If the law is ultimately able to zing the reputed crack-kid king, police sources say, it will be because of the cockiness and conceit of a man who is so opposed to sharing power with others that he acquires and keeps his growing roster of holdings in his own name--a handle that he knows has been sullied in quarters in both New York and Boston. A man who, according to a source, has been heard to boast, "I am the Godfather. I am the fucking man."
On the street, that Fortune 500 ego gets massaged more every day. Down on the Roxbury blocks, it seems, Mr. Darryl Whiting has recently acquired a new nickname. The kids now call him G. That stands for God.
Phoenix staffer Sean Flynn contributed to this story.
NEXT WEEK: GANGS, INC.
The second installment in a two-part investigation into the explosive growth of Boston's gang culture.
The mergers: What began in 1989 as an alliance between two of the city's larger youth gangs has grown into a mega-merger of at least five gangs that boast close to 300 members altogether. And though that syndicate is one of the larger gang conglomerates in Boston, it's not the only one.
The girls: Time was when the only girls who fell into the gang subculture were the ones who dated bad boys. But now girls are the street-crime up-and-comers. "Girls," says one male gang member, echoing a half-dozen others. "They're just as bad as us."
The suburbs: One a Sunday night just days ago, David Pitts, a 17-year-old Waltham boy, was stabbed to death at a church carnival in his hometown. Arrested for the crime were seven Boston youths, who are suspected members of the Orchard Park Trailblazers. So much for gangs being an inner-city problem. In fact, almost a dozen suburbs, not to mention Boston neighborhoods like Roslindale and West Roxbury, have had run-ins with gangs or gang members. If they're not setting up satellite drug businesses, they're plaguing fairs, shopping malls, and movie theaters.
The bottom line: Will Boston's inner-city woe become a widespread metropolitan calamity?
Though members of the law-enforcement community continue to portray him as the second coming of Scarface, Darryl Whiting casts himself in a far different role: Nicky, a character in The Cross and the Switchblade, a book Whiting says he read when he was a young teenager. Made into a 1972 movie starring Pat Boone and Erik Estrada, it is the story of a Latino man who grew up with the gangs of Brooklyn, was saved by God, and returned tot the streets to preach about it.
"I was convicted of a crime 15 years ago. I did state time.... I'm trying to be a productive member of society.... My intention is to be a role model for black people and try to do something positive for the community," says Whiting, presenting a theme he reiterated during two interviews with the Phoenix. Here is the story of his life as he related it in those sessions.