OCTOBER 30, 2002: MISCHIEF NIGHT
It's the day before Halloween in Jamaica, Queens. A cold, slanting rain falls in the streets, and it's unseasonably chilly -- above freezing, but not by much. Jam Master Jay, the DJ who ran the turntables for the legendary rap group Run-DMC, pulls his black SUV into a parking space outside a two-story building on Merrick Boulevard. In the fading afternoon light he hustles inside and upstairs to the second floor, to Studio 24/7.
The small recording studio looks like a crowded bodega. Jay's longtime business partner and friend Randy Allen moves around in the control room -- where tens of thousands of dollars' worth of equipment is on display -- next to a tiny soundproof vocal booth. A glass window separates the two rooms. Jay greets Randy as the others slide over to make room for him in the lounge, a modest sitting area with two couches. Randy's sister, Lydia High, the studio bookkeeper and secretary, is there, as are two other people: a homeless friend who sleeps in the studio and a hanger-on named Uriel Rincon.
From the studio window Jay can see the red brick building that houses the 103rd Precinct. The police station overlooks PO Edward Byrne Avenue, a street that was renamed to commemorate a police officer assassinated in 1988 on a local drug dealer's orders. Behind the studio building sits a large open-air bus depot, a onetime hangout of the South Side Crew, which long ago waged turf battles with Jay and his boys, the Hollis Crew.
Jay lets Randy do most of the fussing. Randy has a lot riding on their current project, a duo called Rusty Waters, consisting of Randy and Jay's nephew Boe Skagz (born Rodney Jones). Their debut album is due at Virgin Records in a matter of days. Consumed by details, Randy sends Boe to the barbershop to get a haircut for an upcoming promotional tour.
Amid this usual activity the little group in the studio is taken by surprise: A stranger appears at the door. She explains that she's a friend of a friend and has a demo tape she would like to give Jay. On the otherwise bare white walls she sees gold and platinum records, a reminder of Jay's glory days as the musical mastermind behind Run-DMC. The stories of Jay's generosity are matched only by his accessibility. The young woman with the tape has heard of others making this pilgrimage. Now it's her turn.
In fact, Jay doesn't generally listen to tapes from strangers, but Randy agrees to. Despite the looming deadline, the vibe in the studio seems relaxed and peaceful, no doubt helped by the joints being passed around. But in the fragrant clouds of smoke, Jay is on edge, possibly fearing for his life; he is armed with a .45 automatic. With all the traffic moving in and out of the studio, it is not entirely clear whom he fears most.
A Rusty Waters song called "Cornbread" booms out of the speakers: "Cornbread, all head / Macaroni and cheese / Where the collard greens at? /Y'know, you know that." Jay settles into a tan couch in the lounge to play one of his favorite Xbox football games with Rincon on the widescreen TV. They're focused on their game rather than on a four-way split-screen monitor hooked up to closed-circuit video cameras in the hall. It's about 7:30 p.m. According to this version of events, pieced together from multiple sources, including people present in the studio that night, everything is about to change forever.
Downstairs, two men dressed in dark clothing enter the building lobby and move past a camera. Undetected, they climb the narrow staircase single file from the street to the second floor. At the top of the stairs the smaller man stops. The other man, about six-foot-two and 180 pounds, bursts through the door -- and all hell breaks loose.
"Look at the ground!" he shouts as he swiftly pushes Lydia aside. He has a .40-caliber pistol.
"Oh, shit," Jay cries. "Grab the gun!"
It's too late. The man's weapon is inches from Jay's head, behind his left ear. "What about this? What about this?" says the assailant. He pulls the trigger.
The bullet passes through Jay's head, and he collapses. The gun is so close to him that powder burns scorch his shirt. In the confined space, the gunman falls over Rincon, who has bent down to get his cell phone. A second shot goes off and hits Rincon in the leg. Before he has time to register the pain, the assailants are running down the stairs.
Randy is in the control room with the curtains drawn, listening to playbacks, when he hears the shots. He and Mike B., the homeless friend, rush into the lounge. Randy picks up "the studio gun" they keep handy and pursues the killers into the street. He loses them in a nearby parking lot, where he drops the weapon.
None of this effort helps his friend Jam Master Jay, who dies where he fell, next to a brown leather hat and wearing his trademark snow-white Adidas.
