As Def Sounds previously reported, currently incarcerated, former Nation of Islam member Clayton Hill has confessed to playing a part as an accessory after the fact to the unsolved murder of The Notorious B.I.G.

Now HHDX has received some excerpts from Clayton Hill’s book Diary of An Ex-Terrorist, and Hill explains how he became involved in the murder of The Notorious B.I.G.

Writing in his book Clayton hill explained:

Sometime in Mid-May 1997 I got a call at home from Minister Tony Muhammad. I was surprised to hear from him since I hadn’t talked to him since the last time we, my wife and I had visited Los Angeles over a year ago, even though we did see each other during the National Laborer’s Meeting during Savior’s Day almost two months prior to that. We greeted each other in the customary manner on the phone and then he said he needed me to pick up someone coming from L.A. and headed through Atlanta. I was to pick him up from the Greyhound Bus Station in downtown Atlanta. It wasn’t unusual for brothers who were on the run to show up at the mosque and need a place to crash as they hid from whatever they were running from but the fact that a Regional Minister was making this request and personally involved with whatever was going on was not only unusual but a violation of protocol.”

“So I asked Minister Tony if this was an ‘official’ request; and if so I needed a call from Chicago. Or at the very least an official call from the Regional FOI Captain, Captain Curtis Muhammad. Minister Tony told me he understood and we ended the call. A couple of hours later I got a call from Brother Melvin Muhammad, the Account Executive from the office of the Supreme Captain assigned to the Southern Region, who told me he was calling me to relay instructions from the ‘Supreme’ (meaning the Supreme Captain of the Nation of Islam-Abdul Sharrieff Muhammad) in reference to an earlier call from ‘Brother Tony in L.A.’ He spoke in short cryptic sentences and I wrote down my instructions asking no questions because none were necessary. Whoever I was picking up was important to warrant a call from Chicago and since I had designs on getting a post once I moved to Illinois this was a good opportunity to establish my worth. The instructions Brother Melvin gave were no different than the original instructions Minister Tony had given me hours earlier.”

“I was to pick up a brother in downtown Atlanta and assist the brother in question with whatever he needed. He was to be kept away from the mosque an out of contact with other believers and especially any member of law enforcement. Before ending the call Brother Melvin told me he didn’t know when the brother would arrive but it would definitely be in the next three or four days. It was imperative that I answer all calls made to my pager. When we ended our call I believed that he knew exactly when this mystery brother would arrive but I also recognized that security and safety protocols dictated that he not tell me when. You never knew who was listening.”

“Two or three days later, I got a page from a local number that I didn’t recognize. I was at home and hurried to drive to the nearest pay phone to call it back. The male voice on the other end asked for me by name and when I told him that he was talking to me he explained he was instructed to call me and that he had just arrived in Atlanta and was waiting at the Greyhound Station. He sounded agitated and tired as I explained to him that it would at least take forty five minutes because I lived in the suburbs of Riverdale, Georgia. Before ending the call and hanging up I gave him a brief description of my car.”

“I sped to the Greyhound Station and picked up a black male who stood approximately 5’11 to 6’1 with a light brown complexion and an athletic build. He looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in several days and the hair on his face and head looked as if he hadn’t had a haircut or shave in weeks. As soon as he sat in the passenger seat opposite me you could smell the stale funk of being confined on a cross country bus trip without a way to bathe. He introduced himself as Dawoud Muhammad and after he told me he was hungry we made a stop to buy him some fried chicken before continuing on to a Day’s Inn Motel on Clairmont Road on the north side of Atlanta.”

“Dawoud explained that the next day or sometime soon he needed to get a couple of new identification cards. I offered to make him a few counterfeit Illinois birth certificates but he rebuffed me as if he didn’t think I was capable of doing quality work and then explained he purchased some ‘high quality’ ones before leaving Los Angeles from a place called MacArthur Park. Just before leaving I told him I had instructions to collect some property from him. He must have been given the same instructions because he didn’t hesitate or show any signs of doubt as he bent over and removed a trash liner out of a waste can and handed it to me to hold open. He reached into the duffle bag he brought with him and pulled out a semi-automatic hand gun that could have been a .9 millimeter or a .40 caliber wrapped in a white undershirt. Carefully, he placed it into the trash bag making sure his hands never touched any of the exposed parts of the gun.”

“Dawoud warned me several times not to touch the gun because it had some ‘work’ on it. Before driving away I secured the gun filled bag under the spare tire in my trunk. … As soon as I got home I placed the whole package, the gun still tied up in the bag in my safe deposit box I kept hidden in the back of my closet. I picked Dawoud up the next day and we drove to a Kroger grocery store on Cascade Road in Southwest Atlanta where the Georgia Department of Motor Vehicles had set up a kiosk to relieve crowding in its main branches. These places didn’t scrutinize documents very closely, probably because there was only one person who worked the whole operation. Dawoud was in and out in less than 20 minutes with his new identification card in hand.”

“We hung out for the next couple of days as I showed him around Atlanta. During one of our conversations while riding around I asked him if he was going to relocate to Atlanta or if he intended to go back to Los Angeles. Every time we talked we avoided exactly why he had come to Atlanta but I privately guessed that he was a fugitive so he probably wanted to establish a residence. But he told me he wasn’t staying in Atlanta and couldn’t go back to Los Angeles. I guess he felt comfortable so he began to talk about why he was on the run. Dawoud explained that he had put in the ‘work’ on Biggie. I gripped my steering wheel tighter but stayed silent, allowing him to continue to talk. He explained that he was a member of the Bloods and said it was [for] what happened to Tupac [Shakur] who was a Blood and a Muslim. ‘And I made twenty five ‘g’s’ off that.’ He patted his front pants pocket to emphasize his point which I noticed was bulging. ‘So where you headed to next?’ ‘Philly. The brothers up at #12 are expecting me.’ He was making reference to Muhammad Mosque #12, the infamous home of the Black Mafia.”

“We rode in silence for a long time, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was more of a thoughtful silence as we assessed how that conversation would affect the other party. I took it as a sign that I was making inroads to that silent inner circle I believed existed around the National Laborers, particularly the Supreme Captain. We stopped and bought a bus ticket scheduled to leave a few days later. I didn’t ask why he was waiting to leave Atlanta and I figured I already knew too much as it was. I also wanted my next set of instructions so I could get rid of the gun I had in my house.”

“The day before Dawoud was scheduled to leave Captain Curtis called me and told me he needed me to come to the mosque so we could speak. He didn’t let on that he knew about my current assignment so I headed to the mosque without making reference to anything. When I got to his office I was surprised to see Brother Tim sitting in a chair in front of Captain Curtis’ desk. Before I could salute or give the customary greetings they were both on their feet and ushering me back out the door. ‘Supreme wants us to talk to your friend. We will follow you.’ Captain Curtis and Brother Tim climbed into Captain Curtis’ BMW and waited for me to lead the way to the motel. Neither of them looked comfortable with the other and I knew their orders must have come from high up the chain of command for the two of them to be riding in the same car. As I drove I wondered what was about to happen once we got to the motel and if either of them were armed, because I knew that Dawoud had another gun beside the one he had given me. When we parked the cars in the parking spaces in front of the door of the motel room we all got out, but before I could go inside Brother Tim pulled me aside and told me to sit in my car and keep my eyes open. They needed to debrief Dawoud privately. The three of them talked for at least two hours and they left. After they left I took Dawoud to get something to eat and dropped him off at the motel after he said he wanted to rest for the day.”

“The next morning, I picked Dawoud up from the motel and dropped him off at the Greyhound Bus Station I picked him up from. I didn’t wait to see what bus he boarded either. Twenty four hours later a call from Brother Melvin Muhammad brought my final instructions. He instructed me to drive to Louisville, Kentucky with the ‘property’ I had recovered and someone I knew would meet me there to take custody of it.”

You Can Purchase Clayton Hill’s Diary of an Ex-Terrorist Here.