Hours before the rap legend was shot and killed in Vegas, a school trip became a chance encounter in the desert—and a brush with Suge Knight’s strapped security mob
By Jeff Pearlman
May 23, 2017
There were two yellow school buses, both battered and worn. Both overflowing with the testosterone and heartbreak of teenagers experiencing the aftermath of unexpected defeat.
In any other circumstance, a stop at In-N-Out for hamburgers and fries would be cause for celebration. A good number of the Long Beach Poly varsity football team’s players were relatively unaccustomed to the baseline delicacy of a grilled meat patty and bun prepared outside the home. These were poor kids; teenage boys often lured from the athletic fields to the streets and to Long Beach’s notorious mid-1990s gang activity. So, yeah, a Double-Double and a strawberry shake—those were items to cherish.
After the two buses pulled into the allotted parking spaces along the northern side of the In-N-Out, players wearily rose from the green vinyl seats, when Robert Hollie, the Jackrabbits’ backup quarterback, gazed out a window and said, softly at first, “Yo, it’s Pac!”