Days After James Brown’s Death Daughter Stabbed Husband Over Brown’s $
See, it’s very complicated…the issue with James Brown’s estate has been an ongoing one since his departure, December 25, 2006. From that point, there have been enraged legal battles over Brown’s estate, because as much as we love James Brown’s music, moves, and spirit, there’s millions of dollars at stake. The courts have said it had no idea what the estate was worth, but giving an estimate of $5 million to more than $100 million.
So, now Yamma Brown, (one of Brown’s children), spoke of her violent relationship with her husband, and his aggressive means to get his hands on the estate of James Brown.Yamma Brown gave some really explicit details about what happened just days after her father, James Brown passed away, in her book, Cold Sweat, My Father James Brown and Me. So it was her account of the day that she knew her marriage was over, two days before her Dad was to be buried. But why?
Darren filled his head with other ideas. Ideas about how Darren could turn Dad’s considerable wealth into so much more that everyone in the family would benefit from, if only we would turn over the reins to him. That’s all he’d talked about since Dad died. The estate. He wanted to manage it for the family. He could turn Dad’s millions into billions with the right investments. That was his expertise. Would I please get my damn family to agree?
My sister was especially leery of the part of Darren’s plan that put him in charge of the estate. When I told him that afterward, he blew a gasket. “That stinking, rotten bitch!” he raged. “Who does she think she is?” He badgered me to pressure Deanna to see things his way, but even though I was too afraid to come right out and tell him, I wasn’t about to try to talk Deanna into anything, nor could I. Deanna is a strong woman, and she didn’t trust Darren, with good reason. She knew his history. He had blown his share of business deals—and our new house was on the way to foreclosure, for God’s sake. Why would she put her future in his hands?
“I’m not going to try to convince my sister to do anything, Darren,” I said firmly, interrupting my husband in the middle of his rant. “Please! Just let me mourn my dad.” He stopped shouting and stared at me. He was stunned that I was talking back. How dare I?
Darren lurched at me, cursing and spewing his rage with such force that his spit sprayed my face. “Who do you think you are?” he shouted. “You stupid bitch. You and your family don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to f@!k up everything.” I wiped his saliva from my cheeks and turned to walk away. “Do you hear me?” he yelled, his voice seething with scorn. “You have no idea how to run this, and neither does anyone else in your family. What the hell do you know about anything?” God, I hated him. “Don’t you walk away from me! Don’t you dare walk away.”
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