How Raymond “Busshead” Campbell Got His Brother 41 Busshead Unalived 

 

 

Montego Bay, St. James, a city known for its beautiful beaches and tourist attractions. But beneath that surface lies a darker reality, a world of gang warfare, drug trafficking, and ruthless violence that has claimed countless lives over the years. In the early 2000s, one name began to echo through the streets with a terror that made even hardened criminals take notice.

 Raymond Busta the older brother of slain TikToker Marlon Samuels, known as 41 Busta, rose to become one of the most feared gang leaders in western Jamaica. Operating from the 41 Rose Heights community, this man allegedly orchestrated murders from behind bars, survived assassination attempts, and built a reputation so savage that his very name became synonymous with death.

Today, we examine the violent reign of Raymond Busta, a man whose path of destruction continues to paint the streets of Montego Bay red with blood. His story is one of gang politics, internal wars, and a cycle of revenge that knows no end. Raymond Busta didn’t just appear overnight as a gang leader. He took over leadership of the Busta gang after a man known as G Man was killed years ago.

But his death created a power vacuum in the 41 Rose Heights area that Raymond filled with an iron fist. The gang he now commanded was aligned with the Six gang faction associated with dancehall artist Squash, putting them in direct opposition to another powerful faction led by a man known as Shabdon. This internal split within the Six gang would become the foundation for years of bloodshed in St. James.

 Raymond’s gang wasn’t just about street credibility or neighborhood pride. They were deep into serious criminal operations. Drug trafficking, extortion, and violent turf wars became their daily business. Associates with names like Fredman, Jayman, and other enforcers without hesitation. The streets of Montego Bay, specifically areas like 41 Rose Heights, Salt Spring, and downtown zones became battlegrounds where disputes were settled with bullets and machetes.

 Community sources who lived through this period describe Raymond as a man who didn’t hesitate to target rivals or anyone who showed him disrespect. His reputation as a savage and brutal gunman spread quickly. And by the early 2000s, law enforcement had him on their radar as a major player in the St. James underworld. But Raymond’s story truly begins to take shape with one particular incident that would set off a chain reaction of violence.

 In mid-2023, specifically around June, Raymond was apprehended by police in Clarendon Parish while traveling with a female companion. He was wanted in St. James for unspecified criminal offenses, though those who knew the streets understood these charges were likely connected to his gang activities, prior shootings, and the violence that followed him like a shadow.

 The arrest wasn’t a dramatic raid or shootout. Police had intelligence on his movements and intercepted him during what seemed like routine travel. The stop was clean, professional, and Raymond was taken into custody without incident. No specific charges from this arrest were made public beyond the warrant that brought him in.

 But the streets knew what Raymond represented. This apprehension led to his imprisonment, and for a time, it seemed like one of Montego Bay’s most dangerous men was off the streets. But, anyone who understood gang dynamics knew that bars and cells don’t stop a man like Raymond Buzzhead. His influence extended far beyond physical presence, and even from behind bars, he continued to control his operations through a network of loyal associates who carried out his will on the outside.

 While Raymond sat in custody, tensions within the six gangs continued to simmer. The internal war between his faction, aligned with Squash and operating from 41 Rose Heights, and Shabdon’s side was reaching a boiling point. Inside the Freeport police lockup, where Raymond was being held, these tensions exploded in a way that would prove fatal for several people on the outside.

 Sometime in early January 2024, a big brawl broke out inside the lockup. Raymond was allegedly beaten up, severely assaulted by inmates aligned with Shabdon’s faction. For a man who had built his entire reputation on fear and respect, this beating was more than just physical violence. It was the ultimate disrespect, and in the world Raymond came from, disrespect could only be answered one way, blood.

 Reports from people who had ears to the street say that after that beating, Raymond made it clear to anyone who would listen, “The war is on. No one could disrespect him and live comfortably.” Even from inside that cell, Raymond had the reach and the ruthlessness to make good on that promise.

 The first victim of Raymond’s jailhouse declaration came on the evening of January 2024. His name was Chip Chop, and he was walking along King Street in downtown Montego Bay, a busy area that had seen its share of violence over the years. Chip Chop was a known affiliate and associate of Shabdon, and at one point, he had been considered Shabdon’s top shooter, one of his most reliable enforcers and killers.

 But by early 2024, Chip Chop had fallen out of favor with Shabdon’s inner circle, which made him vulnerable in the dangerous game of gang politics. That vulnerability would cost him his life. As Chip Chop walked along King’s Street that evening, a vehicle pulled up beside him. The windows rolled down, and without warning, gunmen inside opened fire with multiple shots.

 The shooting was quick, efficient, and deadly. Chip Chop was killed instantly, his body dropping to the pavement as the vehicle sped away into the Montego Bay night. The murder sent shockwaves through the St. James underworld. Everyone on the streets knew what had happened and who was responsible. The hit on Chip Chop came straight from Freeport lockup.

 Raymond Bussell had ordered the execution from his jail cell, using his network of associates and hitmen from the Bussell gang to carry out the killing. The actual shooters were never named publicly, and no arrests were made in connection with Chip Chop’s murder. But the streets knew the truth. This was Raymond’s message to Shabdon and anyone else who thought they could disrespect him and get away with it.

 The killing of Chip Chop was personal retaliation for the jailhouse beating, but it was also strategic. By taking out one of Shabdon’s former top men, Raymond was demonstrating that even behind bars, his reach was long and his willingness to kill was absolute. Police in St. James were placed on high alert following the murder, fearing that more reprisals would follow. They were right to worry.

The internal 6 gang war had been reignited with new fury, and the body count would only continue to rise. Chip Chop’s death intensified the conflict between the Squasher line faction and Shabba Dem side, setting the stage for months of violence that would eventually touch Raymond’s own family in the most devastating way possible.

 By mid-2024, Raymond was released from custody. The exact circumstances of his release are in detail in public records, but what happened next painted a clear picture of a man who had no intention of slowing down. Shortly after walking free, allegedly around June or July 2024, Raymond was back on the streets doing what he did best, operating.

 The target this time was a youth known as Cash Money, someone aligned with rival elements in the ongoing gang conflict. The incident took place in an area referred to as Green Pond or Canterbury, sometimes called Green Pond or Carnal Courts by locals, all names for the same rough neighborhood in St. James. Raymond and his gang members allegedly ambushed Cash Money in a targeted attack that was anything but random.

 They opened fire with multiple rounds in a close-range assault that should have been fatal. Cash Money was hit several times, left bloodied and severely wounded with gunshot injuries all over his body, but somehow, against the odds, he survived. The shooting of Cash Money went viral in local circles.

 People talked about it in hushed tones, knowing that this kind of attack demanded a response under the ruthless code of of streets. Raymond’s reputation as someone who didn’t hesitate to target rivals was reinforced once again. And his return to street activities after his jail stint sent a message to everyone in Montego Bay. He was back and he was just as dangerous as ever.

 But Cash Money’s survival would prove to be a critical factor in what came next. In the world of gang warfare, if you come for someone and they survive, you’ve created a problem. And if the person you targeted has allies, that problem can quickly become a death sentence. The rivals couldn’t get to Raymond directly. He was too protected, too careful, surrounded by loyal gang members who would die for him.

 So, they did what gangs often do when they can’t reach their primary target. They went after family. But before the retaliation for Cash Money shooting could happen, Raymond himself became a target. Around August 2024, shortly after the Cash Money incident, gunmen described as criminal elements or rival gang members made their move on Raymond’s home in Rose Heights.

 It was a bold assassination attempt carried out in broad daylight at the family residence. The attackers circled the area and opened fire on the house, shelling it with a barrage of shots in a violent direct assault that lasted for several terrifying minutes. Multiple rounds were fired recklessly, hitting houses, fences, and potentially endangering innocent people in the surrounding area.

Witnesses later described the shooting as wild, with bullets hitting nothing but structures while Raymond remained untouched. According to reports from people who were there, Raymond didn’t just hide and wait for the shooting to stop. He fought back, returning fire at his attackers.

 The gunmen, despite their numbers and firepower, failed to hit their target. Raymond escaped the assassination attempt completely unharmed, but the message was clear. The war was escalating, and his enemies were willing to come to his home to kill him. This incident heightened tensions throughout St. James. The area was already crime-riddled, but this brazen attack on Raymond’s residence showed just how desperate and dangerous the situation had become.

 The failed hit directly preceded what would happen next. Raymond, having just survived an attempt on his life, allegedly responded by shooting Cash Money shortly after. It was a cycle of attack and counterattack, a never-ending spiral of violence where every action demanded a reaction. The streets of Montego Bay were caught in this deadly rhythm, and innocent people living in these communities had no choice but to watch and pray they didn’t become collateral damage.

 Raymond’s savage nature, as described by those who knew of him, meant that he wouldn’t let these attacks go unanswered. But his enemies were equally determined, and they had been watching, waiting for the right opportunity to strike back. The retaliation came on December 20th, 2024, and it struck at the heart of Raymond’s family.

 The target was his younger brother, Marlon Samuels, known throughout social media as 41 Boss Head. Marlon wasn’t a street enforcer like Raymond. He was a TikToker, someone who had built a following on social media by streaming his daily life, often going live from public spots around Montego Bay. One of his favorite locations was North Lean near Sam Sharpe Square, where he would stream for his followers, completely unaware that his enemies were using those very streams to track his movements.

 On that night, around 10:00 p.m., gunmen who had been monitoring 41 Boss Head’s TikTok activity knew exactly where to find him. They moved in quickly and executed him in cold blood. Marlon Samuels, just 23 years old, was gunned down on what would become one of the most tragic days in his family’s history.

 December 20th was supposed to be a normal night, but it became the night that Raymond Boss Head lost his younger brother to the same violence he had helped create. The murder of 41 Boss Head was direct retaliation for Raymond’s shooting of Cash Money months earlier. Under the gang principle that if you can’t get the primary target, you strike at close relatives instead, Raymond’s enemies had made their move.

They had tracked Marlon through his social media presence, waited for the right moment, and killed him as payback for his brother’s actions. The news of 41 Boss Head’s death spread rapidly through Montego Bay and across Jamaica’s social media platforms. He had been a popular figure on TikTok, and his murder shocked not just the criminal underworld, but also regular people who had followed his content.

 For Raymond, the loss was devastating. This wasn’t just another casualty war. This was his blood, his younger brother, someone who, by all accounts, wasn’t deeply involved in the street life that had consumed Raymond. The shooting of 41 Boss Head proved that in this war, no one was truly safe.

 Family members, even those on the periphery of gang activity, could be targeted and killed without hesitation. The very next day, December 21st, 2024, which would have been 41 Bushead’s 24th birthday, Raymond broke his silence. He and his associates took to TikTok to broadcast their grief and their fury to the world. The live streams began early that day with Raymond and members of the Bushead crew gathering together.

 Their faces hard with rage and pain. Gangster dancehall music played in the background. Specifically, Aidonia’s Gunman Salute, a song that glorifies gunmen and street justice. The symbolism wasn’t lost on anyone watching. As the music pumped through the speakers, one of Raymond’s associates spoke directly to the camera with a message that chilled everyone who heard it.

 One Bushead guy, “Some boy think them can kill one of we brother them and get away. No, boy man.” The meaning was clear. No one who had a hand in killing their brother would escape justice. Raymond himself appeared in the live stream. His voice steady, but filled with an unmistakable promise of violence. “Nothing not changing up, bro.

God Jah hear that, bro God. Either me or come join you. I you know what time it is, you hear?” He was telling the world that nothing had changed about who he was or what he was capable of. Either he would die trying to avenge his brother or his enemies would die at his hands. There was no third option. Throughout the live streams that followed in the days after 41 Bushead’s murder, Raymond and his crew gave shout-outs to their incarcerated ally Jayman and played songs by Squash, reinforcing their gang alliances. They

made it explicitly clear that the shootings would continue in Montego Bay. The threats weren’t vague or metaphorical. They warned that rival’s families were no longer safe, invoking the same principle that had led to 41 Bushead’s death. If they couldn’t get to the men who ordered or carried out the killing, they would go after their loved ones.

 The Bushead crew vowed that reprisals would continue in Mobay, specifically referencing areas like North Lane, where 41 Bushead had been killed, and the Broad James region. These weren’t empty threats. Raymond’s history of orchestrating violence, including ordering the murder of Chip Chop from inside a jail cell, proved that he had both the will and the means to follow through. Police in St.

 James immediately went on high alert, fearing that a full-scale gang war was about to erupt. Officers increased patrols in known hotspots. Intelligence units monitored social media for signs of imminent attacks, and community leaders pleaded for calm. But, everyone who understood the streets knew that Raymond Bushead wanted blood, and he wasn’t the type of man to let his brother’s murder go unanswered.

 The threats issued through TikTok in late December 2024 represented more than just grief-fueled rage. They were a declaration that the cycle of violence in Montego Bay would continue, possibly intensify, with Raymond at the center of it all. His reputation as a savage and brutal gunman who had allegedly been involved in numerous murders throughout St.

 James meant that these threats had to be taken seriously. The internal Six gang war, which had already claimed multiple lives, including Chip Chop and all 41 Bushead, showed no signs of ending. If anything, the murder of Raymond’s brother had guaranteed that more blood would be spilled in the coming months. The communities of Rose Heights, Salt Spring, Green Pond, and downtown Montego Bay braced themselves for what was coming.

 Residents who had nothing to do with gang activity found themselves trapped in areas where gunfire could erupt at any moment, where a simple trip to the store could mean being in the wrong place when gunmen decided to settle their scores. Raymond Bosshead’s story is one that can continues to unfold in real time. As of early 2025, he remains alive and active, still allegedly leading the Bosshead gang from 41 Rose Heights.

 His criminal resume reads like a horror story, allegedly ordering the murder of Chip Chop from inside a jail cell in January 2024, shooting and nearly killing Cash Money in mid-2024, surviving an assassination attempt at his home in August 2024, and now threatening widespread retaliation for his brother’s December 2024 murder.

 Each incident is connected to the next in an unbreakable chain of violence that has defined gang warfare in western Jamaica for years. The internal conflict within the Six gang, split between Raymond’s Squashie line faction and Shabdon side, has turned St. James into a war zone where young men die over disrespect, territory, and criminal profits.

 Raymond himself embodies the tragic reality of this life, a man who rose to power through violence, who maintained that power through fear, and who now faces a future where every day could be his last. His enemies haven’t forgotten about Cash Money. They haven’t forgotten about Chip Chop. And they certainly haven’t forgotten that Raymond ordered these attacks and orchestrated this violence.