Yo what's good evil streets fam, y'all know the deal we back at it with another episode. Big shout to all my day one members and subscribers for pulling up on the daily, real talk y'all the backbone of this whole operation, the reason we still eating. Anybody trying to push their music, brand, whatever business y'all running, hit my line evil streets media at gmail.com, we can work something out no doubt. Much love to everybody who been blessing the cash app too, and if you trying to throw support our way, that's evil streets tv on cash app, every dollar goes right back into the grind. Aight y'all let's dive into this cold blooded tale. When little Willy Boskett was just a shorty running around, he ain't have a clue who his pops was. Moms had him believing some fantasy story about how his father was out there serving the country in the military. But that was cap, straight fabrication. This journalist cat Fox Butterfield, who spent mad time documenting Willy's whole existence, broke down how every time Willy would ask about his old man, his moms and his grandmother would dead the conversation quick, calling his father a menace and warning little Willy he was cut from the same cloth. It wasn't till Willy was about six summers deep that he stumbled on the real story. One afternoon posted up in his grandmother's crib, he came across this flick of some dude in what looked like a uniform, pumping iron. Curiosity got the best of him so Willy asked who the man was. His grandmother hit him with the truth, that's your father. That revelation sent ice through his veins but at the same time it lit something up inside him. He needed to know more, where's he at, what's he doing, he kept pressing. That's when his grandmother laid the harsh reality on him. He's upstate locked down. Willy wouldn't let up, what's he in for, and she broke the whole thing down. His pops William Boskett senior was caged up for bodying two men during some pawn shop robbery that went left. But yo the story gets wilder, while doing his time in some Wisconsin joint, Boskett senior managed to break out, putting himself on the FBI's most wanted roster. Eventually they hemmed him up and threw him back in the cage. But instead of just rotting away in there, he taught himself computer programming, put himself through college, and made history becoming the first convict ever to get elected to that prestigious Phi Beta Kappa honor society. When he finally touched down from his bid, he landed work at some aerospace company, a rare W for a convicted felon. But that redemption story got cut short quick. Before long he was back behind them walls, this time for violating his girlfriend's daughter. And just when you thought his tale couldn't get more twisted, he escaped again with the help of that same girl who dressed up like a prison nurse to spring him loose. It damn near worked too. William Boskett senior and his girl made it almost 900 miles before the law caught their scent. But when the police closed in, there was nowhere left to run. A shootout jumped off and with his last two bullets, Boskett senior made a bone chilling move. He put one in his girlfriend then turned the burner on himself. Just like that it was curtains. He never got to lay eyes on his son Willie. Willie's moms Laura was already carrying him when Boskett senior got knocked. Now in her mid seventies, she still remembers how much Willie was a carbon copy of his father. He looked exactly like him, tall, handsome, well built and cold. Raising Willie was a struggle from jump. Laura was working two gigs, one at a candy store and another as a teacher's aide at his school. But even with her watching close, Willie was impossible to reign in. By second grade his actions had already spiraled. One day he broke into the school storage room, snatched up a typewriter and launched it out the window. Three floors down, a pregnant teacher barely dodged it. That could've been a body before he even hit ten years old. By the time he was eight, his violence turned on his own blood. One day he had his sights set on his little sister. Soffi, a childhood homie who keeps her identity under wraps, remembers it clear as day. He said I'm gonna shut her mouth once and for all. Before anybody could move, Willie ran to the kitchen and grabbed a long cooking fork. His sister tried to break free, fighting and struggling, but he was too strong. He pinned her down, forced her mouth open and jammed the fork down her throat. That was the line. The school finally told Laura she had to bring him to Bellevue's Children's Psychiatric Ward. When the doctor evaluated him, she looked at Willie and said he was the saddest little boy she had ever witnessed. But Willie's demons didn't just stem from his father, his bloodline ran even darker. His grandfather had also done time behind bars. It was like the cycle of violence and cages was embedded in his DNA, passed down like some cursed inheritance no child should ever have to bear. By the time Willie hit nine, his life was already painted in blood, trauma and the concrete jungle. His grandfather had just got released from Rikers, fresh off a bid for some unspeakable violations. But instead of bringing any kind of balance, he became just another predator in Willie's world. Years later in a sit down with journalist Fox Butterfield, Willie exposed the dark reality. His own grandfather had done the same twisted things to him over and over. After that, something in Willie just shattered. School, that became a joke, he stopped pulling up. He started setting fires just to watch everything burn, he was picking pockets, jacking cars, doing whatever he felt like with zero fear of repercussions. His moms Laura had already lost all control. She didn't know what moves to make, didn't know how to pull him back in. With pressure from child welfare breathing down her neck, she made a decision that no mother ever wants to face. She went to the courts and asked the judge to declare her own son beyond parental control. In court the judge tried to play the concerned authority figure like he was gonna straighten Willie out with some lectures. Your mother is worried about you, for nine years old you're turning out to be quite a problem. Willie wasn't trying to hear none of that. You're a lying mother fucker he snapped, you can go fuck yourself. And I don't need no mother fucking white lawyer neither. That was Willie Boskett in his purest form, uncut, unfiltered, dangerous. But here's the twisted part, he was sharp as hell. People who spent time around him saw it instantly. He had a gift for reading people, manipulating situations, controlling the whole atmosphere in a room. Social workers, psychiatrists, even law enforcement said the same thing. If he was raised in different circumstances, he could have been president. One of those social workers was Carol Darden. She worked at Wiltwyck School for Boys, a reform school known for trying to fix the most troubled shorties in New York. But for Willie it wasn't just another stop. It was déjà vu. His pops William Boskett senior had been sent to that same school when he was Willie's age. Walking the same hallways, hearing the same speeches about turning his life around. Wiltwyck wasn't some prison style juvenile hall, it had woods, a lake, a peaceful setting like a spot where kids were supposed to heal. But when Carol Darden sat down with Willie for his intake interview, something felt off. He just seemed very sophisticated, she recalled. Most kids coming into a place like that were lost, scared, wondering what was next. Not Willie. He was calm, too calm. Like he already peeped the whole game. Already knew what was coming. And just like that history was repeating itself. Wiltwyck had built their whole reputation on being the place that didn't give up on kids. The place that could break through when nobody else could. They didn't believe in shipping kids off. Didn't believe in meds. They thought if you showed these boys real support, the kind they never got at home or in the system, you could turn them around. Dr. Joel Katz, the director of psychiatry, made that clear in a memo. Shipping a boy out means the staff has flunked. To him the problem was bigger than just bad kids, these boys had been failed at every level. Parents couldn't handle them, schools passed them off. The system shuffled them around like lost luggage. And all that did was feed their sense of power, make them feel like they were the ones calling the shots, forcing the world to react to them. Willie Boskett fit that mold perfectly. For the first time in his life, he actually sat in a classroom and learned to read and write. But that didn't mean he was changing. He was still wild, still testing boundaries every chance he got. He got into fights constantly.