A Bullet For Big Baby Jesus

Ol' Dirty Bastard Claims the FBI and CIA are Trying to Kill Him. Is He Crazy?

But Sixty got tired of running from room to room; the residents were terrified and Dirty was in trouble. He surrendered and was taken to the 77th Precinct station house.

At the precinct, the cops whisked Sixty-Second Assassin to an interrogation room. "Now I really think they gon' kill me," he says. "They put me in this dark room with nothing but one chair in it. I thought they was ready to beat me down."

Sixty says about five detectives later surrounded him. "This is what's going down," one of the cops said. "I don't want no bullshit from you. All I want you to do is tell the truth." But Sixty says he lied at first.

Ol' Dirty being escorted from a Brooklyn precinct house after his arrest last Friday on charges including attempted murder
AP/ Wide World
Ol' Dirty being escorted from a Brooklyn precinct house after his arrest last Friday on charges including attempted murder

"I was so nervous, I was not trying to tell them I was in that car." Sixty swore he had arrived at his aunt's house by taxi.

"You're full of shit!" he claims the cop declared. "I'm about to break your fucking neck. If it's one thing I don't like is a person breaking my balls! You're breaking my fucking balls and I'm gonna beat your fucking head into this wall!"

Sixty put up a front: "You gotta let them crackers know that you ain't scared, that you will go down with them." The cops tried another approach. Dirty, one of them said, had ratted on him.

"Your boy Dirty told us so you might as well spit it out," the cops said. "Dirty already told me you shot at the police." The cops tried to play Sixty: Ol' Dirty Bastard had turned on him to save his own skin.

"Man, that's a goddamn lie!" Sixty snarled. "The police shot the whole damn van up! These cops was trying to kill us in that car!"

It was not what the cops wanted to hear. All but one left the room. "We're about to kick your ass!" he said. Sixty stalled. A beat down was not necessary, he told the detective. "I teach righteousness. I got no hatred against white people; they like brothers unto me, too." The player was trying to play the players: "Y'all ain't gotta do all this."

"Did Dirty have a gun?" the cop asked.

"Nah, man," the puzzled rapper retorted. "I thought y'all said I'm the one that shot."

The cop painted a scenario of Sixty going to prison if he didn't finger Dirty. "You gonna fuck around and get 25 years to life for lying!" the cop said.

"Look, man, it was your peoples," Sixty said. "They shot at us, man. Dirty never had a gun. I'm telling y'all the truth."

Sixty stuck to his story: The police had shot at them for no reason. He told the story over and over again to a phalanx of detectives and to an assistant district attorney, in writing and on tape. Dirty's paranoia began to rub off on Sixty when the cops offered him a drink of water.

"I start thinking, 'Maybe these niggaz tryin' to poison me.' I took three sips and didn't drink no more. They gave me coffee after that." He thought it was drugged, "but I was so damn thirsty, I just needed something to drink."

Despite all that he had written and said on the videotape about the incident, a fresh batch of detectives kept hammering him about the gun Dirty allegedly used to shoot at the officers. The story was the same: Dirty did not have a gun.

Sixty fell asleep. He woke up. He smoked. They badgered.

"Tell us the truth, Dirty had a gun, right?" a detective inquired.

"I thought y'all said I was the one whom had the gun? I done told you a thousand times, Dirty did not have no gun."

"Did he have a bulletproof vest on?" another cop asked.

"I'm not sure."

"Does Dirty get high?"

"He didn't do nothing with me."

Is there a secret squad of police officers, FBI, and even CIA agents who do nothing but stalk rappers, or is Ol' Dirty Bastard crazy? Ever since N.W.A. urged the Hiphop Nation to "fuck da poliz," allegations of harrassment have intensified. More and more rappers are being busted with guns they say they carry for their own protection. Do law-enforcement authorities really have a bullet for Big Baby Jesus? Who should we believe: a rapper who once posed for an album brandishing his welfare card— and who has been called a deadbeat dad— or white undercover cops who swoop down on suspects driving while black, and can't even find the smoking gun?

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