And then came the murder of Jeffrey, the lively boy from a working-class neighborhood in Cambridge.
Then, two years later, came the murder of four American yachters sailing on a boat called Quest.
Then, in November 2004, came the murder of Theo van Gogh, a film-maker who had made a movie, "Submission", featuring a beaten, naked Muslim woman covered in writings from the Koran.
A few months later came the murder of the Detroit civil rights volunteer, Viola Luizzo, in Alabama.
But the best news was yet to come: the attempted-murder charge against Clyde was dismissed, contingent on the successful completion of his rehab.
The Notorious B.I.G., as hardcore as they come, the spinner of murder rhymes and playboy fantasies, despite his hefty braggadocio, made himself unequivocally vulnerable.
It took me awhile to get it, the wordplay of "Come Join the Murder".
Another harbinger of the difficulties to come was the murder of the deputy chairman of the Helmand peace council at the weekend.
Perhaps it is understandable, then, that Mrs. Rudolph, now 50, has few expectations for finding the closure that many here hope will come from the murder trial of Thomas E. Blanton Jr., one of four men suspected for years of planting the bomb.
When the police come investigating the murder, Dahai catches the boss off guard and carries on again about the A6.
