When celebrities (including rappers) want S&M/BDSM dungeons constructed discreetly in their homes, some of them contact a master welder and provide the dimensions.


The welder is signed to a NDA and most of these BDSM welders have underground trade shows where they show off their customized BDSM line.




by: Mark Hay


In the post–"50 Shades of Grey," era, kinky tools and toys have moved from the obscure to the mainstream. You can find restraints like gags or shackles and punishment tools like floggers or clamps in any sex shop—even on Walmart.com. But step into a full-on BDSM dungeon, and you're apt to stumble upon some truly unexpected contraptions. Dommes have any number of specialized hooks and straps. But it's often the BDSM furniture that stands out: stocks and crosses, metal cages and medical-style equipment, sex machines and giant latex sheets equipped with vacuum suction to wrap skin tight around a submissive.

You won't even find these hulking apparatuses in kink-catering (fetish furniture) stores. These products are made by fetish-centric craftspeople.

A kink specialist named Simon is the carpenter behind "Saxon Dungeon Furniture," a well-regarded maker of high-quality wooden bondage chairs, crosses, straddles, tables, and walls.


Simon says: "I have quite a few repeat customers who will order one piece, and then six months later they'll come back and order something else, and they might make a collection of stuff. Business started off slow. And even now it's a rollercoaster. Sometimes it's almost nothing, and then sometimes I almost can't keep up. I have spoken to some some wholesalers. But they want it so cheap; it's hardly worth doing it. Also, if you do go with them, they want to be exclusive, which shuts you out. I haven't done a wholesale deal yet, but I will soon. There's not much competition for what I do: a small range of quality stuff.


"The sky is the limit on customizations. For instance, I was asked to upholster specifically in Italian leather on a genuine mahogany piece. I think the most expensive piece I ever made was a black walnut and leather horse with custom metalwork for about $5,000."


Initially, it was individuals. Since then, my biggest orders have been dominatrix types with a dungeon. They'll want me to make everything for them. They have a theme in mind, and they want everything to match. And when they order everything from one place, it's usually cheaper.

It's always female dominatrices, middle-to-upper class. I have a map that I attach a little star to each time I ship [an item]. Sales are equal on the East and West Coast, but not much in between. The average to kit out a personal dungeon or play space would be three items, as they are quite versatile. The biggest order I've ever had was one of each item.

I've done a few clubs. The individual dominatrix type order is easier to deal with. Some of the nightclub places, they'll just have two or three nights a week where they want to use this furniture, so it takes a real battering when they store it and reassemble it. That can be a problem.

What's the most interesting or complex piece of bondage furniture you've ever developed?


The Titan. That was a custom order for a celebrity. It was a pain in the ass to do at the time and to deal with the person, but that ended up being one of my best sellers.

Have you worked with many celebrity clients?

I've had celeb clients over the years. Their orders are not necessarily more complicated or involved. But obviously, I wanted to deliver as perfect a product as possible. So it can be somewhat more stressful than the average piece.



Celebrity jewelers seek out rappers with a vegenance; athletes are the second most sought after client.


Jewelers have even gone as far as giving a kickback to someone in the rapper's circle to bring the rapper into a private jewelry shop where you have to be buzzed in by appointment only.


Usually, rappers are easily manipulated regarding the price of bling because the jeweler knows that they want to keep up with their peers at any cost.


They usually pay much higher for a piece than other customers.


After the rapper completes his purchase, the staff usually sits around and laugh about his ignorance to the real price and quality of the jewelry.







DNA Phenotyping is the prediction of physical appearance from DNA.


Basically, a scientific "mug shot" can be created from someones DNA.


This technology is especially useful for unknown killers.


DNA Phenotyping can not only predict your physical appearance but it can also provide age progression with your DNA.


A powerful tool for law enforcement.


Scientific mug shot samples pictured above.




Scandal Sheet:


by: Thomas Lake




According to Thomas Lake: Two years ago, I got a phone call from a woman who sang in the circus. She said she could prove that James Brown had been murdered. I met her on a hot day near Chicago, where the big top was rising and the elephants were munching hay. The singer’s name was Jacquelyn Hollander.


She lived in a motor home with two cats and a Chihuahua named Pickles. She had long blond hair and a pack of Marlboro's. She said she was not crazy, nor was she lying, and she hoped I would write her story, because it might save her life.

Or maybe it would get her killed. That was also a possibility, she said. Bad things happened to people who ran afoul of the James Brown organization. “I’m sure you know that Adrienne Brown was my good friend,” she said, referring to James Brown’s third wife. “That’s a very long story, when I tell you about it. There’s no doubt she was murdered.”

We got in my car and drove to Panera for lunch. Jacque’s story widened, deepened, growing ever more strange. New characters appeared and disappeared, suffering one calamity after another. Some were shot to death. Some were maimed or killed in vehicle crashes. Some appeared to die of natural causes, but Jacque thought they’d been poisoned. She had questions about the deaths of at least nine people, all of them somehow connected to the Godfather of Soul.

The story had many twists and turns, but it kept returning to one day in 1988, when she got in James Brown’s conversion van and took a ride into the woods.

Jacque was lost, and so was I. The story meandered through her consciousness, pulling me in ragged circles. “I know this is getting hard for you to understand,” she said. There were spies who posed as federal agents. There were suspicious fires and deceitful books. There was a woman named Peaches who said James Brown’s crypt was empty.


We walked to her motor home. She unlocked a storage compartment underneath the vehicle and pulled out a forest-green plastic bin.


“How strong are you?” she asked.

I carried the bin into the motor home. It seemed to make her nervous, which made me nervous. She was not supposed to have this, she said. Jacque had acquired the bin in early 2016 during a bizarre sequence of events that led her to believe she had solved the mystery of James Brown’s death. She thought the green plastic bin was evidence. She said someone told her to throw it into a lake.

Now Jacque and I stood inside her motor home with the green plastic bin she had not thrown into a lake. Jacque told me to put on rubber gloves and go through it. I did. Studying this collection of objects, I tried to understand how they pertained to the Godfather of Soul. She tried to explain. I listened intently, getting more disoriented.

She said the doctor who treated Brown before his death told her that Brown would have been released from the hospital the next day if he hadn’t taken a sudden and inexplicable turn for the worse. She said one of Brown’s friends was so convinced of foul play that he took a vial of Brown’s blood from the hospital room after Brown’s death. She said the friend hoped it would prove that Brown had been murdered.

“Oh my,” I said with a deep sigh.

“You think I’m crazy now?” she said.

“No,” I said. “Here’s what I think, is that this — ”

But I never finished the thought, because she was interrupting again, the story rushing on like a brook in the forest after a hard spring rain.

In journalism, and in life, you will meet a certain kind of person. This person tells a story that involves a grievance or an unmet need. This person may be injured or destitute. This person may smoke too many cigarettes. In any case, this person tells the story to anyone who will listen: in church, at the police station, on a phone call transferred from the newsroom switchboard. You have heard this story before. You think it might be an exaggeration. But this is what really scares you: It also might be true. Because if it is true, you might have to do something.

If Jacque Hollander’s story is true, it carries some extraordinary demands. It requires the authorities to open at least two death investigations. It asks them to pull James Brown’s body from the crypt and subject it to an autopsy. It forces us all to reconsider Brown’s legacy: to see him not just as a pioneering entertainer but as a man whose last two decades were suffused with horrible secrets.

Of the thousands of people I’ve interviewed in my 18-year career, Jacque Hollander stands apart. Her stories may ramble, one interrupting another and another after that, but she renders each scene with remarkable detail. They have the force of lived experience, of fear and sadness and hard-earned outrage. As for documentation, she is practically a hoarder. She has more than a dozen boxes of papers, photographs, audiotapes, videotapes and other relevant artifacts. One time she played me a VHS tape from 1988 that showed a police officer writing her a note at a charity function — and then she handed me the note, worn and faded but still intact.

“When you’re up against the most powerful person in the world, you have to document, and you have to investigate yourself, and you’d better prove everything you’re saying,” she told me that first day in June. “Because nobody’s going to believe you unless you can prove it.”

Some people find her stories impossible to believe. Several who have known Jacque told me they think she exaggerates, or hallucinates. Jacque herself told me that a close friend tried to have her committed.

But at least three trained fact-finders have closely examined her claims and reached the opposite conclusion. Larry Largent and Mark Polkosnik, two professional counselors who happen to be former police officers, both told me they had spent many hours counseling Jacque for her mental and emotional trauma and had determined she was neither crazy nor lying — not about James Brown, and not about anything else.

Danny Porter, the district attorney of Gwinnett County, Georgia, since 1992, said Jacque had given him solid information that helped solve a murder case unrelated to James Brown. He said he considers her a reliable source.

I spent nearly two years checking out Jacque’s story. I traveled through nine states, read tens of thousands of pages of police and court records, interviewed nearly 140 people, questioned Jacque for hundreds of hours, mined the depths of her three storage units for records stretching back more than 30 years, analyzed more than 1,300 pages of text messages from her iPhone, and sent an item from her green plastic bin for testing at a forensic laboratory.

In examining the deaths of Adrienne Brown and James Brown, I also discovered many things Jacque did not know when she called me.

At least three other people believe the death of Adrienne Brown was not an accidental overdose, despite what the authorities said in 1996.

There are legitimate questions about James Brown’s death that can only be answered by an autopsy and a criminal investigation.

And there is a disturbing pattern of similarities between Adrienne Brown’s death and James Brown’s death 11 years later.

I found the doctor with whom Jacque claimed to have spoken, the one who treated James Brown at a hospital in Atlanta before his death. Much to my surprise, he agreed to an interview. He told me he doubted Brown had died of natural causes. He suspected that Brown died of an overdose, accidental or otherwise. He said he wanted an autopsy all along.

The doctor is one of 11 people associated with Brown who told me his death should be investigated. That number does not include Brown’s daughter LaRhonda Pettit or his son-in-law Darren Lumar, both of whom alleged that Brown was murdered, both of whom died before I started reporting this story.

In addition to the doctor, I found Andre Moses White, the old friend who helped Brown check into the hospital in December 2006. Yes, White told me, he did take a vial of his friend’s blood from an IV tube shortly after Brown’s death. And he still hopes it will help the authorities find out whether James Brown was murdered. Lumar was murdered in Atlanta in 2008, the year after he made his allegation on local TV news. His killing remains unsolved.

Besides the skeptical doctor and the vial of blood, I found more than a dozen other unresolved questions regarding Brown’s last days, his death, and the peculiar events that followed. I will lay out those questions in the third part of this series. But first we need to talk about Jacque, and the tortuous 30-year path that led her to acquire the mysterious plastic bin.

It’s easy to get lost in this story, to get tangled in the characters and plot lines. The best way to understand it is to start at the beginning, about three years before Jacque went into the woods.

Around 1985, Jacque awoke in the night with a wild idea.

She would write and record a song celebrating her hometown and its NFL football team, the Atlanta Falcons. She would get help from her husband, Dean Daughtry, keyboardist for the popular Southern rock band Atlanta Rhythm Section. She would arrange for the proceeds to benefit the Leukemia Society of America. She would persuade various players from the Falcons to sing backup vocals. And she would recruit the country-music star Ronnie Milsap to sing lead.

Jacque was 30 years old. She wrote songs for a living, raising money to help sick children in her spare time. In the words of the local saxophonist Jonny Hibbert, she served as both homecoming queen and den mother of the Atlanta music scene. If a drunken or drugged-out musician needed assistance — a couch to sleep on, a ride to the rehab center — Jacque was the one to call. She had always tried to help vulnerable creatures. As a little girl, she took an injured crab home from the beach and placed it in a bed meant for her doll.

Jacque was a beautiful woman with contagious enthusiasm. For her song “Atlanta Will Be Rockin’,” she got almost everything she wanted. There was just one complication: The Falcons didn’t want Ronnie Milsap to sing lead. They wanted James Brown. Jacque called Brown’s attorney. His name was Buddy Dallas.

“I advised her that I did not have any influence about what songs Mr. Brown would record,” Dallas later wrote in an affidavit related to the battle over Brown’s estate, “but that if she sent me a photograph and recording of the song I would present it to him, and that if he was interested, Mr. Brown would contact her directly.”

Jacque had sent many demos before. This was the first time anyone asked for a picture. She sent the demo and the picture. And Mr. Brown was interested.

They arranged a recording session in Augusta, Georgia. Brown was several hours late. His musicians grew restless. When Jacque had dinner brought in, the men seemed afraid to eat. She asked why. They said the Godfather was coming, sooner or later. And if they weren’t in position with their instruments, they could be fined, or even fired.

One of Brown’s associates laid down the law for everyone in the studio.

“We had to call him Mr. Brown,” co-producer Greg Archilla told me. “You couldn’t call him ‘James,’ or ‘Hey man,’ or anything else. … If we didn’t call him Mr. Brown, he would leave.”

Jacque says Buddy Dallas apologized for his client’s lateness. A Southern gentleman in khakis and penny loafers, Dallas seemed genuinely sorry, and genuinely nice. He called himself a little country lawyer. He called Brown and asked him to please hurry up. Jacque went outside to smoke a cigarette. And the long black limousine pulled up. Brown got out with his entourage and shuffled into the studio. His musicians snapped to attention.

Jacque played me an audio tape from this recording session. When Brown said the word Falcons, it sounded like Fackums. Jacque was in his headset, repeating the correct pronunciation, but he was James Brown, and he did things his way. He screamed and improvised, and said, “Get on up.”

“Are you going to sing the lyric lines?” she asked him.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said.

He bantered skillfully with the studio crew, which included Jacque’s friend Dave Pensado, who went on to become one of the world’s most prominent mix engineers. They talked about football, about spikes and shoulder pads, about the way Brown took on the customs of the people he entertained. When in Los Angeles, he was a Dodgers fan. He saw himself as a father figure to Walter Payton, the famous running back for the Chicago Bears. Now this project would publicly identify him as a Falcons fan, and that seemed to make him nervous.

The session dragged on. Brown kept improvising. Jacque says he spun around and fell to the floor, wrapped in headphone cables. Jacque untied him, her patience diminishing.

The exchange they had next is not on the tape, but Jacque recalls it this way: Brown loudly asked who had written this song, and she indignantly reminded him that she had, and wanted to know what was wrong with it. Nothing, he said, and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.

James Brown was a complicated man, capable of doling out cruelty or kindness in the measures he deemed appropriate. Jacque pulled an old scrap of paper from her pocket.

The paper dated back to about 1968, when Jacque was a girl with intestinal cancer, to the day her father took her to the Atlanta airport to watch the planes land. That day she saw a man wearing furs, and for some reason she thought he was Santa Claus.

That’s not Santa Claus, her father said. That’s James Brown, Godfather of Soul.

Brown was about 35, near the height of his fame and power. Jacque was about 13. Brown said hello, got down on one knee, and asked Jacque what she would be if she could be anything.

A songwriter, Jacque said, but I’m sick and I don’t think I’m going to get well.

Brown told her she would get well, and she would write a song. He asked her father for a pen and a piece of paper, which her father handed over, and he wrote something like, Bring me the song.

Jacque never intended to write a song for James Brown. She knew very little of his music. But their paths kept intersecting. Now, in the studio in Augusta, Jacque showed him the note and told him the story. She says James Brown remembered, and tears came to his eyes.

Over the next two years, Jacque and Brown became good friends. They recorded another song together. They sang at halftime of a Falcons game. They visited children in hospitals and raised money for charity. She became a part of Brown’s “inner circle,” acting as his “social conscience,” as Buddy Dallas would later write in the affidavit for the court battle over Brown’s estate. Dallas treated Jacque like a long-lost daughter. He reminded her of a Baptist minister. He kept calling himself a “little country lawyer.” But one day they were riding together and he said he needed to stop by his house. It was straight out of “Gone With the Wind,” Jacque thought, a mansion with horses outside and a maid who asked what she wanted to eat. She was astonished. With Buddy Dallas and James Brown, the truth had many layers.

From the start, Jacque says, Buddy warned her about Brown’s wife, Adrienne. She’s jealous, Jacque remembers him telling her. She’s controlling. She’s insane. She’s on drugs. Jacque listened, because she liked and respected him, but this description didn’t match her own experience.

When Jacque met Adrienne, she felt they were kindred spirits. They talked like old friends and giggled like schoolgirls. Jacque says Adrienne confided in her. She says Adrienne told her she wanted to be famous like her husband. She felt left out when he went on tour. Weeping, she told Jacque she desperately wanted children but couldn’t have them because of Brown’s vasectomy. As a substitute, Jacque says, Adrienne said Brown had given her dogs.

Adrienne also had a warning for Jacque. According to Jacque, Adrienne told her Buddy was the problem. Buddy was not to be trusted. Buddy was not the man he appeared to be.

There was no good way to reconcile these warnings. Jacque ignored them, as she had ignored her mentor Bill Lowery’s warning about James Brown. Mr. Brown has a lot of problems, Jacque says the famous record producer told her. (He died in 2004.) But Jacque was naive, and headstrong, and the problems she thought Lowery was talking about were problems with which she was intimately familiar. Famous musicians misbehaved sometimes, and Jacque, who by all accounts did not drink or use drugs, often served as their nursemaid. She says her husband, Dean Daughtry, went on wild benders, as did his friends from Lynyrd Skynyrd. One night, Jacque says, she followed a trail of discarded clothing up to her bedroom and found the bassist Leon Wilkeson in bed with a woman.

Who’s this, Jacque asked.

Wilkeson shook the woman, trying to wake her up.

Who are you, he asked.

You don’t know who she is? Jacque said.

No, said Wilkeson, who died in 2001. And I don’t think she does, either.

So yes, some musicians had problems. It came with the territory. But as she got to know the Browns, Jacque saw more red flags. At least they should have been red flags, but Jacque did not understand them soon enough. She says Dallas called her into his office and lectured her about Adrienne. She says he called her a cancer, and told Jacque to stay away from her. (Dallas declined to speak on the record with CNN for this story.) She says James Brown forbade her and Adrienne from seeing each other.

James Brown’s behavior grew ever more unusual. At another recording session, this one involving professional wrestlers, he seemed to fade in and out of consciousness. According to Jacque, Brown accused one of her friends of being a federal agent and had him thrown out of the studio. He stubbed out a cigarette on his own wrist and did not appear to feel any pain. Jacque asked Buddy Dallas if she should be worried.

No, she says Dallas told her. He’s just eccentric.

Only later would Jacque discover Brown’s history of violence, and his prodigious ability to conceal it or avoid the consequences. Brown had survived the mean streets of Augusta with a father who beat his mother, and an uncle who once hung him from the ceiling in a burlap sack. That meanness stayed with Brown for the rest of his life, as did any number of firearms.

In the biography “The One: The Life and Music of James Brown,” the author RJ Smith writes about an incident that allegedly occurred at Club 15 outside Macon, Georgia, in the 1960s, when Brown was around 30 and approaching stardom. He and a rival had a shootout inside the club; multiple people were shot or stabbed. Smith writes: “Still on parole, Brown relied on (his agent) Clint Brantley and a few thousand dollars to make the situation disappear.”

As Johnny Jenkins and the Pinetoppers played a set with Otis Redding at Club 15, Brown reportedly opened fire with a shotgun while trying to get revenge on another singer.

“Seven people got shot,” Jenkins said, according to “Otis! The Otis Redding Story,” by Scott Freeman. “They were reloading and coming back in, hiding behind pianos, the bar. … A guy went around later, and I think he gave each one of the injured a hundred dollars apiece not to carry it no further and not to talk to the press.”


Before she sang with Marvin Gaye on the hit records “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and “Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing,” Tammi Terrell sang backup for James Brown. Smith writes, “Bobby Bennett said he saw Brown hit her three times with a hammer outside of a hotel in Washington, DC.” Another time, “Brown danced off the stage and beat her all the way down the stairs to the dressing room.”

In her book “Cold Sweat: My Father James Brown and Me,” Brown’s daughter Yamma writes that Brown regularly threw her mother, Deidre Jenkins, against the wall so hard that it sounded like thunder rolling through the house. She said she saw him punch Deidre repeatedly, blood spurting from her face.

In 1998, a civil lawsuit accused Brown of holding a woman named Mary Simons captive for three days, demanding oral sex, and firing a gun in his office. Brown’s attorney James Huff contended in a court document that Simons had been free to leave. Simons later withdrew the suit.

Between 1994 and 1999, according to another civil lawsuit, Brown allegedly demanded sexual favors from a backup singer named Lisa Rushton, cut her pay and kept her off the stage when she refused, placed a hand on her buttocks and loudly told her in a crowded restaurant that she should neither look at nor speak with any man other than himself. Rushton later withdrew the suit.

In 1999 and 2000, according to yet another civil lawsuit, Brown allegedly told his employee Lisa Agbalaya he had “bull testicles,” handed her a pair of zebra-print underwear, told her to wear them while he massaged her with oil, and fired her after she refused. A jury in Los Angeles cleared Brown of sexual harassment but found him liable for wrongful termination.

On January 28, 2004, after a domestic violence call to authorities in Aiken County, South Carolina, deputies found Brown’s fourth wife with scratches and bruising on her arm and lacerations on her right hip. (Her first name is sometimes spelled Tomi Rae, sometimes Tommie Rae, and sometimes Tomirae.) According to the report, she told them Brown “pushed her to the floor in a bedroom. She fell onto pieces of luggage that were lying on the floor and the subject raised a wrought iron chair over her and told her he was going to kill her.” Brown pleaded guilty to a domestic violence charge, paid a fine of $1,087, and avoided jail time.

For all the violence before and after, 1988 was the most tumultuous year of Brown’s life. This was the year he turned 55, the year his PCP addiction spilled into public view, the year he threatened strangers with a shotgun and then led police on a spectacular chase. It was the year of his most infamous domestic violence incident — this one involving his third wife, Adrienne, who checked into a hospital in Augusta with bruises covering her body. She said Brown had laid her mink coat on the ground and shot it with a rifle. She said he had beaten her with a pipe and shot up her car while she hid inside. Brown was arrested and charged with assault with intent to murder.

Four days before that incident, Jacque says, James Brown took her into the woods.

And there she was, on or about March 30, 1988, at Brown’s office in Augusta, where she and Buddy Dallas met Brown to continue their charity work. Today they would review the details of the I Feel Good Trust. Jacque and Brown planned to be partners in this trust, working to help sick children and educate the poor. After the meeting, Brown said he wanted to show Jacque a Volkswagen he was customizing as a birthday gift for one of his daughters.

Jacque hesitated. She was due to meet her husband and his sister by 6 p.m. for a dinner of fried chicken and biscuits. But the Volkswagen was just around the corner at a car dealership. It would take only a few minutes.

The rest of the story is in dispute. Prosecutors in South Carolina would investigate in 1995 and decline to file charges because of a jurisdictional issue. Jacque would file a civil lawsuit against Brown in 2005 because of the same incident. Brown’s attorney Debra Opri would call her allegation a “shakedown in its most stupid form.” In any case, this is Jacque’s account of that day in 1988.

Jacque Daughtry and James Brown walked outside into a spring afternoon. Brown carried a shotgun over his shoulder. He usually had a bodyguard, but not today. Jacque figured he needed the shotgun for his own protection. He put it in the van, which was black with gold rims and which he said Muhammad Ali had customized for him. Jacque got in.

Brown drove to the car dealership, and then to a gas station. He asked her to buy him some Jolly Ranchers. She did.

“And all of a sudden he went nuts, and started screaming at me,” Jacque said. “And he said, ‘THESE AREN’T 100 JOLLY RANCHERS!’ And just started yelling at me. And at the time, I always tried to be perfect around him. Because he was very eccentric. And I started crying, because he was yelling at me, because I didn’t bring him the correct amount of candy. So I told him I would go back and I would get them. And I went in and I was crying, and the lady said, ‘Ah, the eccentric Mr. Brown.’ And she said, ‘What is wrong?’ And I said, ‘I was supposed to get him 100 Jolly Ranchers. I didn’t get ‘em.’ And she said, ‘Well, we’ll just fix that up right now.’ And she went over, and she started counting all the candy. Because I was crying. I couldn’t count ‘em. And I wasn’t used to people, like, yelling at me like that for nothing. … And I was really intimidated and fearful. … I took the bag back to him. When I opened the door and handed ‘em to him, he didn’t even count them. He just put the bag on the console and said, ‘Get in.’”

She got in. Her pink Cadillac was parked at Brown’s office, and it was almost time to leave for dinner, but Brown did not go toward the office. He got on Interstate 20, heading east toward South Carolina.

She asked where he was going. He said he had something he wanted to show her. He asked her to reach for a pack of Kools behind the driver’s seat. She now believes these cigarettes were laced with PCP, or phencyclidine, also known as angel dust, a powerful drug that can cause hallucinations, violent behavior, and the illusion of superhuman strength. She handed him the pack of Kools. He smoked one. And he began to drive much faster.

Look at the wind, he said. Look at the trees blowing!

She looked. The wind was not blowing, but the van was going almost 100 mph. Brown mumbled. His face twitched. He said the government was chasing them. Jacque looked for the police in the rear-view mirror, but the police were not there. Brown said the wheels were made of rubber, and he could jump over cars. Jacque thought about jumping out. She asked him to slow down, or to pull over. He drove even faster.

Brown crossed into South Carolina and pulled off the interstate. He took a right. He took a left. He drove off the road, into the woods. The van smashed through the underbrush, mowing down pine saplings. He stopped the van. It was almost dark.

Brown sat there, hands on the wheel, staring through the windshield. He did not look at her when he said,

Get in the back of the van, Mrs. Daughtry.

Jacque went behind the passenger’s seat.

Now take your clothes off, he said.

She started to cry.

Mr. Brown, you don’t want to do this, she said.

He did not turn around. She kept pleading. Finally he put a hand on the shotgun and said if she didn’t take her clothes off, he would come back there and help her.

Now he did turn toward her, as did the gun. His face was still twitching. She began taking off her clothes. A rhinestone headband that she wore every day. The red bandanna from around her throat. Her white boots with gold tips. A long denim skirt that a friend’s mother had given her.

Brown came to the back of the van, smelling of Brut aftershave. He grabbed her by the hair.

It lasted for hours. The pain was excruciating. He talked about being a stallion, about the way God was blessing her. She pleaded and pleaded, then gave up. He slammed her head against the wall of the van and tore an earring from her ear. He said if she told anyone, her family would be killed.

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart raced. He wanted to finish, but couldn’t, and so he kept going. She had never felt such pain. She felt as if she were floating away, looking down at herself from above. She asked God not to let her mother find her naked and dead in the woods.

She told him her family would be looking for her. Her husband would come looking. This seemed to affect Brown. He left the van for a while. The back door was partly open, possibly damaged when he’d smashed a tree. She could see fog, and lights from the highway. The lights illuminated a barbed wire fence.

Brown returned and started the van. He drove back to the road. Cold wind sliced in from the broken door. Jacque saw more lights, and a bridge. She put on her clothes.

Back at the office, Jacque got out of the van, carrying her boots. Brown sat in the driver’s seat and said nothing. She was bleeding, and her head hurt, and she couldn’t think straight, although she knew she would have to find her in-laws’ house in the dark. She started her Cadillac and got on the highway. Then she saw the black van again. Brown was trying to run her off the road. She drove faster, but he stayed beside her, and finally she pulled onto the shoulder. He got out, yelling at her, banging on the window.

What do you want, she asked through the glass.

You forgot to tell me you love me, he said.

She came back from the woods, but she did not come back. The old Jacque Daughtry was never seen again.

She was still Dean Daughtry’s wife, but not, because they no longer slept in the same bed.

She was still a songwriter, but not, because others in the industry stopped returning her calls, and she sat at home, alone, invisible.

She was a rape victim, but not, because she never told the police, because James Brown had said he would kill her family, and he had done enough already to make himself believable.

Now Jacque knew things she wished not to know. So did her friend Adrienne Brown. In the years that followed, both would battle the forces of James Brown. Both would fear for their lives. Jacque would survive. Adrienne would not.






In the Netflix film "Hollywood," Rock Hudson's agent Henry Willson was more less a gay pimp.


Henry Willson also represented twins Dack & Dirk Rambo.


You may recognize Dack from "Dallas," and "All My Children.


Dirk would be killed in an car accident by a drunk driver and years later, Dack would succumb to AIDS.



When they were signed with Willson (above, on the left), rumors circulated that Willson allegedly had them double team rich and powerful Hollywood gays.


Years later, when Dack appeared on "All My Children," extras alleged, 'there were always hot blonde male model types waiting for Dack in his dressing room , he would then whisk them away to Fire Island for the weekend.'



Dack was known for his endowment and he often wore super tight slacks to emphasize his bulge and there was a running joke in Hollywood that his peen was so huge that it entered a room a full 15 seconds before he did.


It was also rumored that Dack was into the drug and orgy scene in Hollywood.


And its alleged that a few men contracted HIV from him after his diagnosis and passed away.


It's rumored that Dack may have been infected by a popular gay adult actor.




Jeanne Carmen (August 4, 1930 – December 20, 2007) was an American model, pin-up girl, trick-shot golfer, and B-movie actress.


People wondered was Jeanne a mulatto who bleached her skin and dyed her hair blonde? Because it was later revealed that as a child, she picked cotton before running away from home at age 13.


As a teen, she moved to New York City and landed a job as a dancer in Burlesque, with Bert Lahr. Later, she became a model, appearing in several men's magazines. She also became a trick golfer, appearing with Jack Redmond.

While in her 20's, she came to Hollywood and appeared in B movies.

Throughout her Hollywood career, she was linked to: Elvis, Frank Sinatra, Errol Flynn, Dean Martin, Lex Barker, Telly Savalas, Jerry Lewis, Ricardo Montalban, Lenny Bruce, Peter Lawford, Tony Curtis, Vic Damone, Bob Hope, Mike Connors.  In her senior years, Jeanne was pictured with Donald Trump but no relationship ever took place.


Carmen was the subject of a TV biography titled "Jeanne Carmen: Queen of the B-Movies." The show stated that Carmen maintained a "dangerously close friendship with Marilyn Monroe and The Kennedy's" and that after the death of Monroe, Carmen was told to leave town by Chicago mobster Johnny Rosselli who was working for Chicago Mob Boss Sam Giancana. Carmen, believing her life was in danger, fled to Scottsdale, Arizona, where she lived incognito for more than a decade. Carmen abandoned her platinum-blonde locks, had three children and lived a quiet life, never mentioning her prior life in Hollywood.


At the time of Carmen's death in 2007, a biographical film of her life was in early stages of development, with Christina Aguilera, Scarlett Johansson, and Kate Bosworth under consideration to play Carmen. But the movie was never made.


Jeanne Carmen could never prove during her lifetime that she actually had a friendship with Marilyn Monroe and she failed to deliver evidence regarding her claims.


She did not own a photograph of them both together, nor could she prove her residence as being in an apartment near Monroe in the form of an utility bill.  Update: A photo of Jeanne and Marilyn has emerged and it was taken at a function, heres the link: Marilyn & Jeanne.


It is known fact that Jeanne Carmen's own son Brandon James aggressively marketed the claims made by his mother. He capitalized on these stories through numerous interviews and he would attack anybody who would question the authentication of the claims his mother made. Jeanne Carmen gave an interview to LA Weekly staff writer Steven Mikulan and she verbally attacked another woman who came forward with similar claims of a friendship with Marilyn Monroe.


None of Monroe's address books contain her name and none of Monroe's other friends or neighbors have ever provided a corroboration of an friendship.


She may have been like Robert Slatzer, who claimed to have been briefly married to Monroe. He made the whole thing up for attention, and I suspect Jeanne Carmen did the same.







People are saying that Majorie Harvey will be treated like the First Lady of Atlanta when their relocation is complete.


Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion unite to try and put all of George Floyd's killers in custody.


Taraji Henson wants to offer mental health support during this crisis.


The billionaire scandal with Kylie Jenner could have major consequences.


Siedah Garrett and Michael were close but she's guarded about their friendship. I knew she co-wrote "Man In The Mirror," but I didn't know she wrote Quincy Jone's "Secret Garden.'







A 25-year-old Maryland man (right) who stood trial last year for his twin's murder but was freed has been killed in a tragic accidental shooting after moving to Georgia to rebuild his life.

Wael Ali's distraught family buried the student next to his brother, four days after he was shot in the front of the neck with his own gun by a family friend.

Wael had moved with his family from Columbia, Maryland to Marietta, Georgia, following the death of his twin and closet friend/brother, Wasel Ali.

He returned there last year after jurors failed to unanimously agree that he was responsible for the slaying, and was 'very optimistic about his future,' the family's former attorney, Jason Shapiro, said.

'This has been a tragedy for the mom and dad, if you can imagine what they had to go through,' Shapiro said.


Wasel's 19-year-old body was found in a wooded area of Columbia. He had died of asphyxiation from pressure applied to his neck.


police charged Wael with his brother's murder claiming the motive was a big fight the pair allegedly had shortly before Wasel went missing. However, due to a stark lack of physical evidence, Wael's trial resulted in a hung jury - with all but one jurors believing he was not guilty - and mistrial, and he was released.

Having returned to Marietta, Wael was in school again and, though he still mourned his brother, was 'excited to have his life back,' Shapiro, told the Baltimore Sun.

But tragedy struck again for the family when Wael went to visit Raouf Sanad, 'a very close family friend,' in his restaurant on Friday night.

Officer David Baldwin, a spokesman for the Marietta police, said the 25-year-old was in the kitchen of the Laziza Restaurant in Marietta about 10:30 p.m. and was showing a gun he owned to Sanad.

Sanad was allegedly 'manipulating it and was not using good protocol' when the gun went off, and Wael was shot in the front of the neck.

Two officers on routine foot patrol outside the restaurant responded, and 'there were a number of witnesses there who corroborated that it was just a tragic accident,' Baldwin told the Baltimore Sun.

Sanad has been charged with involuntary manslaughter, reckless conduct and pointing a weapon at another person.

'It is hard to overlook the coincidence in both brothers losing their lives in a tragic and untimely way,' David Zwanetz, a lawyer who represented Wael at his trial, told the Washington Post.

'Wael and Wasel shared everything in life, and I found it deeply moving to know that they will share a plot and lie next to one another for eternity.'

Wael was charged with first-degree murder more than four years after his twin was found strangled in the woods the brothers played in as children.


Prosecutors in Wael's 2012 trial said that because of the twin's shared DNA, no DNA evidence was found at the crime scene or finger prints collected. The murder weapon was only a pair of hands.

But police said there were at least 25 minutes before Wasel's death that Wael was unaccounted for as well as changing statements on where he told authorities he had been.

'I am so done with you,' prosecutors accused Wael of threatening his brother after one of their increasing number of fights just before Wasel’s death.

It followed a series of shared trouble with the law including twice impersonating police officers and shoplifting.

'I'm sick of getting in trouble because of you. Wait till we get home,' prosecutors claimed Wael told Wasel after their arrest when they were caught impersonating law enforcement after enrolling in the army out of high school.

It was their second arrest on such a crime, with both brothers accused of stealing an Army sedan from Fort Meade months earlier to chase a speeding vehicle.

Wearing military batons and pepper spray on their belts, the two wrongfully identified themselves as military police officers to police dispatch.

That identification served them with probation after they were charged with stealing a government vehicle, impersonating a police officer and being in possession of a dangerous weapon.

'We just made some wrong decisions,' Wael told the Washington Post last year. 'We got mesmerized by the whole being in uniform thing and being in the Army.'

Both left the Army and moved in with their parents getting jobs at the mall: Wasel at Banana Republic and Wael selling cell phones. But they hadn't lost their passion for law enforcement which led to their second arrest.

A search of their car found an unloaded .45-caliber pistol the twins told police had been stolen.


It was days later on August 22 that their home, and then world, would be turned upside down.


Bursting through their parents' doors, hand cuffing both brothers and their father outside their townhouse, a Howard SWAT team raided their property looking for additional illegal weapons.

While their raid was unsuccessful, prosecutors said Wael’s embarrassment for his father and the failure they had found themselves in with the law, led to his increasing anger toward his brother.

'We can't say for sure what led up to the murder, but we do know that those things took place.'

Police said Wael admitted both getting in a fist fight in their home and, at their father's request, going to pick up Wasel from the mall after he had been called into work and needed a ride home.

Wasel had been accused of shoplifting and in his admittance to the crime he dually implicated his brother in the theft, according to police.

Prosecutors worked to prove that Wasel's allegations of theft against his brother tipped him over the edge when he met up with him that night.

When Wael's father sent him to pick his brother up from the mall, Wasel never returned with him.

Wasel's body was found in the woods five days later by a hiker, a victim of strangulation. His black suit jacket was pulled over his shoulders, his arms pinned behind his back.

'We don't have DNA at the crime scene because with twins, they share DNA,' said prosecutor Doug Nelson who accused Wael in the crime. 'There's no fingerprints on the murder weapon. There's no murder weapon.'

Authorities accused Wael of changing his story on what he did after he was captured entering the mall parking lot on surveillance camera, meeting his brother and some friends inside, and then the two brothers exiting through different doors.

'They're seen on the video together, and then leaving the mall separately. Then our suspect's time is unaccounted for, for a period of time in which we believe he committed the murder,' Ms Llewellyn said.

Wael's defense said he waited for his brother in the mall's parking lot where they planned before leaving on his own. They said he did not kill his brother.

'There is no motive present for Wael to kill his twin brother, his best friend, and his flesh and blood,' attorney David Zwanetz said in his opening statement in the trial. With the case going cold, Wael was released.

Hoping to move on with his life, Wael moved to the Atlanta area with his mother and sister, enrolling at American Intercontinental University Atlanta for criminology.

One year later, Wasel's cold case was assigned to a new investigator, Nick DeCarlo of Howard.

Agreeing to meet with Mr DeCarlo during a visit home\, the two sat in an interrogation room with a tape recording their conversation.

'You don't know what it's like to lose a twin brother,' Wael is heard telling Mr DeCarlo in the tape that would be later played before a jury.

'Please do not insult me and come at me as a suspect. I have been through Hell and back ... There is no reason why I want my brother's killer to just be out there walking the streets.'

Mr DeCarlo replies: 'Neither do I.'

'Two brothers. You have a fight. You have some issues. You are going to resolve the issue as brothers often do, with fists or whatever, and unfortunately Wasel got hurt and he died,' Mr DeCarlo accused.

'We did not fight ... my brother and I did not fight that day,' Wael retorted.

Despite his claims he called his father from a Cobb County Jail informing him: 'I've been arrested for first-degree murder.'

'I just see, like, flashlights at my back door and hear police radio chatter. They just coming, rushing in, like, 20, 25 of them,' he described of that night to CBS. 'I told him three times. I think he asked me in the interview had I killed my brother and I said "no."'

Held for seven months behind bars, during the final verdict, a jury deliberated for 20 hours before ruling a mistrial. No direct evidence or DNA evidence could prove Wael guilty the court found.

One month later in Howard County prosecutors dropped charges against Wael and prosecutors told a judge that they would not pursue another trial for him.

'It was great being able to kiss and hug my mom again,' Wael told WJZ after his release. 'To know I'm free and that this is over. We'll never know (what happened to Wasel). It's unsolved.'

Assistant State's Attorney Jim Dietrich said after speaking to jurors, prosecutors didn't think they could do better in a retrial of the circumstantial case.






A black male model (who has allegedly dated men and women) was once in an relationship with the son of a legendary iconic white female singer in the category of Whitney, Celine and Phyllis Hyman.


The relationship didn't last long because the male model loved to flirt with other guys in his presence.


They once got into a screaming match at a White Party in Miami because the model was constantly coming on to other men.


A few months later, the openly gay son had enough and called it quits.


People whispered that the male model really blew it since the son is considered a lotto ticket in the gay community due to his large trust fund worth millions.


Since then, the male model has had financial problems and when he tried to reconcile, the son hung up in his face.


Who are they?






Have you ever had fantasies about being a stock broker, day trader or swing trader BUT you never pursued it due to a lack of experience? 


The Robinhood app solves this problem.


You don't need ANY stock, finance or math experience to buy, sell or trade.


This is considered one of the easiest apps on the market.


You can buy, sell and trade stocks, penny stocks and cryptocurrency in 60 seconds or less.


With no fees attached.


Celebrities (including rappers) and athletes use this app to keep up with their stocks and cryptocurrency purchases and none of these celebrities have a financial background; that's just how easy this app is to use.


Always remember to research stocks and cryptocurrency prior to purchase.








This ebook shows you how to purchase your dream car or SUV at auction; saving thousands in the process. 


The ebook "How To Buy Cars At Auction," provides an array of information regarding car auctions; unknown to the public.


On the show "Miami Vice," Don Johnson portrayed a cop yet drove a convertible Ferrari that he purchased at a car auction (the type of auction described in the above ebook).


You can now make your dream a reality by purchasing your dream car.


Priced At: $7.00 with a money back guarantee. Click on the above images to get started.




All Natural Remedies For The Most Common Food Cravings -- Carbs, Sugar, Alcohol, Soda, Salt, And More Are Covered In This Audio & Book. Click on the above image.


Learn How To Beat Cravings For:


Artificial Sweeteners & Aspartame – diet soda
Caffeine – Coffee & Soda
Carbohydrates – Bread and Pasta
Dairy Products – Cheese & Butter
Desserts – cookies, cakes, pies, donuts
Fried foods, fast foods, pizza
Oils and Fats
Salty snacks – chips, salted nuts, popcorn
Soda (Diet and Regular)
Sugar – Candy/Sweets
Wheat – bread, pasta, crackers

Alcohol – wine, beer, hard liquor






3 simple steps to eat lots of carbs and never store them as fat. Lower belly and abdominal fat as well.  The following 4 ebooks are free with purchase: (14 carbs cycling desserts, carb cycling dinners, day rapid fat loss-fast start guide and fat loss tricks).  60 Day money back guarantee. Click above images.





Download the free trial version of "The Attorney's Guide To Credit Repair," by clicking on the above image. 


Are you tired of being rejected for car loans and credit cards? Do you want to buy a home but the banks have denied your mortgage application? Is bad credit preventing you from getting the job you want?

Included in the ebook: A step-by-step formula (it only takes 3 steps), that you could use to dramatically improve your credit rating. A formula so powerful, it can add 257 points or more to your FICO Score.

Would this be something you'd be interested?

If your answer is yes, then I urge you to keep reading, because inside this article you'll discover how to transform your credit report into a valuable asset... one you can use to get anything money can buy!


Take it for a trial spin. Use it for a full 60 days. You have 2 months to put everything to the test

Then, if for any reason you simply aren't satisfied, let me know and I'll refund your entire payment. Right up to the final day of this 60 day guarantee!



Order your fat burning kitchen recipe book (above) for the very low price of $10 with a money back guarantee. Also included: 101 anti-aging foods. Click on the above images for more information.






Imagine what you would do and where you would go if you knew how to live a complete life with all your needs met for $20 a day? Would you head to a national park like Yellowstone, Yosemite or Glacier and hike and photograph wildlife for a month? Would you relax a month away on Florida's pristine white powder sand beaches sipping cold Mojito's? Would you hit the tables in Vegas for some exciting gaming, outrageous pool parties, followed by a mind blowing world class show? Would you dine out every night for a week on the pier in San Francisco? Would you go hunting, fishing, camping, hiking, biking, boating, surfing, skiing, or otherwise get off the grid and out of the grind for a month or two at a time? Click the above image to learn more.



Health & Fitness: You ever wonder how celebrities lose weight so fast yet stay healthy?  They use this little known "3 week diet" (mentioned above) created by a celebrity fitness trainer; this diet also works well against belly fat. Click image (above) to learn more.  Results are guaranteed or your money back.



Health & Fitness: Coconut oil is a miracle drug and can cure a variety of ailments. The three ebooks (pictured above) are excellent and contain additional information and benefits; never discussed before.  Download them for the low price of $10.00 by clicking the above image.




Vail: (Black supermodel turned-intelligence broker/assassin-in-training)....

Ryder: (CIA agent who went rogue/current enforcer and assassin for an illegal spider network).

Andreas Xavier: (The General of an illicit invisible empire named "Shadow Syndicate." This criminal conglomerate is involved in every illegal endeavor known to mankind.

Dominique Desiree: (Superstar attorney who unwittingly gets entangled in a web of deceit & deception).

Also starring: Jacks (CIA), G-Mac (Weapons Specialist), Dayna (HIV Assassin), Lear (CIA/Hollywood Fixer), Nikki (Freelance Assassin), Phelps (3-Charley/Sweeper), Lauryn (heads a cocaine banking cartel) and Cartier, (Former Black Hollywood drug kingpin/International Fugitive)......

Click Here To Get Started: Ballin' 8













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