R.I.P.
|
Another war story on my birthday.
One of the hardest things for me to do back during my first fed bid was to watch one of my closest friends die. We were at the federal reformatory in VA. and he had only been in the joint two days before he got stabbed to death.It was on a Sunday morning and we were just returning from lunch. We were about 7 or 8 deep and when I got in front on my dorm, I noticed another homey sitting on the bench with a raincoat on. It was July and the sun was shining. He also had a newspaper under his arm. All the signs were there. I just wasn’t paying attention.I go inside the dorm to brush my teeth and before I finish, everyone is yelling for me to come outside. They think that maybe our homie is having a seizure, but I had known the brotha since we were young and I knew better. I turn him over on his back and see a small puncture hole in his chest. He was trying to tell me something, but he died. My initial thought was that it was the crew from DC who had did this because North Carolina and DC had had a confrontation earlier that morning on our dorm over a pool game. I figured that the beef wasn’t squashed, so we strapped up and get ready to go to war. Coming out of the dorm like an army, we were approached by a brotha from DC who told us that he had seen the homie who had gotten killed go around the building with the homie wearing the raincoat. And then it dawned on me. This was an old beef from the streets. However, that violation our code. When we got to the feds, all street beefs were put on hold because we had to stick together, so now instead of going to war with DC we had to go to war with one of our own. And this is where this |