By John Lee Brook
For the 1st time, ex-convict John Lee Brook topics the Aryan Brotherhood to a devastating exposé, revealing how the infamous white supremacist legal gang has turn into might be the main strong legal association in the USA, an fulfillment even more notable in view that the vast majority of its contributors stay at the back of bars, and its notorious Commission—the folkloric threesome, Thomas 'Terrible Tom' Silverstein, Tyler 'the Hulk' Bingham and Barry 'the Baron' Mills—are stored in maximum-security solitary confinement, because the US govt makes an open attempt to subdue the association in any respect valuable. regardless of those efforts, the Aryan Brotherhood keeps to thrive, and Blood In, Blood Out demonstrates how a mixture of Machiavelli, Nietzsche, meditation, mystery codes, brutal violence and sheer will let its buried puppet masters to proceed to pull on the strings of a company on the leading edge of the black industry alternate in medications, palms and money...
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Extra info for Blood In, Blood Out. The Violent Empire of the Aryan Brotherhood
My name be being Bob. ” Originally from Mississippi, Bully Boy Bob was in prison because he was a failure in life. First he failed school. Then he failed at drug smuggling. He’d been driving an elderly, wheezing Cadillac loaded to the gills with cocaine when the cops stopped him. While they were putting the cuffs on him, one of the cops gave him a look of pity. “I ain’t never seen no white man drive a car like that,” the cop had said, shaking his head. The Hulk looked at the guy. Bully Boy was tall and thick, but kind of fat.
Sun and beach and surfing. The bus lurched to a stop and he waited for the losers to gather their things and get off before making his own way to the exit. Finally—fun in the sun! He glanced around, trying to figure the way to the beach when someone called his name. ” Barry turned and saw two black uniforms. Ventura cops. He ignored them, as if he was just taking in the scenery. The two cops moved in close. ” asked one of the cops. ” asked Barry. He patted his pockets. ” “Happens all the time,” said one of the cops, grinning at his partner.
Up ahead he noticed the white glow that signified the huge, lighted compound ahead. Around the perimeter of the compound, spread out over 275 acres, he could see miles of curlicue razorwire. Outside the wire stood electrifed fences that would fry anyone who touched them. The massive gate of the main entrance slowly opened. As the convoy roared inside, guards armed with high-powered rifes looked down from their watchtowers. Reaching a complex of white concrete buildings—that formed a series of X’s when viewed from above—the convoy screeched to a halt.