Here is one of numerous articles on the Miami cult and the fuck-shit they were doing in the name of religion. The leader’s family would later testify that indeed, a man was murdered inside the temple at the request of the leader. (I was in Newark, New Jersey as a 23-year old “elder” of a temple when this occurred. South Orange Ave. & 10th, right up the street from Nation of Islam Temple #25 to be exact!)
I’m no Cam’ron or any of you who are bound by some bullshit “code of the streets”—too steeped in ghetto mythology to put a motherfucker away for hurting your loved one/s. Yes! I was a snitch! A proud snitch at that! I mean; a snitch by the definition of these ig-nant streets!\
But really! What is a snitch? The most simple-minded definition is anyone who cooperates with law enforcement. This ignorant definition would have your mother raped & murdered and if you couldn’t retaliate, the rapist & murderer go free and your mother receives no justice, because the streets have defined your actions. The streets don’t give a fuck about you, but you give a fuck about the streets! In the words of that Korean store clerk in Menace II Society, “I feel sorry for your mother!”
A truer definition of a “snitch” would be criminals who engage in criminality and once caught, begin to tell on each other to save and/or lessen their time behind bars.
As for me, I was neither involved in criminality or in jail trying to save myself. I willingly, of my own freewill walked into the Miami Bureau of the F.B.I. and told what I had been part of. I was living the life of a monk—a pious Jew and my leader was having people offed. So, being threatened after I left, it became, “All’s far in love and war!”Here is the first interview I gave after leaving the cult. I was a gifted modern, jazz dancer and my return to the dance world in Miami was lauded. I was born “Lloyd Rodney Clark.”
A year after the cult. Cooperating with the F.B.I. while still in the dance world (and watching my back for the enemy.)
Yes! After a lengthy trial, in which I was the first of a possible 160 witnesses (including the leader’s biological family and stepchildren) to testify I was told that I should go into the Federal Witness Security program and indeed, I did!
Now! If you lend me your ears (and eyes), I’m going to walk you through what it was like for me (and Sammy “The Bull” Gravano and Frank Lucas) being a government informant and the whole witness protection thingy. I’m going to reveal what has never been revealed!
As an informant, it was my job to give the F.B.I. any and all information on the cult—criminal and non-criminal. I would meet my handler (a 6’6” ex-Panamanian Olympic basketball star), in the office at first and later on in a restaurant where he’d debrief me and ask specific questions about unsolved crimes that I may have information about. I did this for a few years, wearing an F.B.I.-issued beeper back in those days (1986-’88) so that they could keep tabs on me. I was given the code name “El Indio” (The Indian). They gave me a lie detector test to make sure I was on the level. As far as being a paid informant—I never asked for any money, but on occasion my handler would put $400-$500 in my pocket. I was asked to go back into the cult and wear a wire, but I declined because I knew they searched everyone at the door. Surely I would come up missing! There was later talk of expanding my role to informing on the Nation of Islam, but this too I declined. (As Spike Lee said in the movie, “Malcolm X,” by then, “I loved pig’s feet and white women too much!”) I had no beef with the Nation. Indeed, I married a fine-ass white chick who would ride or die for me, Witness Protection Program and all!