The Hip Hop Murderer. Dwayne Bowen

      Introduction

      From the streets of the South Bronx, where hip hop originated, to the local streets of Southern and Northern New Jersey, music has come a long way. We all know hip hop to be just that...hip music that makes you want to hop out of your seat and move something. With the moves came decades of break dancing, popping and locking, and the slick-talking raps. We remember the type of raps we used to hear back in the day when artists would talk about needing love, cracking on each other's threads, and partying and having a good time—otherwise known as the good ol' days of hip hop.

      Now it's all about bitches and hoes and who's got more booty in their pants. We've strayed so far away from the origin of hip hop that today's generation thinks it's okay to call women bitches and hoes. Furthermore, they've grown accustomed to exploiting women, selling drugs, and being in gangs. Since when did going to jail become the new fad of hip hop music? And, since when did disrespecting authority figures become so cool? All because it's being glorified so much in today's Hip Hop music videos.

      While most of us are unconsciously bopping to a hot track, the words are almost always degrading, full of rage and down-right disrespectful. But we don't realize any of these things until we have kids of our own and we hear them repeating the lyrics to the hot new hip hop artist who likes to talk about getting high, having promiscuous sex and putting as much money in the bank as possible. Being in a gang is also the way to go if you're an up-and-coming artist looking to take an exclusive trip to stardom...so you think.

      With all of this gang-banging and violence going on, someone has to take the blame for the many deaths and ruined lives of our youngsters today.

      Joseph Baskerville of Rahway, New Jersey has twin boys, one of which happens to be heavily into hip hop music. Now Joe is from the old school of rap, where they'd talk about needing love and getting funky with it. Not busting shots and gyrating women in the clubs like they were having sex on the dance floor. Since coming home from the army, Joe has noticed how much his son Bryan has changed—and continues to change—when he listens to rap music. From being disrespectful to his mother, Leslie, to talking obnoxiously loud and blasting his music with no regards for anyone else.

      After watching his best friend, Bruce, bury his only child because of a hip hop concert gone bad, Joe is fed up and decides to take matters into his own hands. The way he sees it, someone is going to pay for what happened to his friend's kid...and for what is happening to his own son.

      Chapter 1

      The Funeral

      The church is overwhelmed with sadness and grief—from Bryson's high school friends to his mother, Lisa, crying aloud in Bruce's arms. The preacher takes time out of his sermon to address the congregation about how violence and hip hop music are corrupting the minds of our children.

      "Our men and young boys such as Bryson are being taken away from us by this hip hop music with words that can be so hard-core and brutally descriptive. What can our kids possibly learn from lyrics telling them how to get high, or drunk, or how easy it is to kill someone in cold blood?"

      The congregation listens attentively as the pastor continues. "I ask the young people here today to respond with a show of hands. How many of you knew young Bryson personally and have been around him to experience his personality?"

      Ninety-five percent of the congregation raises their hands. "Look around and observe the amount of people here raising their hands. Now, I've been around Bryson myself, and not once did he strike me as a troublesome kid. He was always laughing and smiling and enjoying life. But all it took was one night of innocent fun."

      With a dramatic pause and a piercing look, the pastor walks down the stairs toward Bryson's casket.

      "Just like Biggie and 2-Pac, someone knows who killed young Bryson! Stop letting this music get into your head and take away the only thing that's truly priceless..."

      The pastor pauses again and points to the congregation with such conviction that he closes his eyes, "...your life!"

      As the people in the pews praise him with 'Amen's' and 'praise the lord's', Lisa is crying so hard and loud that the organ is a mere whisper compared to her wailing.

      Sitting in the same pew as Bryson's parents, it was difficult for Joe's eyes to connect with them as tears of anguish and anger streamed down his face. The only thing going through his head was that someone was going to pay for every tear that Bruce and his wife shed.

      Suddenly, Lisa yells out, "Why my baby, Lord...why my son?!"

      Almost as an answer to her question, a young, teenage girl started making her way up to the casket, yelling and screaming, "No, Bryson, no...please come back!"

      Just then, Bruce looked over at Joe with surprised eyes as he wondered who this girl was and why she was making such a scene. The more Lisa yelled, the more the young lady yelled in return, dropping to her knees in the aisle before one of her friends picked her up and pulled her back.

      In closing, the pastor put his hand on Lisa's head to calm her and then walked back up to the podium. He then raised his hands, calling the pallbearers to the front of the church. In the army, Joe had mastered being a pallbearer for fallen soldiers, but nothing could've prepared him for the burial of his best friend's only son. As Joe stood up in front of the church and the funeral home director placed the flowers neatly onto the casket, he dreaded the walk down the aisle of the church.

      He took a deep breath and tried to keep it together. No amount of military training could keep his tears from coming down. Walking directly behind him, he could hear Lisa's outcries as she searched for reason; begging and pleading for an answer from God himself.

      Before

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