Dip was the first to sell dope on The Hill. But Panama was the mailman. Panama was the name of the individual as well as the collective. Whether Tony or Spencer or Shaft, they all took the name Panama. Panama was now king-of-the-hill. Dip once invented the story that he fell asleep on the subway and somebody cut his pocket open, taking the money he was delivering. The delivery for most days was between $1200 and $1500. Periodically, someone would disappear with it. Panama knew this was part of the price of doing his kind of business. The price for Dip and others like him, wasn't always obvious, although there was what was called "The Crack Smile" on some. A scar from ear to ear on the throat. One can only imagine the terror of being held down and having that permanent tattoo administered with a razor or knife. Dip was lucky the first time. A beating, then he was locked inside his hut to sell. Maybe he was lucky the second or third time as well, I'm not sure. Nothing much showed. He lost his eye in one of the beatings. "Some shit, man. Some stupid shit. They just didn't believe me. Some stupid shit. I tried to tell them. Some stupid shit." He kept shaking his head No. Denying something. I kept saying, "It's your eye, Dip. It's your fucking eye." No. No. No. He had me shaking my head, too. In Gabriele's portrait of him, he's got two eyes.
