One morning Tivoli residents awoke to an outrage: orange PNP graffiti on their walls. “Ah police dem do it,” a disgusted elderly woman told TV newsmen. All of the murals of Jim Brown and other beloved gunmen have been painted over. Seaga’s murals, however, are left untouched.
TRIAL AND TRIBULATION
On the Afternoon of November 29, Christopher Coke walks into courtroom 24-A of the Daniel Patrick Moynihan United States Courthouse in Lower Manhat- tan. Wearing an orange prison suit, Dudus appears to be just another alien defendant facing the full might of the United States judicial system.
He turns and waves to his supporters, who, on this day, are mostly female, their high arching eye- brows and shiny black wigs conspicuous in the court- room. When the defendant speaks (“Yes, Your Honor”), he does so vigorously and with an almost American accent. U.S. District Judge Robert J. Patterson asks the defense why they need another adjournment. For starters, one of his attorneys explains, they must transcribe thousands of hours of taped conversa- tions collected since February 2007. Then they need time to petition the Jamaican Supreme Court to release warrants stating who gave the order to tap the don’s phone (information that the court has been reluctant to provide).
“I hate to dispel the myth, but Dudus is not Jim Brown,” says Curtis Scoon, producer of the BET American Gangster episode on the Shower Posse, who is currently developing a movie about the gang. “That was another era. When you actually read Christopher Coke’s indictment, it does not make sense. Why is the United States government going to such lengths to arrest this person? It’s not an enormous amount of drugs. And where are the murders? It begs the question: Why Dudus? Why now?”