Lady T was a Lady C.
@16:51
According to OG up on the bleachers, they used to call her Casper in the hood.
Oakwood Venice Beach.
I started to do a thread on this earlier
Watched this at 1:00pm today, and said to myself wait till the Coli found out she from the turf. On another note, I hope they touch on Vincent Bruce aka Honey Bear from Shoreline. Sounds like he has an interesting story.
POLICE TRYING TO PICK UP TRAIL OF JAIL ESCAPEE
Vincent"Honey Bear" Bruce - Newspapers.com
The Black Hand: The Bloody Rise and Redemption of ''Boxer'' Enriquez, a Mexican Mob Killer - SILO.PUB
IT WAS CALLED “OPERATION PELICAN DROP.” NO LAW ENFORCEMENT personnel are on the record describing it quite this way, but it’s fair to say that inmates—especially Mexican Mafia inmates—had fukked with the system so much that this time the system was going to fukk them back. One insider who worked on the project called it an “extraordinary security mission.” Bad memories of the entire episode are permanently locked in the mind of Boxer Enriquez: “It was the most treacherous trip I’ve ever taken. We were all apprehensive and disorientated. They hurt us bad.” It all began with thirty-three-year-old Vincent Bruce, a Venice Shoreline Crip gang member, known as “Honey Bear,” who was convicted of a 1987 triple murder. Honey Bear and two accomplices robbed and strangled two reputed drug dealers at an Inglewood apartment and on the same day stabbed one of their girlfriends to death at a home in the Palms area of West Los Angeles. Then Vincent and his girlfriend—referring to themselves as a modern-day “Bonnie and Clyde”—went on a crime spree through five different states, committing a dozen robberies along the way. Caught and jailed in Chicago, Honey Bear sweet-talked his way into a trip to the hospital, pulled out a look-alike .25-caliber pistol he carved out of a blackened bar of soap, and escaped wearing a guard’s uniform. Ten days later, he was recaptured as he slept in a stolen car parked in a rest area along Interstate 70 in central Ohio and was extradited to California. In 1992 he was convicted for the triple murder, but during the penalty phase of the trial the jury deadlocked 11–1 in favor of life in prison without the possibility of parole instead of the death penalty. The judge declared a mistrial.
And despite the lopsided vote for life, the district attorney decided to retry the penalty phase of Vincent Bruce’s murder trial. While locked up in L.A. County Jail for seven years during his legal battles, Honey Bear earned a high-risk K-10 (keep away from all other inmates) status. Deputies identified him as the head Crip gangster in their 20,000-population facility. Jailers said that Honey Bear operated a gambling pool, trafficked drugs, was caught with weapons, and tried to kill at least two other inmates. An attorney close to the case said that Bruce was such a risk to jail staff and other inmates that the DA’s office believed that the best place for him was the gas chamber. Honey Bear, wearing a pressed gray suit and tie and looking very much the part, acted as his own attorney (pro per) during the penalty phase retrial. But it was not his articulate manner and seemingly professional demeanor in court that shocked authorities as much as his witness list. He was granted removal orders for twenty-two inmates to testify on his behalf. It was a collection of murderers, escape artists, drug dealers, and ruthless prison gang members. James Owens, an unassuming but battle-ready county counsel who had spent nearly a decade working with pro per inmates, saw a red f lag: “When you see that number of people come down, you get real suspicious.” He knew that prison gang members such as John Stinson and Rene Enriquez had for years abused their pro per status by calling down other nefarious inmates to kill or be killed or to participate in prison gang powwows. “They are living a life that is a big game, and they play it day to day,” stressed Owens. “And they see how far they can push the game. And how far they can bend the rules.” On the other hand, Honey Bear called any suggestion that he was abusing the pro per system as “totally BS and propaganda.” He simply wanted jurors to understand that, in the violent prison environment, “there is a different set of rules that he has to live under.” The crooks on his witness list could help show that. Prominent on that list were nine inmates housed in maximum-security at Pelican Bay State Prison. Aside from Boxer, Cuate Grajeda, Indio Carlos, and John Stinson, they included: • Eulalio “Lalo” Martinez—a validated Mexican Mafia member doing forty-three years for robbery and assault and well known “for possession of shanks.”
Gilbert “Lil Mo” Ruiz—a validated Mexican Mafia member doing twenty years for manslaughter. • Jimmy “Smokey” Sanchez—a validated Mexican Mafia member doing thirty-seven-to-life for murder. • Maurice “Lil Man” or “Vamp” Jones—a member of Eight-Tray Gangster Crips and an associate of the Black Guerilla Family doing life plus twenty-five years for multiple murders, and a well-known “problem child” when he was incarcerated at Men’s Central Jail. • Floyd “Askari” Nelson—a validated associate of the Rolling 60s Crips and Black Guerilla Family doing sixteen months for being a felon in possession of a firearm and known for inciting and leading riots while in jail. These nine convicts, noted county counsel, were also responsible for a combined seven attacks on deputies and twenty-five assaults on other inmates, including two murders, during previous stays at Men’s Central Jail. The county counsel filed a motion with the court asking for “security measures as may be appropriate” and further stated: 1. Each individual is a demonstrated threat to court room security. 2. The inmates housed in the Security Housing Unit at Pelican Bay State Prison are significant risk for escape, as well as violence on staff and other inmates, and are significantly more dangerous than state prison witnesses housed in other facilities. Expediting the testimony of these inmates and directing their immediate return to state prison would greatly enhance the security measures in both courtroom and jail. Los Angeles County sheriff ’s deputy Rodney Elliott was a jail intelligence officer who prepared an affidavit describing the nine Pelican Bay inmate-witnesses for the judge: “Obviously, they are the worst of the worst we have in society, and the worst we have in custody.” The motion was granted by L.A. Superior Court judge John Ouderkirk, and the groundwork was laid for Operation Pelican Drop. “Vincent Bruce had respect across the board,” said Boxer. “He would allow us to stab certain black troublemakers without retaliation because he respected us [Eme].” So Boxer was fine with traveling to Los Angeles to testify for him and try to keep Honey Bear out of the gas chamber. It wasn’t all that unusual for crooks to testify for other crooks—even to lie on the stand
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