DISGRACELAND - R. Kelly: Superstars, Super Predators, and a 20-Year Reign of Sexual Terror

Episode Date: June 4, 2024

R. Kelly openly groomed teenage victims while on trial for child pornography – a trial based on sex tapes that were once sold at Tower Records. He wrote a song designed to help Michael Jackson turn attention away from his own troubling allegations, and he wrote that song while he was illegally married to a 15-year old. That marriage eventually brought about his downfall. But not before R. Kelly went on a 20-year reign of terror – all conducted in plain sight while he was one of the biggest R&B artists in the world.This episode contains themes that may be disturbing to some listeners, including sexual assault, child sexual assault, and domestic violence.To see the full list of contributors, see the show notes at www.disgracelandpod.com.To listen to Disgraceland ad free and get access to a monthly exclusive episode, weekly bonus content and more, become a Disgraceland All Access member at disgracelandpod.com/membership.Sign up for our newsletter and get the inside dirt on events, merch and other awesomeness - GET THE NEWSLETTERFollow Jake and DISGRACELAND:InstagramYouTubeX (formerly Twitter) Facebook Fan GroupTikTok To learn more about listener data and our privacy practices visit: https://www.audacyinc.com/privacy-policy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit https://podcastchoices.com/adchoicesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

This is exactly right. Double Elvis. This episode contains content that may be disturbing to some listeners. Please check the show notes for more information. Disgrace Land is a production of Double Elvis. The stories about R. Kelly are insane. He openly groomed teenage victims while on trial for child pornography, a trial based on sex tapes that were once sold at Tower Records.

He wrote a song designed to help Michael Jackson turn attention away from his own troubling allegations, a song he wrote while he was illegally married to a 15-year-old, a marriage that would eventually bring about his downfall. But not before R. Kelly went on a 20-year reign of terror, all conducted in plain sight while he was one of the biggest artists in the world. And I know some of you don't want to hear me say this, but this all happened while R. Kelly made great music. Wedding playlist music, backyard barbecue music,

music made for Saturday night bump and grind sessions and Sunday morning church services as well. Very much unlike that loop I played for you at the top of the show. That wasn't great music. That was a preset loop from my Melotron called Bad Trip in Zuma, MK1. I played you that loop because I can't afford the rights to lollipop by Lil Wayne featuring Static Major.

Why would I play you that specific slice of auto-tune double entendre cheese could I afford it? Because that was the number one song in America on June 13, 2008. And that was the day R. Kelly was acquitted by a Chicago jury of 14 counts of child pornography, a decision that enabled another decade plus of abuse before the singer was. finally brought to justice. On this episode, mental and physical abuse, sex tapes, and illegal

marriage, a reign of terror, and the downfall of R.M.B. superstar and super predator R. Kelly. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is disgrace land. The singer stood next to a huge buffet of Chinese food in the recording studio's lounge,

nervously rehearsing a greeting for the superstar who was due to arrive any minute. The greeting had to be just right. The superstar was already an hour late, and who knew what kind of mood he would be in when he arrived. The wrong greeting could throw off the whole session. Then the singer's dream of music stardom would be over, a dream that was so close to coming true. Because any moment now, the superstar was going to walk through that door, and then he and the singer were going to record a song together. Of course, the singer heard the rumors.

Everyone had. Claims that the superstar had sexual relations with minors. Sure, he hadn't been convicted of anything yet. But right now, at this moment, his reputation was hanging by a thread. The superstar needed a hit. Suddenly, there were footsteps in the hallway, and the singer's nerves were vibrating. The studio door swung open, revealing... Nothing. The doorframe was empty.

And then, bounding into the room came not a man, but a fully grown chimpanzee. The singer stood frozen as 180 pounds of pure chimp muscle darted forward like a lightning bolt. The animal stopped on a dime inches in front of the singer and delivered a gigantic hug. From the hallway, a high-pitched voice called out, Bubbles, get back in here. That was the unmistakable voice of the superstar, Michael Jackson. The singer, R. Kelly, pulled himself away from Bubbles, Michael Jackson's famous pet chimpanzee,

and then offered the king of pop some Chinese food in a high-pitched voice that matched the superstars. In order to achieve total connection with Michael Jackson for this song, R. Kelly opted to, his words here, quote, act real feminine like because Michael has a feminine thing going on, unquote. And that act included singing the demo version of his song in a spot-on Michael Jackson impression, a bold and bizarre choice that endeared Michael to the younger artists. And R. Kelly was nothing, if not, bold.

He was bold to split off from the group's MGM and public announcement in order to become a solo artist. He was bold to sub the new Jack swing of public announcement's album born in the 90s for the the sex-obsessed slow jams of his solo debut record 12 play, a bold choice that landed him his first number one hit song, the raunchy bump and grind. Now, just a few months later, 1994, in a Chicago recording studio, none other than Michael Jackson himself

was giving the bold R. Kelly a pat on the back. Michael loved this new song, said it was going to change the world, and he wanted R. Kelly standing next to him singing background vocals. For this auspicious occasion, R. Kelly didn't write another raunchy slow jam. Instead, he crafted a simple ballad with a five-note earworm of a vocal hook. Admittedly, it was a little schmaltzy, but it worked because beneath that schmaltz lay true pain. R. Kelly knew all about pain.

Growing up poor on Chicago's south side, young Robert Kelly witnessed suffering, even death, early. He was seven years old. After school, he would meet up with a good. girl and he was innocent, just two kids playing in a creek. But the other boys threw rocks at him and called him a sissy. One day the girl spoke up and told the boys to stop. They came closer. She yelled at them again and told them to leave. One of the boys pushed her. She fell into the water and hit her head. It was late spring and the creek was high. The water was flowing fast. R. Kelly screamed for help as the current carried her away. Adults found her body a few minutes later, but it was too late. The girl was dead. Painful memories like these helped R. Kelly

write the song, You Are Not Alone. When it was released by Michael Jackson, with R. Kelly's background vocals featured prominently in the mix, it was the first song ever to debut at number one on the Billboard Hot 100. Sounds crazy, I know, but it's 100% true. Go ahead and look it up. More importantly, for Michael Jackson, the song's unprecedented success helped to push the allegations against him into the rearview mirror. And for Arirkelly, the song gave him a playbook to use for his own controversy. Because Michael Jackson wasn't the only one who had image problems in 1994, rumors were already swirling about R. Kelly's involvement with an underage girl, specifically the budding R&B singer, Alia. Rather than avoid the rumors, Arir Kelly played into them

by writing and producing Alia's debut album, an album titled, Age Ain't Nothing But a Number, which is all the more gross when you learned that she was only 14 at the time. In interviews, the pair dressed alike and called each other best friends with a wink and a nod. He instructed her to be coy about her age. His team spread rumors that she was older than she said. He waited until she turned 15 before he married her in secret. But just a few weeks after the recording session with Michael Jackson, the secret was out. Vibe magazine published R. Kelly and Alia's marriage certificate. In that certificate, Aaliyah's age was listed

as 18, three years older than she actually was. Radio DJs cracked jokes about R. Kelly robbing the cradle. Critics scolded him. But for the most part, people just shrugged. Look at that girl, they said. She's seen 15 to you?

Alia's parents were frantic to get her away from Arkelly. They had the marriage annulled and they threatened to sue Jive records if they didn't release Aaliyah from her contract. On her next album, she worked with Missy Elliott and Timberland instead of R. Kelly, but she refused to comment on their relationship. Just like Tiffany Hawkins, who would in 1996 sue R. Kelly for emotional distress and injury inflicted during a three-year relationship, a relationship that began she claimed when she

was also just 15. But R. Kelly's lawyers were cutthroat. They got Tiffany Hawkins to drop her lawsuit in exchange for a payout, and they got her John Hancock on a non-disclosure agreement, which meant that the details of her claims never went to court and never made it to the press. Lawyers, label reps, and PR agents may have helped push back against the controversy, but R. Kelly had a strategy of his own, a strategy that he'd seen work firsthand for his buddy Michael Jackson. All R. Kelly needed was a simple ballad with a soulful hook. It didn't matter that the song should have been a throwaway. After all, it was written for a movie about another Michael, Michael Jordan, playing basketball with a bunch of Looney Tunes cartoon characters.

But the instant he finished recording the song I Believe I Can Fly for the Space Jam soundtrack, R. Kelly knew he had a smash. And that song made R. Kelly a household name. Not as a sexed-up R&B superstar, but as a soulful ballad singer. I Believe I Can Fly became a staple of church services and graduation ceremonies. It earned R. Kelly the type of good one. will and positive press that would last most people a lifetime, the kind of goodwill that would be almost impossible to squander. Almost. She looked back one more time to make sure no one was following her. The hallway was empty, mostly. Up ahead, a lone security guard stood by the backstage door. She gave what she hoped was a casual nod as she walked on by and stepped

outside into the cool night air. She looked at her watch. She had 10 minutes to make the grab and get back inside without being seen. It was just another day on tour with R. Kelly. A day filled with rules. Rules about what she could call R. Kelly. Daddy. Rules about when she could eat. Only when he gave her permission. Maybe today or maybe tomorrow. And rules about who she could fuck. Anyone he told her to. Rules that controlled every minute. of her day, except for a small window of time deep in the second half of R. Kelly's set. Because right now, R. Kelly was on stage working his ass off in front of a packed arena, as were his band and as dancers. The groupies, meanwhile, groupies like this one here,

were backstage in the green room. The entourage was already prepping for the after party. The bus driver was still at the hotel, and for the next 10 minutes, absolutely no one was on the tour bus. She put her plan into action. A quick walk across the parking lot to the huge bus parked behind the arena. The driver forgot to lock it up again. She slipped inside and checked her watch again. Eight minutes. She moved quickly down the aisle, passing empty bottles of crystal, cocaine residue,

dozens of blunts stubbed out in ashtrays. She passed by a 10 or so bunks that led up to the largest berth in the back of the bus. The King Suite, R. Kelly's home away from home. In the tight confines of touring life, even for a superstar like R. Kelly, it wasn't much. Just a bed, a chair, and a television. A television where R. Kelly liked to watch movies. Sometimes, he'd leave the door open so others could file in and out, watching advanced copies of movies like Will Smith's latest, Ali, which featured R. Kelly's song, The World's

Greatest, on its soundtrack. But he watched other movies, too. These ones with the door closed, never with the door closed. never with the dancers or the groupies, and rarely with the band. Only with a few select guys from his crew. Videos of R. Kelly proving that young women would do anything to sleep with him. That's what really got him excited. The filming and rewatching, reveling in that feeling of total control,

the kind of control his step-sister had growing up. She used to watch the younger kids when his mom worked late. She could be so mean. She knew how to inflict pain. Some night she would take him into a little. dark room and make him do things, things that he knew were wrong. Now, as an adult, he was the one in control. He was the one inflicting pain, forcing young naive girls to do things in dark rooms that they knew were wrong. He liked to test the guys in his inner circle by showing them clips of

older girls first, 19, 20 years old. If they liked those, he'd play them the tapes with the younger girls, and then even younger. Until it wasn't a question of whether the girls were in high school, guys started praying that the video they were watching didn't involve girls that were in middle school. That's the kind of video she was looking for now. She knew it was a risk. If she got caught, her punishment would be severe. She could be spit on, slapped, choked even.

But she had to get that tape. A tape that showed her having sex with the younger girl. A girl who was barely out of eighth grade. A girl she now knew was R. Kelly's 14-year-old goddaughter, for God's sake. She shuddered just thinking about it. As she scanned the small bedroom, she saw what she was looking for, a ratty-grade gym bag peeking out from under the bed. Everyone on tour knew that R. Kelly kept that bag with him at all times.

All except for the hour he spent playing basketball every day, and for the 90 minutes that he spent on stage. She checked her watch again, less than time. five minutes now. She unzipped the gray bag. Dozens of tapes fell out onto the bed. She began plugging them into the machine one by one until eventually she found the one she was looking for. Quickly, she ejected the microtap from the machine and stuffed it into her purse. She knew the bus driver would be arriving any minute now. She bolted down the aisle and out the door. She crossed the parking lot and knocked on the backstage door. Inside, the security guard

opened up. She flashed in her backstage pass and he let her in. She looked back and as the door was closing, she saw the bus driver just back from the hotel stepping onto the bus. She'd made it, and no one was the wiser. Wasn't over. She still had to get to the fourth row of center aisle. The concert was building toward its climax. The crowd was roaring, and for the second of the last song of the night, R. Kelly always

liked to bring it down for a minute. He would look into the crowd with his soulful brown eyes and start talking about the type of girl he was looking for. She could be out there tonight. and then he would step into the crowd and find her. Her job was to be ready for that moment. When he came down into the crowd, when he looked into her eyes, she hated that moment.

The entire arena holding their collective breath as he held the mic to her lips. Every horrible thing he had done to her over the last two years flashing through her mind. And then she would speak her line on cue. I love you, Mark. He pulled her onto the stage and asked what her favorite song was. She did what she was supposed to. leaned into the mic with a sultry whisper and said, then she and R. Kelly engaged in some serious bumping and grinding of their own,

while the band vamped on the song's intro. It never failed to send a room into a frenzy. By 2001, tapes like the one this particular groupie hunted down were slipping out of R. Kelly's gray gym bag on the regular. Too many people knew about them. Too many people saw them. And it was only a matter of time before they started showing up in other places. and soon they did.

R. Kelly sex tapes were selling on street corners and at bootleg stands in Chicago. Even Tower Records got in on the act with a DVD that sold for $14.95 called R. Kelly bump and grind, you be the judge. Eventually, a tape was delivered anonymously to the Chicago Sun Times who handed it over to the police. On February 8, 2002,

the Sun Times reported on the contents of that videotape. Later that same day, R. Kelly sang, I believe I can fly at the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City. But headlining the Olympics wasn't enough to make the controversy go away. A few months later, R. Kelly was arrested in Chicago on 21 counts of child pornography. While serving a search warrant on his vacation home in Miami, police uncovered a digital camera with more images of R. Kelly engaged in sex with minds. He now faced additional counts of child pornography in Florida. R. Kelly's image was in tatters. Newscasters shredded him. He was a punchline for Aziz Ansari, Dave Chappelle, and every other comedian on the circuit. Still, R. Kelly's record label, Jive,

stood by him. As long as his music sold, they would protect him. He had a team of high-powered lawyers and crisis managers to help make sure that happened. But with these new allegations, These new revelations, the question everyone was asking was, would fans keep buying what R. Kelly was selling? And I don't just mean the music. I mean the lie. We'll be right back after this word, word, word. R. Kelly proud the lip of the stage like a panther. He held out his microphone to the crowd as they sang along to his mega hit,

Ignition. Even here in New York, they couldn't help but bounce to this one. Square Garden may have been Jay-Z's home turf, but right now, R. Kelly was holding up his end of their Best of Both Worlds tour. 2004. Two years since R. Kelly's arrest for those 21 counts of child pornography, and he was still a free man. In fact, his trial hadn't even started yet. And though his reputation took a hit, his money was doing all the talking. His album, Chocolate Factory, released the year prior had sold over 3 million copies. And now he was on stage with the biggest name in hip-hop. The best at both worlds tour was a concert promoter's wet dream, R&B and hip-hop's reigning kings

together for the first time. The accountants forecast a million dollars in revenue per show. Of course, that revenue was zero when a show got canceled. Like the one a few weeks prior in Connecticut. R. Kelly blamed the lighting guy for a lackluster crowd response the night before, fired him on the spot. By the time they found a replacement, the Hartford show was already canned. Losses piled up when the shows were delayed, too, like the second night of the tour in Chicago. R. Kelly sat on the bus for two and a half hours past the show's start time while everyone else, including JZ, waited and waited. It caused the stage crew to hit overtime, taking a hefty bite out of the gross. So while R. Kelly took the Madison Square Garden stage on time for once,

a group of label reps, promoters, and agents watched nervously from the luxury boxes. There were 17 stops left on this double bill. If they could pull off a great night here tonight, it was still time to put this tour back in the black. On paper, the night should have been great. Jay Z. and R. Kelly performing songs from their new collaborative album Unfinished Business, stars like Usher and Mary J. Blige singing along from the front row. R. Kelly gazed out into the crowd, bodies rolling, heads nodding, but a few faces just stood there, staring hard back at him. He locked eyes with one of them, a man in a long black coat.

Suddenly, the man reached down, pulled open the coat, and pointed down to his waist. What was that? Wait, was that a gun? R. Kelly panicked. He turned back to the left and looked up into the left. rafters. And there was another man wearing the same black coat, making the same motion. R. Kelly lost it. He made a B-line for backstage, and from backstage he listened as the crowd kept going crazy for Jay. But he couldn't stop thinking about those men in the long black coats, about being in some crazy person's crosshairs. Fuck this. Fuck New York. He was out of here. The stage lights were cut. Madison Square Garden plunged into darkness.

A few minutes passed, and then the lights came back on. Bright, blinding, illuminating security guards now rushing the floor. They made their way to the spots where R. Kelly said he saw the men in long black coats. The guards pawed their way through the throng when they were thorough. They found no long black coats, no weapons, nothing. The show was stopped, but J. Z was determined not to let the show go to shit here in his hometown, with famous friends in the crowd, no less. He sent members of his crew to bring those friends backstage.

He was going to do the unthinkable, put together a 60-minute set of unrehearsed material on the fly in front of a packed arena. R. Kelly, though, had other plans. He had already made his position clear. He was done, but the promoters were pleading with him to go back out there to finish the night. The coast was clear. The crowd was ready.

R. Kelly looked out to the stage, to J. Z standing there with Mary and Usher in the wings. He realized that he couldn't miss. out on this, the moment would be too special. He relented. He was in. That's when one of Jay's crew stepped forward. The dude blocked Arkellie's path. He told Arkelly there was no way he was going back out on that stage. Arch Kelly tried to push the guy out of the way, but the dude was too big. The dude raised his arm and unloaded a can of pepper spray directly into Arkellie's face. R&B's biggest superstar dropped to his knees and then fell over, coughing

his eyes burning his throat on fire. R. Kelly finished the night in the hospital, while J. Z. finished the show. And then R. Kelly was finished, period. Kicked off the tour and banned from Madison Square Garden. Up until this point, the cloud of R. Kelly's long-delayed child pornography trial had been easy to overlook.

As long as he could still sell concert tickets, the suits weren't worried. But if he couldn't be trusted to get on stage anymore and stay on stage, Maybe it was time to cut ties with R. Kelly, especially if he was found guilty. At least that's what people were saying now. Which seemed extremely likely when R. Kelly's trial finally started in the summer of 2008. And I got to emphasize this fact, it took six years for this trial to begin. Six years between when he was first arrested for child pornography in 2002 and the day his trial got underway in 2008.

six long years during which R. Kelly kept doing what R. Kelly did, physically, mentally, and sexually abusing young victims, which is fucking nuts when you think about it. At the center of the trial was one of those videos. More than a dozen witnesses identified the girl on the tape as 14 years old at the time. But the girl refused to take the stand, and the judge banned the prosecution from discussing any of the other allegations against Arkelly. It his legal team threw everything against the wall. The tape was edited, they said. It wasn't R. Kelly, they said.

It was his brother, they said, that girl on the screen. She wasn't the same girl that was here in court. They said anything to stir up a hint of reasonable doubt, just as doubt was being stirred up on the streets outside the courtroom. Dozens of fans, many of them young women, began showing up every day to voice their support. R. Kelly made a point to talk to one of them. a high school freshman, by the way, as he headed into the courtroom.

He stopped to hug her on the courthouse steps in front of press photographers, his news cameras, everyone. And then he slipped her his number and told her to call him after the trial, this fucking guy. R. Kelly knew he could get away with it, just as he'd been getting away with it since the day he'd been arrested some six years prior. People just loved him too much. His music was part of their lives. He knew no jury of, I believe I can fly lovers would ever convict him.

And he was right. After seven hours of deliberation, the jury came back with a verdict of not guilty on all counts. With that verdict, R. Kelly was given his freedom, and America gave him a clean slate, a chance to resume his life as a superstar. But R. Kelly wasn't just a superstar. He was bulletproof. He reached out to that high school freshman he met on the courtroom steps, and he started working on his next victim. Because as long as he was a free man, R. Kelly was a free man. R. Kelly was never going to stop, ever. Daddy? The girl, 18, 19 years old, wiped away tears and cleared her throat.

She didn't want her father to know she was crying. Daddy, is everything all right? Her father's voice on the other end of the phone had a touch of sadness, but he said all he wanted was to make sure she got home safely. He shouldn't even be calling her in the first place. he shouldn't be calling anyone because he was using a smuggled phone locked up in federal prison. 2002, she'd visited her father for the first time just a few hours prior. That long trip from Jersey to Brooklyn, the drab depressing visiting room.

It was painful to see him this way. The only bright spot, if he could call it that, was that she got to see a celebrity in the visiting room. R. Kelly, one of her favorite singers in the world, locked up. awaiting sentencing. Someone was visiting him, his daughter, maybe. She hoped it was his daughter at least. She watched as they talked. He smiled easily and laughed. Her dad noticed that she was looking over at him. Arr is actually a really nice guy, he told her. He just has a type as all. Now, a few hours later, her dad on the other end of a smuggled phone said someone was with him who wanted to say hi. She heard the phone shuffle over to another set of hands.

and then she heard the voice of R. Kelly. He said hello. He turned on the charm. In his smooth baritone, he sang a few bars of a deep cut called Love Letter. Even in his 50s, his voice still sounded incredible. But it was all a ruse, a siren song luring yet another young prey. For almost 15 years after his not guilty verdict in 2008, R. Kelly continued collecting dozens of young teenage victims. Let me say that again for the cheap seat.

young teenage victims. He held them in near slavery. He refused to let them eat for days at a time. He made them urinate in small cups. He took their cell phones and cut them off from their friends and family. He beat them for any minor infraction of his rules. Those beatings included spanking slaps, punches. According to the sentencing memorandums submitted by the U.S. Department of Justice, he choked one victim until she passed out, and he made others eat feces on camera. And then there was all the sexual abuse, the exploitation, the assault. The word sex or sexual shows up over 200 times in that 31-page sentencing memorandum. But before all the dark details were revealed in that official memo,

a blockbuster report in a 2017 BuzzFeed article described in great detail the so-called Pied Piper of R&B's cult. In 2018, The Washington Post published an article which alleged willful ignorance at the hands of Jive Records executives that many a blind eye was turned in order to make a buck.

That reporting was followed up by the scathing 2019 television specials surviving R. Kelly. Unbelievably, none of these articles or television specials, none of these damning, disgusting revelations, none of these things brought R. Kelly down. At least not at first.

Instead, it was the long-forgotten marriage license from back in 1994. For years, people wondered how R. Kelly had been able to marry Aaliyah when she was only 15 years old. Howie had been able to change her name on an official document to claim she was 18. Now, decades later, prosecutors finally had the answer. R. Kelly had paid off a state employee for a fake ID. This key piece of evidence helped convict R. Kelly on charges of racketeering and sex trafficking. Next, Chicago prosecutors hit him with additional child pornography charges. Double Jeopardy protected him from being charged again for the same crime, but luckily for the

prosecution, R. Kelly had created hundreds of tapes. New tape, new crime. After refusing to testify in 2008, his victim from the original lawsuit agreed to take the stand, and with her testimony, R. Kelly was at long last found guilty in 2022. After the verdict, after the verdict, he was, that victim shared a statement with the press that read, I have lost my dignity due to Robert Kelly. I have lost my dreams due to Robert Kelly. I have lost my teenage years due to Robert Kelly. And no amount of therapy will make me okay.

R. Kelly was sentenced to 30 years. He is currently serving his time in Butner Federal Prison in North Carolina. He won't be eligible for release until 2045 at the earliest. By then, he'll be 78 years. years old. In the meantime, R. Kelly's music plays on at backyard barbecues and graduations during late Saturday night bump and grind sessions and Sunday morning church services. R. Kelly still has fans. He's still connecting with young women, even from behind bars, still charming them with his soulful brown eyes and his smooth voice. And maybe you can separate the art from the artist.

Maybe you're capable of seeing only R. Kelly the sexy R&B star, or R. Kelly, the vulnerable and soulful balladeer. But Robert Kelly used that sexy, soulful image to lure young girls, to trap them in his world, to subject them to unthinkable torture and pain, pain that lives on as long as his music rings out. And that is the real disgrace. I'm Jake Brennan, and this is Disgraceland. was created by yours truly and is produced in partnership with double Elvis.

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