BMF: The Rise and Fall of Big Meech and the Black Mafia Family (38 page)

I don’t even have the chance to ask if he was approached with a similar deal. “They didn’t offer
me
that,” he says, seated comfortably on the ledge opposite a glass partition. “They know that goes against everything I stand for.” One thing does bother him, though: “He had a public defender,” Meech says of Terry, with a laugh, “and he got the same deal I did.”

As for the time he’ll serve, he’s banking on the judge’s mercy. He doesn’t even bring up the possibility of thirty years. “Twenty sounds bad,” he says. “But it’s doable.” As long as he lands in a federal pen near Orlando or Atlanta, he’ll be satisfied. He wants to be close to his friends and family. He wants to keep tabs on the progress of his son Demetrius Jr., the child of a girlfriend he met soon after moving to Atlanta—a woman with whom he maintained ties, despite the demise of their relationship. He also wants to make sure, somehow, that his parents will be okay. “The hardest part about this situation is my kids and my mother and father,” he says. “I just hope to come home before they pass away.”

Then there’s his crew, the guys whom he believes will still stand up for him—even as their cases continue to unfurl in courts across the country. After all, he says, it was Terry’s guys who turned on their boss. Not his. “You can tell, by my close circle, that everybody had the same values,” he says. “No one who was close to me said anything.” He brings up only one of them by name: “It’s not like Bleu went against me.”

No matter how things turn out at sentencing, he doesn’t have much in the way of regrets. “At the end of the day, I had a beautiful life,” he says. “I have a lot of memories. I wouldn’t trade them for nothing.”

In the fall of 2008, all of BMF’s big-time players would see their cases come to close. By that point—with the bosses’ guilty pleas behind them—crew members got a bit more relaxed about cutting deals with the government.

In Atlanta, a parade of BMF affiliates were sentenced in federal court. As the two-day hearing rolled along, it became apparent that of the ten BMF associates, only Deron “D-Shot” Hall had refused to talk to the feds.

Darryl “Poppa” Taylor, the first cousin of New York–based music
mogul Sean “P. Diddy” Combs, provided substantial assistance in the government’s investigation, in exchange for which he received a three-year sentence reduction. Poppa’s superstar attorney, Steve Sadow, told the judge that his client—in addition to info he shared about Terry Flenory—might also be able to offer the government some insight into “activities going on in the Northeast.”

Though he had faced ten years, Papa got seven.

None of the other deals that were cut that day were all that surprising, with one exception: Barima “Bleu DaVinci” McKnight. Bleu was sentenced to five years and four months—a punishment that was reduced, in part, for his willingness to cooperate with the feds.

Assistant U.S. attorney Robert McBurney told the court that Bleu, by debriefing “fully and truthfully” with the government, qualified for a federal “safety valve,” which allows the judge to hand down a sentence that’s lower than the mandatory minimum. By the time Bleu was debriefed, however, the government already had built most of its case against BMF. As Bleu’s lawyer David MacKusick told the court, “He would have liked to cooperate if he could. But unfortunately, he did not really have any useful information.”

A tearful Bleu then told the judge that he got involved in BMF’s record label as a rapper—and took a detour into BMF’s cocaine syndicate. “I didn’t look at them as a big drug ring,” Bleu said. “Demetrius did not show me that part of his world when I met him. I got into a big brother–little brother relationship with this guy. I came to know this man without even knowing the other side of his life. I did get in above my head. He ordered me to stay away from anything illegal that they were doing. And that’s what I did.”

Bleu wasn’t the only rapper tied to BMF whose name came up in federal court that year. During the cocaine-conspiracy trial for Bleu’s codefendant and Meech’s third-in-command, Fleming “Ill” Daniels, another revelation concerning a rapper was made.

One of the witnesses who took the stand against Ill was Ralph “Ralphie” Simms, who’d been a regular at Meech’s stash houses. Ralphie had been indicted the year before in a related federal drug case out of L.A., and he told the jury that in exchange for his truthful testimony against Ill, he hoped to receive a reduced sentence.

Ralphie said his job was to unload BMF’s cocaine from the limos outfitted with secret compartments. He said he piled as many as a hundred bricks at a time in the basement of Space Mountain. And he said that on one occasion, in the fall of 2004, he was ordered by BMF managers Chad “J-Bo” Brown and Martez “Tito” Byrth to set aside multi-kilo shipments for two customers.

When U.S. attorney McBurney asked who those customers were, Ralphie gave two names: William “Doc” Marshall, who’d testified earlier in the trial, and “Jeezy.”

“The musician named Young Jeezy?” McBurney asked.

“Yes,” Simms answered.

Jeezy hasn’t been charged with a crime in relation to Ralphie’s allegation, and the Justice Department declined to comment on whether there’s an open investigation into the rapper. Scott Leemon, the New York–based lawyer who represented Jeezy on weapons charges out of Miami in 2006 (charges that were later dropped), also declined comment.

As for Ill, he was convicted of a cocaine-conspiracy charge and sentenced to twenty years. Meanwhile, the murder case against him—the one stemming from the shooting death in the Velvet Room parking lot of Rashannibal “Prince” Drummond—was repeatedly postponed. Part of the delay had to do with Ill’s lawyer recusing himself from the case—after NFL star Adam “Pacman” Jones, a friend of Ill’s who’d been covering his attorney fees, quit making the payments.

On September 12, 2008, inside a small courtroom on the second floor of the Theodore Levine federal courthouse in downtown
Detroit, an anxious crowd gathered to witness the symbolic end of the government’s investigation into the Black Mafia Family.

One of the bailiffs barked a succinct order. “No outbursts.” A moment later, a team of U.S. marshals escorted into the courtroom a slender man gazing straight ahead through rimless glasses. “That’s your Uncle T,” one of the onlookers, Lucille Flenory, whispered to her grandson, sitting next to her. The bespectacled man, Lucille’s son, was hardly recognizable as he made his way to the defense table. From the time he was locked up three years ago, Terry “Southwest T” Flenory had lost close to a hundred pounds.

Shuffling close behind him, in a matching orange jumpsuit, was Terry’s older brother. Meech’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and the tattooed letters
BMF
peeked above his collar on the left side of his neck. He scanned the courtroom, turned to his supporters, and flashed a wide smile.

With the two Flenory brothers seated in front of him, U.S. District Court Judge Avern Cohn called the sentencing hearing to order. He asked to hear from Terry first. The fallen kingpin spoke in a quiet, steady voice. He said he was sorry he wasted the feds’ time. “I’d like to apologize to the government for my ignorance and for them having to spend countless hours working this case,” he said. “I’d like to apologize to the many families hurt by the result of this ignorance.”

Judge Cohn’s response was sharp: “I think you’re a very lucky man that it took the government this long to build a case against you.” He sentenced Terry to thirty years.

As Terry was cuffed and led out of the courtroom, Meech and his attorneys were asked to approach the bench. They were hopeful that the judge would treat them differently. Meech’s Atlanta-based lawyer, Drew Findling, reminded the judge that Meech had requested a meeting with Terry shortly after Meech decided to enter a guilty plea. During the meeting, Meech advised his brother to do the same—an act that would spare the government a lengthy, expensive trial.

Assistant U.S. attorney Dawn Ison then piped up that Meech shouldn’t be credited for Terry’s contrition. Ison said it wasn’t Meech who persuaded Terry to plea. She said it was Terry’s father, Charles Flenory, who was about to start on a short prison stint of his own.

When it came time for Meech to address the judge, he, too, apologized. “I don’t think ‘I’m sorry’ is really the right words to say, because most people is only sorry they get caught. So I just ask that you show me as much leniency as possible, so that I can get on and do my time.”

The judge quickly gave Meech the same sentence he’d handed Terry: thirty years. Under current law, Meech will be at least sixty-one, and Terry fifty-nine, when they’re released from prison.

“As bad as they wanted me, there was no winning.”
Interview with Demetrius “Big Meech” Flenory, March 4, 2008.

“Everybody moves like brothers.”
Demetrius Flenory, in vol. 8 of DVD magazine
Smack
, January 2005: “Everybody move like brothers, and then everybody is from different places—Milwaukee, St. Louis, Detroit, Texas, Atlanta, Cali. You know what I’m saying? We got people from everywhere in our mob. Everybody move as one.”

“The big one.”
Buckhead resident, quoted in a Nov. 12, 2003,
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
article: “Several years ago, I was talking to detectives and officers and they said there was going to be, quote, ‘the big one.’ This, I guess, you would call a big one.”

Confrontation in the club
.
(a) Atlanta Police Investigator Louis Torres described the incident in an affidavit filed in Fulton County, Ga., Superior Court. (b) A Nov. 13, 2003,
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
article states: “Anthony ‘Wolf ’ Jones confronted his longtime girlfriend because she had arrived with a group of men for ‘hip-hop night’ at Chaos.” (c) According to a May 2006
Vibe
story, “Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems,”
“Wolf staggered through the BMF-heavy crowd inside the club and began chatting up an ex-girlfriend, a stripper who had been partying with Meech that night. When Wolf groped her in full view of the other clubgoers, Meech warned him to back off, and Wolf responded by choking her.” (d) Meech Flenory described the confrontation similarly during a March 2008 interview.

Searching the White House
.
(a)
Affidavit and Application for a Search Warrant for 6086 Belair Lake Drive, Lithonia, Ga.; Return of Search Warrant and Inventory
, Magistrate Court of DeKalb County, No. 03-W-05357. (b)
U.S. v. Terry Flenory, et al
, United States District Court, Eastern District of Michigan, No. 05-CR-80955.

T-Stuck’s storied past
.
U.S. v. Thelmon Stuckey
, United States Court of Appeals for the Sixth District, No. 97-CR-80625.

Calling for backup
.
An account of Anthony “Wolf” Jones’ call to his friend was published in the May 2006 issue of
Vibe
: “Outside Chaos, the humiliated thug called for backup. Minutes later, Lamont Girdy, a boyhood friend from the Bronx, arrived at the scene.”

The witness
. (a) At a Nov. 26, 2003, hearing in Superior Court of Fulton County, Ga., Atlanta Police Investigator J. K. Brown testified that a call from a woman was transferred from 911 to him. (b) According to an affidavit filed in Fulton County Superior Court by Atlanta Police Investigator Torres, “A witness who knows [Flenory] stated that she saw him with a gun, running after Girdy and Jones and shooting at them. Both Girdy and Jones were also shooting.” (c) In a November 2006 interview, Flenory’s attorney, Drew Findling, said of the witness: “There was never a name, [and there was] no evidence that there was anybody accompanying her to corroborate her presence there. The whole thing was just comical.”

The inner workings of XQuisite Empire
.
(a)
U.S. v. William Marshall, et al
, United States District Court, Northern District of Georgia, No. 06-CR-306. (b)
U.S. v. Dionne Beverly, et al
, United States District Court, Northern District of Georgia, No. 07-CR-233.

Melvin and “Playboy” Sparks
.
Melvin Sparks was not charged with a crime in relation to the BMF investigation. His brother, Calvin “Playboy” Sparks, pleaded guilty to misprision of a felony, for falsely denying to federal officers his knowledge of the Flenory brothers’ cocaine enterprise.

Details of the brothers’ formative years
.
(a)
U.S. v. Terry Flenory, et al
, United States District Court, Eastern District of Michigan, No. 05-CR-80955. (b) Interviews with Demetrius Flenory, March 4 and March 5, 2008.

Sin City Mafia’s connection to BMF
.
U.S. v. Tremayne Graham, et al
, United States District Court, District of South Carolina, No. 03-CR-1092.

The race to legitimatize
.
Demetrius Flenory described his aspirations during a March 2008 interview.

“We can do all kinds of things if we start from Bleu DaVinci.”
Meech, as quoted in DVD magazine
The Raw Report
, vol. 2, released in October 2004.