I don’t think Dave is a happy man. His friendship with Ray has cost him dearly in all aspects of his life. And while he tries his best to project a veneer of steely calm and unwavering capability, those who know him and have seem him in his quiet moments will tell you a different story.

Dave had a friend once, the very same person he once tapped to replace James Bernard. One night he called her up and cried and cried and cried and cried. Dave blubbered to her that he “wished RSO would just die.”

When he found out that Sonya Magett, our fashion editor, could not be enticed to return to The Source, he called a former staffer and cried and cried and cried. He could not understand why Sonya had lost all respect for him. Unfortunately for Dave, the former staffer that he called used to be married to a man who is like a brother to me. The world is small and very few secrets are kept.

There was a man on The Source’s marketing team who once witnessed Ray berating Dave in the office. It seems that Ray was upset at the lack of community outreach programs affiliated with The Source (back in the day James Bernard and I would spend a lot of our down time visiting schools and lecturing and mentoring young people, there was no official Source mandate to do so, we just did it on the strength) and screamed on Dave to the point where he burst into tears. “I’m trying, Ray,” he wailed like a little sissy.

One of our old interns had an interesting discussion with an RSO member who was busy loitering around the office one day. The intern, a very good friend of ours, was a bit miffed at something Dave had said to him. The RSO member had a remedy — one he said worked for him whenever he felt that Dave had forgotten his place. “Just slap him,” was the sage advice. “Just slap him.”

There was another man on the marketing team, a person who started back when we were there. It was his second day on the job and he witnessed something that shook him to the core of his being. Ray locked the two of them in Dave’s office and lovingly placed a pistol to the side of Dave’s head. “Homeboy was crying,” is what this marketing man told anyone who would listen.

We know someone who lives right next door to Dave’s parents in DC. When the situation went down between us and Dave, the fallout was far reaching. The two neighbors stopped talking to one another. It was a sad situation, but one day Dave’s mother sought out her former friend, apologized for the despicable actions of her son and explained, “David is afraid, he is in way over his head and can’t figure a way out of this.”

I could go on, but once you’ve heard one story you’ve heard them all. Dave is Dave. His heart pumps pink Kool-Aid. For all of his love of the ghetto, he never learned lesson one of surviving in the hood: Under no circumstances are you to you ever give your lunch money to a bully. It is far better to take the ass whoppin’ than to be some nigga's personal ATM. But Dave never seemed to figure that out and that is why he is in the dire straits that he currently finds himself. I once met a man who introduced himself to me as “Dave Mays’ future extorter.” Really, now, is that what you want to be known for? It’s worse than pathetic.

[click here to read about how Reginald orchestrated a plan to get Benzino finally put on the cover of The Source.]

This is just the tip of the iceberg, just a fraction of the details Reginald C. Dennis provided.

Click to revisit all the legendary stories...

Part 1: The Greatest Story Never Told [click to read]
Part 2: Benzino’s Hostile Takeover [click to read]
Part 3: Mays, Benzino, and a Gun [click to read]