Saturday, November 13, 2004
Accused Murderer Denies Las Vegas Killing
Accused Murderer Denies Killing Former Casino Exec for Fortune in Buried Silver
The Associated Press
Nov. 13, 2004 - A former stripper's secret lover turned to jurors and declared without hesitation that he had nothing to do with the death of a one-time casino executive for a piece of a million-dollar estate and a fortune in buried silver.
"Absolutely, unequivocally not," Rick Tabish said Friday, as he locked eyes with several members of the jury. "I did not kill Ted Binion."
The dramatic opening to nearly five hours of testimony Friday was a departure from the first murder trial in which defense attorneys did not put Tabish on the witness stand.
Tabish and Binion's live-in girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, are being retried after the Nevada Supreme Court tossed out their 2000 murder convictions on appeal.
Hoping to counter prosecution claims that Tabish, a 39-year-old Montana contractor, was an ambitious schemer out to steal Binion's millions, defense lawyer J. Tony Serra tried to humanize his client. Serra first asked him questions about his childhood in Montana and the many businesses he owned and operated.
Tabish testified about the friendship he formed with Binion, whom he described as eccentric and occasionally paranoid. Tabish also talked about the romance that blossomed with Murphy, 32, as Binion battled alcohol and heroin.
"Sandy was really guarded with me," Tabish said, adding that she was wary because people frequently tried to get money from Binion. "Sandy and I didn't hit it off very well in the beginning."
But over time their relationship changed, Tabish said.
"I became close to her. I had my problems, and she had hers," Tabish said. "We had each other."
Tabish said he and Binion became fast friends after meeting in 1998 and he later helped Binion with a number of projects, including building an underground vault to hold Binion's estimated $8 million fortune in silver bars and coins.
Tabish also detailed Binion's self-destruction in the months before his death in September 1998. He said Binion was distraught after losing his gambling license and began using heroin again.
"He felt like he let his dad (legendary casino owner Benny Binion) down," Tabish said. "He was in a rut."
Tabish said he was not at Binion's home on the day the gambler was found dead with a bottle of antidepressants by his side. Forensic specialists have testified for the defense that Binion's death was an accidental overdose.
Prosecutors contend Tabish and Murphy forced Binion to ingest lethal levels of heroin and Xanax before suffocating him.
Tabish said Binion had ordered him to dig up silver from the underground vault if Binion died to keep the fortune out of Binion's ex-wife's control and to ensure it was safeguarded for Binion's daughter.
To make sure no one thought he was stealing the silver, Tabish said he called the sheriff and told him about his plans.
"It wasn't any secret," Tabish said. "I was not out there trying to steal the silver."
Prosecutors contend Tabish was trying to pre-empt suspicion and planned to split the money with Murphy.
Tabish was expected to return to the stand Monday. Closing arguments were expected to begin sometime next week, with the jury beginning deliberations soon after.
Although Murphy is free on bail, Tabish remains in prison, serving two consecutive sentences of 1 1/2 to 10 years for extortion. That charge was part of the first trial and was partly the reason the pair's convictions were overturned.
Justices determined the extortion charges should have been the subject of a separate trial and said evidence in that case unfairly prejudiced the jury against Murphy.
If convicted a second time, the pair face a maximum sentence of life in prison with the possibility of parole.
Copyright 2004 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Copyright © 2004 ABC News Internet Ventures
Accused Murderer Denies Killing Former Casino Exec for Fortune in Buried Silver
The Associated Press
Nov. 13, 2004 - A former stripper's secret lover turned to jurors and declared without hesitation that he had nothing to do with the death of a one-time casino executive for a piece of a million-dollar estate and a fortune in buried silver.
"Absolutely, unequivocally not," Rick Tabish said Friday, as he locked eyes with several members of the jury. "I did not kill Ted Binion."
The dramatic opening to nearly five hours of testimony Friday was a departure from the first murder trial in which defense attorneys did not put Tabish on the witness stand.
Tabish and Binion's live-in girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, are being retried after the Nevada Supreme Court tossed out their 2000 murder convictions on appeal.
Hoping to counter prosecution claims that Tabish, a 39-year-old Montana contractor, was an ambitious schemer out to steal Binion's millions, defense lawyer J. Tony Serra tried to humanize his client. Serra first asked him questions about his childhood in Montana and the many businesses he owned and operated.
Tabish testified about the friendship he formed with Binion, whom he described as eccentric and occasionally paranoid. Tabish also talked about the romance that blossomed with Murphy, 32, as Binion battled alcohol and heroin.
"Sandy was really guarded with me," Tabish said, adding that she was wary because people frequently tried to get money from Binion. "Sandy and I didn't hit it off very well in the beginning."
But over time their relationship changed, Tabish said.
"I became close to her. I had my problems, and she had hers," Tabish said. "We had each other."
Tabish said he and Binion became fast friends after meeting in 1998 and he later helped Binion with a number of projects, including building an underground vault to hold Binion's estimated $8 million fortune in silver bars and coins.
Tabish also detailed Binion's self-destruction in the months before his death in September 1998. He said Binion was distraught after losing his gambling license and began using heroin again.
"He felt like he let his dad (legendary casino owner Benny Binion) down," Tabish said. "He was in a rut."
Tabish said he was not at Binion's home on the day the gambler was found dead with a bottle of antidepressants by his side. Forensic specialists have testified for the defense that Binion's death was an accidental overdose.
Prosecutors contend Tabish and Murphy forced Binion to ingest lethal levels of heroin and Xanax before suffocating him.
Tabish said Binion had ordered him to dig up silver from the underground vault if Binion died to keep the fortune out of Binion's ex-wife's control and to ensure it was safeguarded for Binion's daughter.
To make sure no one thought he was stealing the silver, Tabish said he called the sheriff and told him about his plans.
"It wasn't any secret," Tabish said. "I was not out there trying to steal the silver."
Prosecutors contend Tabish was trying to pre-empt suspicion and planned to split the money with Murphy.
Tabish was expected to return to the stand Monday. Closing arguments were expected to begin sometime next week, with the jury beginning deliberations soon after.
Although Murphy is free on bail, Tabish remains in prison, serving two consecutive sentences of 1 1/2 to 10 years for extortion. That charge was part of the first trial and was partly the reason the pair's convictions were overturned.
Justices determined the extortion charges should have been the subject of a separate trial and said evidence in that case unfairly prejudiced the jury against Murphy.
If convicted a second time, the pair face a maximum sentence of life in prison with the possibility of parole.
Copyright 2004 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Copyright © 2004 ABC News Internet Ventures
Contractor denies role in Las Vegas millionaire's killing
By CHRISTINA ALMEIDA, Associated Press Writer
(Updated Saturday, November 13, 2004, 5:03 AM)
E-mail This Article
Printer-Friendly Format
Receive the Daily Bulletin
Subscribe to Print
Join a Forum
'user_data:ibox' -->LAS VEGAS (AP) - A former stripper's secret lover turned to jurors and declared without hesitation that he had nothing to do with the death of a one-time casino executive for a piece of a million-dollar estate and a fortune in buried silver.
"Absolutely, unequivocally not," Rick Tabish said Friday, as he locked eyes with several members of the jury. "I did not kill Ted Binion."
The dramatic opening to nearly five hours of testimony Friday was a departure from the first murder trial in which defense attorneys did not put Tabish on the witness stand.
Tabish and Binion's live-in girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, are being retried after the Nevada Supreme Court tossed out their 2000 murder convictions on appeal.
Hoping to counter prosecution claims that Tabish, a 39-year-old Montana contractor, was an ambitious schemer out to steal Binion's millions, defense lawyer J. Tony Serra tried to humanize his client. Serra first asked him questions about his childhood in Montana and the many businesses he owned and operated. Tabish testified about the friendship he formed with Binion, whom he described as eccentric and occasionally paranoid. Tabish also talked about the romance that blossomed with Murphy, 32, as Binion battled alcohol and heroin.
"Sandy was really guarded with me," Tabish said, adding that she was wary because people frequently tried to get money from Binion. "Sandy and I didn't hit it off very well in the beginning."
But over time their relationship changed, Tabish said.
"I became close to her. I had my problems, and she had hers," Tabish said. "We had each other."
Tabish said he and Binion became fast friends after meeting in 1998 and he later helped Binion with a number of projects, including building an underground vault to hold Binion's estimated $8 million fortune in silver bars and coins.
Tabish also detailed Binion's self-destruction in the months before his death in September 1998. He said Binion was distraught after losing his gambling license and began using heroin again.
"He felt like he let his dad (legendary casino owner Benny Binion) down," Tabish said. "He was in a rut."
Tabish said he was not at Binion's home on the day the gambler was found dead with a bottle of antidepressants by his side. Forensic specialists have testified for the defense that Binion's death was an accidental overdose.
Prosecutors contend Tabish and Murphy forced Binion to ingest lethal levels of heroin and Xanax before suffocating him.
Tabish said Binion had ordered him to dig up silver from the underground vault if Binion died to keep the fortune out of Binion's ex-wife's control and to ensure it was safeguarded for Binion's daughter.
To make sure no one thought he was stealing the silver, Tabish said he called the sheriff and told him about his plans.
"It wasn't any secret," Tabish said. "I was not out there trying to steal the silver."
Prosecutors contend Tabish was trying to pre-empt suspicion and planned to split the money with Murphy.
Tabish was expected to return to the stand Monday. Closing arguments were expected to begin sometime next week, with the jury beginning deliberations soon after.
Although Murphy is free on bail, Tabish remains in prison, serving two consecutive sentences of 1 1/2 to 10 years for extortion. That charge was part of the first trial and was partly the reason the pair's convictions were overturned.
Justices determined the extortion charges should have been the subject of a separate trial and said evidence in that case unfairly prejudiced the jury against Murphy.
If convicted a second time, the pair face a maximum sentence of life in prison with the possibility of parole.
By CHRISTINA ALMEIDA, Associated Press Writer
(Updated Saturday, November 13, 2004, 5:03 AM)
E-mail This Article
Printer-Friendly Format
Receive the Daily Bulletin
Subscribe to Print
Join a Forum
'user_data:ibox' -->LAS VEGAS (AP) - A former stripper's secret lover turned to jurors and declared without hesitation that he had nothing to do with the death of a one-time casino executive for a piece of a million-dollar estate and a fortune in buried silver.
"Absolutely, unequivocally not," Rick Tabish said Friday, as he locked eyes with several members of the jury. "I did not kill Ted Binion."
The dramatic opening to nearly five hours of testimony Friday was a departure from the first murder trial in which defense attorneys did not put Tabish on the witness stand.
Tabish and Binion's live-in girlfriend, Sandy Murphy, are being retried after the Nevada Supreme Court tossed out their 2000 murder convictions on appeal.
Hoping to counter prosecution claims that Tabish, a 39-year-old Montana contractor, was an ambitious schemer out to steal Binion's millions, defense lawyer J. Tony Serra tried to humanize his client. Serra first asked him questions about his childhood in Montana and the many businesses he owned and operated. Tabish testified about the friendship he formed with Binion, whom he described as eccentric and occasionally paranoid. Tabish also talked about the romance that blossomed with Murphy, 32, as Binion battled alcohol and heroin.
"Sandy was really guarded with me," Tabish said, adding that she was wary because people frequently tried to get money from Binion. "Sandy and I didn't hit it off very well in the beginning."
But over time their relationship changed, Tabish said.
"I became close to her. I had my problems, and she had hers," Tabish said. "We had each other."
Tabish said he and Binion became fast friends after meeting in 1998 and he later helped Binion with a number of projects, including building an underground vault to hold Binion's estimated $8 million fortune in silver bars and coins.
Tabish also detailed Binion's self-destruction in the months before his death in September 1998. He said Binion was distraught after losing his gambling license and began using heroin again.
"He felt like he let his dad (legendary casino owner Benny Binion) down," Tabish said. "He was in a rut."
Tabish said he was not at Binion's home on the day the gambler was found dead with a bottle of antidepressants by his side. Forensic specialists have testified for the defense that Binion's death was an accidental overdose.
Prosecutors contend Tabish and Murphy forced Binion to ingest lethal levels of heroin and Xanax before suffocating him.
Tabish said Binion had ordered him to dig up silver from the underground vault if Binion died to keep the fortune out of Binion's ex-wife's control and to ensure it was safeguarded for Binion's daughter.
To make sure no one thought he was stealing the silver, Tabish said he called the sheriff and told him about his plans.
"It wasn't any secret," Tabish said. "I was not out there trying to steal the silver."
Prosecutors contend Tabish was trying to pre-empt suspicion and planned to split the money with Murphy.
Tabish was expected to return to the stand Monday. Closing arguments were expected to begin sometime next week, with the jury beginning deliberations soon after.
Although Murphy is free on bail, Tabish remains in prison, serving two consecutive sentences of 1 1/2 to 10 years for extortion. That charge was part of the first trial and was partly the reason the pair's convictions were overturned.
Justices determined the extortion charges should have been the subject of a separate trial and said evidence in that case unfairly prejudiced the jury against Murphy.
If convicted a second time, the pair face a maximum sentence of life in prison with the possibility of parole.
webheadNullsoft, 1997-2004AOL kills off the last maverick tech company.By Paul BoutinPosted Friday, Nov. 12, 2004, at 3:04 PM PT
When America Online purged its tiny Nullsoft branch of all but three employees this week, it lost arguably the most prolific division of the company. Not that you could really blame AOL for the mass layoffs—all of Nullsoft's projects were spitballs tossed at the honchos upstairs. Before the AOL days, Nullsoft founder Justin Frankel and his team of whiz kids practically invented the MP3 craze when they rolled out their Winamp player and Shoutcast server. When AOL paid millions to buy the then-20-year-old Frankel's services in 1999, he used his new gig to become what Rolling Stone called "the Net's No. 1 punk."
From his AOL office, Frankel posted applications (without his corporate parent's permission) that made screwing the Recording Industry Association of America easier than ever, including the peer-to-peer program Gnutella and the covert file-sharing system WASTE. Frankel quit at the beginning of this year, and Nullsoft's shutdown nails the coffin lid shut. There'll be no more cool pirate tools underwritten by America Online.
What kind of snot-nosed brat takes millions from AOL and then publishes software perfect for ripping off Time Warner's entire catalog? Frankel, a grunge-dressing slacker from Sedona, Ariz., was a teenage college dropout in 1997 when he wrote Winamp, the first program that made playing MP3s on a PC point-and-click simple. He's not the world's greatest programmer, but Frankel has a knack for finding simple and clever solutions to huge engineering problems. While he's got a prankster's streak—one of his high-school hacks was a keystroke logger for the teachers' computers—Frankel didn't write Winamp so he could steal music. All he wanted was a better way to listen to music on his PC. Apparently, so did several million other people.
As the shareware checks for Winamp piled up, Frankel kept hacking. While big software companies elephant-walked in circles trying to develop online music distribution systems, he created Shoutcast, an MP3 server that streams music over the Net. Winamp and Shoutcast became the default way to play, drawing tens of millions of fans in less than two years. That's when AOL rewarded Frankel by buying Nullsoft for $100 million in 1999.
Lots of geeks who couldn't make it through engineering school became multimillionaires in the boom. But Frankel remained an unreconstructed kid in a field of hackers-turned-entrepreneurs. Like Kurt Cobain, he used his money to challenge the people who gave it to him. As AOL was merging with Time Warner in March 2000, Frankel published Gnutella, a peer-to-peer file-sharing system that addressed the fatal flaw in Shawn Fanning's Napster. Fanning relied on a bank of central servers that would eventually be shut down by record industry lawyers. Gnutella, by contrast, was completely decentralized. The only way to shut it down would be to go after every single user.
When Frankel posted Gnutella on Nullsoft's site it came with a cheeky, half-apologetic note: "See? AOL can bring you good things!" AOL was not amused; they had him remove the program immediately and disclaimed it as an unauthorized side project. But Gnutella had already been spread around the Net and reverse-engineered by eager programmers who set to work improving Frankel's gift. Years after Napster's servers went dark, Gnutella traffic is still growing.
For most people, flipping off the man once would be enough, but Frankel kept at it for years—he even posted a tool that removed the ads from AOL Instant Messenger. Finally, in mid-2003, as the RIAA was preparing lawsuits against random Gnutella users, Frankel concocted a counterstrike: WASTE, a private file-sharing system whose traffic is encrypted from prying eyes and whose networks are invitation only. (The name comes from the underground postal system in Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49.) If snoops can't see what WASTE users are sharing and RIAA stoolies can't hop onto the network to lure copyright violators, there's no way to gather evidence of copyright infringement short of raiding homes and seizing computers.
Frankel told Rolling Stone that he tried to persuade AOL to release WASTE themselves as a way to revive their fast-falling customer base. When they rebuffed him, he released the program on the fourth anniversary of AOL's acquisition of Nullsoft—May 28, 2003—as a means of confronting the company. Again, AOL took the program down and disowned it. Not long after spilling his guts to Rolling Stone, Frankel resigned. "For me, coding is a form of self-expression," he explained in a blog post that he would later remove. "The company controls the most effective means of self-expression I have. This is unacceptable to me as an individual, therefore I must leave."
With Nullsoft gone and Frankel spending his time building a special-effects computer for his electric guitar, the old Winamp/Gnutella gang probably won't get back together for one more hit. Conventional wisdom says Frankel is more likely to join the millionaire has-beens who dot the hills in my San Francisco neighborhood or become a trophy hire at a tech startup, like contemporaries Fanning, Marc Andreessen, and Linus Torvalds.
But I wouldn't count him out yet. Most dot-com heroes come across as self-promoting one-hit wonders, but Frankel does his best work when you try to shut him up. It's happening again: In August, federal agents raided five homes and an ISP where they had managed to track down WASTE-like private networks. Having successively hacked his way around the limitations of CDs, MP3s, Napster, and the RIAA, Frankel may next try to find a way to thwart the FBI. As he's proven over and over, he doesn't need AOL's backing to do it.Paul Boutin is a Silicon Valley writer who spent 15 years as a software engineer and manager.Article URL: http://slate.msn.com/id/2109615/
When America Online purged its tiny Nullsoft branch of all but three employees this week, it lost arguably the most prolific division of the company. Not that you could really blame AOL for the mass layoffs—all of Nullsoft's projects were spitballs tossed at the honchos upstairs. Before the AOL days, Nullsoft founder Justin Frankel and his team of whiz kids practically invented the MP3 craze when they rolled out their Winamp player and Shoutcast server. When AOL paid millions to buy the then-20-year-old Frankel's services in 1999, he used his new gig to become what Rolling Stone called "the Net's No. 1 punk."
From his AOL office, Frankel posted applications (without his corporate parent's permission) that made screwing the Recording Industry Association of America easier than ever, including the peer-to-peer program Gnutella and the covert file-sharing system WASTE. Frankel quit at the beginning of this year, and Nullsoft's shutdown nails the coffin lid shut. There'll be no more cool pirate tools underwritten by America Online.
What kind of snot-nosed brat takes millions from AOL and then publishes software perfect for ripping off Time Warner's entire catalog? Frankel, a grunge-dressing slacker from Sedona, Ariz., was a teenage college dropout in 1997 when he wrote Winamp, the first program that made playing MP3s on a PC point-and-click simple. He's not the world's greatest programmer, but Frankel has a knack for finding simple and clever solutions to huge engineering problems. While he's got a prankster's streak—one of his high-school hacks was a keystroke logger for the teachers' computers—Frankel didn't write Winamp so he could steal music. All he wanted was a better way to listen to music on his PC. Apparently, so did several million other people.
As the shareware checks for Winamp piled up, Frankel kept hacking. While big software companies elephant-walked in circles trying to develop online music distribution systems, he created Shoutcast, an MP3 server that streams music over the Net. Winamp and Shoutcast became the default way to play, drawing tens of millions of fans in less than two years. That's when AOL rewarded Frankel by buying Nullsoft for $100 million in 1999.
Lots of geeks who couldn't make it through engineering school became multimillionaires in the boom. But Frankel remained an unreconstructed kid in a field of hackers-turned-entrepreneurs. Like Kurt Cobain, he used his money to challenge the people who gave it to him. As AOL was merging with Time Warner in March 2000, Frankel published Gnutella, a peer-to-peer file-sharing system that addressed the fatal flaw in Shawn Fanning's Napster. Fanning relied on a bank of central servers that would eventually be shut down by record industry lawyers. Gnutella, by contrast, was completely decentralized. The only way to shut it down would be to go after every single user.
When Frankel posted Gnutella on Nullsoft's site it came with a cheeky, half-apologetic note: "See? AOL can bring you good things!" AOL was not amused; they had him remove the program immediately and disclaimed it as an unauthorized side project. But Gnutella had already been spread around the Net and reverse-engineered by eager programmers who set to work improving Frankel's gift. Years after Napster's servers went dark, Gnutella traffic is still growing.
For most people, flipping off the man once would be enough, but Frankel kept at it for years—he even posted a tool that removed the ads from AOL Instant Messenger. Finally, in mid-2003, as the RIAA was preparing lawsuits against random Gnutella users, Frankel concocted a counterstrike: WASTE, a private file-sharing system whose traffic is encrypted from prying eyes and whose networks are invitation only. (The name comes from the underground postal system in Thomas Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49.) If snoops can't see what WASTE users are sharing and RIAA stoolies can't hop onto the network to lure copyright violators, there's no way to gather evidence of copyright infringement short of raiding homes and seizing computers.
Frankel told Rolling Stone that he tried to persuade AOL to release WASTE themselves as a way to revive their fast-falling customer base. When they rebuffed him, he released the program on the fourth anniversary of AOL's acquisition of Nullsoft—May 28, 2003—as a means of confronting the company. Again, AOL took the program down and disowned it. Not long after spilling his guts to Rolling Stone, Frankel resigned. "For me, coding is a form of self-expression," he explained in a blog post that he would later remove. "The company controls the most effective means of self-expression I have. This is unacceptable to me as an individual, therefore I must leave."
With Nullsoft gone and Frankel spending his time building a special-effects computer for his electric guitar, the old Winamp/Gnutella gang probably won't get back together for one more hit. Conventional wisdom says Frankel is more likely to join the millionaire has-beens who dot the hills in my San Francisco neighborhood or become a trophy hire at a tech startup, like contemporaries Fanning, Marc Andreessen, and Linus Torvalds.
But I wouldn't count him out yet. Most dot-com heroes come across as self-promoting one-hit wonders, but Frankel does his best work when you try to shut him up. It's happening again: In August, federal agents raided five homes and an ISP where they had managed to track down WASTE-like private networks. Having successively hacked his way around the limitations of CDs, MP3s, Napster, and the RIAA, Frankel may next try to find a way to thwart the FBI. As he's proven over and over, he doesn't need AOL's backing to do it.Paul Boutin is a Silicon Valley writer who spent 15 years as a software engineer and manager.Article URL: http://slate.msn.com/id/2109615/
cultureboxWhen Entourages AttackThe Slate guide to managing your posse.By Josh LevinPosted Friday, Nov. 12, 2004, at 3:56 PM PT
Jay-Z has the stuff of hip-hop dreams: A megabucks tour, a No. 1 album, a hagiographic concert film, and designs on a corner office at Def Jam. He also has the one thing no rapper has to dream about: an enraged entourage. One month into the "Best of Both Worlds" tour, a Jay-Z associate named Tyran "Ty Ty" Smith allegedly spritzed Jay's co-headliner R. Kelly and members of the R. entourage with pepper spray. Jay kicked R. off the bill; R. filed a $90 million lawsuit.
Could this dust-up be bad for Jay-Z? Are there consequences for a rapper when his entourage acts up? While Kelly's lawsuit claims "Ty-Ty acted on instructions and authorization from Jay-Z," hip-hop case law holds that no rapper is his entourage's keeper. If rappers had to give out $90 million every time their entourages misbehaved, the small-time record execs and club owners entourages typically prey on would dominate Forbes' list of the world's richest people.
Every rapper has an entourage. These days, even the entourages have entourages: Eminem's posse D12 is known to travel with a 40-man posse of its own. And even the most inoffensive, old-person-friendly rappers can have violent hangers-on. Will Smith's bodyguard allegedly punched a record promoter in the face in 1989, allegedly at the Fresh Prince's behest. (The charges were later dropped.) A few years later, three members of MC Hammer's posse claimed they were the victims of a drive-by shooting. Witnesses countered that it was yet another member of the 35-man entourage who actually pulled the trigger. (In the end, no charges were filed.)
Sometimes, an angry posse can get its leader sent to jail. But just as often, the fury of an entourage can transform a no-account, wannabe rapper into a superstar. Since Slate is extraordinarily popular with the entourage-having-rapper demographic, we've compiled a list of entourage best practices: tips on how to make your entourage's violent impulses work for you. Maybe you'll never get your security team to teach underprivileged kids how to read, but with a little know-how and planning, you can at least stay out of the clink.
Entourages can vary wildly in shape, size, and composition, but must include at least one driver, several bodyguards, and a few lesser-known rappers. Hammer's three wounded associates—a bodyguard, a member of a backing group called the Homeboy Choir, and a representative of tour sponsor Kentucky Fried Chicken—are a good representative group. Women (Lil' Kim, and to a lesser extent Foxy Brown) sometimes have entourages, but cannot be in an entourage. Sorry, ladies.
Your entourage will also most likely include a couple of guys whose duties are completely unknown, even to themselves. Take Jay-Z's buddy Ty Ty, who has been described in recent press accounts as a "partner," "a former executive," a "well-known associate," and a "right-hand man." Keep your eye on the floater. One thing we do know about Ty Ty: He was on the scene when Jay-Z and his bodyguard were arrested and charged with third-degree gun possession in 2001.
Not that you should get too riled up when your bodyguard gets arrested on weapons charges. It happened to Jay-Z and Snoop Dogg and 50 Cent, and look what became of them. The main consequence of having your bodyguard arrested is that people realize you have a bodyguard. Once people realize you have a bodyguard, they will assume that you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar who requires constant protection from jealous haters. Once enough people assume you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar, then you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar. And don't worry if you get pinched on the weapons charge, too. If you're so inclined, you can, like Fabolous, try to win some sympathy by threatening to sue for false arrest. If you're trying to win sympathy, though, be sure to send out an all-entourage memo. It won't help your case if your bodyguard allegedly bodyslams a DJ named Golden Girl. Just ask Fabolous.
Entourages usually have good intentions—they want to pick fights to defend your honor, which can be impugned at any time or place. You can't expect your entourage to take a joke. When will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas had his bandmates arrested on the MTV prank show Punk'd, the entourage wasn't laughing. One BEP adjunct punched a pretend cop in the jaw; another tackled an actor into a swimming pool.
Obviously, there will be moments when you won't care to have your honor defended. If you want to predict when your entourage will start a fight, you have to keep an eye on your surroundings. Natural light tends to have a calming effect on the entourage, which can become agitated and restless at night. After the lights go out, it's best to keep your posse away from concerts, nightclubs, recording studios, and award shows—especially award shows—if you want to have a quiet evening. Angry entourages are frequently spotted near limousines and SUVs, but it is unclear whether the vehicles themselves are responsible for entourage rage, since entourages are rarely found in other automotive habitats.
There are some places where no entourage-related violence has yet been reported—arboretums, rodeos, ice cream parlors, the Body Shop—but the entourage's volatile nature makes location-based predictions of misbehavior unreliable. Coolio's posse once allegedly walked out of a German boutique without paying for bushels of clothing. R. Kelly and his five-man entourage allegedly gave a beatdown to a basketball player in a Lafayette, La., health club. And according to the Kitchener-Waterloo Record, an unidentified "fellow in a Naughty By Nature Jacket" who was part of the group's 14-man entourage "threw a pile of newspapers at [an Ontario motel employee], spit in her face and, heading for the door, screamed 'ENJOY OUR SHOW!' "
It's usually not a big deal when your entourage slaps, beats, berates, or pepper-sprays a motel employee, record producer, or R&B crooner. (Official Slate prediction: Ty Ty, who was charged with third-degree assault today, will only get probation.) In 2001, rap-group-cum-entourage D12 got a bit of bad press when its 40 "friends and associates" allegedly beat fellow Detroit rapper Esham so badly that he got a ruptured eyeball. The only consequence: They got kicked off the Warped Tour. (But so did the guy with the ruptured eyeball.) P. Diddy was acquitted this year for his role in his entourage's alleged 1999 beatdown of a talk show host who asked a question that Puffy didn't like. The Diddy defense, according to the AP: His "busy schedule made it hard for him to pin down the incident." Translation: My entourage made so much mischief today that I can't possibly remember what they did to some guy five years ago.
Entourage-on-man violence will probably go unpunished. But an entourage-on-entourage rumble can be a disaster. When Lil' Kim's entourage (loosely affiliated with the group Junior M.A.F.I.A.) ran into Foxy Brown's entourage (loosely affiliated with the group Murder Unit) in 2001, tragedy was averted only because they were all such terrible marksmen. The tête-á-tête, which featured a minimum of five guns and 21 shots, ended with one friend of Foxy shot in the back, one Kim bodyguard in prison for 12 years, and Kim holed up in New York while she awaits trial for, among other things, obstruction of justice. (Perjury charges were recently dropped.)
Entourage-on-entourage action often starts because of a perceived "beef" with another rapper. While these feuds don't always escalate into violence (see LL Cool J v. Canibus and Jay-Z v. Nas), sometimes they don't end so well (Kim v. Foxy, Biggie v. Tupac). It's probably safer to pick fights with one of those socially conscious nonviolent rappers like Mos Def or Common. If you want to play it really safe, you should insult socially conscious rappers who were popular 15 years ago like Digable Planets. (Cool like dat, my ass.) Another warning: A Tribe Called Quest might seem suitably innocuous, but Q-Tip once broke a guy's jaw.
If managing an uncouth posse sounds like too much hard work, consider that an entourage crime spree might be the quickest way to earn street cred. 50 Cent, for one, launched his career by bragging that some of his buddies once lifted Ja Rule's jewelry. But street cred doesn't do you much good if you get locked up before you become famous. Little-known P. Diddy associate Jamal "Shyne" Barrow got a $3 million contract from Def Jam after he was sentenced to 10 years for his role in that infamous 1999 nightclub shootout. While Me Against the World debuted at No. 1 while Tupac was in prison, Shyne's Godfather Buried Alive, which consists mostly of pre-incarceration material, has been a commercial disappointment. Despite the obvious obstacles to advancing Shyne's career, Def Jam claims to be undeterred. One exec told the New York Times, "We approach it like he's just in Japan."Josh Levin is a Slate assistant editor. You can e-mail him at sportsnut@slate.com.Article URL: http://slate.msn.com/id/2109619/
Jay-Z has the stuff of hip-hop dreams: A megabucks tour, a No. 1 album, a hagiographic concert film, and designs on a corner office at Def Jam. He also has the one thing no rapper has to dream about: an enraged entourage. One month into the "Best of Both Worlds" tour, a Jay-Z associate named Tyran "Ty Ty" Smith allegedly spritzed Jay's co-headliner R. Kelly and members of the R. entourage with pepper spray. Jay kicked R. off the bill; R. filed a $90 million lawsuit.
Could this dust-up be bad for Jay-Z? Are there consequences for a rapper when his entourage acts up? While Kelly's lawsuit claims "Ty-Ty acted on instructions and authorization from Jay-Z," hip-hop case law holds that no rapper is his entourage's keeper. If rappers had to give out $90 million every time their entourages misbehaved, the small-time record execs and club owners entourages typically prey on would dominate Forbes' list of the world's richest people.
Every rapper has an entourage. These days, even the entourages have entourages: Eminem's posse D12 is known to travel with a 40-man posse of its own. And even the most inoffensive, old-person-friendly rappers can have violent hangers-on. Will Smith's bodyguard allegedly punched a record promoter in the face in 1989, allegedly at the Fresh Prince's behest. (The charges were later dropped.) A few years later, three members of MC Hammer's posse claimed they were the victims of a drive-by shooting. Witnesses countered that it was yet another member of the 35-man entourage who actually pulled the trigger. (In the end, no charges were filed.)
Sometimes, an angry posse can get its leader sent to jail. But just as often, the fury of an entourage can transform a no-account, wannabe rapper into a superstar. Since Slate is extraordinarily popular with the entourage-having-rapper demographic, we've compiled a list of entourage best practices: tips on how to make your entourage's violent impulses work for you. Maybe you'll never get your security team to teach underprivileged kids how to read, but with a little know-how and planning, you can at least stay out of the clink.
Entourages can vary wildly in shape, size, and composition, but must include at least one driver, several bodyguards, and a few lesser-known rappers. Hammer's three wounded associates—a bodyguard, a member of a backing group called the Homeboy Choir, and a representative of tour sponsor Kentucky Fried Chicken—are a good representative group. Women (Lil' Kim, and to a lesser extent Foxy Brown) sometimes have entourages, but cannot be in an entourage. Sorry, ladies.
Your entourage will also most likely include a couple of guys whose duties are completely unknown, even to themselves. Take Jay-Z's buddy Ty Ty, who has been described in recent press accounts as a "partner," "a former executive," a "well-known associate," and a "right-hand man." Keep your eye on the floater. One thing we do know about Ty Ty: He was on the scene when Jay-Z and his bodyguard were arrested and charged with third-degree gun possession in 2001.
Not that you should get too riled up when your bodyguard gets arrested on weapons charges. It happened to Jay-Z and Snoop Dogg and 50 Cent, and look what became of them. The main consequence of having your bodyguard arrested is that people realize you have a bodyguard. Once people realize you have a bodyguard, they will assume that you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar who requires constant protection from jealous haters. Once enough people assume you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar, then you are a rich, famous, and powerful superstar. And don't worry if you get pinched on the weapons charge, too. If you're so inclined, you can, like Fabolous, try to win some sympathy by threatening to sue for false arrest. If you're trying to win sympathy, though, be sure to send out an all-entourage memo. It won't help your case if your bodyguard allegedly bodyslams a DJ named Golden Girl. Just ask Fabolous.
Entourages usually have good intentions—they want to pick fights to defend your honor, which can be impugned at any time or place. You can't expect your entourage to take a joke. When will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas had his bandmates arrested on the MTV prank show Punk'd, the entourage wasn't laughing. One BEP adjunct punched a pretend cop in the jaw; another tackled an actor into a swimming pool.
Obviously, there will be moments when you won't care to have your honor defended. If you want to predict when your entourage will start a fight, you have to keep an eye on your surroundings. Natural light tends to have a calming effect on the entourage, which can become agitated and restless at night. After the lights go out, it's best to keep your posse away from concerts, nightclubs, recording studios, and award shows—especially award shows—if you want to have a quiet evening. Angry entourages are frequently spotted near limousines and SUVs, but it is unclear whether the vehicles themselves are responsible for entourage rage, since entourages are rarely found in other automotive habitats.
There are some places where no entourage-related violence has yet been reported—arboretums, rodeos, ice cream parlors, the Body Shop—but the entourage's volatile nature makes location-based predictions of misbehavior unreliable. Coolio's posse once allegedly walked out of a German boutique without paying for bushels of clothing. R. Kelly and his five-man entourage allegedly gave a beatdown to a basketball player in a Lafayette, La., health club. And according to the Kitchener-Waterloo Record, an unidentified "fellow in a Naughty By Nature Jacket" who was part of the group's 14-man entourage "threw a pile of newspapers at [an Ontario motel employee], spit in her face and, heading for the door, screamed 'ENJOY OUR SHOW!' "
It's usually not a big deal when your entourage slaps, beats, berates, or pepper-sprays a motel employee, record producer, or R&B crooner. (Official Slate prediction: Ty Ty, who was charged with third-degree assault today, will only get probation.) In 2001, rap-group-cum-entourage D12 got a bit of bad press when its 40 "friends and associates" allegedly beat fellow Detroit rapper Esham so badly that he got a ruptured eyeball. The only consequence: They got kicked off the Warped Tour. (But so did the guy with the ruptured eyeball.) P. Diddy was acquitted this year for his role in his entourage's alleged 1999 beatdown of a talk show host who asked a question that Puffy didn't like. The Diddy defense, according to the AP: His "busy schedule made it hard for him to pin down the incident." Translation: My entourage made so much mischief today that I can't possibly remember what they did to some guy five years ago.
Entourage-on-man violence will probably go unpunished. But an entourage-on-entourage rumble can be a disaster. When Lil' Kim's entourage (loosely affiliated with the group Junior M.A.F.I.A.) ran into Foxy Brown's entourage (loosely affiliated with the group Murder Unit) in 2001, tragedy was averted only because they were all such terrible marksmen. The tête-á-tête, which featured a minimum of five guns and 21 shots, ended with one friend of Foxy shot in the back, one Kim bodyguard in prison for 12 years, and Kim holed up in New York while she awaits trial for, among other things, obstruction of justice. (Perjury charges were recently dropped.)
Entourage-on-entourage action often starts because of a perceived "beef" with another rapper. While these feuds don't always escalate into violence (see LL Cool J v. Canibus and Jay-Z v. Nas), sometimes they don't end so well (Kim v. Foxy, Biggie v. Tupac). It's probably safer to pick fights with one of those socially conscious nonviolent rappers like Mos Def or Common. If you want to play it really safe, you should insult socially conscious rappers who were popular 15 years ago like Digable Planets. (Cool like dat, my ass.) Another warning: A Tribe Called Quest might seem suitably innocuous, but Q-Tip once broke a guy's jaw.
If managing an uncouth posse sounds like too much hard work, consider that an entourage crime spree might be the quickest way to earn street cred. 50 Cent, for one, launched his career by bragging that some of his buddies once lifted Ja Rule's jewelry. But street cred doesn't do you much good if you get locked up before you become famous. Little-known P. Diddy associate Jamal "Shyne" Barrow got a $3 million contract from Def Jam after he was sentenced to 10 years for his role in that infamous 1999 nightclub shootout. While Me Against the World debuted at No. 1 while Tupac was in prison, Shyne's Godfather Buried Alive, which consists mostly of pre-incarceration material, has been a commercial disappointment. Despite the obvious obstacles to advancing Shyne's career, Def Jam claims to be undeterred. One exec told the New York Times, "We approach it like he's just in Japan."Josh Levin is a Slate assistant editor. You can e-mail him at sportsnut@slate.com.Article URL: http://slate.msn.com/id/2109619/
