G Man: The Education of a Criminal
(Also known as "Growing up Gangster: The rise, fall, and redemption of a notorious hustler")
Haven’t read “G Man" yet? Get a taste of my living testimony that will surely leave you wanting more. My story is proof that anyone can have a second chance to make a difference.
Chapter 1 Excerpt
The G True Hollywood Story
The distant sound of a helicopter echoed in the background and snapped me back into reality. Twenty minutes later, the blades of the chopper sounded nearer, as though they hovered right above me. Panic gripped me once again. Ten minutes passed, and a flurry of activity outside made me cringe. Car doors slammed and chatter from police radios flooded the air. Panic turned into outright terror the moment the dogs started barking. I eased over to the window and peered outside. Police were everywhere! Shock ripped through me. I backed away from the window and crouched on a nearby crate. I had watched this shit on television a thousand times about one fugitive after another. Now I was in the starring role. The voice through the bullhorn jarred me again with, “You have thirty seconds to throw out your gun or we’re sending in the dogs!” My mind screamed, “Move!” but my body wouldn’t respond. The room felt smaller. Fear immobilized me. Suddenly the door exploded off the hinges. A huge black German Shepherd lunged at me, putting a death grip on my right wrist just as I stood to get my bearings. The gun fell to the ground as I yelled, “Okay, okay! I dropped my gun! Please call your dog off me, please!” The dog continued to chew on my wrist. I lowered myself to the ground in a submissive position and the police flowed in like a tidal wave of white, brown, and beige bodies. I was definitely in trouble.
Chapter 3 Excerpt
The Beginning of the End
I was never prepared for this—dealing with the consequences of my actions. My mother had her hands tied with trying to put food on the table, clothes on our backs, and a solid roof over our heads. She tried to teach me about morals and values as best she could, but it was my father’s job to tighten me up on all the pitfalls and challenges of the world. Maybe hearing him explain that sticking to the master plan—finishing school, getting a job, buying a house, starting a family—did have its rewards. Instead, the Marshall family seemed to be in “just getting by” mode. I was always hungry for survival lessons, and found them in the streets like all the rest of my friends. I learned the “alternate” type of survival, the wrong kind of lessons, with basically the same end result—death or jail. I sat on the unmade bed; I felt so abandoned. Hot tears rolled down my face. Nobody could see me, so I let it all flow.
Chapter 20 Excerpt
Thinking of a Master Plan
Monster Kody was from Eight Trey Gangster Crips, which was the neighborhood that was the flashpoint for the L.A. riots. He was feared by most, and for good reason; he was a known killer. I had done prison time with him and we were very close. He was my cousin’s comrade and represented The New Afrikans—a group who fought for change and a better way of life for blacks. Watani currently managed Monster’s speaking engagements. On my way to scoop Monster up from Long Beach, Big Russ called, and I made arrangements to pick him up after I handled my business for Watani. During the drive Monster and I caught up on current events before he asked, “What’s up with Tupac, Fati? Isn’t Watani still his manager at Interscope Records?” I brought him up to speed on ‘Pac’s current situation at Death Row Records. Tupac had recently been thrown in jail to serve a short sentence for sexual assault back in New York. He had a million-dollar appeal bond pending, and my cousin Watani and his army of lawyers couldn’t afford to bail him out. Tupac sold his soul to the devil, and signed a deal with Death Row records, owned by Suge Night. I then explained to Monster that the Bloods had put a hit on me behind some chick. A strange silence ensued, and his body became tense and rigid. I took my eyes off the road and glanced his way when he asked, “Fati, what do you want to do about it?” I took a minute before saying, “That shit’s over and behind me. Everything happens for a reason, Monster.” I survived the game on instinct, and my instinct told me that Sacramento was over and done.
Chapter 30 Excerpt
They took me back into the apartment and sat me on the couch as they searched the house. The two ounces of dope were under the couch in a cigar box. My pistol was under the very cushion that I sat on. I was going back into the pen for good this time. The next seven days were pure hell. I was down to a few hours and believed that those Mississippi officers might not come for me. Maybe they realized that they had made a mistake. Hell, I was the victim! At the end of the day I laid down on my bunk to relax and read. I got through about ten pages when a sheriff made that dreaded announcement over the PA system, “Greg Marshall, booking #732-45563. Roll your shit up! Mississippi is here to get your ass.”
I was placed in a cellblock that looked like it hadn’t housed inmates for years. Once he locked me in I sat down on my bunk and took a look around. There was a pay phone on the wall but it didn’t have a dial tone. The silence made it seem like I was a million miles from the whole world. I lay down and tried to go to sleep, but couldn’t. Housing me down there had to be part of my torture for being a Cali Boy. Thirty minutes later I lay down again. This time I felt a bulge under the mattress. I lifted it up and discovered a Bible. Instinctively, I picked it up and went straight to a Proverbs chapter. I read a few pages and placed it back on the bed. I took a hard look at my current situation. God had given me so many chances to turn my life around. He’d spared me from certain death several times, but I ignored all the warning signs. Eventually I started reading again and, according to what I read on that second attempt, I still had a chance to change my life around. Two hours later I was on my knees praying like my mother had taught me as a kid. I needed His help in the worst way. I had to have some kind of faith in God. He had shown the ability to perform miracles when He saved my life on that operating table. The thought of that made me pray even harder. After I finished my prayers I read the Bible until I fell asleep.