Another bloodbath exploded in the heart of Chicago’s so-called “River North”, not exactly a war-torn country, but you wouldn’t know it from the body count. Eighteen people shot. Four are dead. And once again, the media tiptoes around the real issue like it’s made of glass.
This isn’t about skin color. It’s about a toxic, self-destructive culture that’s been coddled, glorified, and excused for far too long. Politicians won’t touch it. Journalists won’t name it. And until someone grows a spine and calls it what it is, we’ll just keep counting bodies.
Here’s the scene: a group of mostly women was gathered outside the Artis Lounge at 311 W. Chicago Ave., fresh off a rapper party. Suddenly, a dark SUV rolls up. Gunmen open fire into the crowd like it’s open season. Screams, chaos, bodies hitting the pavement. Blood everywhere.
Mello Buckzz, real name Melanie Doyle was apparently the host of this glamorous disaster. Her boyfriend and best friend are among the dead. That doesn’t sound random. Sounds personal.
Cops and ambulances swarmed in. Victims were hauled off to Stroger and Northwestern Hospitals. The police presence? Massive, but reactive, as usual. The shooters? Gone in a blink.
Plenty of surveillance cameras were rolling. The cops are saying nothing, but you can bet they’re combing through footage, license plate readers and phone data like mad. When they’re quiet, it’s probably because they’ve got something brewing.
This wasn’t just a shooting. This was an execution wrapped in a street party, served with a side of denial from every official who should be stepping up but won’t.
Stay tuned. The truth always leaks out, even when the city tries to bury it.
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