Latest news with #Crips
Business Upturn
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Business Upturn
Mayor of Kingstown Season 4: Release date speculation, cast and plot details – Everything we know so far
By Aman Shukla Published on May 11, 2025, 17:12 IST Mayor of Kingstown has solidified its place as one of Paramount+'s most gripping crime dramas, with its raw portrayal of power, corruption, and survival in a prison-dominated town. With Season 3 leaving fans on edge, anticipation for Mayor of Kingstown Season 4 is at an all-time high. Here's everything we know so far about the release date, cast, plot details, and more. Mayor of Kingstown Season 4 Release Date Speculation While Paramount+ has not yet confirmed an official release date for Mayor of Kingstown Season 4, the show was officially renewed in December 2024, and production is well underway. Filming began in January 2025 in Pittsburgh and Canada and is expected to wrap by May 2025. Based on the production timeline of Season 3, which filmed from January to May 2024 and premiered on June 2, 2024, a similar schedule suggests a potential premiere in July or August 2025. Mayor of Kingstown Season 4 Expected Cast The cast of Mayor of Kingstown Season 4 is expected to see familiar faces return. Here's a breakdown: Jeremy Renner as Mike McLusky : The heart of the series, Renner returns as the 'mayor' navigating the town's criminal and political chaos. His miraculous recovery from a 2023 snowplow accident continues to inspire, with co-creator Hugh Dillon praising his dedication. Hugh Dillon as Lt. Ian Ferguson : The hard-nosed detective and co-creator of the show will continue to play a pivotal role, especially as his character faces scrutiny from Evelyn's investigation. Taylor Handley as Kyle McLusky : Mike's younger brother, now dealing with the fallout of his arrest for attempted murder in Season 3, will likely face significant emotional and legal challenges. Tobi Bamtefa as Deverin 'Bunny' Washington : The Crips leader, now in control of Kingstown's underworld, is poised to expand his influence in Season 4. Hamish Allan-Headley as Robert Sawyer : The SWAT leader remains under suspicion, with Evelyn targeting him for his violent actions. Necar Zadegan as Evelyn Foley: The district attorney's investigation into corruption within the Kingstown Police Department will intensify, creating tension with Mike. Mayor of Kingstown Season 4 Potential Plot The Season 3 finale delivered a brutal shake-up, resolving the Russian mafia storyline while opening new avenues for conflict. With Milo and Konstantin dead and Iris succumbing to a tragic overdose, Season 4 will explore the aftermath of these losses and the power vacuum in Kingstown's criminal underworld. Aman Shukla is a post-graduate in mass communication . A media enthusiast who has a strong hold on communication ,content writing and copy writing. Aman is currently working as journalist at
National Observer
08-05-2025
- Politics
- National Observer
I'm a city councillor. Here's what Carney can learn from local government
Prime Minister Mark Carney and the incoming Liberal government could learn a lot from the coalitions and non-partisan nature of local governments. In contrast to most Western democracies, towns and cities in Canada have mostly managed to remain free of political parties. There are, of course, some exceptions, including Vancouver and Surrey, which have bespoke municipal parties. But at least in BC, the councils with political parties tend to be the most divided and politicized, and unfortunately reproduce the same type of partisanship that hamstrings higher orders of government. In Victoria, where I serve as a city councillor, the city currently has no municipal parties, which allows for consensus-building and decision-making free from political interference. A local Redditor recently crunched the numbers and found that nine of us vote the same way over four-fifths of the time. As a political progressive, I apparently vote the same way as the most right-leaning member of council 83.7 per cent of the time. This fact reflects the many routine procedural votes that exist at all levels of government, but it also demonstrates the ability of people with divergent worldviews to reach consensus most of the time. This does not mean that all nine members of Victoria City Council are always on the same page. We're not, and we often disagree strenuously on important matters and occasionally engage in bun fights, which are always well-covered by the local media. (There's a reason that 'Airplane Lands Safely at Airport' is never a headline.) But the absence of partisanship removes barriers to getting on the same page about the important things. I answer to the public, not a party, and that is a very freeing feeling. In our case, the current council has approved more than 8,000 units of housing, required all new buildings to be electrified, successfully passed a referendum to replace the aging Crystal Pool, and invested millions in downtown arts, safety and revitalization. None of these things would have happened in a council hopelessly divided by partisanship. I tend to think of political parties in the same way that I think of street gangs — beset by tribalism, turf wars and primordial grievances — right down to the colour-coded uniforms and catchy slogans. (The Conservatives are the Crips and the Liberals are the Bloods.) We are in a national moment when the average Canadian does not give a toss about partisanship. What Canadians want is an effective response to the housing and affordability crisis; lasting and impactful climate action; meaningful action on reconciliation; and above all, a staunch defence of Canadian sovereignty and the national interest. It is no surprise that the politicians of diverse political stripes – Premiers David Eby and Wab Kinew (NDP), Doug Ford (PC), and Prime Minister Carney (Liberal) – who have advocated for Canada's sovereignty and national interest, have enjoyed a bump in approval ratings. While I'm under no illusions that political parties will magically disappear at the federal level, I do think the existential threat represented by the Trump regime offers an opportunity to do things differently, writes Jeremy L. Caradonna While I'm under no illusions that political parties will magically disappear at the federal level, I do think the existential threat represented by the Trump regime offers an opportunity to do things differently. What was the point of the last several months of drama and political turmoil if we're simply going to return to a bog-standard Liberal-NDP CASA arrangement? Historically, Canada doesn't really do coalitions, but it's never too late to start. Barring a major change in the recounts, it looks like the Liberals will end up with 169 seats in Parliament, four short of the 172 needed to pass legislation. What I propose is for the Liberals to create the first-ever coalition in modern Canadian history. Offer Speaker of the House to a member of the Conservative Party as a gesture of unity. There is little to suggest that Pierre Poilievre would go for it, but the gesture itself would mean something. (I think Joe Clark or Brian Mulroney would have gone for it.) If that fails, offer Speaker to Don Davies, the long-time NDP MP from Vancouver and the party's interim leader. Davies is a level-headed lawyer who is entirely qualified for the role. More importantly, Carney could offer four members of the opposition positions as parliamentary secretaries in an effort to create greater stability for a four-year term. Having members of minority parties in government would give those parties a sense of ownership over the success of the mandate, and could decrease the risk that a junior CASA partner decides suddenly to pull the plug on the Liberals. Imagine a cabinet that gave parliamentary secretaries a greater role, even if they weren't formally a part of the Privy Council. Those secretaries could include Elizabeth May (Greens) on climate adaptation, Nathalie Sinclair-Desgagné (Bloc) on Quebec interests, Jenny Kwan (NDP) on immigrant integration, and Alexandre Boulerice (NDP) on labour relations. It would require the Green, NDP and Bloc members to act as team players and accept two realities: 1) Their parties currently have little leverage, and in the case of the Greens and NDP, were nearly wiped from the electoral map, and 2) this would be their only real chance to make change and become the first members of their respective parties 'in government' at the federal level. Carney would allow the non-Liberals to make their case in expanded cabinet meetings, but then, the parliamentary secretaries would be expected to vote with the coalition in Parliament. Being effective even 25 per cent to 50 per cent of the time is better than being ineffective 100 per cent of the time. Strategic compromise is what allows local government leaders to keep moving their communities forward. This is Carney's opportunity to shake things up and take a page from the most nimble and effective level of government in the country.
Yahoo
22-04-2025
- Yahoo
Accused Crips leader who allegedly ran 'Mafia-like' enterprise to remain behind bars
Eugene "Big U" Henley, an accused Crips leader, will remain behind bars while he faces charges of fraud, robbery, extortion and running a racketeering conspiracy, a federal judge in Los Angeles ruled Tuesday. As Henley, 58, sat quietly in a white jumpsuit, U.S. Magistrate Judge A. Joel Richlin cited the violent allegations against him, including the murder of an aspiring rapper, and what he called "a lot of evidence of obstruction of justice." In ordering Henley to remain in custody pending trial, Richlin said that he was concerned that Henley might flee and that he was potentially a danger to the community. "There's no condition or combination of conditions that would reasonably assure Mr. Henley's future appearance at court proceedings or the safety of the community," Richlin said before ruling. Arturo Hernandez, Henley's attorney, said his client could be confined to his home and monitored electronically. He also cited the fact that his client's loved ones were putting up millions of dollars worth of property to secure his release, which he said made it unlikely Henley would flee. "You've got to give him a chance," said Hernandez, who has represented cartel members and — in the 1980s — serial killer Richard Ramirez, known as the Night Stalker. "This has been defendant's second chance," Assistant U.S. Atty. Kevin Butler told the judge soon after. Henley previously served 13 years in prison for trying to rob an undercover sheriff's deputy of 33 pounds of cocaine. He was indicted last month on 43 counts, including tax evasion; embezzlement of donations to his charity, which receives public money; and running a racketeering conspiracy in which he allegedly kidnapped and fatally shot a young rapper named Rayshawn Williams. Henley has pleaded not guilty to all charges. And, before turning himself in, he made videos denying the accusations against him saying, "I ain't did nothing." 'I ain't been nothing but a help to our community,' Henley said on video. 'This the price of being Black and trying to help somebody, trying to help your community and do what you can." After the hearing, Hernandez said he planned to appeal the judge's ruling. Henley's wife, who attended the hearing Tuesday and at times wiped away tears, declined to comment. Federal authorities said Henley, who helped launch rapper Nipsey Hussle's career, had created an image of himself as an entertainment industry entrepreneur and someone giving back to the community. But behind the scenes, they said, was a different story. "Before the court today is the self-professed most dangerous man in Los Angeles," Butler said during the detention hearing. "The allegations in this case ... prove that this is an accurate description." Were the court to release Henley, Butler argued, "he'd also become the most dangerous man to this case, because his entire criminal enterprise is based on fear, intimidation, control." "Control of the victims, control of enemies, control of witnesses, control of Los Angeles," Butler said. Read more: Accused Crips leader indicted: A Grammy-winning witness, NBA all-star's $3-million debt In a federal complaint, authorities likened Henley's 'Big U Enterprise' to a 'mafia-like organization' that relied on his 'stature and long-standing association with the Rollin' 60s and other street gangs to intimidate businesses and individuals' in L.A. More than a dozen alleged members or associates of the Rollin' 60s Crips — including Henley — have been charged in the sprawling criminal case. In a brief filed before the detention hearing, federal authorities alleged that, "to avoid custody, defendant will no doubt continue his double dealing, as he did to celebrities and donors that he duped into believing they were helping young, underprivileged athletes chase their dreams, when in reality they were unwittingly lining defendant's pockets as he embezzled donation after donation. "Even in his short time in custody, he is up to his old tricks, once again trying to use some of those same celebrities for his personal gain," the government alleged. "He has even suggested that he can manipulate the President of the United States into intervening in the case and dropping the charges, even as he simultaneously derisively refers to the President as 'the orange man' while in custody. This Court should not be fooled by the good deeds defendant promises to accomplish if only he could close the detention doors behind him." Among a litany of alleged crimes, federal authorities have accused Henley of directing the robbery of an unlicensed L.A. marijuana dispensary that had stopped making extortion payments and of fraudulently obtaining funding from the Gang Reduction and Youth Development program overseen by the L.A. mayor's office. Although Butler acknowledged during the hearing that the murder of Williams was "more of a circumstantial case," he argued that the rest of the evidence and charges "cannot seriously be disputed." He told the judge that the alleged extortion was captured on video, audio and on the phone and that embezzlement, charity fraud and tax crimes were "documented." Butler told the judge that, the night before his arrest, Henley turned his phones off and fled his home. "One of the potential witnesses to some of his crimes actually asked the government when approached, 'If you can't even arrest him, how can you promise to keep me safe?'" Butler said. "That is a legitimate concern and one that would be exacerbated if he were granted bail." More than a dozen of Henley's family members and friends were present in the court Tuesday afternoon and listened as prosecutors played a video Henley made before he surrendered himself to authorities, blaming people posting on social media for the case against him. Among those he blamed was Christopher Lovejoy, a boxer known as "600," who was present in the front row. But Butler denied Henley's claim, saying "none of these individuals have ever spoken to law enforcement on this team." Ahead of the hearing, tensions ran high. Henley's family members confronted 600, questioning why he was in court and if he was there to testify. And they accused Lovejoy, who has more than 100,000 Instagram followers, of being disrespectful Henley. "I'm here supporting," he told the family. "Who?" a woman identifying herself as Henley's sister asked. "The court," he responded. When 600 walked into the courtroom he sat in the front row and said to Henley "How you doing, man?" Henley did not react or respond. During the hearing, Hernandez referred to the government's case as involving "innuendos" and "guess work." He lauded his client for turning himself in to authorities and said it was a sign that Henley is "not guilty." "All the government wants to do is throw a bunch of stuff at the wall and see what sticks," Hernandez said. At one point, Richlin asked Henley if he was OK. Henley, who was dealing with cramps from his hands being cuffed in front of him, told the judge "I'm stressed out." As Richlin handed down his ruling, he referred to the indictment as "quite extensive," and said, "the court does believe there is substantial evidence, lengthy evidence, this is not innuendo in the indictment." Sign up for Essential California for news, features and recommendations from the L.A. Times and beyond in your inbox six days a week. This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
Los Angeles Times
22-04-2025
- Los Angeles Times
Accused Crips leader who allegedly ran ‘mafia-like' enterprise to remain behind bars
Eugene 'Big U' Henley, an accused Crips leader, will remain behind bars while he faces charges of fraud, robbery, extortion and running a racketeering conspiracy, a federal judge in Los Angeles ruled Tuesday. As Henley, 58, sat quietly in a white jumpsuit, U.S. Magistrate Judge A. Joel Richlin cited the violent allegations against him, including the murder of an aspiring rapper, and what he called, 'a lot of evidence of obstruction of justice.' In ordering Henley to remain in custody pending trial, Richlin said he was concerned that Henley might flee and that he was potentially a danger to the community. 'There's no condition or combination of conditions that would reasonably assure Mr. Henley's future appearance at court proceedings or the safety of the community,' Richlin said before ruling Friday. Arturo Hernandez, Henley's attorney, said his client could be confined to his home and monitored electronically. He also cited the fact that his client's loved ones were putting up millions of dollars worth of property to secure his release, which he said made it unlikely Henley would flee. 'You've got to give him a chance,' said Hernandez, who has represented cartel members and — in the 1980s — serial killer Richard Ramirez, known as the Night Stalker. 'This has been defendant's second chance,' Assistant U.S. Atty. Kevin Butler told the judge soon after. Henley previously served 13 years in prison for trying to rob an undercover sheriff's deputy of 33 pounds of cocaine. He was indicted last month on 43 counts, including tax evasion; embezzlement of donations to his charity, which receives public money; and running a racketeering conspiracy in which he allegedly kidnapped and fatally shot a young rapper named Rayshawn Williams. Henley has pleaded not guilty to all charges. And, before turning himself in, he made videos denying the accusations against him saying, 'I ain't did nothing.' 'I ain't been nothing but a help to our community,' Henley said on video. 'This the price of being Black and trying to help somebody, trying to help your community and do what you can.' After the hearing, Hernandez said he planned to appeal the judge's ruling. Henley's wife, who attended the hearing Tuesday and at times wiped away tears, declined to comment. Federal authorities said Henley, who helped launch rapper Nipsey Hussle's career, had created an image of himself as an entertainment industry entrepreneur and someone giving back to the community. But behind the scenes, they said, was a different story. 'Before the court today is the self-professed most dangerous man in Los Angeles,' Butler said during the detention hearing. 'The allegations in this case ... prove that this is an accurate description.' Were the court to release Henley, Butler argued, 'he'd also become the most dangerous man to this case, because his entire criminal enterprise is based on fear, intimidation, control.' 'Control of the victims, control of enemies, control of witnesses, control of Los Angeles,' Butler said. In a federal complaint, authorities likened Henley's 'Big U Enterprise' to a 'mafia-like organization' that relied on his 'stature and long-standing association with the Rollin' 60s and other street gangs to intimidate businesses and individuals' in L.A. More than a dozen alleged members or associates of the Rollin' 60s Crips — including Henley — have been charged in the sprawling criminal case. In a brief filed before the detention hearing, federal authorities alleged that, 'to avoid custody, defendant will no doubt continue his double dealing, as he did to celebrities and donors that he duped into believing they were helping young, underprivileged athletes chase their dreams, when in reality they were unwittingly lining defendant's pockets as he embezzled donation after donation. 'Even in his short time in custody, he is up to his old tricks, once again trying to use some of those same celebrities for his personal gain,' the government alleged. 'He has even suggested that he can manipulate the President of the United States into intervening in the case and dropping the charges, even as he simultaneously derisively refers to the President as 'the orange man' while in custody. This Court should not be fooled by the good deeds defendant promises to accomplish if only he could close the detention doors behind him.' Among a litany of alleged crimes, federal authorities have accused Henley of directing the robbery of an unlicensed L.A. marijuana dispensary that had stopped making extortion payments and of fraudulently obtaining funding from the Gang Reduction and Youth Development program overseen by the L.A. mayor's office. Although Butler acknowledged during the hearing that the murder of Williams was 'more of a circumstantial case,' he argued that the rest of the evidence and charges 'cannot seriously be disputed.' He told the judge that the alleged extortion was captured on video, audio and on the phone and that embezzlement, charity fraud and tax crimes were 'documented.' Butler told the judge that, the night before his arrest, Henley turned his phones off and fled his home. 'One of the potential witnesses to some of his crimes actually asked the government when approached, 'If you can't even arrest him, how can you promise to keep me safe?'' Butler said. 'That is a legitimate concern and one that would be exacerbated if he were granted bail.' More than a dozen of Henley's family members and friends were present in the court Tuesday afternoon and listened as prosecutors played a video Henley made before he surrendered himself to authorities, blaming people posting on social media for the case against him. Among those he blamed was Christopher Lovejoy, a boxer known as '600,' who was present in the front row. But Butler denied Henley's claim, saying 'none of these individuals have ever spoken to law enforcement on this team.' Ahead of the hearing, tensions ran high. Henley's family members confronted 600, questioning why he was in court and if he was there to testify. And they accused Lovejoy, who has more than 100,000 Instagram followers, of being disrespectful Henley. 'I'm here supporting,' he told the family. 'Who?' a woman identifying herself as Henley's sister asked. 'The court,' he responded. When 600 walked into the courtroom he sat in the front row and said to Henley 'How you doing, man?' Henley did not react or respond. During the hearing, Hernandez referred to the government's case as involving 'innuendos' and 'guess work.' He lauded his client for turning himself in to authorities and said it was a sign that Henley is 'not guilty.' 'All the government wants to do is throw a bunch of stuff at the wall and see what sticks,' Hernandez said. At one point, Richlin asked Henley if he was OK. Henley, who was dealing with cramps from his hands being cuffed in front of him, told the judge 'I'm stressed out.' As Richlin handed down his ruling, he referred to the indictment as 'quite extensive,' and said, 'the court does believe there is substantial evidence, lengthy evidence, this is not innuendo in the indictment.'
Los Angeles Times
22-04-2025
- Los Angeles Times
L.A.'s Rollin' 60s Crips: The rise of a notorious gang and its reputed boss ‘Big U'
Even in the cutthroat world of Los Angeles street gangs, the saying associated with one Crips faction stands out as cold-blooded: 'You ain't a Rollin' 60 'til you kill a 60.' The Rollin' 60s Neighborhood Crips — which is said to be named for West 60th Street that rolled through its territory in South Los Angeles — have a reputation for violence, sometimes even against fellow members. But that hasn't stopped them from growing into one of the largest and most notorious street gangs in the city, if not the country. The gang's foot soldiers and shot callers have been many over the years, but one name has seemingly remained constant: Eugene 'Big U' Henley. Henley came up around the time that Hollywood turned gang life in the City of Angels into the stuff of legends. By the time the Rollin' 60s were name-dropped in the 1991 classic 'Boyz n the Hood,' he had already risen through the ranks. Much has changed since then. Gang-related shootings have plummeted from the historic highs a generation ago. Along the way, Henley has seen his own ups and downs — serving time in prison, emerging to build himself up as a community leader and music industry honcho, and now once again facing charges in a sprawling criminal case with 18 other alleged members and associates of the 60s. Federal prosecutors paint the picture of a gang whose fearsome reputation allowed Henley to intimidate businesses and people throughout L.A. for decades, touching the lives of NBA superstars and a Grammy-winning producer. Indicted last month on charges including fraud, robbery, extortion and a racketeering conspiracy that involved the murder of an aspiring rapper, Henley has pleaded not guilty. His court-appointed lawyer told The Times last month that his client 'maintains his innocence.' More details about Henley's alleged gang activities could emerge at a detention hearing set for Tuesday. But so far, the case against him has been met with skepticism in his old neighborhood. Gang interventionists and others who do outreach on South L.A.'s west side describe the Rollin' 60s as a loosely structured group with no real leader. Some argue that only a few of those arrested with Henley have actual ties to the gang. To his supporters, Henley has remained a larger-than-life figure who achieved their version of the American dream: A successful businessman who managed to rise out of a neighborhood battered by years of unemployment, over-policing and government neglect — but never forgot his roots. It's an image Henley worked hard to cultivate, and one he defended amid the latest charges. 'I ain't been nothing but a help to our community,' Henley said in a video. 'This the price of being Black and trying to help somebody, trying to help your community and do what you can.' The FBI began investigating the Rollin' 60s in August 2020, according to the federal complaint charging Henley and others. The following year, the agency launched an investigation into the so-called 'Big U Enterprise,' a term coined by investigators to describe Henley's alleged Mafia-like organization. Federal authorities said Henley was regarded as an 'original gangster,' or 'OG,' who had earned standing with fellow gang members over decades. 'He has been able to use that standing to intimidate businesses and individuals and to commit various forms of violence,' Ted Docks, FBI special agent in charge of the criminal division in Los Angeles, said at a news conference last month. After news of the raid on Henley's home hit social media, some commentators dredged up years-old rumors about Henley's supposed ties to the killing of Nipsey Hussle, a rap star, activist and entrepreneur who was shot to death in front of his South Los Angeles clothing store. Another 60s member was convicted of Hussle's murder, and multiple law enforcement sources familiar with the case — who requested anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly — said they found no evidence tying Henley to the crime. The slaying led to a temporary ceasefire between rival Black gangs. Henley was in the middle of the effort, organizing a vigil attended by gang members of all stripes. Those who know Henley said that over the years they witnessed his transformation from tough-nosed street brawler to businessman and — at least outwardly — advocate for peace. 'As far as anything outside his work for his organization and his work in the music industry, I didn't see anything,' said Skipp Townsend, a prominent gang interventionist in L.A. 'Never nothing criminal.' But according to federal authorities, behind the veil of redemption Henley lived a double life as a ruthless gang boss. When famous athletes and musicians visited L.A., authorities say, Henley required them to 'check in' — and sometimes pay — to guarantee their safety around town. He allegedly helped collect a debt owed by a current NBA All-Star, whose name was withheld in court filings. Henley also allegedly extorted tens of thousands of dollars from an unlicensed marijuana dispensary and directed underlings to carry out robberies. But before building his alleged criminal empire, he was just a kid from South L.A. When Henley was born in 1966, the Crips didn't yet exist. It was three years later, as the story goes, when Raymond Washington, a teenager, formed the gang. Washington is the focus of an upcoming documentary, 'Crip: The Boy Who Built An Army' — for which Henley sat for interviews. 'It's not a roses story: it has some bad points, but it started out positive,' said Kenya Ware, who created both the documentary and a planned TV series called 'The Birth of a Crip.' 'Things change, in the midst of it, but the intention was good.' Steeped in the Black Panther Party teachings of self-pride and community control, historians say, the first generation of Black gang members in the 1960s banded together to defend against outsiders from neighboring communities, as well as police harassment. Over time, more and more crews sprouted, forging alliances and becoming rivals. 'Before it was killing and all that it was just hand fighting, like fistfights,' said Ronald 'Ron Ron' Thompson, Washington's nephew. After his uncle went to prison on a robbery charge, Thompson said, 'the 'hoods started forming.' The 60s were one of the first cliques — or 'sets' — of the Crips to take root in the western fringes of South L.A. in the mid-1970s. 'Crippin' was almost like a religion,' said Donald Bakeer, a former schoolteacher in South L.A. who wrote a historical novel on the gang's early history. Among his students was Henley, who Bakeer said he met while teaching at Horace Mann Junior High School. Even then, he said, Henley 'was a natural leader.' 'He was not the back-down kind of youngster,' Bakeer said. In 'Hip Hop Uncovered,' a six-part documentary series, Henley said he and several other kids formed the Arlington Gang and that it eventually morphed into 'our section of what was the Rollin' 60s.' 'I'm not the one that started it or gave it the name,' Henley said in the documentary, which credited him as an executive producer. 'I'm just in the first generation of it becoming Rollin' 60s. We the babies in that.' In 1981, police raided the homes of suspected Rollin' 60s members. One prosecutor at the time boasted in The Times that the raid had 'effectively wiped out' the gang. But Henley and the gang were just getting started. Henley recounted in his documentary series helping rob cars and making tens of thousands of dollars in the early 1980s. When he finally got caught, he said, he went to juvenile detention and had so many cases tied to him that authorities refused to release him to his mother. At her wit's end, she sent him to live with his father in Chicago to keep him from getting into more trouble, Henley said. After Henley left L.A., the 60s also began making their mark elsewhere. The crack epidemic had taken hold of South L.A., and it would soon spread across the country, bringing gang violence with it. In 1988, two men identified by police as members of the 60s were accused of shooting someone in the head several times in a heavy drug-trafficking area in Tacoma, Wash. The next year, a Kansas newspaper with the headline 'L.A. gangs make Midwest entry' detailed the spread of the Bloods and Crips across the country and their arrests for cocaine and crack possession. In 'Hip Hop Uncovered,' Henley described selling drugs in Minnesota, Atlanta and Chicago — where they would fetch a higher price — and being in L.A. for only a week or two at a time. 'We was really landing in cities, taking over blocks,' he said. In a confidential LAPD report prepared in 1989, detectives identified 459 hard-core members of the 60s, who had been arrested a total of 3,527 times, according to a Times article. There were convictions for murder, attempted murder, assaults with a deadly weapon, robberies, burglaries and other crimes. Apart from two cliques devoted to drug trafficking, the report said, most of the gang members commit crimes for their personal gain and 'hold no allegiance to any organization and do not act at the direction of a recognized leader.' Thompson, the nephew of the reputed Crips founder, recalled joining the gang around 1986 almost of necessity. People used to assume he was a member based on where he lived and would jump him anyway, he said, so he figured he might as well be part of the gang. 'These dudes are my friends anyway,' said Thompson, now a former member. 'They had my back like I had they back and that's just how it was.' A series of brazen bank robberies landed the gang on the radar of the LAPD and the FBI. In 1988, the murder of Karen Toshima, a 27-year-old graphic artist shot in the head by crossfire in a gang dispute as she walked along a street in Westwood Village. Until then, many of those living outside South L.A. assumed that gangs were confined to those neighborhoods, said Alex Alonso, a gang historian. Toshima's killing was one of several gang slayings that led to a large-scale show of law enforcement muscle called Operation Hammer, in which then-LAPD Chief Daryl F. Gates vowed to 'eradicate' gangs by flooding streets with officers. The crackdown rounded up hundreds of people — many for minor crimes — and sowed resentment in wide swaths of South L.A. 'In hindsight I was glad Gates did that because it just showed that massive suppression, sending everything you have, spending all kinds of money, didn't really put a dent in the gang problem in L.A.,' Alonso said. 'It just proves that you cannot arrest your way out of the problem.' After a string of arrests in the late 1980s, Henley went away for his longest prison stretch. Busted trying to rob an undercover sheriff's deputy of 33 pounds of cocaine, he was convicted and sentenced in 1992 to 23 years. Eight years after Henley's arrest, David Ross, now a retired LAPD detective, landed at 77th Division, where he worked multiple gangs at a time. But in January 2002, he recalled being assigned only one: the 60s. He called them 'the largest Black criminal street gang in Los Angeles by far.' They claim various logos — including the Rolls-Royce symbol and the baseball hats of the White Sox and Mariners — and count a number of Crips factions as enemies in addition to their traditional rivals, the Bloods. 'There's no real hierarchy, it's not like the Mafia, for example, where it's really, strictly tightly controlled and people are really disciplined because they don't want to lose their life by crossing the boss,' Ross said. 'There's a lot of this jealousy and rivalry that goes on if somebody has something good going on and getting money.' Around 2004, a fellow LAPD officer told Ross that Henley would soon be released. 'I did hear that Big U had quite a reputation,' Ross recounted. 'I can't see very many Rollin' 60s of any age that would cross him or go against something that he said.' But Henley said his mentality had shifted by the time of his release. During his last stint behind bars, he said, he began a transformation, which included converting to Islam. He described in one interview how he gradually distanced himself from the gang lifestyle that earned him respect and fear on the streets. 'You spend the front part of your life destroying a community and when I came home, it was about being known as somebody who has helped to heal it and bring it to a better place,' Henley said in his 'Hip Hop Uncovered' interview. 'I know I want to help people. I want to be able to effect change.' After getting out of prison, Henley created Developing Options, dedicated to gang intervention work and offering sports programs for kids. The work eventually drew major backing from the city. Authorities have accused Henley of fraudulently obtaining $2.35 million from the Gang Reduction and Youth Development program from 2018 to 2023. Henley's organization is one of more than 20 involved in the program overseen by the L.A. mayor's office, the city said last month. The tax dollars were allocated at a time when Henley was thought to be a positive force in Los Angeles, but federal authorities say behind the scenes he was a ruthless killer. Federal authorities have accused Henley of kidnapping and fatally shooting a young rapper in the face over perceived disrespect and leaving his body in the Las Vegas desert. Henley's supporters refuse to believe the charges. Shamond 'Lil AD' Bennett, 46, joined the Rollin' 60s when Henley was already an established figure. The two didn't meet until Henley's latest release from prison, but Bennett said he'd heard 'just the great person he was, been there for his community.' 'I thought the world of him, he was a great dude,' he said. 'I still hope to God he beat that s—.' Bennett, who has each letter of 'Rollin' tattooed down the side of his face, said many of those arrested with Henley were not tied to the 60s. He argued that authorities 'try to paint a picture to make us look bad' — pointing to what he said was law enforcement's long history of targeting Black men of influence. And as far as Henley being a gang leader? 'Ain't no leaders in 60s,' Bennett said. 'Ain't none. Not one.'
