Pictured above are CDs released recently by Las Vegas-based gangsta rappers. Photo by Christine H. Wetzel.
Andre Collins Aspiring rapper
Christopher Berarducci Slaying suspect
James J. Turner Sentenced to life in prison
Alfonso 'Slinky' Blake Sentenced to death
Anthony Watkins Rapper possible victim of revenge
Jason Mathis Charged with two slayings
The Godfather of Gangsta Rap generally speaks in even tones, his voice as warm and welcoming as a favorite old sweater. He sounds more like your grandpa than the man who helped launch the careers of such hard-nosed hip-hop luminaries as N.W.A., Ice Cube and the Boo Yaa Tribe.
But when discussing the recent deadly shootout initiated by Las Vegas rapper Amir Rashid Crump, who performed as Trajik of rap duo the Desert Mobb, Morey Alexander begins to sound a little exasperated.
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Alexander, a 48-year-old music industry veteran who relocated his Kent Entertainment record label to Las Vegas a few years back, doesn't like it when the genre he helped popularize is implicated in these kinds of criminal incidents.
In Alexander's mind, Crump was far from representative of the gangsta rap community.
"I think he was probably a creep to begin with, whether he was a rapper or bagging groceries," Alexander says. "He had no bearing on what was happening in the rap world at all."
Las Vegas police disagree, saying the link between violence and local rappers like the one who killed Sgt. Henry Prendes earlier this month is well established.
"The guy who killed Henry was not talking (on his album) about wonderful things. It was hatred and violence," said Las Vegas police Capt. Gary Schofield. "How does it not affect you when you're spending all your time making violent music? If you listen to hate all day long, you're going to be hateful."
Veterans of the Las Vegas hip-hop scene have yet a third take.
In their view, gangsta rap isn't the cause of violence; it's the result of it.
"As far as it being the root of violence, it's only one of many factors," says Lucas Gaffney, manager at Hip-Hop Site.com, one of the city's largest hip-hop record stores.
"You've got to look at people's economic and social situations. You've got to look at the effects of drugs and alcohol in the community. The people who denounce gangsta rap are on the outside looking in."
Many gangsta rappers contend the music is merely a reflection of violence in the inner-city communities where gangsta rap was born.
"People who talk bad about rap music need to really pay attention to some of the lyrics and look close. It's more than music," says Nevada rapper Don Bricks. "To me, this is life. People that try to put down the 'hood like we're bad -- this is just the life we were brought up in."
Others argue that the music is a positive outlet for expressing frustrations, that it's a pressure valve that allows performers to blow off steam.
"People are just frustrated, man," says Canibus, a nationally known MC who recorded his latest album in Las Vegas. "They're angry, they're mad, and hip-hop is a good channel to vent those frustrations. You can just go make a record about it."
Still, gangsta rap's explicit lyrics and thug imagery have long been criticized for promoting violence, and a number of local incidents lend support to that claim.
Over the summer, a series of local shootings left four gangsta rappers dead in two months, with two of the slayings unfolding at Las Vegas recording studios where many rappers cut albums.
In May, three people were shot after a concert by rap superstar Nelly at the Aladdin Theater. There also have been shootings at hip-hop shows at nightspots like the Emergency Room and Club 702, which is now closed.
In the most infamous hip-hop slaying of all, rap icon Tupac Shakur was gunned down in a car just off the Strip in 1996.
Then there is the case of Crump, who police shot to death Feb. 1 after the rapper ambushed and killed Prendes.
In the CD jacket to Desert Mobb's 2005 debut, "L.Y.T. C.Y.T.I.," Crump is photographed wielding the assault rifle he fired at officers in a minutes-long gunbattle.
But little else besides Crump's gangsta rap persona indicates he would snap into a maniacal cop-killer. His friends describe him as a peaceful musician.
Although Desert Mobb's CD booklet shows photos of Crump in a dilapidated, crime-ridden section of West Las Vegas, the rapper lived in a four-bedroom home in a sleepy Spring Valley neighborhood. His parents are a nurse and a retired airman.
Some scholars who've studied hip-hop culture say Crump fits into a pattern in which young men who do not come from troubled backgrounds become violent after immersing themselves in a gansta rap lifestyle.
"They believe they have to settle scores with violence, or they'll lose credibility and be seen as wimps," said the Manhattan Institute's John H. McWhorter. He has studied gangsta rap since its early 1990s rise and is a frequent commentator on race and cultural issues for The Wall Street Journal and National Public Radio.
"The reason a small-time rapper dies about once a month nationally is because they start living the lives they are rapping about."
The Metropolitan Police Department developed grave concerns about local gangsta rappers months before the shootout that left Crump and Prendes dead.
In July, police launched what would become a six-month investigation of the local gangsta rap scene in reaction to three fatal shootings in eight weeks. Rappers were both the targets and assailants in each incident.
Schofield, the police captain overseeing the gang unit at the time, said investigators identified 65 to 70 local gangsta rappers, visited small record stores that specialize in the music to buy albums and reviewed shootings across the nation involving gangsta rappers.
The glorification of violence and anti-police messages on local gangsta rap albums "blew us away," Schofield said. Soon, cops departmentwide were attending a class called "Understanding Gangsta Rap."
Also, Sheriff Bill Young forwarded an "intelligence bulletin" generated during the investigation to the Nevada Gaming Control Board, documenting several violent incidents that unfolded before, during and after gangsta rap concerts in Las Vegas.
In an attached letter, Young asked board enforcement chief Keith Copher whether the board could influence casinos not to book gangsta rap acts.
"To my way of thinking, it's a legitimate crime prevention strategy," Young wrote.
Some local promoters already were wary of booking rappers preaching violence.
"We decided a long time ago that we were going to stay away from that," said Joe Camp, aka DJ Stee-lo, who runs the Sunday Skoolin' hip-hop series at The Cooler Lounge. Sunday Skoolin' is the city's longest running hip-hop night.
"The main reason that we've kept The Cooler going for so long and haven't had any problems is because we keep gangsta rap out," Camp continues. "We hardly let anyone come in there and promote violence or talk about that kind of stuff onstage."
Schofield points out that safety concerns at gangsta rap concerts force police to dispatch additional officers when artists play Las Vegas.
Some officers working 50 Cent's concert at the Thomas & Mack Center in July became unnerved when the rapper took the stage.
"He arrived onstage in a patrol black-and-white riddled with bullet holes," Schofield said. "What message is that sending?"
Besides putting pressure on casinos not to book gangsta rappers, police acknowledge there is little they can do to combat the violent message.
"Can we restrict what they say? No, we shouldn't. There's a First Amendment issue, and cops aren't in the business of telling people what to put on their records," Schofield said. "So how do you hold gangsta rappers accountable? I guess when they cross the line into physical violence and we have to take action."
Despite gangsta rap's increasingly bad reputation, there are those who contend that the music gets too much blame for the actions of a few unruly fans and performers.
Either way, the music has become big business.
Since N.W.A. became the first gangsta rap act to debut atop the Billboard album chart in 1991, the genre has produced a number of music's biggest stars, including Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre and Ice Cube.
Last year, gangsta rappers 50 Cent, The Game and Young Jeezy all released albums that ranked among the year's biggest sellers.
The music is particularly popular among suburban youths, who comprise two-thirds of its audience.
"It's easy to consume," Gaffney says of gangsta rap's appeal. "The lyrics and the images are in your face; it's not hidden behind metaphors or similes. It's easy for young people to consume and understand. And they're the main market for these kinds of images."
None of this makes Crump's outburst any easier to understand. He wasn't much of a player on the local rap scene, as Desert Mobb only sold a few hundred copies of their debut. Clearly, he wasn't a man emblematic of the Las Vegas hip-hop community.
Perhaps, some hypothesized, that's what really fueled his frustrations.
"Maybe this guy was upset because he couldn't be a star. Who knows?" Alexander says. "It makes no sense at all. This guy evidently had a short fuse. He's the type of guy who never should have had an AK-47 -- whether he was a rapper or not."
DEADLY LEGACY
Long before local rapper Amir Rashid Crump killed a cop on Feb. 1, Las Vegas had experienced numerous slayings in which rappers were either the suspects, the killers or the victims.
Date: April 25, 2000
Location: The Green Room recording studio near Sahara Avenue and Maryland Parkway
The victim: Aspiring rapper Andre Collins, son of the president of the local NAACP chapter
The slaying: Collins, 31, is found shot to death about 9:20 p.m. inside the studio, where he was working on songs. There was no evidence of a break-in and no signs of a robbery at the business.
The suspect: Christopher Berarducci is charged with murder. He has pleaded not guilty and is scheduled to be tried next month.
Backstory: Berarducci had been doing carpentry work at the studio. After he became a suspect in Collins' slaying, he disappeared. Investigators labeled Collins' killing the result of a love triangle, saying Berarducci believed Collins had slept with his wife.
Nearly two years later, Spanish authorities captured the on-the-lam Berarducci in a coastal resort town near Barcelona after the case was featured on "America's Most Wanted." The Spanish government agreed to extradite him to face trial in 2004, only after receiving guarantees from prosecutors that Berarducci would not face the death penalty, which is banned in Spain.
Date: July 6, 2001
Location: Henderson apartment complex near Lake Mead Drive and Eastern Avenue
The victim: Miranda Johnson, 21
The slaying: Johnson is fatally shot in the face inside the apartment she shares with her husband, rapper Edward Wiggins. The killer leaves the couple's 3-week-old son between the legs of Johnson's body.
The killer: James J. Turner, owner of Creative Rap Entertainment Organization
Backstory: Turner repeatedly threatened Wiggins after the rapper refused to sign to Turner's label. When Wiggins wasn't home, Turner went to his home and killed Johnson in retaliation.
Turner, now 38, is serving a life sentence at Ely State Prison for Johnson's murder.
Date: March 5, 2003
Location: A desert lot near Interstate 215 and Decatur Boulevard
The victims: Sophear Choy and Priscilla Van-Dine, both 19
The slaying: Choy, Van-Dine and Choy's sister, Kim, are shot execution-style in the desert lot. Police officers responding to reports of gunfire initially found only broken housewares in a nearby street. But after following a faint cry from the lot, officers discovered Kim Choy staggering toward them with a bleeding head. She had miraculously survived two shots to the head.
The killer: Aspiring hip-hop artist Alfonso "Slinkey" Blake. The rapper/R&B singer was convicted of the murders and sentenced to death in 2004. He remains incarcerated at Ely State Prison.
Backstory: Authorities said Blake shot the women because they refused to move into his home. The aspiring hip-hop artist invited strippers to live in his home and then lived off their earnings, prosecutors said.
At the time of the slayings, Blake had three other topless-dancer roommates who were required to give him all the money they made at local clubs.
Prosecutors said Blake shot the women shortly after he stabbed Sophear Choy during an argument. They contended Blake probably committed the murders in an attempt to eliminate witnesses to the stabbing.
Date: May 23, 2005
Location: Southern Highlands neighborhood
The victims: Rapper Anthony Watkins, 25, and friend Jermaine "Cowboy" Akins, 23
The slaying: Someone wielding an assault rifle guns down Watkins and Akins in a car parked in a cul-de-sac, shooting both multiple times in the head, chest and back.
The suspect: Jason Mathis, 25, is charged with two counts of murder. He has pleaded not guilty and is awaiting trial.
Backstory: Police theorize Mathis targeted Watkins, a Kansas City gangsta rapper known as "Fat Tone," as part of a revenge plot.
In late 2004, Watkins was suspected of killing Bay Area rapper Andre "Mac Dre" Hicks. Authorities questioned but never charged Watkins. Later, Watkins penned a song acknowledging rumors he was involved in the slaying.
The year before in Kansas City, Watkins was shot after leaving an early morning radio interview.
Before his death, Watkins' rap sheet included a 2002 charge of killing a 19-year-old girl and her unborn child. Prosecutors dismissed the murder charges because of insufficient evidence and a lack of cooperation from witnesses.
Police believe Watkins had traveled to Las Vegas days before his demise to associate with hip-hop moguls attending local performances by rappers Snoop Dogg and Nelly.
Date: June 2, 2005
Location: DunJun Studios, on Western Avenue near Interstate 15 and Sahara Avenue
The victim: Rapper Roosevelt "Mr. Looks" Hines
The slaying: Hines, 30, is fatally shot and Thomas Richardson, 34, is wounded outside the studio, which is promoted as the "number one hip-hop recording studio in Las Vegas."
The killer: Unknown.
Backstory: Although no one has been charged in the slaying, evidence uncovered by police detectives led them to believe rival rappers carried out the assault. "We believe it was a feud between two groups over whose music was better," said Lt. Tom Monahan, former commander of the homicide unit.
Date: July 21, 2005
Location: A music recording studio on Hacienda Avenue near Arville Street
The victim: Rapper Keith Jett
The slaying: Jett is gunned down during a recording session after a heated argument witnessed by several people.
The suspect: Amon "Loc" Ball, Jett's rap partner, was charged with Jett's murder, but the case was dismissed in October after prosecutors said they were not ready to proceed. However, Ball has been served paperwork indicating prosecutors may present the case to a grand jury.
Backstory: Witnesses told police that rap partners Jett and Ball were in the studio working before getting into an argument four hours into the session. Witnesses inside a sound booth with both men heard a gunshot.
One witness "saw Ball, who was holding a chrome gun in his hand, shoot approximately three shots at Jett, and Jett fell to the floor," police wrote in a warrant for Ball's arrest. "Once Jett was on the floor, Ball leaned over him and shot a final time into Jett's head."
A witness told police "Ball said he shot Jett because Jett was a snitch." No elaboration was given in the warrant.
When prosecutors dismissed the murder charge against Ball last fall, his attorney Conrad Claus told the Review-Journal, "They most assuredly have the wrong person. He's the wrong guy."
