The Chronicles of RawDogbandit

[RawDogBandit]

I was only going to post this on DapCity. But that would be a disservice to The Coli honestly..

A little over ten years ago, after sitting two and a half years in a South Korean prison on a drug trafficking charge, I got discharged from the U.S. Air Force and sent back to the US.


Memphis raised me with one hand on my shoulder and the other around my neck, so I learned early how fast love can turn into survival. From there, life moved pretty quick, partying in North Dakota at 18, messing with married women, wild nights in Canada, heading overseas to Korea and linking up with a drug trafficking ring run by the Korean mafia, almost getting shot in Atlanta by a known hitta in the city, a brief run in the music industry out there, working in corporate, joining a Black men’s empowerment group in the Bay Area(Oakland mostly) while I was on shrooms and high about 80% of the time, ending up in a standoff with Oakland gangstas, then circling back through Memphis and finally landing in Charlotte.


Now I’m leaving the U.S. again at the end of this year, on my own terms after going to school, working, and rediscovering myself these last ten years/

I’m planning to travel the world for about two and a half years ,first stop, Africa, and before I dip and while I'm traveling. I want to share some of the road that got me here with y’all.

This thread is honestly also me sharpening my pen and putting some of these stories down for the brehs, that I may never put in a book.


This whole idea is ABSOLUTELY inspired by our breh’s General Mills Chronicles thread over on The Coli (@ The General Mills Chronicles.). His thread got me through some long nights while I was in the Air Force bored at work. I always laughed and was inspired to tell stories due to breh. So salute breh


I’m not claiming to be as witty as him, but I know I’ve got some stories worth sharing—so you don’t do the dumb shyt I did, but also so you remember to just… live black man. It’s a beautiful world with plenty of opportunity for brehs like us. You just gotta go see it for yourself.


One last thing: I’ll share as many stories as I can. I’ll be changing names, because I’ve crossed paths with folks who probably just want to be left alone nowadays. I've been around on the internet long enough to know how people are.

Some are alive. Some are gone. Some are famous now. I only ask that you respect their privacy and don’t doxx anybody. If you figure out who I am or want to dig deeper into my story, cool. Just keep the side characters out of the crosshairs.


Some of this is funny, some of it is foul, and some of it still wakes me up at 3 a.m and puts me in this real quiet space, but it’s all true enough.


First story up: a fight in jail—told in a few parts.

 

[RawDogBandit]

The day they beat Tony’s ass is forever engraved in my memory.


I still remember the whimpers that slipped out of his mouth, low and ugly. I remember how cold the gym felt, that prison sweat mixed with winter air, and exactly where I was standing when it all went down.


To this day, I still can’t decide if it was worth it.


Back then I’d been locked up maybe ten months total, nine in Seoul Detention Center, and about a month now in Cheonan—into my two and a half year sentence. At a certain point, you get used to the day-to-day and how things are supposed to flow. The guards, the count, the food we got delivered from the Army, the politics, the hustle. It all starts to feel normal, even when it isn’t.


On our block there were twelve of us. Five Black men, seven from everywhere else. South Korea, the States, Micronesia. Different flags, same cages.


Me and Tony had a casual relationship. It was always a simple “what’s good” or a nod in passing. No tension, no extra. Tony was Mexican, moved quiet but heavy, and he’d built up a certain kind of power in there—money flowing, drugs moving, people depending on him to numb the time. In a place like that, power stacks up fast, and so does resentment.


That day started regular enough.


We were in the dayroom, posted up and debating Hip Hop—old heads vs new shyt—when Tony walked in and called out to Mobb.


“Yo, Mobb. Lemme holla at you real quick.”


Mobb was an Army vet from Florida, a Piru, one of the main plugs on the block, a great hooper, and he had hands. We had graduated the same year from high school. He ended up being one of my best friends in there.


Tony was the other main plug. When Tony called him out, we thought nothing of it. Drugs changed hands constantly in there, and between the two of them, half the block stayed high enough to forget where we were for a few hours.


A few minutes later, we heard a door slam down the hall. Not a regular close—one of those heavy, angry slams that makes everybody look up.


Mobb walked back into the dayroom, shaking his head with this half-amused, half “damn, that’s fukked up” look on his face.


“Tony just punched Flip in his shyt,” he said.


“Damn, for what?” everybody asked at once.


“He said Flip owed him money.”


Somebody asked, “Why he call you? He wanted a witness?”


Mobb shrugged. “He just told me to step out with him. Next thing you know, he like, ‘Yo, Flip, you said you not paying that money back, right?’ Flip said, ‘Fukk no,’ and boom—he punched him dead in his shyt.”


Quick backstory: Flip had come to Tony for drugs. Tony told him no—said he already owed too much. Flip argued the old debt should be wiped clean because when he got out the punishment room—thirty days in the hole for punching a CO, that’s another story—he didn’t have any food left. Said Tony had eaten or sold most of what he’d left, since they shared fridges.


Tony basically told him that was the cost of doing business. You owed then, you owe now.


Flip said, “fukk you, I’m never paying that shyt back.”

And now here we are.




After Mobb finished explaining, the dayroom got quiet in that way where everybody’s thinking the same thing but nobody wants to say it first.


Ru—Robb’s crime partner and a Tree Top Blood—broke the silence first.


“I don’t like that shyt,” Ru muttered. Flip was about 5’4” and 120. Ru saw it as bullying.


GBillz, only twenty(his dad was in the Army), still with a little baby in his face but too much time on his back, nodded. “Yeah, that shyt feel like bullying to me.”


I didn’t know it yet, but they already had a little history with Tony. Some words, some tension. This just cracked it open.


Robb, who was sitting on seven years, shook his head too. I always felt like his issue with Tony ran deeper. Tony used to clown him for being half Puerto Rican and half Mexican, always talking slick, standing higher on the totem pole because he moved more weight and had more people leaning on him. Also, Robb’s crime had him near the bottom, outside of Flip.


Then JackFrost spoke up. He was G Billz crime partner. And a dependent husband to a girl in the army.


JackFrost was a big country dude from Alabama—about 6’4”, 225, hands like cinder blocks. The type of cat who didn’t have to do much to make his presence felt. He’d been restless for a while, like he was looking for a reason to cause hell.


“Something should be done about that,” he said, calm but heavy. But I could peep what time he was on.





And that’s really where it turned.


Tony had been moving like a king for too long. Too much power, too much respect, too many debts in a place where a man’s pride is sometimes all he’s got left. JackFrost saw an opening. Flip getting punched over a debt everyone knew about—especially after thirty days in the hole—that was the excuse.


The idea started simple: Flip wanted his one-on-one. A fair fade with Tony to get his get-back. That’s what they said out loud.


But underneath that, the plan grew a bit of teeth.


At lunch, everybody would go to the gym instead of outside. When Flip and Tony squared up, other people were going to jump in. Not just Flip vs Tony. The block vs Tony’s apparent coming for the crown.


Mobb was the only one in the room who said no. He had business dealings with Tony. He wasn’t trying to mess up what he had going, especially since Tony had connects all over the building.


By the end of that little meeting in the dayroom, the energy had shifted. Nobody said, “We’re jumping Tony,” straight out. But mane, eyes got exchanged. Head nods got passed around. JackFrost’s word held weight, and the rest of them let it ride.


Whether I agreed or not didn’t really matter. It was stupid, but in prison, everybody wants to see what you’re made of when real violence goes down.

 

[RawDogBandit]

I'm going out to eat, but I'll post another part in a few hours. Peace brehs

 

[TELL ME YA CHEESIN FAM?]

 

[LevelUp]

Subs

 

[RawDogBandit]

Part Two.


I think it was Mobb or JackFrost who told Tony that Flip wanted the one-on-one at lunchtime. To this day, I really don’t know how Tony didn’t see it was a clear setup.



On paper, it didn’t make sense. Tony clearly outmatched Flip in size and in hands. Tony was from Chicago. Flip was from, like, Oklahoma or some middle-of-nowhere shyt. One of those places where you may have never seen another Black man unless it was on TV or he was passing through town.


But I remembered. Tony had already proven himself a few times in there. His name came with evidence.


One story that I later found out about on the block was him and Ru.


Ru and Tony used to be cool—damn near best friends. One day during a dominoes game, Ru jokingly called Tony a bytch. Just on some “we clowning” energy. Y’all know how the spades table or how intense dominoes can get.


Tony looked at him and said, “Say that shyt again.”


Ru, being Ru, said it again.


Tony didn’t wait. He caught him with a sneak shot right there at the table. Chairs scraped back, pieces went flying. Next thing you know, they’re throwing. They spill into the kitchen area, hands everywhere. Tony was handling business, but then G Billz jumps in and him and Ru stomp out Tony.

The brehs always looked out for each other at the end of the day.


Ru never forgot that sneak shot though.


Later, he still wanted his one-on-one, so they ran it in the gym. Just Ru and Tony, with Mobb, JackFrost, G Billz and the rest of the block watching. Ru was losing again.


Mobb told me later he felt like Tony was dragging it out, enjoying it. So he stepped in, caught Tony with a clean uppercut—one of those shots where you know it’s over with. Tony dropped and was apparently out cold.


That punch was the only reason they could ever say, “Yeah, Tony been slept before, and that Mobb would always have Ru back.


After that, Ru had a permanent problem with Tony. Not just because he got slid, but because the way it went down made him feel small in a place where your size is all you got left.


G Billz’s issue with Tony was layered too, but that’s a whole other conversation.




Just know this: by the time Flip got punched, a few people had been waiting on a good excuse. And now it was over half the block wanting revenge.



Aight, my bad. So now we’re in the gym.


The gym in Cheonan wasn’t nothing special. But it was damn near a safe space to escape to while we were in there, outside of today.


We had a lookout posted at the door: Birdie.


Birdie was an older white dude, balding, weird energy. He was cool with Tony. I never knew his exact charge, but it had something to do with a minor. That was enough for me. I considered him a bytch and didn’t really talk to him much.


Inside the gym there were nine of us:

• Me
• Mobb
• Ru
• G Billz
• JackFrost
• Robb
• Flip
• Tony
• Money Mike
• and Micro

Money Mike was a white boy who helped run one of the biggest drug ops in Korea. Doing five and a half, tall, skinny and pale. Micro looked like a short, thick Samoan with a permanent scowl. He didn’t like me, and I did not give a fukk.


Tony came in with mittens on, like he’d just been working out. He knew it was a solid win for him today. Flip, on the other hand, looked nervous as hell.


He was pale and small, this random white boy from the middle of nowhere. His shoulders were tight and slouched, eyes darting. You could damn near smell the fear coming off him.


Everybody spread out in that fake casual way. Some leaned on the wall. Some of us sat on the weight racks.


Mobb kind of drifted to the side where he could see everything. I stayed back by the wall near the weight racks—close enough to see, far enough not to be in the circle yet.


Tony stepped toward the middle of the gym, hands coming up smooth. He slid into a boxer’s stance like he’d done this way too many times. It’s crazy when I think about it now. Feet set, chin tucked.


Flip… did not.


They squared up and at some point Flip threw this awkward, weak-ass little kick. Not even a real martial arts kick, more like something he remembered from a movie he half-watched. His foot came up too slow, too wide, and landed with a soft tap. It was pitiful as fukk.


Tony was laughing at his ass. Not a big grin—just that little smirk like, Yeah, I’m about to beat this bytch ass.


For a second, you could’ve freeze-framed the whole room:-


-Tony squared up, cold.


-Flip already in over his head.


-Ru and G Billz watching like they waiting on their cue.


-JackFrost big as hell, arms crossed, eyes bright.


-Mobb off to the side, reading the whole board like chess.


Then it happened.


Tony and Flip squared up proper.


Even before a punch was thrown, the mismatch was obvious. Flip was just prey.


Robb jumped in way too early.


He stepped forward all awkward like, “Fukk it,” and tried to insert himself into the fade. Tony took a half step back, looked at him, and said something like, “Oh, word? Bet. Now I’m gonna beat both of y’all asses.”


Robb tried this wild Superman punch—leaping forward, fist cocked, like he thought he was in an anime. It didn’t land clean. He caught more air than face. Looked more dramatic than dangerous, like he was LARPing with his friends in a park.


Flip saw where this was headed and made a decision.


“fukk this, I’m out,” he said.


Left his boy mid-fade and walked out the gym.

All the brehs were left in disgusted disbelief


Now it’s Tony and Robb. No more pretense. Tony started lighting Robb ass up. He was getting walked down.


Then Ru slid in.


I didn’t even see where he came from—just saw his arm flash across my vision and connect. He caught Tony on the side of the head, and the whole energy shifted.


After that, it wasn’t a fade anymore.


If you’ve ever seen people get jumped, it’s never a pretty sight.


Ru hit him, then G Billz came in, then JackFrost. Fists started flying from everywhere. Tony stumbled, tried to cover up, tried to swing back. Somebody caught him in the ribs. Somebody else clipped his jaw. Shoes started stomping.


The sound in that gym turned into pure chaos, grunts, curses, sneakers sliding on concrete.


Mobb moved closer into the circle, not throwing punches, just talking.


“Get in there.”
“Hit his ass.”
“Stop holding back, man.”


Like a coach on the sideline of a game that was already decided—which we laughed about later, probably to cover up how we really felt.


I remember the sound more than anything.


The thud of fists on flesh.
Somebody slamming him into something metal—maybe a bench or a free weight. I still don’t know. I just remember that sharp clang when his body met steel.


And over all of that, I remember the noise that came out of Tony.
Not a scream. Not a full shout. Just these short, broken whimpers—sounds men don’t like to admit they make.


JackFrost was the worst one. For him, this felt like a chance to make a point, especially since Mobb had already caught one knocking Tony out.


He kept lunging in, dropping heavy shots, trying to shut Tony’s lights off completely. Big body, big fists, all that frustration he’d been carrying turned into haymakers.


Tony went down to a knee. Somebody kicked him in the side. He tried to get up, hands slipping on the floor, went down again.


At a certain point, it stopped feeling like “teach him a lesson” and started feeling like we were watching a group of men use this opportunity to let out frustration.


I remember Money Mike kicking him in the head.


Something in me snapped out of it. I’ve always tried to be a peacemaker (hell, I won the Peacemaker Award in elementary lmao).


“He’s good, he’s good!” I yelled out


For a second, people hesitated. That half-second where everyone looks around like, Are we done?


Jack didn’t even look at me.


“Naw, fukk him,” he said.


Then he stepped in one last time and punched Tony dead in his shyt. Clean, straight shot. Tony went over sideways and hit the floor flat. Just pure gravity and concrete.

"Now, he's good"

The gym got real quiet right after.


As Tony lay there, people started walking out the gym.


“fukk you for bullying.”
“Stop fukking with people.”


Like they were yelling at every past opp, and Tony was just the one on the floor catching all the history.


I walked over and looked down at him. His eyes were glassy, unfocused. Blood at the corner of his mouth. One side of his face already puffing up.


“You good?” I asked.


He didn’t really answer. Just shook his head, barely.


Birdie came back from the door and helped him up.


As they left, I looked around. Blood was on the concrete, a few weights scattered.


Later, Money Mike went to Tony’s room. He told me he gave Tony a handful of pills and told him it wasn’t personal.


For about a week, they were whispering they thought Tony might die. Word was he was taking around twenty pills a day, just chasing relief from that ass whooping. He was in and out of it. In a daze, his eyes letting us know he wasn;t truly there. He didn't go to work in the factory for a few days.
He told some of us later he doesn’t remember about three weeks after that fight.


Face swole and all, he went and got stitches. Told the guards he fell in the gym.


He never told the guards what really happened. Not once.


The next year, Tony tried to hang himself. I think the incident and all the pills caught up to him.


Crazy thing is, it was a guard we all hated who happened to catch it and cut him down. Ironic as hell. Tony was never the same after that jump.


And the wildest part? He never tried to get revenge. I honestly feel like he would’ve been well within his right. Instead, he just… moved different. Smaller. Quieter.



I’ll post a lighter story next. I just wanted to get that one out of my head.

 

[Jasonmask]

I’ll bite. Is this just going to be op trauma dumping this whole thread or will there be more varied stories? Too many posters here already have compelling prison/jail stories I want to know what got you in Korean prison like I know you told us but explain how one goes to the Air Force just to mess it up thugging because last time I checked you can’t be dumb in the Air Force and they pay well. I want the celebrity and more details of your time back in the states.

 

[Amerikan Melanin]

This sounds like a white man imaginary jail stories.

 

[KingsOfKings]

Got some reading to do.

 

[LevelUp]

Rep

 

[Strapped]

Buy some condoms

 

[Clark Wayne]

I’ll bite. Is this just going to be op trauma dumping this whole thread or will there be more varied stories? Too many posters here already have compelling prison/jail stories I want to know what got you in Korean prison like I know you told us but explain how one goes to the Air Force just to mess it up thugging because last time I checked you can’t be dumb in the Air Force and they pay well. I want the celebrity and more details of your time back in the states.

Yeah the story was alright but how op end up there in the first place.

 

[drederick tatum]

Op, you ain't shyt
@General Mills

 

[RawDogBandit]

I’ll bite. Is this just going to be op trauma dumping this whole thread or will there be more varied stories? Too many posters here already have compelling prison/jail stories I want to know what got you in Korean prison like I know you told us but explain how one goes to the Air Force just to mess it up thugging because last time I checked you can’t be dumb in the Air Force and they pay well. I want the celebrity and more details of your time back in the states.

i hear ya breh

Naw, I wouldn’t do that(just completely trauma dump)
I like to believe I understand The Coli to a certain extent .

Brehs already deal with enough BS outside this place can low key be a semi safe space, lmao.

@General Mills had me in tears back in the day. His stories are honestly the inspiration behind this. I’m planning to drop some ones that I think are funny.

And I wouldn’t even call it “thugging.” I was just a regular breh(still am) who thought he was smarter than he actually was… just lacking wisdom overall

I’m dropping a few tonight though. Just got off work.

 

[RawDogBandit]

Yeah the story was alright but how op end up there in the first

I gotcha. I’ll try to drop that one tonight or at least part of it.