So Who's Your Favorite Crackhead?
So, who’s your favorite crackhead?
Mine has to be Charlotte Royal.
Source: Belinda Hall and Pierre Scurlock.
On March 10th, 2002, Chrlotte Royal had the bright idea of taking advantage of a mentally retarded man to outsmart him out of his paycheck money. She took advantage of a 42 year old man with the mind of a child. A man who it took 8 years to learn how to tie his shoes and a man who never even mastered the simple task of shaving without assistance. A class act you are, Charlotte Royal. Now Charlotte Royal-McMillan.
Ms. Einstein then gets on the phone to call Belinda Hall and orders her up some crack cocaine, delivery of course, right to her front door located at 5552 Jackson Street in the Colonial Heights area of Hope Mills, NC.
Moments later, arriving at her feet are Belinda Hall and her sidekick, Pierre Scurlock, with the illicit poison. Money is exchanged and another criminal transaction is completed. Belinda tells me that she gave Charlotte ‘a dov’ for $20 worth a crack.
“I could see Kent standing in Charlotte's doorway’, Belinda tells me, ‘he was waving at me and I waved back. That was the last I saw of him."
Charlotte takes the crack and goes back inside the trailer where her boyfriend, Donnie Godwin, is waiting to get even higher. Many people tell me that Donnie is a heroin addict, he took up after his brother, Kim, who told me he first tried heroin when he was just nine years old. Kim is going on 50 now so that means he's been doing heroin since about the time Neil Armstrong landed on the moon.
The odd thing about Kim is that he has this charm about him. If you met him, you would like the guy. Still though, his lifelong involvement with drugs has led to more trouble than you could imagine.
Charlotte and Donnie tell the police and the Jacobs family that they needed to leave the trailer to head up to McDonald’s on the corner of Hope Mills and Camden Roads to pick up Charlotte’s daughter, Lucy, who was just getting off work. “We told Kent he needed to go because we had to leave’ they claim, “and that is the last we saw of him.”
A short while later, Alton Godwin, tells me he saw Kent walking in front of his house at the end of Jackson Street towards a cut through into the woods leading to Porter Road.
Later, on Porter Road, a man driving his pickup and some boys playing basketball claim to have seen Kent but that is where the trail ends. This was roughly 5:00pm or so.
Kent just simply vanished.
I say ‘damn Charlotte Royal. Damn Belinda Hall, Damn Pierre Scurlock and damn the entire drug culture that has its lethal grip around the collective throat of our society.
Wrecked lives are everywhere and at the very, very end of this awful ‘train of tears’ is poor Martha Jacobs who till this day needs to fight her way to sleep each night as her heart cries for her loving son.
Where is Kent? Some say he is in a refrigerator buried on Cliff Jones property over there on Hulon Street near Brooklyn Circle. Cliff passed away in 2009 so he’s no longer talking, not that he ever had much to say when he was alive.
Others tell us he was thrown over the bridge near the Cotton Fire Department off of Porter Road. Then again, the family has to hear this nonsense that Kent was either shot, stabbed, fed to the pigs, shot up with heroin and/or placed in a wood chipper or even tossed into a septic tank.
The Jacobs are human beings just like you and I.
Just the mere fact of being subjected to all this nonsense is enough to shred their ability to cope. Their 'sanity', their 'sense of balance' has been knocked of its' moorings and everyone in town knows that they will never be properly put back together again.
Charlotte Royal, let me tell you something: That fine husband of yours basically told me to go to hell when I approached him about speaking to you over there at Batteries Plus on Sycamore Dairy Road in Fayetteville.
You sure can hide behind your husband – but doing so buys you Chapter One in this book.
I will deal with you in much more detail in a later Chapter, but for now, I say to you that publicly that I do not believe that you personally had a direct hand in Kent’s tragedy, but you damn sure played a role in this nightmare and at the very least, you need to return the money you took from Kent and give it back to his family.
It's not about the $20.00, it is the principle. We won't be waiting up for you to do the right thing.
Mine has to be Charlotte Royal.
Source: Belinda Hall and Pierre Scurlock.
On March 10th, 2002, Chrlotte Royal had the bright idea of taking advantage of a mentally retarded man to outsmart him out of his paycheck money. She took advantage of a 42 year old man with the mind of a child. A man who it took 8 years to learn how to tie his shoes and a man who never even mastered the simple task of shaving without assistance. A class act you are, Charlotte Royal. Now Charlotte Royal-McMillan.
Ms. Einstein then gets on the phone to call Belinda Hall and orders her up some crack cocaine, delivery of course, right to her front door located at 5552 Jackson Street in the Colonial Heights area of Hope Mills, NC.
Moments later, arriving at her feet are Belinda Hall and her sidekick, Pierre Scurlock, with the illicit poison. Money is exchanged and another criminal transaction is completed. Belinda tells me that she gave Charlotte ‘a dov’ for $20 worth a crack.
“I could see Kent standing in Charlotte's doorway’, Belinda tells me, ‘he was waving at me and I waved back. That was the last I saw of him."
Charlotte takes the crack and goes back inside the trailer where her boyfriend, Donnie Godwin, is waiting to get even higher. Many people tell me that Donnie is a heroin addict, he took up after his brother, Kim, who told me he first tried heroin when he was just nine years old. Kim is going on 50 now so that means he's been doing heroin since about the time Neil Armstrong landed on the moon.
The odd thing about Kim is that he has this charm about him. If you met him, you would like the guy. Still though, his lifelong involvement with drugs has led to more trouble than you could imagine.
Charlotte and Donnie tell the police and the Jacobs family that they needed to leave the trailer to head up to McDonald’s on the corner of Hope Mills and Camden Roads to pick up Charlotte’s daughter, Lucy, who was just getting off work. “We told Kent he needed to go because we had to leave’ they claim, “and that is the last we saw of him.”
A short while later, Alton Godwin, tells me he saw Kent walking in front of his house at the end of Jackson Street towards a cut through into the woods leading to Porter Road.
Later, on Porter Road, a man driving his pickup and some boys playing basketball claim to have seen Kent but that is where the trail ends. This was roughly 5:00pm or so.
Kent just simply vanished.
I say ‘damn Charlotte Royal. Damn Belinda Hall, Damn Pierre Scurlock and damn the entire drug culture that has its lethal grip around the collective throat of our society.
Wrecked lives are everywhere and at the very, very end of this awful ‘train of tears’ is poor Martha Jacobs who till this day needs to fight her way to sleep each night as her heart cries for her loving son.
Where is Kent? Some say he is in a refrigerator buried on Cliff Jones property over there on Hulon Street near Brooklyn Circle. Cliff passed away in 2009 so he’s no longer talking, not that he ever had much to say when he was alive.
Others tell us he was thrown over the bridge near the Cotton Fire Department off of Porter Road. Then again, the family has to hear this nonsense that Kent was either shot, stabbed, fed to the pigs, shot up with heroin and/or placed in a wood chipper or even tossed into a septic tank.
The Jacobs are human beings just like you and I.
Just the mere fact of being subjected to all this nonsense is enough to shred their ability to cope. Their 'sanity', their 'sense of balance' has been knocked of its' moorings and everyone in town knows that they will never be properly put back together again.
Charlotte Royal, let me tell you something: That fine husband of yours basically told me to go to hell when I approached him about speaking to you over there at Batteries Plus on Sycamore Dairy Road in Fayetteville.
You sure can hide behind your husband – but doing so buys you Chapter One in this book.
I will deal with you in much more detail in a later Chapter, but for now, I say to you that publicly that I do not believe that you personally had a direct hand in Kent’s tragedy, but you damn sure played a role in this nightmare and at the very least, you need to return the money you took from Kent and give it back to his family.
It's not about the $20.00, it is the principle. We won't be waiting up for you to do the right thing.