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SCENE OF THE CRIME: Who Shot Biggie?

Scene of the crime that the LAPD RHD refused to solve

Walking along Fairfax Boulevard to the scene of the crime sent shivers up and down my spine. Legendary Detective Russ Poole of the LAPD Robbery Homicide Division must have walked up and down these same streets a hundred times or more during his investigation, and it all led back to LAPD Officer/Bank Robber David Mack and convicted murderer Marion Suge Knight.

city of lies

It turns out that the Los Angeles Police Department were the real gangsters in the so-called “unsolved” murders of both Biggie Smalls in L.A. and Tupac Shakur in Vegas. Detective Russ Poole lived and breathed trying to bring the perpetrators to justice but all it ever got him was an aneurism that exploded in his brain and killed him while he was talking to the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department about the murders.

peterson auto museum scene of the crime wilshire blvd

CSI

This murder may be unsolved but it will never die. With such a spectacular crime scene as this, how could this case ever fade away from the imagination. Will you ever be able to unsee the wavy gravy of the Peterson Auto Museum? The museum looked much different back then but the murders must have inspired this new river of blood theme. This whole damn city is one great big red river of blood and guts.

peterson auto museum

City of Lies

Investigating crime scenes can be a fascinating hobby here in the City of Lies. There’s blood in the streets and it’s up to my ankles. The acrid smoke of gunpowder wafts along the early Sunday morning breeze.

My fellow crime vultures are everywhere competing with me for the latest fresh crime news to feed to the search bots:

News vans hover like rats looking for a fresh bodies to film. This is my inspiration, this is why I live in the City of Lies. Bloggers need raw material and L.A. delivers plenty of it. Sunday mornings I run around the middle of the city because there is always plenty of free parking early in the morning.

Crime and deception are everywhere

I received your invitation to your expensive Solstice drinking party. You couldn’t get me drunk ten years ago and you still won’t be able to get me to drink. It is rather disrespectful of you to send me the invitation to your annual event two weeks before it happens. This month’s cash flow was allocated to purchasing a new computer. If you had of even given me a respectful thirty days notice I could have planned accordingly. Anyway the whole point is moot because J.M. banished me from your events. No discussion of this in your email? I responded to your multiple invites and you do not respond back? You are not transparent. Now I must make a meal out of you.

Make me a cheeseburger!

You are an 800 pound gorilla and I am an 800 pound gorilla trainer.

800 pound gorilla trainer

By Dean McAdams

Born a poor peckerwood in a Tujunga holler, Dean practiced secrets of the ancient & modern masters to end up liberated in the coastal paradise of West L.A.