by Mark Anthony
“Just hand me my gat!” Supreme demanded. “This muthafucka is going where I say he’s going!”
Trying to be the voice of reason, I stood up and walked over to Supreme and said, “Supreme, listen, first find out why they want us to make this emergency landing. And just remember that you gotta be careful because if you start threatening them and carrying on, the next thing you know they’ll alert the authorities.”
“’Preme, handle your business!” his crony said as he handed Supreme the handgun.
“Supreme, you’re with me. I got FBI credentials so you don’t gotta worry about nothing. But if you start blowing shit off the handle then there ain’t shit that I can do to help any of us,” I said rather convincingly. “Find out why he’s landing the plane and then let’s take care of this money.”
“Yo, why you keep stressing me about the money?” Supreme shouted.
“I’m stressing you because at this point every law enforcement agency in the country is probably looking for you! There is a dead agent in New York, Supreme! The FBI will shut all of your shit down, and all of Horse’s assets and Gun Clap Records’ assets will be shut down if they ain’t already! I know how they operate, Supreme! My God!” I said, trying to come across as if I was getting pissed off.
Supreme looked at me. He knew that I had made a clear and convincing point.
“Yo, Haz, go in there and find out from these pilots what’s up ’cause if I go in there I’m a flip on somebody!” Supreme said.
Haz quickly followed Supreme’s instructions.
Supreme finally sat down next to me.
“Jessica, I’m telling you, you better not fuck up my money!” Supreme stated.
“I got you, ’Preme.”
“So what do you need to get this done?” Supreme asked.
“I need the bank name, the name of the account, the routing number, the account number, and you should have some kind of swift code or password for wire transfers,” I stated.
“Jessica, I don’t have all of that on me! I don’t normally do this kind of shit!”
Yeah, most people were not like me, in that I had all of my necessary account info embedded in my memory.
“Well, can you call somebody who can get it for you?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Supreme stated as he took the phone and prepared to make his call.
Haz was still up front with the pilots and I was wondering what was going on. I was hoping that he had not done anything confrontational.
“Yo, pass me a piece of paper or something to write on,” Supreme said as he instructed the person on the other end to hold on a minute.
Just as Supreme began to write down the information, Haz came back from the front cabin.
“’Preme, these cats is bullshitting! Something ain’t right!” Haz stated.
Thankfully Supreme ignored him and continued to write down the pertinent bank info. When he was done talking on the phone, Haz was still in his ear, which was kind of good because it distracted Supreme and he just handed me the piece of paper without even acknowledging me.
“’Preme, they bullshitting me! They telling me there’s a mechanical problem wit’ the plane, but they don’t know what it is,” Haz stated.
Supreme instructed Haz to call the private jet company and get someone on the phone who could tell us what was up.
“Can’t none of us fly no plane, so if they saying it’s mechanical, then let them land this muthafucka,” Supreme stated, finally sounding somewhat rational.
Haz took the phone from me and asked for the number to the private jet company. At that point a light went off, and I knew that the FBI had tracked the plane with the GPS device that was in my phone. They had more than likely notified the private jet company to tell the pilots to land the plane as soon as possible.
Haz did get someone on the phone real quick, and after a three-minute tirade of cursing and ranting and raving, he finally hung up the phone.
“They saying that they don’t really know what the problem is either, and that is why they wanna get the plane on the ground—so that they can have the plane looked at. But they promised to have another plane there waiting for us and ready to take us to wherever we need to go,” he explained.
Supreme didn’t seem too happy about that arrangement, but what was he gonna do? None of us had any wings so we had no choice but to submit to the pilots’ commands.
I didn’t want to seem overly anxious, but I was very nervous as the plane started to descend. I wanted to get the money transferred before we landed. But I had to play things cool.
“Supreme, can you pass me another Beck’s?” I asked.
Supreme looked at me and he nodded for one of his henchmen to get me the beer.
When the beer arrived, I sipped on it for a few minutes, and then I took the initiative of picking up the phone so that I could get connected to my bank overseas and make the wire transfer.
Supreme looked at me kind of closely and I whispered out loud to him, “The bank … I’m on the phone with the bank.”
He nodded his head in my direction and made sure that he kept his eyes fixed on me.
My heart began racing a mile a minute. I was so close to transferring the money, yet looking out the window I could see that we were close to landing. I was praying that there were no glitches in the account info that Supreme had given me. There was no doubt that this was gonna be my last chance to get this money. I was also hoping and praying that none of the bank accounts had in fact been frozen.
I finally connected to the bank and I began relaying information to them.
“Yes,” I spoke into the phone’s automated system.
“Yes,” I said again.
“Yes,” I said for the third time.
Then I was instructed to start entering my bank account info and routing numbers.
“’Preme, how much do you want to wire out?” I asked.
Supreme buried his face into his hands and thought for a moment.
“Transfer one-point-five,” he instructed.
It was wild how he spoke about millions the way the average Joe would speak about fifties and hundreds.
“Okay,” I replied.
With such a large amount being wired, I was routed to a live representative who, after grilling me with security questions that I had to get the answers from Supreme, assisted me further. But after another two minutes or so, one and a half million dollars had been wired into my Swiss bank account. I now controlled more money than most people would ever see in a lifetime. In fact, if I worked for the FBI for more than twenty-five years I still don’t think that I would have been able to gross one-point-five million dollars!
“So we good now,” I said as I ended the call. “Even if they freeze your accounts this money will be safe.”
“Jessica, I swear to fucking God! If you fuck up my money I will torture your ass to no end!” Supreme threatened.
I gave a sinister smile, as finally I was able to relax just a bit. I sipped on my Beck’s beer and said, “Supreme, I got you. Don’t worry about it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When we finally landed in St. Louis, you could sense a high level of anxiety and uncertainty in Supreme and his boys. Haz was going from window to window of the plane, looking for something out of order.
“’Preme, you need to keep an eye on those pilots. I don’t trust something about them dudes,” Haz stated.
Supreme was also looking out of the airplane’s windows as he replied, “Nah, shit is cool. We’ll be a’ight.”
Being that we were on a private plane, we didn’t have to taxi to the terminal gate. It seemed as if we were right in the middle of the runway when the pilots brought the plane to a complete stop. In no time the doors to the plane were being opened and the pilots informed us that we could soon exit the plane.
At that point I hadn’t seen any movement that looked out of the ordinary so I began to wonder if the FBI had tracked the plane at all. Maybe there really were mechani
cal problems with the plane. I didn’t know for sure but I definitely didn’t want to board another plane with Supreme and his crew.
“We just have to wait for the ladder to be positioned and then we can exit,” the calm-looking copilot explained as he stood next to Haz.
“So where is this other plane?” Supreme asked.
The pilot told him that the other plane was being refueled and should be ready for boarding in no time.
“Someone on the ground will escort you there. Don’t worry,” the copilot reassured.
Five minutes later the ladder was in place and we all began to make our way down the steps of the airplane. Supreme made sure to keep me close by as I walked in front of him. We were quickly picked up in what looked like a golf course type of cart.
In no time we had reached the other plane. Where the hell is my FBI team? I remember thinking to myself.
I couldn’t believe that we were getting ready to board the other plane and no local authorities or anyone had come to aid me. That GPS system didn’t work, I remember thinking to myself. Then I remember hoping like hell that the FBI wasn’t still on some sexist, racist bullshit and had left me out to dry.
Supreme and Haz didn’t say a word to one another until Haz finally spoke up and asked Supreme what he was thinking.
“I think we good,” Supreme replied. “I don’t see no undercovers. Ain’t nobody on the rooftops. Let’s just board this bitch and get the fuck up outta here.”
In no time we were all on the other plane and we were greeted by the pilot and the copilot. They greeted us with warm, customer-service-friendly smiles and handshakes.
“Sorry about the situation on the other plane,” one of the pilots said. “We’ll do our best to get you guys to Mexico as fast as we can. I’m Captain Foster, and this is my copilot—”
“Exactly how long do you think it will take us to get there?” Supreme asked, rudely interrupting the pilot.
“Well, we don’t have to stop over in Texas like things were originally planned, so as soon as everyone is seated, I will check the flight pattern and let you know. In the meantime, Dawn will be your flight attendant and she will get you guys whatever it is that you may need,” the pilot stated, referring to the gorgeous, young, black flight attendant.
As the pilot turned to walk back toward cockpit he looked at me and winked. At first I didn’t understand it, but it quickly hit me that the wink wasn’t just an ordinary wink.
I played my position and finally felt a sense of relief because although I wasn’t 100 percent sure who the pilot was, I felt confident that someone was alerted to what was going on.
The flight attendant asked us to all sit and fasten our seat belts so we could prepare for takeoff. Haz wasn’t paying the flight attendant any mind as he whispered something in Supreme’s hear.
Supreme, who was already seated, nodded his head one time and Haz sat down.
“I know that you guys have been through this drill over and over again, but it’s a federal rule that I go over certain things with you guys before we take off,” the flight attendant said.
As she was talking Supreme unbuckled his seat belt and came in my direction.
“Excuse me, sir. I need everyone to have a seat until takeoff. We should be in the air any minute now. Please just give me a minute,” the flight attendant politely asked.
“Jessica, I told yo ass that if you was playing games with me that I would fucking murder you! Right?” Supreme barked as my heart skipped. I didn’t know what had spooked him but he had suddenly become highly agitated.
“What?” I asked as I held out my palms to show a sign of surrender.
At that point Supreme violently grabbed a fistful of my hair and proceeded to ram my head against the headrest of the plane’s leather seat.
I screamed in pain as I asked Supreme what I had done.
“Supreme, you’re hurting me!” I screamed.
“Sir, excuse me, sir, is there some sort of problem?” the flight attendant asked.
“Mind your business, lady!” Supreme barked.
“We won’t be able to take off until everyone is seated!” the helpless-looking flight attendant screamed.
Supreme paid her no mind. He continued to grip my hair so tightly that I was certain he had yanked some of it from the roots.
“What the fuck was that winking shit about, Jessica?” Supreme demanded. Again he rammed my head into the headrest.
I knew not to play stupid so I gave Supreme the best answer that I could come up with.
“I think he was flirting with me! Supreme—” I replied before having my words cut off by him.
“Flirting with you? What if you was my girl?” Supreme asked, behaving like a jealous abusive boyfriend. All of his crew stood up and looked as if they were waiting for direction from Supreme.
“’Preme, she’s lying, she know that nigga!” Haz stated.
“No I don’t!” I yelled, still being detained by my hair.
While all of the commotion was going on, the flight attendant Dawn had maneuvered herself about four feet from Supreme and myself.
“FBI!” she yelled. “Everybody on the ground!”
Supreme and his crew looked stunned.
“On the ground!” the undercover FBI agent yelled as she pointed her gun directly at Supreme.
The two pilots then quickly emerged from the cockpit with their guns drawn and they also ordered everyone to the ground. Everyone had complied except for me and Supreme.
“Put your hands out where I can see them!” the male agent ordered. “You! I said get the fuck on the ground!” he barked. Supreme was still standing and now had me in a headlock with my back to his chest.
“I ain’t getting on the ground!” Supreme yelled. “Y’all flying this fucking plane or else this bitch is dying!”
Supreme was poking me in the back with his free hand, and from my angle I couldn’t see exactly what he was poking me with. It didn’t feel like a gun but I wasn’t certain and I didn’t want to take any chances. From the angle that he was holding me, even the other agents didn’t have a good enough view to be able to determine if in fact he was holding a gun or not.
“I’ll splatter her guts all over this plane if we don’t get this muthafucka up in the air right now!” Supreme commanded.
The agents didn’t respond to Supreme. Two of them kept their guns aimed at Supreme’s crew and the other agent aimed his gun at Supreme.
“Jessica, where is my money?” Supreme yelled. I could feel the rage in his tense muscles as he screamed. From experience—just like the episode with Angela Calvino—I knew that when a suspect gets angry they are capable of doing anything.
“It’s safe, Supreme. The money is where I told you it would be,” I stated.
Supreme tightened his hold on me and I felt like I was going to pass out. I looked out of the window and I could see all kinds of law enforcement activity going on. The authorities scrambled to get in place and surround the plane.
“Jessica, you called these muthafuckas! You set me up, Jessica!” Supreme barked as I desperately hoped for some air.
“Supreme, drop your weapon and let her go!”
“Fuck you!” Supreme shouted.
“Supreme, look outside, you see all of those agents and officers?” the agent who was aiming his gun at Supreme asked.
Little did Supreme know that that was one of the oldest hostage-situation techniques in the book. The question was designed to distract Supreme for split second and it worked.
I could feel Supreme’s grip on me loosen just a bit as he focused his attention on the police activity taking place on the runway.
Boom!
The gun blast was deafening as Supreme and I both fell to the ground. Fortunately for me I was still breathing and I hadn’t been hit by the slug from the agent’s .357 Magnum. Supreme wasn’t as lucky. He had been hit right between the eyes.
“Jessica, are you okay?” my fellow agents asked.
“I�
�m shook up a bit but I’m okay. I didn’t get hit,” I said.
Instantly the plane was raided by federal agents. The agent who shot Supreme felt horrible after it was quickly determined that Supreme had just been bluffing. He never had a gun in his hand. All he had was a cell phone which lay next to his lifeless body.
“You had to take the shot,” the female agent, Dawn, assured our fellow agent as Supreme’s crew was being handcuffed and hauled off the plane.
As I rubbed my throat I tried to get the blood circulating in that area of my body. I walked over to Supreme and shook my head. He had a gaping hole in his forehead but the lack of blood that flowed from the wound proved that he died instantly.
I stared at Supreme’s lifeless body and wished that what I was witnessing wasn’t true. Unfortunately it was. Supreme was dead, Horse was dead, and Gun Clap Records would probably suffer the same fate.
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that the White Chocolate investigation would have taken the twists and turns that it did. And never in a million years would I have predicted the collision course that the investigation took.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I stayed in St. Louis for two full days in order to sort things out with the St. Louis office. The fact remained that Supreme had been shot dead by the FBI and he had no weapon on him. There had been mounting momentum in New York about “hip-hop police” waging war against the hip-hop community. So part of my two-day stay in St. Louis was spent in closed-door sessions where we repeatedly went over the details of the shooting and what prompted it. This way everybody would be delivering the exact same well-rehearsed details about the shooting.
* * *
When my stay in St. Louis was over I boarded a government plane and made my way back to New York. The New York office, along with the FBI headquarters, wanted to quickly shape the public’s perception of the White Chocolate investigation. When I arrived in New York I was immediately whisked to numerous press conferences that were held to praise the success of the investigation. Each press conference was carefully orchestrated to build and create a celebrity status for me. We felt that my new “celebrity status” would be the only smokescreen that we could use and we definitely needed a smokescreen when you consider that Horse had been killed with an FBI-issued handgun and Supreme had also been killed by an FBI agent. Regardless of what the facts were, people are people and we didn’t want it to seem like the government had murdered the black targets of their investigation before letting them get their due process, while the white targets in the Mafia had not been murdered.
