Murder Rap: The Untold Story of the Biggie Smalls and Tupac Shakur Murder Investigations by Kading Greg

Author:Kading, Greg [Kading, Greg]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Publisher: One Time Publishing
Published: 2011-10-02T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

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AS TUPAC AND SUGE CRUISED down the Vegas Strip on their way to some hard partying, the nightmare of the last few years must have seemed like a distant memory. The mogul had delivered on all the promises he had made while Tupac was in jail. Tupac was now selling records and concert tickets in staggering numbers and had a firm foothold in Hollywood thanks to his roles in the twin hits Poetic Justice (1992) and Above the Rim (1994). He was a bigger star with a brighter future by a mind-boggling order of magnitude.

The ongoing gang war he had helped to incite only served to fuel his outsized ego. Only a few hours earlier he and his Piru posse had dealt a painful lesson to Baby Lane in the lobby of the MGM Grand, punishing the Crip for the crime of stealing a Death Row medallion at the Lakewood Mall two months earlier. For Tupac, art now imitated life: the “Thug Life” that he celebrated in song and played to the hilt as a world-class celebrity outlaw. He was at the absolute pinnacle of his life and career. There was no place left to go and nothing standing in his way of getting there.

After the Tyson-Seldon bout, Tupac had returned to the suite at the Luxor Hotel he shared with Kidada Jones, daughter of the music impresario Quincy Jones and sister of QD3, the producer of several tracks on The Don Killumanti. An off-and-on girlfriend at the time, Kidada was serving as Tupac’s consort for the Vegas weekend, and she listened as Tupac bragged about the thrashing he had just given Baby Lane, even as he took his time selecting a change of clothes. He had decided to go casual, picking out a black-and-white tank top, baggy blue jeans, and the regulation gold Death Row necklace for his night on the town. Kidada, instinctively wary of potential blowback from the beating, declined to accompany him.

Conspicuously absent in Tupac’s attire was the bulletproof Kevlar vest he wore as protection against the many enemies — real and imagined — he had accumulated on his rise to the top. He didn’t need it, he had earlier told Kidada as they had packed for the trip. After all, Vegas was hot and dry and the flak jacket would be uncomfortable and, more to the point, noticeably bulky. Sin City was, he believed, far removed from the gang violence of the East and West Coasts and the last thing Tupac wanted was to create the impression that he had something to fear.

Leaving Kidada to make her own plans for the evening, Tupac descended to the Luxor’s sweeping driveway, where the evening’s convoy had already arrived. His entourage was the standard assortment of flacks, flunkies, and hangers-on, as well as a hefty security presence, including Tupac’s bodyguard for the event, Frank Alexander, one-time bodybuilder and former reserve deputy for the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. Also on duty was the ex-Compton police officer Reginald Wright, Jr.

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