#cadillac 4 door

[simulite]

78 Cadillac Fleetwood Brougham 4 Door Sedan

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Cadillac Urban Luxury Concept, 2010. A prototype for a 4-seat city car with scissor doors and a hybrid drivetrain based on a turbocharged 1.0 litre 3 cylinder engine. The idea was to put the luxury experience of a Cadillac into a compact package using a new scale of the brand's Art & Science styling philosophy

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was manufactured in Detroit, Michigan. It was one of the most fascinating car designs of the 1950s. The car was designed by Bill Mitchell, Chuck Jordan, and Dave Holls.

The 1959 Cadillac lineup was considered to be the heyday of Cadillac. The 1959 Cadillacs had some of the most technologically advanced options of the 1950s, including air conditioning, cruise control, and a triple-carb V8.

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was a two-door hardtop coupe with a 130 inch wheelbase. It was the most popular style of the Series 6300 DeVille line, with 21,924 sales. The Coupe DeVille came with a 390 cubic inch (6.4 liter) V8 engine. The engine has a 4-barrel Carter AFB2814S carburetor and produces 325 horsepower.

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was 225 inches long, 80.2 inches wide, and had the largest tailfins ever fitted to a Cadillac. It also had dual "rocket" tail lamps, which are considered the most recognizable tail lights in history. It's considered one of the most iconic car designs of all time.

[billsbabydoll]

“𝒸𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒿 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈.”

contains:SMUT<3

summary:while on my walk home, a very familiar cadillac pulls up beside me.rolling down the window calling out for me, my ex-boyfriend convinces me into his car for a quick “chat”.

WARNINGS:softdom!tom, sub!reader, light nipple play, pet-names, praising, blowjob, throat-fucking, make-out session, cat-calling, quickie, dry-humping, ex-sex.

notes:guys please excuse my last post im ovulating and i got horny in the middle of the night :3.

ugh today has been such a long and stressful day at work, finally im making my way back home, with music blasting in my ipod head-phones as i take in my surroundings, the orange sky and the sound of the city.

i was about 5-ish blocks away from my apartment before i randomly get the feeling of someone watching me and i was correct, i slowly turn my head over to the side of the road, taking a head-phone out of my ear and of course i see that stupid, ugly, pathetic cadillac i knew so annoyingly well and i instantly knew very well who eyes were watching me inside.

to no surprise he rolls the window down and stops the car, our eyes meet for the first time in 4 months.

“hii gorgeous, what are you doing baby?”he chuckles with that smug smile that i once absolutely adored, now only brutally hated.

i scoffed disgusted at his flirting, i decided to continue walking, putting my head-phone back in my ear.over my loud music i still managed hear his car driving slowly beside me and his long string of cat-calls.

“cmon doll, i’ll give you a ride!”

“schatzi (sweetheart), i know you hear me!”

“cmere, baby!”

“whats a pretty girl like you doing walking alone, it’s getting dark out y’know!”

i mean it was pushing 6:30 and the sun was already beginning to set, and i most definitely didnt wanna walk the rest of 5 blocks i had left on top of the 10 i already had walked.i sighed stopping right in my tracks taking my head-phones out of my ears and placing them in my tote-bag along with my ipod, before turning fully to the vehicle, signaling for him to unlock the door.

he smirked ignorantly, the door quickly unlocking with a switch of a button allowing me inside.i settle in the passenger’s seat, refusing to make eye-contact with him.

“how you been, i haven’t seen you since-well you know..”he questioned trying to make conversation as he began to drive again, his tone now more serious and gentle, taking note of my annoyed face and my refusal to meet his eyes.

“ive been okay just been busy with work, and you tom?” i replied obviously not interested in making small talk, especially with someone who dumped me.

“thats good, uh ive just been busy too with touring and promoting the new album, been thinkin’ about you a lot lately though schatz (sweetheart).”

“oh yeahh righttt.”i chuckle sarcastically, i know he had hundreds of girls throwing themselves at him everyday and night, heck they were even while we were together, there was absolutely no way he being honest.

“im serious, sometimes i ask myself why i let you go and, i mean really who would forget such a pretty girl like you hm?”he teased looking over to me, placing a hand on my thigh before looking back to the road ahead.

my heart begins to pump and race at the sudden contact of his large hand rubbing and softly gripping on my flesh, i could almost hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears.

i know i know what your thinking, and i was really struggling trying to maintain some sort of strength, i mean the guy dumped me!i also know hes just sweet-talking me like he always did but with someone so charming and handsome as THE tom kaulitz, it was like handing a child a huge lollipop and asking them not to eat it, absolutely impossible.

we sit in silence for another few minutes, still he continues to caress my thigh before he looks over to me again searching in my face for any sign of uncertainty or discomfort , to which he only finds willingness and desire.he nods, then proceeds to pull into an empty, quiet, hidden alleyway, parking the car before shutting off the ignition.

i waste no second more to quickly climb over to tom, straddling his lap my thighs resting on the sides of his own, capturing his lips into a hot kiss.he kisses back immediately toms hands finding their way effortlessly to my hips, helping me grind my clothed cunt against his urging length, creating a delicious friction.

we continue passionately making-out, our tongues swirling and intertwining perfectly into one-another.

as hes savoring the sweet taste of my lips, he removes his hands away from hips now using his left hand to lift up my skirt squeezing and slapping my delicate skin, his right hand finding its way inside my shirt, the tips of his fingers now rubbing fast circles on the buds of my tender breasts.

i moan lightly into his mouth, my eyes shutting as i take in the amazing sensation, my teeth biting down softly on his wet lips, my hips rocking recklessly against his seeking any further friction.

he pulls away from the kiss moaning and groaning with me, his cock begging to be released right at that instant.

“steig hinten ein, engel (get in the back, angel).”

i immediately comply, hopping off of his lap and climbing into the back seat, he follows shortly behind sitting down before going back to meeting his lips with mine.

he takes my hand in his and places it upon his groin, helping me begin to palm him through his baggy jeans, he groans into my mouth, his eye-brows furrowing together.

i take the lead now and pull away from his lips, looking into his eyes then looking down to his lap, i then lean over and quickly unbuckle his belt pulling his jeans down enough for his hardened length to be visible in his blue checkered boxers, begging to be pleased.i slip my hand in his underwear and pull his cock out, it swings out hitting his stomach before bouncing back up.

“your killing me here, c-cmon baby..”he whines impatiently.

i softly chuckle before i lowered my head down, my lips now not even an inch away from his leaky tip.i teasingly lick a few rings around his tip and lick up and down the sides of his shaft before i slowly take his length into my mouth.

he scoots up and relaxes his legs as he makes a make-shift pony tail out of my loose hair.i then begin to glide up and and down his cock, his tip once in a while kissing the back of throat.

“ohh f-fuckk keep sucking it that mmh-prinzessin (princess).”he praises, his head tilting backwards and hitting the headrest of the seat, his grip on hair becoming tighter.

i keep up a steady, quick, consistent pace throughout, using my left hand to stroke the extra inches i couldnt fit inside my mouth, i moan as i suck him off, sending high vibrations straight through his cock.

hes a complete groaning and whining mess, gripping my hair with one hand gripping the seat with the other.

“look ughh-into my eyes..”

“g-god i missed your fucking lips on my mmh-dick so much, doll.”

my watery eyes quickly looked up into his maintaining long eye-contact before looking back down.

he bucks his hips into my mouth seeking further relief, his orgasm coming in any moment now, his mouth hangs open mumbling desperate swears from his lips.he then grabs the sides of face with both of his hands and starts harshly fucking his cock into my throat.

i whimper as his tip rapidly stabs into the back of throat, my hands squeezing the leather of the seats, my eyes now crying from the brutality.

“f-fuck fuck im gonna cum!”

he announced before taking his length quickly out of my mouth and placing it on my blood-like-red lips.he pumps his length urgently, squeezing his eyes shut and with a primal grunt busts a fat load on my lips, covering my lips with his cum like lipgloss.

i lick the salty white substance from my lips, looking deeply into his eyes as i swallow, before an idea suddenly pops into my head-

“wanna finish this at my place, babe?”

“fuck yeah.”

THE END

[uscarssince1935]

1936 Cadillac Series 60 4-door Sedan

My tumblr-blogs:

www.tumblr.com/germancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/frenchcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/englishcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/italiancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/japanesecarssince1947 & www.tumblr.com/uscarssince1935

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Under Your Spell - Part 1

A/N: Hi my darlings 🧡 Happy Spooky Day 👻 I've had Dead Man's Bones (iykyk) on a loop today; it is in fact my Christmas and my gift to you is a 4 part Driver series Approach with caution; as per usual it's an 18+ NSFW but on top of that this one has a stalker warning, some voyeurism and also got a tad violent. it's not TOTALLY Dead Dove, Don't Eat but it toes that line, so if that's not for you, just don't okay?

I can't post without giving credit where credit is due; this thing took on a life of it's own and if it weren't for @ken-dom and @travelerwashere it wouldn't be what it is; I can't thank you both enough for your constant support and inspiration (at all hours of the night) and keeping me from spiraling down the anxiety rabbit hole you both know I tend to lose myself in <3

Title credit goes to my fellow Goosecord compadre @webbo0, that tripped me up more than usual this go 'round

ANYWAY; Enjoy my loves 🧡👻

Edit: I also have to add (because I know you're here and the tag on a reblog made me howl)

If you know me irl and you saw this....No. You didn't. (You know who you are and I love you for your support ;) <3 but no you didn't)

Pairing: Driver x Reader (18+ NSFW)

He knew he shouldn't be, it was wrong, but you made it so easy….

You followed your routine like clockwork; you didn't live the most exciting life, work, home, and back again most nights. You lived alone, no boyfriend…a couple of friends, but even they seemed few and far in between. 

He tried not to pay you any mind….at first… 

But then he would catch glimpses of you late at night, a silhouette  against a curtain that almost gave away your secrets as you pulled your shirt over your head, stepped out of your pants, unhooking your bra…you tease. 

He bit down on his lip, cock twitching between his legs, threatening to make his already snug jeans unbearable. 

He stood cloaked in the darkness of his own house, not wanting to draw attention to himself so lights stayed out, watching as your shadow disappeared and reappeared in front of the window.  

The thought of you strutting around your house naked was enough to make him moan out loud. 

A gloved hand wandering to the front of his pants, popping the button open, giving him only the slightest bit of relief. 

You had moved back in front of the window…taunting him. 

Fingers curling around his hardening shaft, squeezing a little harder than intended, breathing hard through his nose. 

God, what he wouldn't give to just-

He groaned, bracing against the wall, fingers curling against the plaster as his other hand was coated in his release. 

He stood up straight mindful to peel off the soiled glove before tucking himself back in his jeans. 

A quick glance and your window was dark, you had gone to bed. 

He let out a sigh, alleviated but not satisfied. He wondered if he'd ever be satisfied and scoffed rolling his eyes. Of course he would be….one day…you would satisfy him…and even better, he would satisfy you.  

One day, soon; You would writhe under him, beg him for more, harder, faster. But until then…this would have to do. 

For weeks he watched you come and go. You were a vision, especially on the days when you didn't try at all…

Today you had dressed in a snug v neck sweater and an even more snug pair of jeans. He watched from the front window as you climbed in the passenger seat of a sleek red Cadillac; from his vantage point, he couldn't tell if the driver was a male or female but it didn't matter, he'd had other plans today…

As soon as the car disappeared around the corner he pulled on his gloves and slipped out the back door to avoid attention. 

Getting into your backyard was easy enough, there was a small gate that connected your house to his….a smart addition by the previous owner if he did say so…

Your back patio door wasn't exactly hidden from view of the neighbours, but the lock popped easier than the deadbolt on the front door. 

You didn't have an alarm system, this neighborhood had a reputation for being "safe". You had mentioned as much to him in passing once. He had told you he thought a security system would still be a good idea since you had lived alone, and you had just shrugged. 

You obviously hadn't taken his advice, so he had needed to protect you. Keep you safe. 

The door slid open with ease as he pushed around the curtain, sliding it closed again. 

The house was quiet. He glanced around, slowly making his way deeper into the living room. It was simple, but had your personal touches everywhere. Photos, books, knickknacks. 

Your laptop and a half eaten bagel sat on the coffee table next to what he assumed was a journal. 

The laptop would tell him things but a quick tap of the spacebar and it asked for a password. So you protected some things. The journal would surely be more telling anyway. 

He picked up the leatherbound book, flipping open the black cover and skimming the words…it was a gratitude journal and you wrote in it, every day, religiously.

Each page has relatively the same prompt for each day, forcing you to choose one thing you had been grateful for, what you were excited for on that particular day, a thought provoking prompt, sometimes two and an evening reflection section. 

Out of curiosity, he flipped to the page marked with a piece of ribbon and you had written today's date. 

Jesus…even your penmanship was beautiful. Meticulously crafted loops, one flowing seamlessly into the other. 

But the rest of the page was blank. 

He sat on your small couch, flipping through the pages, filled with your beautiful scrawls. Page after page letting him in on your most intimate details. 

Your favourite books, your favourite meal, your favourite time of year. Everything he ever needed to know was in the palm of his hands. 

Then something caught his attention "the neighbour" 

Did you mean him? No. You couldn't. 

His eyes scanned the page again and sure enough he hadn't read what he wanted to read, right there in ink were the words the hot neighbour

He stared at the words on the page waiting to wake up from the dream he was certain he had drifted off into. 

But he didn't wake up, he was awake. This was real. 

He cautioned flipping through a few more pages, looking for any mention of him. You couldn’t have meant him…that would just be too serendipitous. 

Something else caught his attention though. A prompt that read 'What is your favourite feeling'

You had written three simple words.  The pink panties

He was curious what this pair in particular felt like…

He put the journal back, pulling himself up from the couch and wandered through the kitchen and towards the front of your house where your bedroom would be.

You lived in a little bungalow, like the rest of the neighborhood, one of your bedroom windows faced out towards the road, the other….faced his house. 

You lived a simple life he’d noted, it seemed like you weren’t much for the flashy expensive things on the surface. Your bedroom was like you, elegant, soft, simple colours. Your vanity stood against one wall, your desk and bed against the other….made…you were neat…mostly. Your closet door had been left slid open; everything from dresses to sweaters hanging neatly, save for the top that had been thrown on your bed, he assumed you’d decided to change your wardrobe at the last minute. 

Next to your vanity stood a small chest of drawers, again, curiosity getting the better of him…and that journal entry fresh at the front of his mind, 

He pulled open the top drawer, as he suspected, much like the rest of western civilization, that’s where you kept your socks and underwear. 

Most of them were exactly what he expected, comfortable and classy, but you also had a few pairs he could only assume you didn’t wear on your Monday to Friday…at least not regularly. Then he saw them…the pink ones. The ones worthy of a journal entry.

He slipped a hand out of his leather driving glove, pulling them free from the pile; the fabric gliding smoothly between his bare fingers. 

The moan that had formed deep in the back of his throat seemed too loud in contrast to your quiet house. The thought of being in such close proximity to something that had touched you so intimately, the thought of holding it in his own hand, feeling it against his own skin.

He let out a slow breath as his cock quivered between his legs, he closed his eyes, trying to will the pressure to subside. 

When it became abundantly clear willpower wasn’t going to do it and this…issue…was something that was going to have to be dealt with and now, he opened his eyes, only to realize he had crumpled that buttery smooth pink piece of attire into a tight fist. 

He hadn’t really meant to, but he’d sat on the edge of your neatly made bed, fingers hastily working open a button and a zipper before his aching cock sprang free. 

He stopped, only briefly, examining the silky fabric as he moved it between his fingers; he wanted to know what it felt like. 

It must have been good, if it was worth writing about….

And before the rational part of his brain could make sense of the situation he’d suddenly found himself in, his hand had wrapped itself, and  your underwear around his hard shaft; they felt like heaven. 

He fucked his hand relentlessly, completely losing himself in the sensation of the almost too smooth garment that enveloped him. His breathing was short and ragged, as he pushed himself closer to the edge. Then, in what he could only assume was record time, he came; Hard, and fast, your underwear drenched in his release. 

His heartbeat thudding in his ears subsided as the rhythm returned to normal and reality filled in the haze around him. 

He tucked himself back into his pants and got to his feet fastening the button as he heard the unmistakable metallic clink of keys at your front door. Your keys. 

His heart skipped a beat as he dropped to the floor and slid under your bed just as the sunlight spilled into the hallway through the open door. 

His heart slammed in his chest against the floor as he watched the hallway intently, your leather clad boots appearing in the doorway. 

He slowed his breathing, convinced it wouldn't matter because you would hear his heart pounding against the floorboards 

The bed creaked over his head, sinking as you sat, unzipping your boots, dropping them on the floor. 

You were close enough to reach out and touch, he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from doing it. 

Then the open drawer on your dresser caught his attention. The drawer he had left open. Your damp underwear still balled in his fist. Maybe you wouldn't notice. 

He watched from his place under your bed as you went to the dresser, pushing the top drawer closed and pulling open the middle drawer, fishing out a t-shirt. You shed your sweater, dropping it to your feet, standing in your jeans and bra, barefoot. Your back was to him, but your reflection in your vanity showed off the soft pink lace cupping your soft supple breasts. God, what he wouldn't give to touch them, kiss them. 

He let out a slow breath trying to keep himself under control. You closed the drawer and pulled the t-shirt on before checking your reflection in the mirror and disappearing down the hall. 

He waited, until he was certain you weren't coming back, hearing you clink dishes in the kitchen. 

He slid out from under the bed and quickly got to his feet; he thought seriously about keeping those coveted pink panties…if only just to clean them. He didn’t have time to think about it, instead, he slipped them behind your pillows between the mattress and the wall. 

He tiptoed towards the door, listening intently to you at the other end of the house, for any indication you would find him in a very compromising position. A loud crash echoed from the kitchen and a frustrated “Fuck” drifted down the hallway. 

He wanted so badly to help, he hoped you hadn’t hurt yourself; but took advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself and slipped out the front door, pulling it closed as carefully and quietly as he could manage. 

The days that followed were near agonizing, it took everything in him not to rush back into your house every time you left to deal with what he had left behind in a rush. He wondered if you had noticed them missing…

Although, knowing he could, just made the temptation to do so that much worse. He watched you go to bed night after night and every cell in his body burned with desire, just at the thought that you hadn’t had any idea. 

Before the week was out, he found himself standing in your bedroom once again. Your journal sat on your nightstand, bed unmade this time; you had rearranged your furniture, your bed was in the same place, but your vanity and desk now sat on the same wall, facing out the window that looked into his bedroom. The chest of drawers you had moved to the opposite wall as your bed. 

If your bed hadn’t moved, that meant… moving swiftly across your room, right where he’d left them, still dirty, were your pink panties. 

He tucked them back safely, he wasn’t going to be caught off guard this time if you happened to come home early. Instead, he sat on your bed, and thumbed through your journal, learning everything he could about you that you’d shared.

He flipped the pages to the beginning of the week to see what you had filled in on that particular day. Nothing overly interesting unfortunately, but fortunately also no mention of him. He had gotten away with it. 

[garaje1en18]

🚗✨ Cadillac 4-door hardtop - 1932 (1:43 scale) Autos de Época

A beautiful piece from my collection! This classic captures the elegance and style of the 1930s. Perfect for fans of vintage cars and die-cast models. 🔧 Check out the incredible details and craftsmanship of this timeless model. Don’t miss it! 🎥 Watch the video and let’s enjoy this automotive journey together! Social networks: Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/garaje1en18 Twitter: https://twitter.com/garaje1en18 Blogspot: https://garaje1en18.blogspot.com Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/Garaje1en18 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/garaje1en18 vk: https://vk.com/garaje1en18 TiTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@garaje1en18 Tumblr: https://garaje1en18.tumblr.com Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/garaje-1en18 WEB: http://garaje1en18.atspace.cc ************************************************************************************ Song: NOWË - Save Us (Vlog No Copyright Music) Music provided by Vlog No Copyright Music. Video Link: https://youtu.be/UelXiWfn4MY ************************************************************************************ #118 #scale #diecast #toy #collectible model #wallpaperbackgrounds ＃ダイキャスト ＃おもちゃ ＃コレクタブルモデル #pressofuso #giocattolo #modello da collezione #다이 캐스트 #장난감 #소장 모델 #Druckguss #Spielzeug #Sammlerstück ＃壓鑄 ＃玩具 ＃收藏模型 #moulé sous pression #modèle à collectionner #gegoten #speelgoed #verzamelmodel #литье под давлением #игрушка #коллекционная модель #หล่อ #ของเล่น #โมเดลสะสม #garaje1en18 #garaje #143 #AutosdeEpoca #DiecastCars #ModelCars #ScaleModels #VintageCars #ClassicCars #AutoCollectibles #ToyCars #MiniatureCars #Shorts #FacebookReels #TikTokCars #FYP #AutoArt #CarEnthusiast #CollectorsItem #DiecastCommunity

[steviewashere]

To Be Cast Away and Brought Back In

(also on ao3)

wc: 1,986, Steddie Tags: Post Season 4, Post Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Minor Character Death, Minor Sick Character, Mentions of Chronic Illnesses, Established Steddie (For the rest of the tags, they're on ao3. No content warning.)

--------

Eddie Munson moved to Hawkins, Indiana at the age of ten. He was picked up by social services with a good portion of his belongings, carted into the back of an unsuspecting little black Cadillac, escorted to Forest Hills Trailer Park, and practically pushed into his Uncle Wayne's floundering arms. Wayne knew that he'd be getting a new roommate, but the softness after all the commotion didn't make Eddie's anxieties lessen any.

There was a point in time where he could accurately tell somebody that he was being taken care of at home by both of his parents. His dad would play catch in the front yard. Mama Munson would read illustrated books and prep his bubble baths. They were tight knit, for a while, they could expect one another to be there. As present as ever. With dinner on the table and a new funny story and a mountain of homework on Eddie's part.

But it wasn't made to last. Eddie didn't expect for it all to come crumbling down before he had the chance to even start junior high, but it happened anyway. Papa Munson, better known as Allen "Al" Munson to authorities, had been in and out of jail a good portion of young Eddie's life. Usually on several counts of theft. One time for grand theft auto. But he would come out of it, be put on parole, and eventually make his way back to their little home in the outskirts of Indianapolis.

What tore into Eddie, however, was his mother.

Eleanor Munson, or Nora as she liked to be called, had always been sick in one way or another. Whether it was physically—coughing fits that led to incessant gagging and sometimes what seemed like endless bouts of vomiting, or chronic nerve pain that forced her to lay still in bed for far too long, and more often than not, the migraines. And then there was of course some town cries of her being emotionally inept or mentally ill or a basket case on legs or a nervous, psychotic break. Whatever clever thing they could think of at the time, when it would later be "manic depression," but that wouldn't come until some years after Eddie had already relocated.

Most of Eddie's growing up was spent taking care of his mother. Bringing her ice packs, heat packs, the hot water bottle, warm towels. Some days he'd draw her a bath. Other days he'd just tiptoe with some painkillers, a glass of water, and a plate of plain toast—she'd send him off to play on his own. He had toys and books and art supplies, a small bicycle and a baseball, but he didn't want to do any of that. Not on his own. And since his dad was often out and causing mishap or landing himself behind bars, his growing up had been desolate and desperate and all too lonely.

He hates to acknowledge some of his true feelings now. The rise of pent up resentment. Simmering anger and that gnawing sadness. It attached to his ten year old heart and didn't want to let go.

Not even when he moved in with Uncle Wayne.

On the first night at the trailer, Eddie simply threw his bags to the linoleum floor by the front door, stomped over to the couch, and landed so that his face was digging into one of the seat cushions. He remembers muffling some screams, definitely a few wet sobs, even some disgusting snot rockets. Yet, and he finds himself appreciating it even now, Wayne just leet him do his thing. Let him cry and yell and choke for what seemed like an eternity.

And when he came back to his present body, sitting up with the effort of a brand new body builder loading on too many weights, Wayne simply brought him a cup of hot cocoa in the Garfield mug set aside just for troublesome nights like these. Though, the troubled nights ended up being near daily.

Could you blame Eddie? He was dumped off. It felt as if he was something being abandoned at a junkyard. Though, Wayne's trailer has always been too nice for that comparison.

Even later on that night, when Wayne had shown him to his bed and gave him a warm comforter and a full glass of ice water, Eddie had asked, "When do I get to go home and be with my mama?"

Wayne tucked him in. Huffed a hot puff of breath. And he whispered, "You ain't goin' back, Bubba. You're 'ere with me now."

Eddie's lip trembled, brown eyes growing wide and wet. "This is my home?" his little voice squeaked. "But—Mama...Mama is at home."

He watched as his uncle shook his head. Clicked his tongue against his teeth. And sat heavily next to Eddie's side. "Did those people not tell you why you're 'ere?" Eddie shook his head. "Bubba—" He sighed. "Bubba, you couldn't get your mama to wake up, right?" And Eddie nodded. "So you called me. And...I helped you get people to come check on her. They—" Wayne sniffled and wiped a hand down his face, dragging his features. "Your mama isn't at home anymore. She died, Ed."

"Died?" Eddie whispered, horrified. Wayne simply nodded.

He remembers getting a conversation a few months ago, something about his mom not doing too well. What to do, just in case. To call his Uncle Wayne.

"In case she dies," was one of the first things talked about. His dad had told him. He knows what it means. They had a dog at one point, he had died in an accident. A goldfish, too, that died from old age. Even the cat they took in from the street, she died from an illness.

"But—But what about Papa? How come I don't get to go with him?"

"Your daddy is in a lot of trouble, kiddo. Remember how he was always getting in trouble for things?" Wayne asked, once again, Eddie nodded. "He did something bad again and now he's doing a lot of time for it." Another weary sigh. "We'll talk about it some more, okay? I promise. Tonight, you just need to get some sleep."

Eddie shuffled further under the comforter. Before Wayne could get too far, Eddie called out, "Can you read my book to me, please?" He gestured to a battered up copy of The Hobbit on his bedside table.

"You're reading The Hobbit?"

"Mama used to read it to me; before she got super sick," Eddie whispered.

And that became their nightly tradition. Nice dinner, hot cocoa in the Garfield mug, warm shower, tucked into bed, and Wayne would read aloud The Hobbit. Until eventually it turned into them trading off chapters. Eddie would do the character voices and Wayne would compliment him.

Eddie's life truly began in the sanctuary of Wayne's trailer. Given items for Dungeons and Dragons, the rest of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, and more hot meals than he had ever had in his life.

Things were normal, they were fine.

Until Chrissy Cunningham died. Broken and bleeding. Until he ran. Patrick dead too, the same way. More running and hiding and being hunted down. Watching other people nearly lose their lives. Almost losing his own.

The days spent in the hospital, tied up by tubes and ports and constant streams of doctors. Calling him a miracle. His friends calling him a hero. Wayne going back to his habit of calling him Bubba.

And then, though there was the nightmares and the flashbacks and the other issues that arose from the ashes of the Upside Down, things became okay again.

Eddie fell in love with his high school crush, Steve Harrington. And Steve Harrington fell in love with someone unsuspected in Eddie. They shared a constant space. Holding each other through blood soaked nightmares. Getting high to a bearable level, not going far enough to push Steve into a corner.

What Eddie wasn't prepared to handle were the migraines. Not from him. Though, he definitely had days where his scars felt too tight or there was the phantom sensation of those things biting into his flesh. No, Steve had them.

As severe as Nora Munson did. Leaving Steve Harrington bedridden, nauseous, in pain that only worsened unless he could sleep it off. He was tired a good portion of the time. And when he wasn't, he was in pain.

In fact, it's one of those migraine attacks right now. It comes full force in the early hours of June 16th, 1986. Eddie hasn't been around for one before, but he knows immediately what to do. Grabs ice packs and a cold wet rag. Makes a plate of plain toast with butter. Fills a glass with ice water and the center of his palm with some extra strength painkillers.

Eddie makes quick work. Draping the rag on Steve's sweaty forehead. Gently setting the icepack at the back of his skull. Helping him take his medication, leaving the food and water on the bedside table.

Just as he tiptoes to leave the room, however, he hears from behind him in a hushed voice, "Where you going?" Granted, the syllables are slurred, a lot tired. He can realize that it must take Steve a great amount of effort to just speak out, even something so mundane. Eddie winces in solidarity.

"I'm giving you some space," Eddie whispers back.

"You don't ha-fta go," Steve whines. "Come lay with me," he offers, patting the empty space beside him.

Though it goes against all of what Eddie knows, he obliges anyway. He hesitantly climbs back into bed. Stiff on the mattress. Body barely covered by the blanket, just in case. Then, Steve scoots close and wraps himself along Eddie's side. And because he can't help himself, Eddie brings one of his hands to tickle over Steve's spine. The other traces the moles on his forearm.

"You can talk," Steve whispers. "I don't like the silence."

Eddie hums. Squeezes Steve's bicep before trailing back down to his forearm. "My mom used to get migraines. Knew how to take care of her," he murmurs. "She made me leave her alone. But...If that's what she wanted, then I did it. Even if I wanted her to play or read with me."

"I'll never make you go away," Steve breathes into the exposed skin of Eddie's neck. "Reminds me that there's somebody here that cares." Eddie hums again. "My parents didn't like taking care of me when I was sick, I was kind of a lot as a kid."

"Could never be too much for me." Eddie carefully leans down and presses a kiss to Steve's hairline. "I'll do anything you need. It's just hard for me to do sometimes, puts me back in that mindset, I guess."

"That's okay," Steve sighs.

They let silence lapse around them.

It's nice, to stay in the room. To be there. Knowing that he's needed, especially. He was needed when he was a kid, there's no doubt about that. But it's different, somehow it's a different kind of necessity.

"Can you tell me a story, Eds?"

And so Eddie does one of the many things Wayne taught him. He builds an elaborate story from thin air. About pleasant things and badass knights and princesses with gorgeous dresses and hair. He weaves elaborate plot lines about the characters saving one another, being there for one another. If the inspiration comes from him and Steve, nobody has to know, but he feels as though Steve caught on.

He can hear Steve yawn at some point. When he glances down, catching Steve trying to keep his eyes open, he snorts. "You can go to sleep, baby. I'll be right here when you wake up next."

"Promise?"

"Promise, Stevie. There's no place I'd rather be."

[paramountie]

he's talking about love at first sight, which does happen it happened to me. that's a crock. lust at first sight maybe but love? no never happens I'd have to agree with the lieutenant what we refer to as love at first sight is actually just a combination of chemical reactions triggered by pheromonal stimulation. say what? it's about how you smell. that is so cynical and so wrong fraser what do you think well there was a lot happening and the boy was holding on to the bumper which partially obscured the license plate but i do know it was a white 1996 cadillac 4 door sedan and the first three letters of the plate were HAP. ok well I'll just go check that out then. but I do think it happens. do you have any proof of that constable? HE WAS WILLING TO LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HER

[harlowarchives]

chp 3 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 ! ୨ .  ˚ ໒꒱

hello my babies im so late but heres hope chapter 3! as i announced there would a time jump so now our baby is 4, this book’s drama is only starting i swear. but 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 enjoy <33

↳ listen to take you there by her, hurt you by toni braxton and baby face & potential by summer walker.

no 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 today ladies.

Jack had been coming home later & later every night because of his management and label, he'd been missing doctor’s appointments which was unusual for him so Sevyn was alone every night. She needed help, her stomach was only getting bigger, and every task became ten times harder. Midnight came & the front door opened Sevyn sat at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of ice cream she watched Jack quickly walk past her, “Where are you going? You even didn't say anything.” Sevyn walked toward Jack who had his weight on the bathroom sink opening the mirror cabinet “Are you ok?” Jack didn't even bother to face her. Sevyn noticed an odd smell coming from his sweatshirt “Are you high?” She questioned skewing her face he faced her his eyes low & slightly red “N—” she shook her head dismissing him and stormed up the stairs before he could see her tears. She buried her head in the sheets after locking the bedroom door tears flowed down her cheeks like a river she heard Jack knock on the bedroom door repeating her name “Just open the door.” He pleaded in a raspy voice “You go out leave me by myself for hours lie to me about where you're at, get high drunk things you never do. I understand the pressure Jack, or maybe I don't but why do you treat me this way after I constantly support you, why me?” Her voice was shaky & tears ran down her cheeks. Jack slid down the door his head on his knees “Sevyn, I'm sorry.” He inhaled, “That gets old Jack.”

Tears streamed down Sevyn’s face her eyes burned, she prayed things would change because she loved him & being the mother of his child was all she’d ever wished for. Jack was the love of her life she knew that since laid eyes on him.

Sevyn woke up at around 3:00 pm & walked to the living room expecting to see Jack but he was nowhere to be found the car wasn't in the driveway either & his shoes weren’t there. She began packing her things getting ready to leave. She sat in her Cadillac watching him on Instagram at the club drinking bottles of vodka while random women rubbed his lap, She was embarrassed but she kept her composure. She blocked all of his social media accounts and his phone number, She wasn't one to up & leave but this was too much he had disrespected her time & time again she was exhausted. He showed no respect for her as the mother of his child and his girlfriend, now she was over it.

Sevyn sat at her desk humming a gentle tune, melodic & mellow. She tapped her pen against her hardwood desk “Sevyn it's perfect I don't think you should change it.” Sayori smiled as Jordyn nodded in agreement “She’s right Sev I love it so will the world.” Sevyn shook her head “Yall it doesn't sound right something just so wrong about it!” She spoke her voice raising slightly causing Jordyn to throw her hands up. Everyone in the studio turned their attention to the studio door hearing small footsteps approaching the room and seeing Jack, Urban & Hope outside the frosted glass door. Urban lifted Hope helping her twist the knob, the door popped open and a smile spread across Sevyn’s face “Hey pumpkin!” Sevyn smiled as Hope ran into her mother’s arms causing the rolling chair to slide back on the engineering table “Hi Mommy, what are you doing?” Hope smiled resting her head on Sevyn’s chest “Working babe, you wanna hear my song?” Sevyn smiled watching her daughter's eyes light up with excitement “Yeah Mommy, let's hear the song!” Urban & Jack said in sync. Sevyn pressed the resume button on her laptop & started the song from the beginning playing a song called ‘Take You There’ Everyone in the studio seemed to be entranced in the music. Sevyn sang the lyrics to Hope tickling her a bit.

The song in the studio went silent, Jack let out a deep sigh “Sevyn, I think this is the best song on the album.” Urban spoke looking over at Jack who uncomfortably shifted in his seat he got up and shot a look at Urban who was still comfortably seated “Alright, I got her lunch so she's not hungry right now. Everything she brought is getting washed, I'll text you later.” Jack said his mouth in a line, Sevyn nodded as Urban shot up high-fiving Hope, Jack held out his arms signaling a hug Hope quickly got up and fell into his arms “Bye, Papa.” She smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on her head “Later, kiddo I love you.” He smiled setting her down as “I love you too.” She smiled as Urban & Jack walked out the door. “No one else was confused as to why he left after you played the song?” Sayori questioned squinting before looking around “I don't know he's been acting strange lately super strange, he just drops her off & doesn't say anything.” Sevyn shrugged thinking a bit more about it “We always have a conversation & if we don't he has somewhere to be.” Sevyn continued “I'm not mad or anything he's not obligated to have a conversation with me it's just not like him which is what concerns me.” Sevyn added starting to ramble “Mommy can we go home?” Hope asked tapping Sevyn on the chest “Yes baby.” Sevyn smiled.

After a long studio session, Sevyn & Hope were outside the house. They got inside & Sevyn began getting herself and Hope ready for bed, Bathtime ended now The two were lying on the bed watching Proud Family. Sevyn felt her phone vibrate underneath her so she looked at her screen and saw a message from Jack “We need to talk.” He texted “Yeah, what's up?” She responded “Was the song about me? Yes or no, no extra shit Sevyn.” He said, “Yes, I wrote it because I saw a picture of us in high school it inspired me.” She responded, “Is that a problem?” She double-texted “No it's not I mean I'll figure it out.” He texted back, “Okay, also what's up with you? You're avoiding me now?” She sent getting left on read.

🏷️ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⁱ : @lexxlovesjack @iknowdatsrightbih @iheartharlow @livsters @honeyharlows @killatravtramp @jackmanduh @itsyagirljaz

[frenchcurious]

Publicité Time Magazine, Janvier 1953 - Cadillac Fleetwood Sixty Special 4-Door Sedan 1953. - source Heikki Siponen.

[battlevann]

90s cadillac broughams r so cool but i would rather have something with fwd (67-70 eldorado has fwd iirc but i've kind of come to the conclusion that i'd prefer a 4 door, it is cool as shit tho)

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Cadillac Park Avenue Concept, 1954. Presented at GM's Motorama, a 4-door saloon design study with fibreglass bodywork built on the 133" wheelbase chassis of a 60 Special. The Park Avenue didn't make it into Cadillac's showrooms but some of the design themes it explored appeared on 1957 Cadillacs. Meanwhile, in the UK, it also influenced the styling of the PA series Vauxhall Velox of 1957 (Vauxhall was part of General Motors at the time)

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was manufactured in Detroit, Michigan. It was one of the most fascinating car designs of the 1950s. The car was designed by Bill Mitchell, Chuck Jordan, and Dave Holls.

The 1959 Cadillac lineup was considered to be the heyday of Cadillac. The 1959 Cadillacs had some of the most technologically advanced options of the 1950s, including air conditioning, cruise control, and a triple-carb V8.

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was a two-door hardtop coupe with a 130 inch wheelbase. It was the most popular style of the Series 6300 DeVille line, with 21,924 sales. The Coupe DeVille came with a 390 cubic inch (6.4 liter) V8 engine. The engine has a 4-barrel Carter AFB2814S carburetor and produces 325 horsepower.

The 1959 Cadillac Coupe DeVille was 225 inches long, 80.2 inches wide, and had the largest tailfins ever fitted to a Cadillac. It also had dual "rocket" tail lamps, which are considered the most recognizable tail lights in history. It's considered one of the most iconic car designs of all time.

[ausetkmt]

On September 7, 1996, at 11:15 p.m. (PDT), Tupac Shakur, a 25-year-old American rapper, was fatally shot in a drive-by shooting in Las Vegas, Nevada. The shooting occurred when the car carrying Shakur was stopped at a red light at East Flamingo Road and Koval Lane.[2] Shakur was in Marion "Suge" Knight's car, who was also injured in the shooting. Although Knight was only grazed by a bullet in the shooting, Shakur died from his injuries on September 13, 1996, six days after he was shot.

Shakur was struck by four rounds fired from a .40-calibre Glock:[1] two in the chest, one in the arm, and one in the thigh.[3] He died from his wounds six days later.

On September 29, 2023, 27 years later, Duane "Keefe D" Davis was arrested after being indicted by a grand jury for the first-degree murder of Shakur.[4][5]

Prior events

Tupac Shakur attended the Bruce Seldon vs. Mike Tyson boxing match with Marion "Suge" Knight, the head of Death Row Records, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Nevada. After leaving the match, one of Knight's associates, Trevon "Tre" Lane, a member of the M.O.B. Pirus gang based in Compton, California, spotted Orlando "Baby Lane" Anderson, from the rival South Side Compton Crips gang, in the MGM Grand lobby.[6] Earlier that year, in July 1996, Anderson and a group of South Side Crips attempted to rob Lane in a Foot Locker store at the Lakewood Center mall in Lakewood, California.

Lane told Shakur, who in turn attacked Anderson in the lobby. Shakur asked Anderson if he was from the "South" (South Side Crips) and punched him in the face, knocking him to the ground.[6] Shakur and Knight's entourage assisted in assaulting Anderson. The fight, which was captured on the MGM Grand's video surveillance, was broken up by hotel security.[7]

After the brawl, Shakur returned to his hotel, the Luxor Las Vegas. He disclosed to girlfriend Kidada Jones his involvement in the Anderson fight, previously having promised to return to her after entering the MGM Grand and having her stay in a vehicle. Shakur left with Knight in a BMW sedan after changing clothes and went to Club 662, which was owned by Knight, to perform at a charity concert.[8][9]

Minutes before the shooting, Shakur's friend Leonard Jefferson captured an infamous image of him in the vehicle with Knight.[10] This image ended up being one of the last images of Shakur.

Shooting and aftermath

East Flamingo Road and Koval Lane intersection, 2012

At 11:00–11:05 p.m. (PDT), Shakur and Knight were halted on Las Vegas Boulevard by officers from the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department Bike Patrol for playing the car stereo too loudly and not having license plates. The plates were found in the trunk of Knight's car. The party was released a few minutes later without being cited.[11][12] At 11:10 p.m., while they were stopped at a red light at the intersection of East Flamingo Road and Koval Lane in front of the Maxim Hotel, a vehicle occupied by two women pulled up on their left side. Shakur, who was talking through the window of his brand new 1996 BMW 750iL,[13] exchanged words with the two women and invited them to go to Club 662.[12]

At 11:15 p.m., a white, four-door, late-model Cadillac pulled up to Knight's right side. The shooter, seated at the back of the Cadillac, rolled down the window and rapidly fired gunshots from a .40 S&W Glock 22 at Shakur's BMW. Shakur was hit four times: twice in the chest, once in the arm, and once in the thigh. One of the bullets went into Shakur's right lung.[14] Knight was hit in the head by fragmentation.[15]

Shakur's bodyguard, Frank Alexander, stated that when he was about to ride along with Shakur in Knight's car, Shakur asked him to drive Jones's car instead, in case they needed additional vehicles from Club 662 back to their hotel. Alexander reported in his documentary, Before I Wake, that shortly after the assault, one of the convoy's cars followed the assailant, but he never heard from the occupants.[16] Yaki Kadafi was riding in the car behind Shakur with bodyguards at the time of the shooting and, along with members of the Death Row entourage, refused to cooperate with police.[17]

Despite Knight's injuries and his vehicle having a flat tire, he was able to drive Shakur and himself a mile from the site to Las Vegas Boulevard and Harmon Avenue. They were again pulled over by the Bike Patrol, who alerted paramedics through radio.[18] After arriving on the scene, police and paramedics took Knight and Shakur to the University Medical Center of Southern Nevada.[19] They were pulled over just a short distance from the MGM Grand, where their evening had begun.[18]

Gobi Rahimi, a Death Row music video director who visited Shakur at the hospital, later reported that he received news from a Death Row marketing employee that the shooters had called the record label and threatened Shakur.[19] Gobi told Las Vegas police, but said they claimed to be understaffed.[19] No attackers came to the hospital.[19] Shakur said he was dying while being carried into the emergency room.

At the hospital, Shakur was heavily sedated, was placed on life support machines, and was ultimately put under a medically-induced coma after repeatedly trying to get out of bed. He was visited by Jones and regained consciousness when she played Don McLean's "Vincent" on the CD player next to his bed. According to Jones, Shakur moaned, and his eyes were "filled with mucus and swollen." Jones told Shakur that she loved him.

Knight was released from the hospital the day following the shooting on September 8, but did not speak until September 11. He told officers he "heard something, but saw nothing" the night of the shooting. A spokesman for the officers said Knight's statement did nothing to help the investigation.[18] Officers at the time of Shakur's hospitalization reported having no leads. Sgt. Kevin Manning said during the week that officers did not receive "a whole lot of cooperation" from Shakur's entourage.[20]

Rahimi and members of Shakur's group, Outlawz, guarded Shakur while he stayed in the hospital due to their fear that whoever shot Shakur "was gonna come finish him off." Rahimi mentioned the possibility that Outlawz brought weapons with them.[21] While in the critical care unit on the afternoon of Friday, September 13, 1996, Shakur died of respiratory failure that led to cardiac arrest after the removal of his right lung. Doctors attempted to revive him but could not stop the hemorrhaging. His mother, Afeni, made the decision to cease medical treatment.[14] He was pronounced dead at 4:03 p.m.

In 2014, a police officer who claimed he witnessed Shakur's last moments said Shakur refused to state who shot him. When the officer asked Shakur if he saw the person or people who shot him, Shakur responded by saying, "Fuck you" to the officer as his last words.[22] Paramedics and other officers present at the scene did not report hearing Shakur say those words, nor did Knight or Alexander, who were also present.[23]

Investigative reports on the murder

One year after the shooting, Sgt. Kevin Manning, who headed the investigation, told Las Vegas Sun investigative reporter Cathy Scott that Shakur's murder "may never be solved." The case slowed early in the investigation, he said, as few new clues came in and witnesses clammed up. Manning stated that the investigation was at a standstill.[24] E.D.I. Mean, a collaborator of Shakur's and a member of Outlawz, said he was positive law enforcement knew "what happened" and added, "This is America. We found bin Laden."[21]

In 2002, the Los Angeles Times published a two-part story by Chuck Philips, titled "Who Killed Tupac Shakur?" based on a year-long investigation. Philips reported that "the shooting was carried out by a Compton gang called the South Side Crips to avenge the beating of one of its members by Shakur a few hours earlier. Orlando Anderson, the Crip whom Shakur had attacked, fired the fatal shots. Las Vegas police considered Anderson a suspect and interviewed him only once, briefly. Anderson was killed nearly two years later in an unrelated gang shooting." Philips's article also implicated East Coast rappers, including The Notorious B.I.G., Tupac's rival at the time, and several New York City criminals.[11]

The second article in Philips' series[25] assessed the murder investigation and said that Las Vegas police had mismanaged the probe. His article enumerated the missteps of the Las Vegas police as follows: (1) discounting the fight that occurred just hours before the shooting, in which Shakur was involved in beating Anderson in the MGM Grand lobby; (2) failing to follow up with a member of Shakur's entourage who witnessed the shooting, who told Las Vegas police he could probably identify one or more of the assailants but was killed before being interviewed; and (3) failing to follow up on a lead from a witness who spotted a white Cadillac similar to the car from which the fatal shots were fired and in which the shooters escaped.

Haaretz, an Israeli newspaper, reported in 2011 that the FBI released documents as a result of a Freedom of Information Act request, revealing its investigation of the Jewish Defense League for extorting protection money from Shakur and other rappers after making death threats against them.[26][27] In 2017, Knight claimed he might have been the target of the attack that killed Shakur, arguing that it was a hit on him as a staged coup to seize control of Death Row Records.[28]

Witnesses

At the time of the shooting, an entourage of around ten automobiles was following Knight and Shakur's vehicle. The year following the shooting, Knight stated during an ABC Primetime Live interview that he did not know who had shot Shakur but would never tell officers if he did.[29]

Kadafi was involved in a scuffle with officers two days following the shooting, after they pulled over a motorist with whom he was acquainted, and he protested. Kadafi left Las Vegas days after Shakur's death, traveling to Atlanta and Los Angeles before settling in New Jersey, where his relatives lived. In that time, Compton investigators assembled mug shots of several gang members, which included Anderson, and hand-delivered them to Las Vegas. Manning said detectives called Kadafi's lawyer to set up a meeting with the rapper so that he could be shown the pictures. According to Manning, the calls were not returned. Officers did not try to locate Kadafi, who was fatally shot in a housing project in Irvington, New Jersey, in November 1996, two months after Shakur's shooting.[30]

Mean and Alexander told the Times in early 1997 that they had never been asked by Las Vegas police to view photos of possible suspects in the case, despite having observed the shooting and having seen the men in the car from which the shots were fired. In an interview with Alexander conducted by Las Vegas police on March 19, 1997, he was shown a series of eight photo lineups, but was unable to identify any suspects from them. Mean claimed to have seen all four men in the vehicle, while Alexander reported seeing the face of the suspect who shot Shakur. In his March 1997 police interview, Alexander said that he only saw the occupants of the shooter's car in "more of a profile." Las Vegas police disputed the pair's account of what they had reported to the officers the night of the shooting.[31]

In the USA Network documentary Unsolved, broadcast in 2018, Duane "Keefe D" Davis, a Crips gang leader in California and Anderson's uncle, claimed to have been in the car, specifically in the front passenger seat, with Tupac's murderer when the shots were fired. He declined to name the shooter, citing "street code."[32] Despite this, he stated that the car was driven by Terrence "T-Brown" Brown and that Anderson and DeAndrae "Dre" Smith were sitting in the backseat of the car, all of whom were South Side Crips and are now deceased. He also stated that the shooter was sitting in the backseat.[33][34] In 2016, a M.O.B. Piru and former Death Row bodyguard named James "Mob James" McDonald claimed he saw Anderson and other South Side Crips pull up near Club 662 in a white Cadillac and were briefly parked nearby prior to the shooting of Suge's BMW.[35]

According to Radar Online, Keefe D stated that after waiting near Club 662, they went to a Liquor Barn store and they then proceeded to make their way to The Carriage House hotel. On their way there, they noticed the Death Row caravan.[36][37]

Arrest and trial of Duane Davis

On July 18, 2023, the Las Vegas Police Department executed a search warrant in connection with Shakur's murder.[38] The search was conducted in a home in Henderson, Nevada, and it was stated that the search was connected to the investigation into Shakur's death.[39] It was later revealed that the home belonged to the wife of Duane "Keefe D" Davis. Davis was subsequently arrested in connection with Tupac's murder on the morning of September 29, 2023.[40] He was held without bail and charged with murder. He pleaded not guilty on November 2, 2023 in Las Vegas.[41]

On November 7, 2023, Judge Carli Kierny for the Clark County District Court scheduled for Davis' trial to begin on June 3, 2024.[42] On January 9, 2024, during a court status check, Davis was granted $750,000 bail and allowed house arrest.[43] A second status check was held on February 20, 2024, during which it was agreed that Davis' trial would be delayed to November 4, 2024.[44][45] Despite being granted bail and house arrest, Davis remains incarcerated at the Clark County Detention Center

Location Las Vegas, Nevada, U.S.

Date September 7, 1996; 27 years ago 11:15 p.m. (PDT)

Target Tupac Shakur

Attack type Drive-by shooting,

assassination Weapon.40 caliber Glock 22pistol

Deaths Tupac Shakur; (death occurred six days later after drive-by shooting)

Injured Suge KnightAccused

Orlando Anderson (suspected shooter; murdered before being charged)

Duane "Keefe D" Davis (accused of being an accomplice)

[uscarssince1935]

1941 Cadillac Series 62 4-door Sedan

My tumblr-blogs:

www.tumblr.com/germancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/frenchcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/englishcarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/italiancarssince1946 & www.tumblr.com/japanesecarssince1947 & www.tumblr.com/uscarssince1935