# VIDEO: NY Goons 16 Final .mov

REWRITTEN: 2026-05-12 22:10:37

SCRIPT 602 OF 686

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Them attacks might've been way more than just some random violence, nah, these was signals sent loud and clear to Fat Cat that he ain't top of the food chain no more. At least that's what Richard Papano from the Queen's District Attorney's Office was saying. That statement set off a wild chaotic narrative that popped off after Fat Cat Nichols' family crib got firebombed. The aftermath? Pure devastation, son. Not just burnt up property but lives scorched and scarred for real. Fat Cat's 50-year-old sister Marie, laid up sick in bed, she ain't make it. Her son got torched too, barely hanging on. The firebomb ain't spare nobody, including his moms, who got seriously injured. The May 20th, 1988 edition of The New York Times wasn't sugarcoating nothing either. These attacks showed the new generation of drug lords wasn't just trying to make a name. They was sending a message, loud and clear. The chaos might've been about taking over Fat Cat's territory, Captain Matt's from the Queen's narcotic squad said, but it was bigger than that though. This was the statement, almost a year to the day from a message previously sent from a notorious Brooklyn gangster named King Aula. Before I speak on the bad blood between these two heavyweights, you gotta understand where Kelvin King Aula dove came from and what he stood for. So for them people that don't know, what is the 5%? The 5% Nation of Islam is a division of the Nation of Islam that got created by the father, Clarence 13X. Who used to be a Muslim, who used to be part of the Nation of Islam. So he was one of the head generals of the Fruit of Islam, which is Muslim security at the time. And this was back in like the 1930s, 1931, 1935, 1934 time frame and all that. And he goes here side by side. I'm sure the 55% of the people in the world, Five Percenters is gonna be real righteous brothers, very righteous supposed. The parents in a very near future, when they see themselves not fit to educate and qualify their children, will come and recommend them to be a Five Percenter and the children got to do their job to teach the parents to be civilized people. Because the world is uncivilized and these are our works, our children and all come in the name of Allah with this supreme being name. Based on how the streets see it, some people might label the Five Percent Nation as a black power movement or even a gang, especially with the way cats like King Allah and other members moved. A lot of that perception probably comes from the fact that the Five Percenters had the strongest ties behind the wall. A lot of dudes found their knowledge of self while locked up. And for them, when they hit the streets, it was still the same cold game out there. Before bloods and crips really took over New York, the Five Percenters was already making noise. Back then, when Spanish gangs like the Latin Kings and the Netas were running the jails, dudes got down with the Five Percent Nation for protection. At that time, you know, I look at nowadays and you got the bloods, crips in New York and it's like, when I was growing up, like, you couldn't sell drugs in front of old people. Like you had to have respect. And that was all from the Five Percent Nation that is on them was because, you know, oh, shit, I never did that before. It was because, like, it was a righteous standpoint. So when we started and then we went to jail, it was like, it was a whole bunch of Five Percent influence. It wasn't no gang members and things like that. So you would have to be tough, but then you would have to know your lessons. You would have to know your math, the math, you have to know what you were talking about. On the outside, they might not have had the numbers, but in the system, the Five Percenters were deep. That was their way of holding their own in a world that wasn't built for them. Some cats say Fat Cat and King Ola first crossed paths back in Harlem during the 1960s, with Fat Cat being one of the founding members of the legendary Seven Crowns, it ain't hard to believe. Exactly what sparked the beef ain't clear, but with King Ola being five years older, he probably saw Fat Cat as easy prey. Whatever the reason, by 1987, things had escalated big time. Even though Fat Cat was locked up by then, serving time from that raid on Big Mac's Deli where they found two guns and $180,000, it seemed like his problems were far from over. In fact, being locked up only made him a bigger target. Dudes was hungry, and Fat Cat had that kind of name that made you a target whether you were in jail or not. Just a year before that violent war with King Ola, Fat Cat was already making moves. In 1986, he ordered two hits, one of them being the cold-blooded killing of Isaac Baldwin. It wasn't just some random body either, it was a message to anyone stepping on his turf, and honestly what Baldwin did to incite his death wasn't even as reckless as what King Ola would do just months later. Fast forward to 1991, when Fat Cat did his first interview with Vanity Fair. The writing was already on the wall. The article said there were signs Fat Cat's grip on the block was loosening. Despite all his brutality and reputation, Nichols couldn't avoid looking vulnerable from behind bars. A man like Fat Cat with that much clout and respect, wouldn't have ever had to worry about someone kidnapping his wife. But sure enough, while he was locked up, it happened. On May 22, 1987, right before Memorial Day weekend, Joanne Nichols was driving her black Mercedes to the store near their crib in Elmont. Some cats in an unmarked ride pulled up, flashed fake badges, told her she was wanted for questioning in her husband's parole officer's murder. Next thing she knew, they cuffed her and hauled her off like she was nothing. At that point, the men moved quickly, covering her eyes with surgical cotton and gauze, transferring her into a van. It wasn't until they were inside that they let her know she wasn't dealing with some fake badge-wielding cops but straight up kidnappers. She'd later recall freaking out, throwing up from the stress of it all. For two long days, they kept her blindfolded and shackled in some apartment in Brooklyn. She'd testify later at King Ola's trial that him and his goons had their threats. They talked about unleashing pit bulls that would maul her, take her breasts if the ransom wasn't paid. They wanted ten kilos of coke, probably thinking Fat Cat couldn't go to the cops if they got what they asked for. That was the level of madness Fat Cat was dealing with. Fat Cat actually thought the kidnappers were the cops running some kind of sting operation, which tells you just how deep the paranoia and distrust ran. King Ola and his crew didn't get the memo though. Soon enough they figured out they weren't getting any drugs and instead of striking a deal, they dropped Joanne off for a ransom of $77,000 in cash, handed over at a White Castle in East New York. Luckily for Joanne and Fat Cat, but unfortunately for King Ola, Joanne's family was nearby and got the kidnappers license plates before calling the cops. Two days later on May 24, 1987, Joanne was free and not too long after on June 28, 1987, King Ola and two of his crew members got arrested in an apartment in Maryland. The Maryland PD acted on info from Nassau County and NYPD, locking them up on charges of conspiracy and kidnapping among other things, but the drama wasn't even close to slowing down. Almost a year to the date of his wife Joanne's abduction, Fat Cat's sister, Mary Nichols became the next victim of an absolutely devastating firebomb at their family's residence in Queens. The assailants would either firebomb the house and shoot it up while people tried to escape or shoot it up first and then firebomb it while everyone was in chaos inside. Whatever the case, it was some straight up sinister shit. Not only did Fat Cat's 50-year-old bedridden sister lose her life, but her son was severely burned and the fire nearly claimed the lives of countless other family members, including his mother. King Ola would end up getting arrested around this time. Probably wasn't the one who actually carried out the firebombing, but with the timing and the wild circumstances, many believed he had something to do with it. Fat Cat would later admit in that Vanity Fair interview that he understood the message being sent. The firebomb was a declaration of war, a statement that his reign was crumbling brick by brick, fire by fire. By the early 1990s, Fat Cat's control over Harlem had slipped considerably. He was doing serious time, watching from behind prison walls as younger, hungrier dudes carved up his empire piece by piece. King Ola got convicted on kidnapping charges in 1988, but the damage was done. The streets had already moved on. Fat Cat eventually got released in the late 1990s, but he was never the same power player he once was. The fear that used to surround his name had faded, replaced by stories of a man whose moment had passed. By the 2000s, Fat Cat was mostly living quietly, far removed from the drug game that had once made him a legendary figure in Harlem's underworld. He died in 2012, largely forgotten by a new generation that knew his name only from street legends and documentary films.

The NY Goons saga, particularly the war between Fat Cat and King Ola, represents a crucial turning point in New York's drug underworld. It marked the moment when the old guard's power became vulnerable, when respect and reputation alone couldn't protect you from the hunger and ruthlessness of the next generation. The firebombing of Fat Cat's home and the kidnapping of his wife weren't just criminal acts—they were symbolic executions of an era. They showed that no one was untouchable, that empire could crumble in the flames of ambition and revenge. Fat Cat's legacy isn't one of triumph but of cautionary tale: a man who had everything—money, respect, fear—but ultimately couldn't hold onto it all. The violence that defined his reign eventually consumed him, leaving behind only stories whispered in Harlem streets about what it meant to be king when the rules of the game itself were changing. The NY Goons represented more than just criminal enterprise; they were a reflection of systemic desperation, a generation of young Black men in America's poorest neighborhoods creating their own economy, their own rules, their own justice. In the end, they were all casualties of the same broken system, whether they lived to see their thrones topple or not.