Why would anyone want to kill Jam Master Jay?
Despite splashy front-page reports and federal probes blaming rap-music violence, the answer may be much less sensational It’s a busy corner in Queens, New York, the kind of place commemorated in countless rap songs. The crowd spills down what Q-Tip once called “the Boulevard of Linden.” A commuter train rumbles overhead, and SUVs roll by blasting the deep, hand-clap-boom-bap of early-1980s hip-hop. They’re fitting sounds–the street-hard beats and rhymes that claimed the entire world. This is the home of hip-hop’s greatest global emissaries, Run-D.M.C. But this is no block party. The crowd gathers, monitored by police in community affairs jackets. An almost festive vibe darkens as the line files down Linden to 179th Street and into the lobby of the J. Foster Phillips Funeral Home, where a public wake is being held. Five nights earlier, Run-D.M.C.’s Jam Master Jay, 37, was in his recording studio, 24/7, on nearby Merrick Boulevard. He was rocking a brown leather hat and Adidas sneakers
