself I was now fully in. It took almost a year to get it. Once I was in I was now hanging with the big dogs! I drank and smoked nothing but the best. They took me out on shopping sprees and bought me cars. Cars I only drove when I went out of town, I still drove a raggedy car and dressed down. Some of these guys were flamboyant and that made me uncomfortable because it brought too much attention. I was now doing coke here and there. Mostly on the weekends because that was party time. Not during the week when I was handling business.

One of the guys that was in this clique was as dumb as a door nail. And I had played him so hard and smooth. I would steal his money, his clientele and when asked about him I always said, “Hey I am not here to make close friends with that man. I just prefer to work on my own” I said this for a good three months. And then they all began to see what it was. That he did have a good mouthpiece but he was coming up short and getting high too much which was a no-no. I had learned to get in the heads of all the men in this group, turning one against the other. It was so easy, though it took time. I just made sure my hands stayed clean and that I kept the money right and tight. And I always had an extra cherry topper of ten or fifteen gees. You can never trust anyone in a den of thieves someone gets suspicious and nervous. I am sure their clique was tight. But I stayed to myself as much as possible, never said nothing negative about nothing and no one. When I opened my mouth it was always a money scheme that went through and worked right. And I spaced these ideas far apart staying in the background. I didn't floss money or clothes around them because I knew that would make matters worse. Only when I went out to a trendy five star place did I do this not to make them look bad.

After two years of being in Chicago I had made connections with more people and I was making tons of money. I had turned a lot of men against each other and a few of them had been murdered because of me. These men were pushing big weight all over it seems. I had to be very careful, very careful. It was a couple of times I thought I was going to be dead, but because of me having some sharp well out together lies I made it through.

I was tired now of the women and the city of Chicago. It was time to move on from this world. I had four million dollars saved from living a very frugal life. I stayed in a studio and I still had the furniture I bought in New York. What I did was buy me a house in Arizona, cash! That was my next move. I was tired of the snow and cold and Chi-Town was colder than New York and that wind was a mother!!

I was bored of these gangsters and the world was a big place and I had a lot scheming, lying and cheating to do!


I left Chicago and moved into a three bedroom house in Phoenix Arizona. I welcomed the heat and the warm desert of the city. I drove one of the cars the many cars I was given. The other two I had shipped to my home. On the way to Arizona I had what I felt was a good ride. I stopped at a few truck stops and had sex with a few whores on the way, beat up a couple and sodomized them. I got a thrill from hurting whores. I felt as if it released some of the pain. Like I was taking off a coat not just one but many!

I decided to stay out of the drug game for a few months and just read and soak up the city. Here I was a young man in his prime with more money than I could have ever imagined having in my life. I was a bit relaxed, and I took my time seeking connections in the city. I could pick up on liars, cheaters, thieves and backstabbers. I also could pick up gumpty gump fools who would do anything for a dollar. But you had to watch out for those who talked and would tell the police on you if they got caught. So I had to really be careful and smooth.

When the fall had set in, I had met up with some riders who lived in Arizona but went and bought marijuana and coke from some hippie type surfer dudes in Venice California. I made a few trips to the west coast to meet and build a rapport with these surfer dudes. I had even went a few more times to hang out and party with them. Soon I started buying from them directly and buying in big quantities. I couldn't keep it on me long because there was a huge want for it here in Arizona. The Mexicans especially loved the quality of it. So I made big money selling it by bricks and pounds!

I then started to buy huge quantities of the best coke from these Venice dudes. Barely walked on, by this time I wasn't snorting as much as I was when I was in Chicago. I liked the feeling but I preferred being high off of weed more than coke. Having coke on hand was good for me when I did go to Cali because of all the women who loved doing it! Even here! I mean I had the top of the line west coast babes on me. Models, actresses, singers and many more. We partied and had sex, I had gone to my first swinger party in California and had joined a swinger organization in Arizona. Even had a few orgies at my house! This was the life for me. Though I may not have lived in Hollywood, I was living the life of a super star! My money flowed and there were no more middle men. I sold quantity not nickles and dime bag and no one came knocking on my door to get an ounce of coke. If you didn't have the money I didn't supply you. I had to build up trust with these guys here. Money first then product. And I was very very careful I had a selected few of clients in my black book still holding on to everything I was taught for three years being around Mack.

I was really never that much into clothes or materialistic things though I had them. I just like playing the low-key role. I would know what and how to dress when going somewhere extravagant which I did in California here and at times when I went to Las Vegas. Now I loved Las Vegas and was feeling that could really be the city for me. But if you get caught out there they throw the book at you. But nothing was stopping me in buying a home there, I was really considering it. And this was going to be a huge house! You had to live big and bold there! But only my vacation home, party home hang out and invite some people up and have an orgy here and there. I really loved the orgies and having a home out in Vegas would be the be all ends to throw parties!

I had to kick back on my drug dealing because to of my biggest buyers had gotten caught, so laying low was on my high list of things to do. This is when I had made the choice to go ahead and and buy a house in Vegas. Things were getting hot here and I don't mean the heat. But I didn't want to move to Cali I still wanted the hot weather it felt good to me. So I packed up and drove to Vegas, got a room and the next day went and looked for a house. I found the house of my dreams that was about twenty minutes from the strip. I could literally walk out of the master bedroom balcony and see the lights. It was a great view! A huge pool in the back with a beautiful desert themed patio. It was five thousand square feet of a house and it was dirt cheap in my opinion I had done my homework. Because I read so much I made sure that I read up on real estate here. The house I bought was no big deal for me in Arizona. The house was in pre- foreclosure and the owners were trying to give it away! This house in Vegas when I made my offer I told the Realtor that I would have a cashiers check for them the next morning. Well the realtor called them and gave them the offer with them paying the closing cost and I had all the other details taken care of that day having it appraised.

I was keeping my home in Arizona I put an ad in the paper to rent it out furnished and also putting the conditions of what I was and what I was not going to allow. If I came to my house and saw that it was not being taken care of they were getting evicted!

I was going to splurge on this house, Believe it or not I still had the money when I left New York and Chicago because I lived a frugal life. So I hired an interior decorator with a budget to do my house inside and outside and the patio. When all was done I rented my house out to some people I felt comfortable with and I moved to Vegas!

My first weekend there I threw a party! And it was also the first time I shot dope in my arm. Why I don't know, but the Venice boys told me it was called speed balling. Coke and heroine and it made me feel great! This was now my decline but of course I didn't see it then. I didn't shoot dope everyday, it started off slow and then within a year I was addicted. I was still making a lot of money but I was also not paying as close detail as I was before I started shooting up. Within the next year I had begun to do reckless shyt. I had went to jail from driving drunk a couple of times. Police was called to my house from the many wild parties I gave. I was slipping and slipping up big time.

In three years of Vegas I was at a low, I was depressed and I checked myself into a rehab to get help. I stayed clean for a year and as soon as I got out I stopped the wild parties and got back on my grind. But this would only last for two years. Still a young man now in my twenties I felt all the anger resurface and any woman that dated me would feel my wrath. I degraded them in many ways, beating them and then later giving them money , cars and shopping sprees so they never called the cops on me. I had took a trip to Washington and picked up a runaway promising her I would help. I beat and raped the young girl, she was fifteen and taking precautions I strangled her and killed her. I always used condoms. And I always wore gloves making sure that I left no DNA. Again killing or raping a young girl or raping someone made me feel better and seemed to calm me down. Sex and drugs did that for me. Made me calm down.

I went back to Vegas and I started to drinking and smoking weed a lot it kept me mellow. Later here I would find out after speaking to a psychologist that I was bi-polar. Go figure!


In the next three years I would get back into the drugs and parties again. And it was now that I had began to lose my life and my soul. I was spending a thousand dollars a week on partying and paying for whores to come and service me weekly. I spent even more money going to the Bunny Ranch. I was getting laxed on making money and was spending way more. I was at my lowest. I had lost my connections because I was using now and was no longer respected. I was behind on paying my taxes so my house was being taken from me. I had begun to sale the furniture, clothes and three of my cars and had bought a cheap car to get around.

When I was kicked out of my house I had found a small single apartment and had money to pay the rent up for three months. No longer able to afford the big lifestyle I had. I had lost my house in Arizona as well from not paying taxes on it. Every penny now that I had went up my arm. Now don't get me wrong, I still had money, actually I had quite a bit of it. I just didn't care anymore about paying my taxes or any major bills. You know the funny thing about me was before I got high in the morning I had to shower and in the evening before I got high I had to shower. And I later learned that a condition I had was OCD. I was constantly washing my hands and bathing and I also had to be clean. I was always neat , clean and organized as a young child. So all of the murders and rapes I had committed I thoroughly bathed afterward. From doing this so much I had to make sure that I kept my body moisturized from depleting my body of all of its natural oils.

So me being able to pay my rent up for six months was no big deal. I thought I was being smart by not using the money I had saved up(or so I thought) you know when you are on drugs you cannot think straight at all. And because of this I was constantly making new “friends” I did not want anyone to know my dirty secret that I was a drug addict. And because all of the “old friends” of mine had disappeared and as I said before all of my connections. I also hated being alone. That is when it was the hardest for me. I was okay at one point and time with just having whores and "new friends" to party with and do drugs. And again losing or shall I say selling my cars was no big deal. I liked the car I was driving because it was low-key and even though I said raggedy, for me it was a normal car.

My obsession with drugs and whores became overwhelming. Even though I was addicted I didn't want some "regular" street walker,I wanted a high class escort! She had to look model and centerfold ready and I didn't want her to be on drugs. If a woman came to my place and showed any sign of a tick or pulled out dope or looked high. I grabbed all of her things, threw her out and I also threw the money I was to pay her out of the front door on to the ground. It didn't matter if she was dressed or not dressed.

It was when I was feeling really low and very down and out depressed that I would think of Mrs. Gentry. Wondering if she was still alive and working for my mother. And then thoughts of my mother would come up and I would get angry hoping she was dead. This was when I was my most destructive. I would do stupid things, I would put on a ski mask, gloves, all black and I would go and rob some unsuspecting soul! And rob or beat some unsuspecting soul. I had to be really careful not to be seen because Vegas had tons of cameras all of the place! But this got me off! Some time I would get "lucky" and rob and beat up some drunk fool and I would come up on a wad of cash! Maybe three of four thousand dollars and some times more! I remember watching the news one night and the fool that I had robbed and beaten up was found and died from head trauma. That made me feel good all because I was angry that night. I could not get the thoughts of my mother out of my head.

It seemed that my rage would get heavier and harder when I thought of my mother. And now it didn't matter who I hurt, just as long as I hurt someone! Even the whores that came to see me hated me because I sent them home with bruises and sore bodies. I had rough sex with them but I paid them well for it.

I had successfully robbed and beaten up six people and didn't get caught. And I was still able to get the best of the best dope to get high on. This went on for another year. And trust me the years went by fast because all I did was get high. I looked bad but I couldn't see it and I am sure that it was obvious to the world I was on something from the dark circles under my eyes and the heavy bags. I had lost a good thirty pounds and my cheeks were sunken into my face. But to me I was clean still had designer clothes and I was not on the street nor was I living in some messy beaten down home or on the street.

At the end of that year I was officially tapped out and broke! I had gotten kicked out of my apartment and was now living in my car. All my furniture and jewelry I had sold to get high and whatever I could pawn I did. In the last seven years I had gotten to the point that I never thought I would get to and that was being homeless! I hated myself, I hated life and I hated people! I was disturbed and nothing mattered but getting high! If I didn't get high in the morning I was sick, literally throwing up, shakes and chills. It seemed as if someone was constantly scratching their fingernails over a chalkboard and I felt my pain weighing on the hairs of my arms! That is how sick I would get. I was stealing on a regular and was quite good at it. I had to steal soap, baby wipes and lotions. I stole tons of towels for my face and to dry my body. I stole laundry detergent and stole things that I could pawn to get high and clean myself and my car and wash my clothes. If I had to get high dirty and smelly it would drive me crazy literally!

I was now shooting the bad dope! (not as good as what I was shooting) so my high was not the same brilliant rush with the better grade of dope it was walked on so many times that I had to keep shooting up all throughout the day. Now I was truly lonely, I had no get high friends and getting a whore was not even an option! If I had approached even a run down street walker she would run the other way seeing my addiction all over me. While I still didn't think I "looked" high.

I was waiting on on of the runners who talked to me like shyt to bring my dope. I had done good this time, I had stolen some good stuff and sold all of it and had made $900! I was excited, but when the minutes kept passing by and it was now thirty minutes I knew I had been screwed over!! He took the money and ran! I was getting angrier and angrier as each second went to a minute and the minutes made a half hour!! I was now beginning to get that feeling like something was crawling all over me,I was rubbing my arms all over and those jones shakes were on me. I was starting to sweat and I was getting agitated and angrier. I had to get high or I would be in a bad place.

I started my car up and I drove around and I pulled up at a 7-11, I had my gun so I reached for it and put in my pocket and stormed in the store. I pulled out my gun and told the man at the register I didn't want any trouble that I was sick and I would rather him give me the money than for me to shoot him. He told me no and I saw him reaching for what I knew to be a gun. I shot him twice back to back in the head. Right after I shot him a little girl came in from what I assumed the back of the office. She screamed for her father, yelling Daddy!! And I then ran over to her and shot her down dead. Just then a customer walked in and startled me, I shot him finishing my rounds in him. I had jumped over the counter and opened the register drawer. When I looked under the counter the man was not reaching for a gun but the alarm to alert the police he was being robbed. I quickly looked under the drawer and got the money. Just as I was about to leave the store the police were now in the store, guns drawn on me! It was now over! When I reached for my gun I was shot.....

After being in the hospital for a week handcuffed to a bed with a police guard standing outside my door. That week was hell for me, not only was recovering from being shot in the chest I was going through withdrawals! They gave me a little morphine but not much, most of that of what I got was for the pain. And since my body was full of dope it was sort of immune to what they had given me. They had to triple my dosage just to relieve from my pain. Once I was released from the hospital I was taken straight to jail and processed. I of course was placed in maximum security because of the violent episodes and behavior I had shown while in the hospital and when they "tried" to handcuff me I was biting and fighting everyone.

After two weeks went by (I was still yelling and screaming, acting out) the guards had to come in my cell and hold me down to handcuff me. I had beaten the doors so much my hands were swollen and bloody! I was then taken to the prison doctors where they shot me up with something to calm me down, what I do not actually know. After my hands were treated and wrapped up the doctor started asking me questions. I (from what I was told) was talking out of my head making no sense. And then talking to a psychiatrist I was then told I was bi-polar and needed medication to help me with my moods.

When I went to trial I didn't have a chance at all! I was caught on tape shooting the three victims so there was no long jury deliberation at all! Come to find out that the store clerk was a police officer and that right there was a huge crime! This had already given me a sentence of life! But when the jury gave their verdict the judge came with the death penalty! Which seemed to make all of the victims families very happy! They all were at my trial and were happy that I had gotten death.

I am now in my late forties, I have been in prison for ten years in maximum security twenty-three hours lock down and one hour to go outside and still be caged in with guns and guards all around me. This is what I call my last week in prison, you see now I have been moved to Death Row. It is set now, I will be dying by lethal injection soon. And so as I know that life really isn't over for me because I killed those three people in that 7-11. It is over because of the life that I have lead. My sins have caught up with me in every life that I have taken, every person I have robbed and beaten, every young girl I have raped and murdered. I was a killer at the age of fifteen when I poisoned Joshua and Lilly years ago. My record stands as this, I have murdered fourteen people. And this I guess is my apology, my cleansing, my confession. I shall leave the names of the people that I have killed (the ones I do know) in a separate letter. And for those random murders that I had committed that as well will be on a separate paper with the date and the time and how I disposed of the bodies. It is sad that I had to come to this point in my life to know all the wrong that I have actually done. I wish that I would have gotten help, spoke to someone, reached out to someone and some point in my life. But I didn't, having all this time to think because there has been nothing to do but think.

I have been grateful for the meds, the library that they have here. I have requested books and one of the prisoners has been kind and not charge me anything to get them. I have been so bitter and full of hate. Feeling that I had to take my anger out on anyone and everyone in my path. They didn't deserve my wrath at all. I could have been a different person I really could have. But as I have been reading so many books the Koran, books on Buddha and the Bible. I liked the Bible the most, I have made my peace and I have asked God to forgive me. And when I pray or have prayed I never once asked for him to spare my life. I never asked for an appeal in my prayers. Yeah death is the best for me right now.

So now you know, you know why I write and why I sit here my last week of life waiting. Waiting to be injected with poison, lethal poison. Hell I was gonna die anyway if I kept injecting poison in my veins. I look down at my arms, legs, neck and toes and the collapsed veins from me shooting. Bruised and blackened spots that have not faded in ten years. They are a constant reminder of all the evil that I have done. So as I finish this letter to be read by the world, the warden or the guards. If it is placed in a newspaper or talked about in the news. At least, at least some people will have peace, and some will have and hold hate. And I am fine with that because they should be angry at me. I read about serial killers and asked myself if I was a serial killer. And I also read on those men who lived horrible lives growing up, how they let their pain consumed them. And I have to admit some of them had some devious and sick minds. There have been many a nights that I have cried and hurt so bad. Not because I was on death row. But because I have hurt some families, I have taken lives, I have raped young girls.

I ask that you forgive me and what I have done.


I had decided to write this because of the many headlines I have read in regards to young girls being hurt, raped , molested and killed. To the many young boys that have trusted pastors, priest, coaches, teachers, and family members who have taken advantage of their innocence. My heart grieves and pains. And though a story will end as mine has, with a man admitting his guilt, writing a letter, forgiving himself and seeing his problems. We have to recognize the way we raise and treat our children. We are responsible (some of us) molesting, raping our own flesh and blood that we are rearing future criminals and typically asking them to repeat and continue the cycle.

We must report crimes, stand up to those neighbors and family members that have done unspeakable things to us and report it. I have talked to so many women and men that have admitted to me that they have been sexually and physically abused. I feel your pain.. God loves you and so do I...Blessings & peace of mind to you all...

“Just Toy”

Written Expressions


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