Another hop-hop homicide goes unsolved.
15 years after the tragic shooting death of Hip-Hop pioneer Jam Master Jay, New York City police detectives have officially acknowledged the case of his homicide as cold. It was on October 30th, 2002 at around 7:30 p.m that the legendary DJ, born Jason Mizell, was shot and killed in his own studio in Queens, New York City.
According to reports, two men were buzzed into the gated entrance, and it was when Jay hugged one of the men that gunfire erupted with one bullet striking the 37-year old husband and father in the left side of his head at point-blank range. While there were allegedly four other men in the studio, no one has ever been able to provide authorities with any information substantial enough for a promising lead. Naturally, plenty of speculation has risen over the motive in killing Jam Master Jay. Some believe his death to be the result of payback from someone to which he owed money as he was reportedly facing a load of debt at the time.
A year after his death, an investigation was launched into Kenneth “Supreme” McGriff, a convicted drug dealer and well-known affiliate of brothers and Murder Inc. heads Irv and Chris Gotti. Authorities had reason to believe Supreme to be a suspect as Jam Master Jay had supposedly violated an industry blacklisting of a young 50 Cent at the time after Fif put out the track “Ghetto Qu’ran,” a cut written about Supreme’s history as a drug dealer.
50 Cent was only one in a handful of young artists Jam Master Jay had taken under his wing at the time through his JMJ imprint, a large purpose that his studio served in the community. “[He] could have built this studio anywhere, but he built it here, where it was needed,” said Alix Dontfraid, founder of Signature Soundz Studios. “That’s an energy I’m trying to perpetuate.”
Jay’s influence permeates generations as a founding member of Run-D.M.C, one of Hip-hop’s most definitive groups to date, having his hand in rap’s first ever Gold-certified and Platinum-certified albums with 1984’s self-titled Run-D.M.C., and 1985’s King of Rock. While authorities have nowhere left to turn, some folks in the community hold out for a turn in the case. “It’s not resolved to the legal eye,” a family friend, Jeremy “JL” Lam, told the Associated Press. “But the street always talks.”