They started in a cell on Rikers Island, just a handful of guys trying to survive. But what came next, nobody saw that coming. This is the story of how one crew rose from a jail cell to build a narcotics empire so powerful it almost took over the Bronx. New York has seen plenty of street crews rise and fall, but the Mac Baller Brims, yeah, they move different.
They’re not just known for how wild their crimes get. It’s the combination of size, structure, and pure aggression that puts them in a class of their own. Ask anybody who really knows the streets and they’ll tell you straight, this is one of the most feared and organized sets New York has ever had to deal with.
What makes them even more interesting is the culture behind the name. Just like the old school Italian mafia, the Mac Ballers have their own codes, their own lingo, and a history that stretches way farther back than people expect. Their lineage actually starts in 1969, far from the East Coast, back in California, with a crew that originally called themselves the LA Hat Gang.
By the time the ’70s rolled around, that crew rebranded into the 5-9 Brims, named after 59th Street in South LA’s Harvard Park. The new name didn’t just sound tougher, it stamped their identity into the pavement. You knew exactly where those boys came from. And as the Bloods movement unified and spread across the West Coast, the 5-9 Brims slid right into that wave.
But the New York chapter, that story doesn’t begin until 1993 inside the walls of Rikers Island. That’s where Omar Portee, better known in the streets as OG Mack, started putting the pieces together. From a jail cell, he built the United Blood Nation trying to unify scattered sets into one force strong enough to stand toe-to-toe with the Latin Kings who ran things inside the prisons at the time.
Portee didn’t just create a network, he engineered it. He rolled out 10 blood sets across New York City and one of those became the 59 Brims. The name was lifted straight from the West Coast, but the New York version was its own beast. There was no official connection to LA, they just respected the brand and ran with it.
Before long, the New York 59 Brims grew so large and so fast that they split into four subsets, collectively calling themselves the New York Blood Brim Army. And in 2001, out of that expansion, one subset stepped forward with a name that carried weight, the Mac Baller Brims. The name said everything without saying much.
Mac honored the founder, OG Mack. Baller was street slang for someone moving heavy, drugs, guns, money. Together, it painted a picture of exactly what they were becoming because when someone mentions the Mac Baller Brims, they’re talking about hitters, dealers, and gunmen who don’t move sloppy.
These aren’t low-level corner kids, they’re part of tightly run operations that have left bodies, trauma, and chaos across the city. They’re a Bloods set that has spent years shaking New York from the streets to the suburbs. They dominate contraband markets, control territory with iron fists, and their reputation makes even rival gangs step back.
One law enforcement source didn’t sugarcoat a thing, calling them the top dogs in the city, pointing out that not only do they outnumber other Blood sets, they’re also so coordinated and violent that other crews genuinely fear crossing them. Their home base sits in the Morrisania section of the Bronx, deep in the low-income blocks, but staying local was never their style.
Their presence spills into Brooklyn, Staten Island, Upstate New York, and even New Jersey. And inside Rikers, that’s historically been their playground. At any given time, you’ll find dozens of Mac Baller Brims locked up together, still calling shots and maintaining control behind the walls. Now, the Mac Baller Brims, they weren’t just some loose street crew anymore.
They were moving like a full-on corporation. We’re talking structure, ranks, clear leadership, the whole setup. At the top set Larry Calderon, known in the streets as O, capital O, not zero. Investigators described him as a convicted killer with two prison bids under his belt, adding up to 17 years inside.
Now he’s facing life again, this time for allegedly taking out one of his own. O was the don, the one everybody answered to, but every don needs a second-in-command. For O, that was Eli Rios, better known as Blood Eli. Rios is already locked away for life on a homicide charge, but back when he and O were free, they ran the organization through something they proudly called the board of directors.
This wasn’t just a fancy title, they actually modeled it after the mafia’s commission. That board oversaw everything, settling internal beefs, approving hits on enemies, and dealing with anybody who snitched or stepped out of line. And their reach stretched far beyond street corners. Their influence wove through city jails and state prisons.
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O treated the role like he was auditioning for a mob movie. Just like a Godfather figure, he made the final call, but he always checked with Rios first. They talked things through, weighed what needed to be done, and then O would send the message. What’s crazy is how those messages traveled.
Violence didn’t stay locked inside the prison walls. They used girlfriends, associates, and even coded posts on Facebook and Twitter to pass orders. Investigators said those cryptic online messages were straight-up green lights for attacks happening on the streets and inside the jails. Physically, the two bosses didn’t look much alike beyond being under 6 ft tall.
Calderon kept a shaved head and a sharp goatee, giving off pure menace. He was known as the type who reacted with heat, quick temper, big ego, dangerous when jealous or angry. Rios looked more laid-back with short-cropped hair and a thin mustache. But he was cold, calculated. The kind of guy who handled violence like it was just another task on his list.
Their code was deadly serious, too. Just like the Mafia’s omerta, breaking loyalty meant to death. And that’s exactly what happened in the case that landed Calderon in even deeper trouble. In 2011, a member named Frank Russell got involved in an unsanctioned home invasion. Things went bad. One guy ended up dead. Another, Geo Ramirez, got shot.
Instead of helping his wounded partner, Russell ran. In the Mac Ballers, that’s unforgivable. Prosecutors Calderon and Rios ordered a hit on him for abandoning his comrade. Eventually, three members found Russell and killed him. Rios had his own bloody track record. He’s locked up for gunning down a man named Paul Anderson back in 2004.
The story goes he confronted Anderson for simply walking on the wrong block, asked what he was doing there, then opened fire killing Anderson and hitting an innocent bystander, too. Their latest indictment is enormous. Over 100 alleged crimes, two murders, four attempted murders, and enough violence to fill a whole season of The Wire.
Investigators even tapped burner phones the gang used to avoid detection. On those calls, members with names like Chatty, Rizzo, and Wheezy talked business like they were discussing sports. In one call, Wheezy regretted not shooting someone he argued with, talking about it casually as if he missed a chance at a promotion.
But after waves of arrests and indictments, the real question is whether this slowed the Mac Ballers down at all. According to experts, probably not. They’ve simply adapted. They learned from the wiretaps and now move like ghosts. Some members change phones every 20 days just to stay ahead of the feds.
Even with O behind bars, the gang is still active across the city. The roster is packed mostly with young men from similar backgrounds, but make no mistake, this isn’t just a bunch of kids running wild. It’s a disciplined system with ranks, rules, and expectations. Your position depends on your experience and how long you’ve been in the game.
A tight hierarchy keeps everyone following orders, and that’s exactly why the organization has stayed strong. Of course, a system that rigid brings problems, too. Members start beefing when they feel another group is getting special treatment. Subsets bump heads when one crew thinks another is stepping on their road.
But even with internal drama, the Mac Ballers have stayed one of the most structured, efficient Blood sets in New York, which is exactly why they have been able to dominate both the drug world and violent operations for years. Nobody knows the exact number of Mac Baller Brims on the streets right now, but what is known is wild.
They’ve got a huge network of full-fledged members, plus an army of associates, and behind them are hundreds of wannabes, young gangsters or YGs, who act like members even before earning their spot. The influx of new blood is so heavy that even the OGs are looking around confused. One old-timer said he barely recognizes most of the young faces anymore.
That shows just how much influence the gang has on the neighborhood youth. Kids are lining up to join, even though the path in is brutal. Initiation isn’t just a handshake. Many get jumped in, beaten by members until they prove they can take it. Others are forced to commit violent crimes, sometimes even murder, just to get accepted.
Some don’t survive the process. Some get taken out by the police before they even get their stripes. One case that shook the city was Shaquille Evans Daus. In 2013, at only 14 years old, he was told he had to complete a hit. He missed his target, panicked, and was killed by police moments later. It was a harsh reality of what these streets demand.
Then, there are the ones who rise through the ranks with a reputation. Scott Fields, known as Murder 1, got his name after beating two murder charges. One tied to a set-up robbery that turned deadly in Staten Island. Even after serving 7 years on a manslaughter case, Fields tried to branch off and start his own Blood set, the Staten Island Rangers.
But that move broke a major rule. Trying to drop his flag and create a new crew without permission is the kind of violation that usually gets someone taken out. Insiders say Fields was lucky to still be breathing after that stunt. To keep the whole operation running smooth, the Mac Baller Brims broke their crew into two lanes, the money side and the murder side.
Think of it like a street version of a corporation. One department focused on stacking bread, the other focused on enforcing power with violence. Now, the money unit wasn’t about calculators and spreadsheets. These were straight-up street hustlers. Their job was simple, bring in as much cash as possible by any means necessary.
And business, business was booming. They made serious money moving illegal handguns through the iron pipeline, but that was just one hustle. They were also knee-deep in home invasions, muggings, extortion, kidnappings, and even running prostitution rings. But where they really became monsters was inside Rikers Island.
Behind those walls, they built an underground economy so strong it looked like its own little world. A single loose cigarette, just one, could go for $10. Inmates who were scared or vulnerable had to pay for protection or risk getting jumped or stabbed. Violence turned into a business model. Scalpels became the hottest weapon inside.
Real medical grade blades, the kind surgeons use. They were tiny, sharp enough to do serious damage, and easy to hide. The Mac Ballers were selling them for $100 each. One of their alleged suppliers was a guy named Michael Lucky Walcott, who actually worked at St. Luke’s Hospital. According to investigators, he was grabbing used scalpels out of the trash bins in the surgical department.
Then, he’d pass them to women who smuggled them into Rikers using let’s just say the most discreet method possible. It was grimy, but it worked. But the Mac Ballers weren’t just hustling inside the jail. Out on the streets, law enforcement said they had their hands in the rap scene, too.
Young artists like Bala Mac were floating around the crew, though nobody’s sure whether he’s officially in or just moving with them. What was clear is that some members were stacking real money, not pocket change, real investments, properties, small businesses, real estate outfits, big houses in New Jersey. These weren’t broke corner boys, they were smart enough to flip illegal profits into legit power.
Then there was the other side of the operation, the murder unit. These were the enforcers, the ones who handled the dirtiest work, hits, executions, and anything that needed to be handled quickly and quietly. They’ve been tied to multiple homicides, and not every victim was even part of the street life.
Innocent people got caught in the crossfire, too. In 2009, 15-year-old Bronx student Vada Vasquez was shot in the head during a retaliatory hit between gangs. By some miracle, she survived. In another case, 18-year-old Samantha Guzman wasn’t as lucky. On Mother’s Day in 2006, she and her friends accidentally walked into a Mac Baller shootout in Morrisania.
She was killed just weeks before graduation with dreams of joining the Navy. Her school named her prom queen after her death to honor her. And prison didn’t slow the violence down, either. In 2014, a locked-up member named Kelvin Melton pulled off one of the boldest moves the gang had ever attempted. As payback against the prosecutor who put him away, Melton coordinated the kidnapping of her father, Frank Jansen, all the way in North Carolina.
The kidnappers pistol-whipped him, held him hostage for 5 days, and only got stopped when the FBI stormed in. It showed everyone that the gang’s influence didn’t stop at state lines or prison bars. When that organized money machine linked up with that ruthless violence unit, everything changed. What came out of it wasn’t just another gang.
It was something New York had never really seen before. The Mac Baller Brims weren’t just surviving, they were thriving. They built themselves into one of the most effective and feared criminal operations in the city. And the wild part? For a long time, it felt like nobody could touch them. Like they were untouchable. But then, everything flipped.
You see, back in 2014, things hit a boiling point in the Bronx. And the authorities weren’t about to let it slide. Bronx District Attorney Robert Johnson and NYPD Commissioner William Bratton stepped up and dropped a headline-grabbing announcement. 63 alleged members and associates tied to the Bloods were getting swept up in one of the biggest gang takedowns the borough had seen in years.
But, this wasn’t some quick raid they threw together overnight. Nah, this was 2 years in the making. Investigators had been watching, listening, and building their case piece by piece after shooting started popping off heavy around 169th Street and Washington Avenue. Anybody who knows Morrisania already understands.
That section called the nine wasn’t just dealing with random violence. It was pressure, non-stop. Most of it traced back to the Webster Houses and the Gouverneur Morris Houses where people were just trying to live but kept getting caught in the middle of something bigger. When the indictment dropped, it was serious.
109 counts. Every single one of those 63 individuals, many tied to the Mac Baller set, got hit with conspiracy charges. And this wasn’t small-time hustling, either. They were moving heroin, crack, powdered cocaine, and prescription pills like oxycodone and Percocet. Their operation stretched way beyond their block, too, reaching into places like Chelsea, East Harlem, the Lower East Side, and even pushing up north to spots like Binghamton and Tuckahoe.
But, the money side, that was only half the story. The violence behind it all is what really made people stop and look twice. Prosecutors laid out accusations of planned murders, attempted hits, kidnappings, home invasions, and a steady grip on illegal firearms. This wasn’t just a crew getting by.
This was a group accused of holding entire neighborhoods in fear. Johnson made it clear this operation meant something. To him, it was about giving Morrisania a chance to breathe again. He pointed at the work behind the scenes, the long hours, the coordination, and stood firm on the belief that these arrests would lead to real convictions, not just headlines.
The bigger goal, clear the chaos and give the streets back to the people who actually live there. Then, Bratton came in with that no-nonsense energy. His message was direct. Anybody out there recruiting kids or preying on the community, their time was coming. He wasn’t talking empty, either. The way they built this case showed just how deep they went.
Wiretaps, surveillance footage, GPS tracking, it was all in play. They were even listening to calls from inside prisons, catching gang leaders still trying to run things from behind bars. Undercover officers were in the mix, too, making buys and documenting everything. According to prosecutors, this wasn’t a short run.
This whole operation stretched across 5 years, from 2009 to 2014. And within that timeline, the violence stacked up fast. One shooting led to another, like a chain reaction nobody could stop. In May 2012, Damian Matos allegedly set things off by shooting Jeffrey Bolden. Less than a month later, Russell Clark was tied to another shooting, this time involving Jason Rivera.
By July, Tyrell Nash was accused of attempting to kill Jerome Roman, but it didn’t go clean. A bystander, India Scarborough, got hit in the crossfire, showing just how reckless it had all become. A year later, it still hadn’t cooled off. Nash and Matias Letan were accused of lining up another hit, continuing that same cycle of retaliation.
And it wasn’t just shootings either. Around that same period in 2012, things escalated into kidnapping with multiple individuals accused of abducting the son of a known rapper and alleged drug figure. When arrests finally started rolling out in April 2014, it showed just how deep the roots went. Out of the 63 people named, nearly half were already sitting behind time bars for other crimes.
That’s how embedded this whole situation had become. And even after that major sweep, the story didn’t just end there. By 2018, federal authorities were back on the move, this time zeroing in on the Mac Baller Brims. This crew had built the pipeline running drugs from the Pink Houses in Brooklyn straight through the Bronx and even reaching as far as Maine.
When investigators finally closed in, they didn’t just grab people, they picked up drugs and weapons, too, including multiple firearms. What really stands out is how the whole thing unraveled. Wiretaps caught members talking reckless, thinking nobody was listening. One even bragged about how untouchable they were, not realizing law enforcement had been tuned in the whole time.
At the top of that structure were names like Kevin Saint Hill, who was allegedly running operations out of the Pink Houses, and Mario Raeb, who was supplying drugs out in the Bronx. Then there was Lavon Barrett, known on the streets as The Don, who prosecutors said had been calling shots across the network.
They used coded language, calling guns hammers and talking about making statements when things were about to go left. A long list of other members got pulled in, too, all facing serious charges with some staring down life sentences if convicted. Then came 2019 and once again law enforcement pulled the curtain back.
This time on the Mac Baller Brims operating in the Bronx. This wasn’t just a neighborhood crew anymore. They were tied into the larger United Blood Nation and were accused of running both violence and drug trafficking at a level that kept the community on edge for years. This takedown wasn’t small either.
The NYPD teamed up with the FBI and Homeland Security in a coordinated sweep that brought in key players tied to racketeering, attempted murder, and weapons charges. Names like Carlos Rosario, who was already wanted for an attempted murder, along with others like Juan Tejada and Derek Casado all got caught up in it.
Authorities tied them to a string of shootings dating back to 2017 and when they weren’t pulling triggers, they were deep in the substance game moving every drug possible. Now, you think a massive takedown like that would finally calm things down, right? Yeah. That’s not how this story goes. It’s a regular Tuesday afternoon in 2023, the kind of day where nothing’s supposed to happen.
On a stoop along Vyse Avenue in Morrisania, a handful of young guys posted up laughing, talking, just passing time. To anybody walking by it might look normal, but this isn’t just a random group. These are members tied to the Vatos connected to the Mac Baller Brims. Then a black unmarked van creeps down the block.
Inside, plainclothes officers from the NYPD are watching everything. And just like that, the energy shifts. One of the cops clocks it instantly. The guys on the stoop already peeped them. Eye contact gets made. No panic, no scrambling, just a cold stare right back at the van like they’re saying, “Yeah, we see you, too.
” That right there says everything. These guys aren’t new to this. They’re used to being watched. But what they might not fully realize is how deep the pressure really is. Behind the scenes, the Bronx Violent Crime Squad is building cases piece by piece, trying to shut crews like this down for good.
This unit didn’t just pop up randomly. It was created back in 2018, part of a bigger push across the city to focus on gangs driving violence. Their mission is simple in theory, but heavy in execution. Gather enough evidence to make sure when they come, it sticks. And they’re not just looking at shootings. They’re tracking everything.
Drug operations, stolen cars, credit card scams, even the way some of these crews move online, especially through drill rap videos, where things get real loud and real specific. A big reason this squad even exists traces back to New York’s Raise the Age law in 2017. That law changed the game by making sure anyone under 18 wouldn’t automatically be treated as an adult in the system.
The idea behind it was reform, but on the ground, some officers feel like it shifted the balance. Captain James Whitlock, who leads the squad, sees it one way: less consequences, more bold behavior. And from his perspective, that boldness is showing up in the numbers, because the stats, they’re hard to ignore.
In the Bronx alone, shooting victims jumped from 156 in 2017 to 219 in 2023. That’s over a 40% increase. Brooklyn North saw a rise, too, climbing from 103 to 126 victims. Then Manhattan North took an even sharper turn with shootings going up more than 50% over that same stretch.
Zoom out citywide and the picture gets even heavier. Shooting victims went from 479 to 644. That’s not just a spike. That’s a shift in the atmosphere. And on the ground, it feels exactly like that. Tension stays in the air. On East 174th Street, lookouts are already calling things out before police even arrive. Every car that rolls by gets checked.
Every movement gets clocked. It’s a constant game of who’s watching who. Sergeant Anthony Donado, who oversees gang-related investigations, sees it up close every day. From his point of view, these groups aren’t hiding. They’re out in the open, moving in broad daylight like it’s nothing.
And that’s what makes it hit different. Because just steps away from all of this, life is still trying to go on. Elderly residents sitting outside, families walking through the neighborhood, people just trying to catch a little peace on a sunny day. But they’re sharing space with something unpredictable.
They’re the ones who end up caught in the middle when things go left. And sometimes it goes left fast. Over the 4th of July weekend in 2023, that reality hit hard. A situation that didn’t even start the way people think turned into something tragic. Austin Moore, a show tied to the Mac Ballers, became a wanted name after gunfire broke out near East 214th Street and Holland Avenue in Williamsbridge.
What makes it worse is how it started. Investigators believe it wasn’t even a planned shootout. A car backfiring may have set everything off turning confusion into gunfire in seconds. And it happened right outside a vigil. People already mourning one shooting only for another to erupt.
In the middle of that chaos, a 5-year-old girl sitting in the backseat of her parents’ car got hit. She survived, but it took surgery to get her through it. And that moment right there says everything about how unpredictable these situations have become. It’s not always about targets anymore.
Anybody can get caught up, and the movement doesn’t stay in one place either. By June 2023, authorities were linking members of the same crew to a string of robberies across Manhattan. Not low-key spots either. Busy areas like Chelsea, Union Square, and the West Village. Smoke shops were getting hit at gunpoint, showing how far the reach has stretched.
From neighborhood blocks in the Bronx to high-traffic streets downtown, it’s the same pattern, movement, expansion, and pressure building behind the scenes.
Disclaimer : This content may be created by AI for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental.
