CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: I had almost every intention of joining the hundreds of thousands and dare I say MILLIONS of New York Giants fans along the sacred concrete path that winds through the stretch of this beloved metropolis christened the "Canyon Of Heroes" to greet our returning champs, but, alas, the comfort of my own bed won out against the prospect of jumping on the iron horse @ 9AM and fighting for a suitable spot along the victory parade route. Hey, don't judge me. I might not have braved the blue and red ticker tape blizzard of streamers and way-too-drunk-way-too-early dreamers this morning, but niggas already know that it's "Big Blue" all day, everyday on this side homie! I tip my Mitchell & Ness vintage N.Y. Giants skully to Eli "Elite" Manning, the "Man With The Hands", Mario Manningham, Jean Pierre-Paul (NOTE:Y.O.U. down with J.P.P.?), Ahmad Bradshaw and the whole entire team! Oh yeah, *Cue Tupac "Hit 'Em Up" Voice*Fuck New England as a staff, record label and as a muthafuckin' crew! LOL. "CRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUZ!"
(L to R:Tupac Shakur and Jacques "Haitian Jack" Agnant.) (L to R:Jacques "Haitian Jack" Agnant, Tupac Shakur and friend.)
"INTRO BY BLACK PACINO
TREATMENT WRITTEN BY DETECTIVE WILLIAM COURTNEY
A can of worms was opened last week when prison inmate Dexter Issac, an associate of hip-hop mogul/gangster James “Jimmy Henchmen” Rosemon, claimed he was paid by Henchmen to rob Tupac at Quad Studios in 1994.
There is currently a nationwide manhunt for Jimmy Henchmen, who is wanted by the Feds for everything from cocaine distribution to murder. Of course, Mr. Henchmen denies these charges.
With the skeletons of the 90′s resurfacing, now is an ideal time to revisit the story of another shadowy figure and Henchmen associate involved in the Tupac case: Haitian Jack. For the uninformed, Brooklyn’s own Haitian Jack (pictured above with Tupac) is one of the most feared gangsters ever to walk the streets. He basically strong-armed his way into the inner circles of both Biggie and Pac.
A detective by the name of William Courtney, who had intimate knowledge of Haitian Jack through his investigation, wrote a movie treatment about the infamous urban legend. This treatment has been online for a while now but last night I read it for the first time and it totally blew my mind. Not only is it a gripping story that held my interest from start to finish, it also intertwines many famous names and groundbreaking incidents.
Seems it was only available via PDF file with excerpts scattered throughout the internet. But below the jump, you will find this document posted in its entirety.
Shit is deep, yo…
Treatment for HAITIAN JACK
A story based on the real life exploits of the music industry’s most notorious gangster and the members of law enforcement who controlled him.
William Courtney Title and Concept Registered WGAW and Library of Congress Copyright Office May 23, 2009
“Listen while I take you back (NIGGA SAY HIS NAME!) and lace this rap A real live tale about a snitch named Haitian Jack Knew he was working for the feds, same crime, different trials Nigga, picture what he said, and did I mention Promised a payback, Jimmy Henchman, in due time I know you bitch niggas is listenin, The World Is Mine…”
‘Against All Odds’ -Tupac Shakur
Haitian Jack was the most feared man in the music industry. Jack, AKA Jacques Agnant, was born in Haiti to a family of privileged politicians. They were highly educated professionals. His older siblings attended medical schools and universities in the United States. His family attended parties at ‘Baby Doc’ Duvalier’s mansion. After the coup, his family fled to Brooklyn, New York with limited funds and connections. Jack, speaking only French, was placed in a tough, local public school and forced to fight on a daily basis. He became one of the toughest street thugs in the history of Brooklyn, New York.
Jack began committing burglaries during his teen years. He specialized in drug dealers’ apartments. Jack formed a gang known as the Black Mafia. He recruited the toughest street robbers in the borough. His posse consisted of thugs such as, Tut, Nubs, Stretch, and other sociopaths, all looking to cash in on the drug economy. His crew was so feared; they could walk down the lines of New York’s hottest night clubs and take every drug dealer’s Rolex and wallet without as much as a peep. Jack began befriending such people as Mike Tyson and some local professional ball players. He used his charm to get into their pockets and when that failed, he produced a firearm. He invented the ‘friendly’ extortion game in the Black community. He is said to be the only man Mike Tyson ever feared.
In the early 1990′s, rap music could be heard on every comer of Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn -a neighborhood so bad, the local residents coined the saying ‘Bed-Stuy Do or Die.’ Jack went out of his way to get to know Biggie Smalls, a young, local rap artist with a lot of promise. Tupac Shakur heard about Biggie, travelled to Brooklyn, and the two began to perform together. Tupac put Biggie on the map. Biggie introduced Jack to Tupac, a day that would forever seal Mr. Shakur’s fate. Jack felt that rap artists should pay homage to him; after all, he lived the life they exploited through song.
Jack and Tupac hit it off. Tupac loved Jack’s street creds and the feeling of power this mobster exuded through his swagger and earned reputation. He wanted what Jack had almost more than fame and fortune. Jack provided protection, women, and marijuana. Tupac picked up the tab at all the hot clubs. Jack was unofficially managing Tupac; the two were inseparable. The duo found themselves partying at clubs such as Nell’s with the likes of Madonna and other hot stars. Jack felt that his ride with Tupac would never end.
Jack whispered in a girl’s ear one evening at Nell’s. She smiled and walked over to Tupac. The two danced and later returned to his hotel suite. The following day she returned. Tupac took her to his room; they began having sex when Jack’s crew entered the room. The young woman became the victim of date rape. She left in tears. The police later arrived and arrested Jack and Tupac. The two hired the best attorneys and planned strategy for their defense. Jack’s attorney, Paul Brenner, decided to sever Jack’s case from Shakur’s. He got Jack a six-month plea deal. The Manhattan D.A.’s office wasn’t so kind to Tupac. He went to trial, was found guilty, and was due back in court for sentencing at a later date.
Tupac felt betrayed by Jack. He thought they should have gone to trial together. He knew Jack could handle prison; he wasn’t so sure about himself. Tupac stopped taking calls from Jack and his crew. Tupac began clubbing again. He returned to Nell’s and made a fatal mistake: he commented on Jack’s criminal dealings to New York Post reporter AJ. Benza. After making Page Six the following day, Jack plotted his revenge.
Puff Daddy feared Jack so much, he once handed him ten grand and his Rolex. Jacks’ crew coaxed Shakur to Quad Studios in Manhattan to lay down some tracks with Puff Daddy’s Bad Boy roster. Tupac entered the lobby with one of Jack’s crew, a kid named Stretch Walker. Jack’s boys confronted Tupac in the lobby. He resisted a beat down and was shot several times, suffering gunshot wounds to the head and groin. Stretch was shot in the melee as well. Shakur felt that Puffy and Biggie had set him up. He was sentenced to prison a few weeks later. Jack’s muscle within the prison system relentlessly sought Shakur out. One day, Tupac received a visit from Los Angeles gangster and owner of Death Row Records, Marion ‘Suge’ Knight. Suge convinced Tupac to sign with his label. The east coast-west coast wars were set in motion.
Years of violence between Bad Boy and Death Row left Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur dead. Knight’s organization had been crippled by numerous police investigations. Jack reinvented himself through The Fugees; Wyclef Jeans’ pockets were deep and Jack had both hands in them. Wyclef didn’t mind so much. Jack was a fellow Haitian and he kept all the extortion crews far away. After touring with the Fugees, Jack fell in love with Beverly Hills. He started his own management company and attached himself to artists’ publishing rights by way of fear and the gun. He broke ranks and had amassed a small fortune. Jack wasn’t happy though; he wanted more.
In 1997, Tupac was killed in Vegas and Biggie was later murdered in Los Angeles. Haitian Jack broke ranks from his crew. Nubs was murdered, and Tut went away on a Rico. The rest were bottom feeders unable to drive through the Hills without attracting attention. Jack was solo. Haitian knew he could have problems with L.A. gang members, so he established a geographical zone to stay in. He never ventured farther north of Sunset, south of Pico, east of Fairfax, orwestofthe405. It kept him away from gang bangers and the police. Jack was getting rich, but he was also getting bored.
Detective Bill Courtney was an undercover detective in the NYPD’s elite Intelligence Division. He was given his own unit and tasked with an impossible mission: taking the mob out of the music industry. Bill knew Jack’s rep from back in his Robbery Squad days. He had heard about Jack again while assigned to the DEA. Jack had robbed half the drug dealers in New York. Wire taps were abuzz about being done by the ‘Haitian One’, but no one knew where he had gone. His name was legendary, as the killer of Tupac. A little homework revealed that Jack had never earned his citizenship. As a predicate felon, Jack was deportable. Bill felt that if he found Jack, he could make him an offer he couldn’t refuse: join Team America or go back to Haiti.
One of the last times Bill heard about Jack was on the ‘Kendu’ case. Bill’s wiretap took down East New York’s biggest drug dealer, Darryl “Kendu’ Riley. A cooperator told an interesting story about Jack back when Tut was still on the streets. Jack and Tut once kicked in the door of Kendu’s top lieutenant, a gunslinger named T.T. They stole hi8 stash and threatened to kill his girlfriend if she called the police. His girlfriend Crystal foolishly called 911 as T.T. was rushing home to her aid. He beat the cops to the apartment. When the police entered, they found one of his AK-47′s under a bed. He was the victim of a robbery and now he was going to prison. Jacks’ crew later raped Crystal to keep her from testifying. T.T. wouldn’t cooperate, but a source of information on the case promised to deliver Jack."
(L to R: Darryl "Kendu" Riley, Domencio "Montana" Benson (R.I.P.) and Ra'son @ The Omni Hotel, NYC Circa 1990.)
CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: Religion is a curious apparatus. Performing purely as a social construct religion can be easy to criticize. For centuries man has deliberately used the name and power of GOD to assign divine command to human - and by that definition imperfect - judgement in the most harmful of ways. So, yeah, I get your beef ... lol. However, removing the infinite wisdom and authority of GOD from the equation, we are then simply left with a cultural system of beliefs, codes and symbols that are shared by any particular community ... yup, that's all we have.
Now, given that understanding, applied to today's generally accepted corner boy ethos, the exalted "G-Code" dogma acts as a serious and greatly revered religion of sorts on its own for millions of people whom embrace "The Life". Indeed, urban mythology is no different from mainstream religion in that street lore has also taken on measures of idolatry where historical hood figures over the years have transmorphed into super human (NOTE: In this case) anti-hereos as their individual stories are filtered through the grapevine of time. It is within the halls of this gangster cathedral and beneath sky-high vaulted ceilings that these laudably lawless names exist. With special regard to the unauthorized story of one Haitian Jack as featured in the main body of this post, the nom de plumes of goons from years past now ring bells from broken doored N.ew Y.ork C.ity H.ousing A.uthority project building corridors to the packed general population prison yards of Upstate New York's most feared penitentiaries.
For myself - and I would imagine many whom share this mighty metropolis with me; especially those hailing from Brooklyn - the subjects mentioned here are NOT merely some vague inaccessible names. No, for many of us they are real live human beings whom we either have heard numerous stories about or, perhaps, have even personally encountered. I represent the latter. Don't compare me to these other bloggers. Church!
Growing up with 1 foot on the block and 1 foot in the music industry, I have come to know a lot of the people intimately tethered to these tawdry street tales. Some I even consider family. So, it is with that great respect that I publish this post sans any extra commentary. I'll let the snitches hang themselves. As my nigga Little Shawn said to me via Twitter some 3 weeks ago, "Once old stories get told, new niggas fold". Say no more. Shit is too real. This is Livestyle.
As per the unspoken yet clearly implicit Livestyle user agreement, I am duty bound to post an accompanying clip from "Above The Rim" - the 1994 classic hood cinematic gem that inspired Young Jeezy's latest music video. R.I.P. Tupac Shakur. It's only right that Y.O.U. know this.
While on the set of Jaz-O's "Hawaiian Sophie", in 1-of-3 requisite "hood" snapshot poses (NOTE: The other 2 acceptable choices being standing with both arms folded and/or arms open pointing @ the camera. The curling of one's index finger towards the palm to fashion a gun came some time later ... lol.) Jay-Z shows off an impressive array of "slum gold" jewelry, what appears to be an O.G. O.cean P.acific® signature Hawaiian shirt (NOTE: Don't let Tupac's scathing remarks @ the end of "Hit 'Em Up" fool Y.O.U. ... Hawaiian shirts were the shit! Chill.) and the pièce de résistance, a crispy pair of original Air Jordan 4's.
Hey, I aint saying that Jay-Z was on the level of a Darryl "Kendu" Riley (E.ast N.ew Y.ork, Brooklyn) or a Puerto Rican Supreme (Fort Greene, Brooklyn), but If that aint a certified dope boy get up from the late 1980's I don't know what is ... lol. Respect the architects!
CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: For my generation of hardcore Hip Hop lovers reared on slum gold chains (NOTE: Thank Y.O.U. Fulton Bazaar), Timberland® boots, camouflage suits (NOTE: And/or the equally acceptable venerable Carhartt suit), White Owl® brand cigar blunts and hurried sips of St. Ides® frothy "high gravity" malt beverage, few events evoke more misty eyed nostalgia than the life, career and assassination of the late, great Notorious B.I.G. On the heels of the murder of that iconic rapscallion, Tupac Shakur, our adolescent culture was served yet another adult-sized dose of reality when the once and future "King Of New York" was slain by a still somewhat unknown cadre of paid killers.
On his last album, posthumously released weeks after his demise, the magnum opus "Life After Death", B.I.G. famously asserted that "You're nobody 'til somebody kiss you", but he was wrong. The man born Christopher Wallace whom was raised by a doting single Jamaican mother in a 1-bedroom apartment on the very pre-gentrification block of St. James Place and Fulton Street had indeed become a champion for us ALL! As his soul rests in "Versace Heaven" I hope and pray that he knows that he made each and every ashy life that he touched that much more classy. Yes, we'll ALWAYS L.O.V.E. Big Poppa. Salute this man. #RIPBIGThink B.I.G.
"Casanova, was said to consume 50 oysters for breakfast each morning - with spectacular if scandalous benefits. Recent studies show the bivalve mollusks are rich in rare amino acids that can trigger increased levels of sex hormones; their high zinc-content may give them refuelling qualities as well. An ideal companion to champagne."
(NOTE: "In Greek mythology Aphrodite is the Goddess of love and beauty. In Roman mythology the equivalent is Venus. Both Goddesses symbolize erotic love and fertility. It is from Aphrodite that the word aphrodisiac comes from to make reference to any substance that increases sexual desire and enhances sexual performance.
Probably the first aphrodisiacs were those that resembled the sexual organs, thus, food that in some way looked like vaginas were reputed as being aphrodisiacs. In this list one of the most famous aphrodisiac foods are oysters for the clear resemblance to the female sexual organs.")
CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: As a general rule, a cliché does not become a cliché without there being, at least @ it's core, some modicum of truth. Take for instance the curious case of oysters. Long the subject of old wive's tales, in recent years, this mighty mollusk has, in fact, been proven to indeed have some aphrodisiac-like qualities. No, oysters on the half-shell won't have your lady friend half-naked after 1 slurp of this sexy sea treat, but it CAN help get the party started.
Aside from it being high in protein and the essential mineral zinc (NOTE: Both known to stimulate libido in men and women alike, as well as, keep men's soldiers @ full salute well into old age.), psychologically the salty, yet sweet smell of an oyster coupled with the aura surrounding it's frisky fueling properties qualifies as a certified date winner.
Pair your order of crisp and cold oysters with some chilled Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin champagne in long stem flutes and get ready to do the grown up thing! Shiiiiiiiiiiiit, legend has it that the man synonymous with tittilating trysts, 18th Century lover Casanova, used to breakfast on 50 oysters each morning! And, I believe that his work ethic in the bedroom speaks for itself homie. *Cue Aaron Hall Voice*"Don't be afraid bay-bee!" LOL. Good shit!
BONUS:
Ladies and gentlemen of Livestyle, per our unspoken, yet assuredly legally binding electronic signature authorized user agreement, it is my sworn duty to, when appropriate, cite and explain any random references that may occur within any given post. Today's allusion worthy of post script illumination is in regard to the criminally underappreciated Mr. Aaron Hall.
At this time please allow me to direct your attention to the above video featuring the former front man of R&B group and "New Jack Swing" pioneers, Guy. Oh yeah, he is also the "fahjah" to R. Kelly's whole style! What? Y.O.U. aint know? Smh.
Anyway, just press play and watch the visual to Aaron Hall's "Don't Be A Afraid" off of the original soundtrack to the 1 of the hood's favorite films, the Tupac Shakur scene stealing "Juice", circa 1992. This is classic material. Act like Y.O.U. know bro!
CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: It is no secret that Kanye West and I have had our issues in the past - most notably my intense disgust for that ridiculous "shag" human raccoon cap haircut that he was sporting awhile back and his so-stupid-that-it-has-to-be-regarded-as-comedy claim that "Ralph Lauren was boring" before he wore him - however, overall, I have enormous respect for his creative talents and his dedication to being different. His vision goes well beyond simply making G.O.O.D. music though. He knows how to connect with his audience. Take for instance, his latest gorilla marketing campaign for his forthcoming album "Good Ass Job".
No doubt taking a page from the current high end fashion playbook, Kanye West has been popping up with "secret" shows across the country. Last night he hit NYC.
Impeccably decked out in tailored suit and tie "Martin Louis The King Jr." (NOTE: Sharing the surprise show bill greasy faced R&B troubadour John Legend) took to the stage @ New York City's burlesque theater inspired The Box - a place where "bottle service" still lives ... lol - to run through a string of hits, introduce a new song entitled "Mama's Boyfriends", shout out a few friends and even bless the captivated crowd with a little freestyle just for good measure.
Now, why wasn't I in attendance? Good question. Well, I've always been more "in the streets" than industry ... the kid's gotta eat my nigga. Be that as it may, I know that I need to get back in the loop with this music shit. *Cue Tupac Shakur "Me And My Girlfriend" Voice*"Look for me!"Holla @ ya boy in BK!
CHRIS LIVE AKA SHAKER SAYS: For the loyal Hip Hop citizenry of my era, March 9th, 1997 has become a historical flashpoint akin to that of the assassination of J.ohn F.K.ennedy, that begs the question, "Where were Y.O.U. when Biggie Smalls died?"
For me, the news met my ears early that Sunday morning as Angie Martinez sobbed live on air @ New York City's Hot 97. I wasn't home - I was @ the Uptown K.B./N.B.C. sanctuary of my beloved brothers-from-another-motherApea and Dear (NOTE: Real names have been withheld to protect the guilty).
As often happens, the significance of an event is rarely accurately assessed @ the actual point of impact and, instead, over time evolves into something of profound importance. When B.I.G. was murdered I clearly knew that he was gone forever, but, what did that really mean? Only in the years since his (and 2Pac's) death, as I am left to stare @ the eroded and increasingly barren landscape of the rap game, can I now fully appreciate all that we lost the fateful morning those cowards riddled the passenger side of his Chevy Suburban in front of L.A.'s Petersen Automotive Museum.
At 24 years young he had accomplished more than 99.9% of his contemporaries could ever hope to achieve and the future that laid before him was paved with platinum plaques and illustrious pavé stones. What were Y.O.U. doing @ 24 years old? For the younger members of the greater Livestyle community, what will Y.O.U. have done by the age of 24? I know that as I edged towards a quarter-century on this planet that my life was nowhere close to being figured out (NOTE: Not much has changed in that department in the ensuing years either ... lol) and that, while my bars are still celebrated in underground circles, 2 classic albums and "bringing the East Coast back" is certainly not a fulfillment that can be cited on my extensive resume.
This is so much more than mere Brooklyn bias; it's not my fault that we breed the finest. The late, great Christopher Wallace AKA Biggie Smalls AKA Notorious B.I.G. AKA Frank White, even in his death, continues to influence the world well beyond his earthly years and his peers. My ears, nay, OUR ears owe his bold baritone and illicitly intricate Fulton Street inspired R.I.C.O. Act raps an immeasurable debt of gratitude. Yes, we'll ALWAYS L.O.V.E. Big Poppa. Salute this man. Think B.I.G.
I'm the last money in and I'm the 1st money out in any situation. I am a Brooklyn born and bred MC with a keen sense of self and I appreciate forward thinking with regard to any endeavor. I am NOT your average rapper. I'm a hood socialite. The following will give you true insight to me as a man, my music and my unique LIVESTYLE. I does this for real homie!
The world is filled with blogs AND hoes, I'll just talk about those I know.
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