Grass Roots Moves Part 2 (The Recap)

Grassroots Can Be Messy: My New York City Campaign and the Alternate Reality of Sean Combs

If you haven’t been following the hysteria, let me catch you up. I planned and executed a trip to New York to make an appearance at the courthouse during Sean Combs’ criminal trial. I had no idea what to expect, but it turns out all the major players I’ve been tweeting and DM’ing for months were there—journalists, producers, reporters from Rolling Stone, The New York Post, ABC, NBC, CNN, FOX, AP, Inside Edition, Entertainment Tonight, Law & Crime, and more. There was even a New York Times reporter I had the chance to speak with. And the irony there is that, 1) I’ve been featured in The New York Times for my work as a novelist. And 2), I visited the Times building that morning just for the ironic moment captured on a photo.

And here’s the thing—while most haven’t responded to my outreach, a few significant ones have. Lisa Evers, the original Street Soldier, even took my number while we engaged in a 5-6 minute conversation about the full-circle moment we were a part of, and also a NewsNation reporter spoke with me. The connections I made that day were incredible, all thanks to Sean Combs. But what people don’t realize is that while we were all there for Combs, in many ways, it might just as well have been me who brought them there. Let me explain.

Back in 1996, Diddy—then Puff Daddy—tried to kill me. He lead his group of marauders after me (it was easily 12 of them altogether), and one of them fired shots. Thankfully, I wasn’t hit. But what if I had been? What if my friend Lance had been hit? It was the dead of night, there were no cameras, and our existence might have been erased. But it could have changed everything for Combs. He might have been wrapped up in a murder case early in his career, before Bad Boy Records took off, before the mansions, the cars, the awards, and the businesses. None of it would exist if that night had gone differently.

Neither would I. The two children I sired after that night wouldn’t exist. The 100+ books I’ve written wouldn’t exist. My entire legacy as a novelist wouldn’t exist, nor the love of my life or the possibilities I’ve built for my future. All of that could have been wiped out because of this one random act of violence.

Fast forward to his court appearance I attended Thursday, October 10th, 2024. Every person outside the courthouse—from the cameramen to the reporters, the police to the families, even Diddy’s daughters from Kim Porter—wouldn’t be born if that night in 1996 had gone a different way. The lawyers wouldn’t be there. The TV shows discussing Diddy’s current legal battles would be talking about something entirely different. please understand, this was a situation where it was either me or him. No I wasn’t packing any weapons, but just imagine if I succumbed to his attack and maybe somebody told on him and maybe there was a murder trial… Well, for sure, I would be somewhere buried but he would be right where he is right now but early. Now what are the other alternatives? What if he got me and left me for dead and because there were virtually no witnesses… What if all of his cronies held their tongue and he got away with murder perhaps he’d be a different man? Perhaps he would realize he got away with murder and he would walk on eggshells and be a nice person for the rest of his life? Only God knows what that looks like. But I know now, since things went different and since I’m still here to talk about it that I must speak up and I must speak out and I must be loud. Because when I’ve been a racist there would be nobody here to speak up for me. There would be no legacy to uphold. And so here I stand.

THURSDAY: Before I even reached the courthouse, my journey through New York was surreal. After landing, I made my way to FedEx in Queens, grabbed my supplies, and marched through the city, onto buses and subways with my billboard sign, promoting my book and my agenda. Here’s a link to my little Times Square moment video clip. I passed through iconic spots—Fifth Avenue, Radio City Music Hall, Times Square—interacting with hundreds of thousands of people. It was exhilarating. Madison Square Garden, Central Park, and everywhere in between, I was making noise, taking photos, networking, and getting my message out there.

The next morning, I found myself at the Port Authority tunnels—one of the busiest places in New York during rush hour. I spent hours shouting about my book, talking to people, and taking more photos. It felt amazing to be back on the streets of New York, pushing my work into the world, even if I wasn’t carrying physical copies of my book. Even if this wasn’t the most joyful project I’ve ever written. I still understand that, so it’s nice to meet people during these boots-on-the-pavement outings, I’d rather lay back and enjoy the virtual space. It’s where I want to live—giving people the stories they’re craving.

9AM: From Port Authority, I stood outside The New York Times building, making another statement with my book. Then, I made my way to Foley Square, ready to share my story among the throng of reporters. It was all intentional, all part of a greater plan to push my narrative in front of what I estimate to be 50 million-plus eyeballs.

How do I come up with that number? Consider that morning in the Port Authority tunnel where an average of 200,000-300,000 people passed me by and heard my big mouth for the 8am hour. Here’s how that looks on video. Then consider all the LIVE TV and Internet platforms my book cover has appeared on by default of me holding it up at the courthouse. (See photos in this article/Screenshots from broadcasts that have also been uploaded to Youtube) From Entertainment Tonight to Roland Martin’s YouTube channel, from ABC to NBC, CNN, FOX, and the Associated Press—all of these networks have digital versions of their stories that circulate endlessly online. When your name is in the mix on all these platforms, it’s like hitting a viral jackpot.

And let’s not forget the personal connections. My sister in San Diego sent me a text to let me know she saw “her big brother doing his thing“. Then my best friend’s daughter, part of the TikTok generation, told her dad that “Relentless goin’ viral.” And that was THIS STREAMER who’s stream has already reached nearly 500k views. Even one of my favorite shock jocks, Star of The Star Report sent me an email, saluting me for standing up at the courthouse. It’s moments like these that push me forward, reminding me that I’m back in the spotlight, that I’m on purpose, and that I’m becoming relevant again.

But with all this attention comes unpredictability. Imagine standing outside the courthouse with my 40×60 billboard sign, only to have someone—of course, a fan of Diddy—who wants to pick a fight because they don’t believe my story, and because Diddy is his hero. In this world, it doesn’t take much to set someone off, and that’s where things get dicey. You never know what will escalate into police intervention, injuries, or even time behind bars. It’s a volatile reality we all live in.

This grassroots movement—raw, unpolished, and sometimes messy—is how I’m getting my story out there. It’s the grind that pushes me into new spaces, forces me into conversations, and reminds the world who I am. Every step I’ve taken, every interaction I’ve had, brings me closer to my goal. And as chaotic as it can be, there’s something undeniably powerful in the mess. And now, with my being interviewed on micro influencer’s streams and prayerfully the parger ones sooner than later, the world over will know me, my purpose and my voice.

If you’d like to see the preliminary stages of this NYC Visit, CLICK HERE>

Just an aside…👀