VIDEO: JBM Shower Posse Final.mov

REWRITTEN: 2026-05-12 18:44:59

SCRIPT 533 OF 686

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Word in them Philly streets is Aaron Jones was straight fiending over that Godfather movie, modeling his whole persona after Marlon Brando's Don Vito Corleone character. Out in Philly, homie wasn't just some name getting thrown around, nah, he had cats admiring him and shook at the same damn time. Respect was everything with this dude, no questions about it. Jones was supposedly the architect and street general of the Junior Black Mafia, the JBM. And yo, when he was orchestrating things, he had the entire city locked. JBM was one of them ruthless, fear-inducing operations in the chronicles of black organized crime throughout Philly. They studied the blueprint from the veterans, the Black Mafia, but cranked that shit up several levels. Jones and his operation controlled a massive piece of the local cocaine distribution, and they weren't hesitant about incorporating violence into the equation. You had problems with JBM, you had to make a choice, get down or lay down for real. That blueprint wasn't just conversation. Aaron Jones was the walking manifestation of that philosophy. My man was out here setting the city of brotherly love ablaze with some of the most unbrotherly violence imaginable. If you crossed JBM back in them days, you crossed one of the most notorious operations to ever emerge from Philly. Throughout the years, Aaron Jones' reputation evolved to mythical proportions, with his legends still echoing through Philly's neighborhoods and way beyond. Cats know what's good, real recognize real, and Aaron Jones, he was as authentic as it gets. The Philly Crime Commission stated Aaron Jones and his operation constructed the JBM into a powerhouse, transforming it into a violent multi-million dollar narcotics empire that controlled Philly from 85 to 91. They alleged JBM had like 50 official soldiers, but they was operating with about 300 affiliates, moving close to 300 keys of cocaine monthly, generating almost 30 million every month. Man chains, whips, furs, jewels, straps. Jones and his crew was accumulating assets like mad. Between 85 and 91, they was infiltrating or owning over 33 establishments to launder their illicit money and maintain appearances. Legitimate fronts like video stores, delis, detail shops, security companies, car washes, barbershops, and even restaurants. Law enforcement viewed the JBM as young, connected, and street intelligent conducting business with zero nonsense. Meanwhile, the media, they couldn't get enough of the JBM. Publishing headline after headline, attempting to link them to every crime occurring in Philly. Jones himself stated, I wasn't viewed as a man, but as public enemy number one, a monster. All that media propaganda had people believing we was responsible for every murder, unresolved case. If something occurred in that era, they attributed it to us just to make the JBM appear like the ultimate force of drugs and violence. But then Derek Williams, one of the homies, explained it. Man, that get down or lay down stuff, that's some media hype. Bureau talk, it sounds tough, but it wasn't really like that. You meet somebody you got coke and 99% of the time it's on consignment. If you hit them with a good price, they're gonna take it. So all that flashy talk, that was just a slogan to sell papers. The game was more about business, keeping it moving, and making that money stack. That whole get down or lay down slogan, that's some fabricated police talk straight from clowns on the street, Aaron Jones stated. Ain't nobody going around saying that or throwing out no ultimatum like that. But you already know how the media and the cops ran with it, pushing that narrative heavy. They was out here claiming the JBM was pressing Philly dealers, telling them to get down or lay down like it was gospel. The cops always tried to portray it like JBM's weapon game was insane, claiming they rolled with semi-automatics and all types of burners to protect the bag and apply pressure on the competition. Court documents was out here talking like the squad was all about that life, ready to flex on any rival. And the media consumed that get down or lay down line, plastering it all over the headlines, making Aaron and the JBM look like straight savages. The prosecution utilized that motto too, attempting to paint the crew like they was running the city unchecked with violence. But JBM had their intimidation game on lock for real. They were so effective at shutting folks up that even survivors of hits wouldn't dare testify. Witnesses who got clipped by cats holding semi-automatics just stayed quiet. And the crew, they was always searching for more heat too, even attempting to acquire hand grenades on the low. The life was sweet, whips, ice, furs, cribs and legitimate businesses all that, as long as the cash from the product kept coming. And trust, that flow transformed into a whole damn flood. Cops stated that JBM's coke connects originated with the Colombians and they had ties with the Scarfo mob family. JBM had them fortified spots, windows and doors, armor plated, conducting business through mail slots like it was a drive through for fiends. But it wasn't just the coke. Word on the streets was they was involved in extortion and gambling too. Fred Martins, the big dog at the Pennsylvania Crime Commission stated that JBM had connections to some key folks, even relatives of Scarfo's crime family. In Philly, JBM put their pressure down heavy and the city was feeling that heat. From what I was hearing dudes was folding under their commands, no questions asked. Whatever JBM stated, that's what it was. If they thought you was a threat, you wasn't making it past the weekend, OC stated. The whips, the ice, the baddies, JBM had it all on lock. And yeah, the wild violence, that was just the cost of conducting business out here. In the streets, that was a given. But you know how the media always got to spin the story like every problem in the city was because of the latest villain in town. America loved its heroes, but trust me, they loved their villains even more. The feds would label everybody dropping as a JBM hit. But real ones in the streets knew better. Everybody knew everybody. And most of them so-called JBM murders was cap. James Cole stated, but hype, that could make or break you out here. The media painted Aaron like he was some kind of monster, but that was all part of the script. He wasn't no giant. Medium build, regular looking dude. If you passed him on the block, you wouldn't even think twice. But that name, that name carried mad weight. OC stated, in the streets, it was all JBM and Aaron Jones. Anytime something popped off, it was like the whole city was convinced Aaron and his squad was behind it. To the streets, there was only one gang that mattered. And that was JBM. They was everywhere. Their names was ringing bells. The media had Aaron pegged as the leader, but OC seen it a little different. You might think Aaron was running the whole show, but low key, it might have been Rick Jones, too. He was there since the start, working behind the scenes while Aaron was out front riding heavy. Aaron was out here in the limelight, the face of JBM. He was the enforcer, the street boss. OC explained, and believed that his whole squad feared him. Around 89, it was getting real heavy out here. OC stated, painting the picture of how the JBM had Philly in a chokehold. They had different corners, crack houses, whole squads in the bars. And Philly, everybody posted up outside on the corners. They take over abandoned cribs, turn them into crack spots, post up lookouts on the block, watching for the boys collecting bread, passing out bundles. Belmont Plateau and West Philly on Sundays, that was the spot, OC stated. Everybody out with their girls, pulling up in them foreigns, speakers knocking, forties on deck. Old English, St. Ides, and then Philly Blunts or Easy Wider. They ain't mess with Top papers because they thought it had pork in it. OC laughed. But on some real, if you was in Philly back in the mid 80s and early 90s and wasn't talking about Aaron Jones and the JBM, you wasn't really tapped in. Everybody had their own take on it, but one thing they all agreed on, you ain't want to cross them. JBM had the city in a headlock. The headlines was wild too. Inside the JBM's rise to power, brash youngsters rule over drug trade. 25 murders linked to the JBM. They constructed a empire that seemed untouchable, bulletproof to the law.

But nothing gold can stay, and the empire that Aaron Jones built started cracking when federal heat started turning up the pressure. By the early 90s, the feds was zeroing in, wiretaps clicking, informants flipping, indictments stacking up. Aaron Jones and the core of JBM found themselves facing serious time, real penitentiary bids. The organization that once had Philly locked down tight was falling apart from the inside out. Cats was ratting, the supply chain got disrupted, and suddenly all that power and respect turned into something else. The streets moved on. New crews emerged hungry for that same territory and that same respect. Some of the younger soldiers tried to hold it together, but without Aaron and the OGs running things from the streets, JBM lost its grip. By the mid-90s, the operation that had moved mountains was just a memory in the minds of people who lived through it.

Aaron Jones and others from the upper echelon got convicted, doing substantial time in federal penitentiaries. Rick Jones disappeared into the system too. The organization splintered into smaller crews, and the unified force that once commanded fear and respect fractured into nothing. The detailed operations, the money laundering fronts, the Colombian connections, all of it got dismantled piece by piece. What remained was legacy, mythology, and cautionary tales told in Philly barbershops and on corners for generations to come.

The JBM Shower Posse's rise and fall stands as a watershed moment in the history of organized black crime in America. They represented the apex of street organization during the crack epidemic, a time when youth, ambition, and ruthlessness could build empires from the ground up. Aaron Jones became the face of that era, a figure both glamorized and vilified by media narratives that often obscured the complex reality beneath the surface. The myths grew larger than the man, the legend outpaced the truth. But when you strip away the headlines and the propaganda, what remains is a fundamental story about power, greed, and the inevitable collapse that follows when violence becomes the foundation of an empire. The JBM didn't just disappear into history—they became a blueprint that would be studied, mythologized, and ultimately warned against by every generation that followed. In Philly and beyond, their legacy serves as a stark reminder that empires built on blood and cocaine crumble just as fast as they rise, leaving nothing behind but broken families, destroyed communities, and names that echo through the decades as cautionary tales of what happens when the streets consume the young and ambitious.