Rapper on PCP Eats Her Alive in Trap House

Antron Singleton Sr. entered the world on September 15, 1976, born into the bustling heart of Fort Worth, Texas. His early life unfolded under the strict guidance of a traditional Christian household located in the neighborhoods of East Dallas. From a very tender age, however, he found himself drawn toward darker themes, demonstrating an intense curiosity for vintage horror cinema and tales of crime.

Growing up throughout the Bible Belt during the heightened Satanic Panic of the 1980s and 1990s, Singleton quickly learned to keep his unusual artistic inclinations hidden from his deeply religious family. The creative urges he felt could not be completely suppressed by social taboos, and he quietly poured his dark fascinations into notebooks filled with elaborate rhymes. It was only when he reached his teenage years that he discovered a circle of friends who recognized his raw lyrical talent and urged him to pursue music seriously.

By the age of fifteen, Singleton had fully dedicated himself to crafting hip-hop tracks, initially performing across local underground venues under the early moniker of G Spade. As his physical stature grew to an imposing height of six and a half feet, he decided to abandon his original alias in favor of something far more memorable. He chose the stage name Big Lurch, drawing inspiration from the iconic, towering butler character seen in The Addams Family.

In April of 1995, life shifted profoundly for the young Texas artist when he celebrated the birth of his firstborn son, whom he proudly named Antron Singleton Jr. Fatherhood brought real adult responsibilities, yet it did nothing to diminish his burning desire to establish himself as a dominant and unforgettable force in the music industry. Recognizing that the rap landscape of Texas was limited at that time, he set his sights on the burgeoning West Coast sound.

The mid-1990s represented a vibrant golden era for California hip-hop, marked by unique melodic production and massive international mainstream success. Believing that absolute stardom was waiting just beyond his immediate horizon, Big Lurch packed his belongings and relocated to Northern California to seek out professional opportunities. He was determined to integrate himself into an environment where gritty storytelling and unconventional lyricism were widely celebrated.

While navigating the Bay Area music circuit, Singleton formed a collaborative alliance with two talented artists named Marvin Sellman and Ricardo Thomas. Known respectively by their professional stage names Dooney Baby and Rick Rock, the trio decided to combine their distinct stylistic abilities into a collective group called Cosmic Slop Shop. Together, they channeled their diverse creative energies into crafting cohesive tracks that captured the regional essence of West Coast rap.

The group reached a notable milestone in 1998 when they officially released their debut collaborative studio album, appropriately titled The Family. The record received positive attention from devoted underground listeners, yet creative differences and industry pressures led the trio to amicably disband just one year later in 1999. Refusing to lose any momentum, Big Lurch immediately redirected all of his focus toward cultivating a standalone solo career.

Singleton frequently reflected on this period, noting how he felt he was standing right on the precipice of monumental musical superstardom. He had spent years grinding through underground circuits since the early nineties, rhyming over instrumentals in Dallas before establishing connections with influential West Coast heavyweights like Mac Mall. These critical introductions eventually placed him in recording studios alongside producer Mike Mosley, who was actively producing hits for icons like Tupac Shakur and E-40.

The growing buzz surrounding Big Lurch caught the attention of prominent industry figures, eventually leading him to sign deals associated with Stress Free Records and Black Market Records. He also claimed to maintain close professional affiliations with Marion “Suge” Knight’s notorious label, Death Row Records, during this high-stakes period. Stress Free Records was founded and operated by Milton Grimes, a high-profile attorney who had previously gained worldwide celebrity status by representing Rodney King.

As Singleton worked tirelessly to finalize his debut solo project, an unexpected and catastrophic event occurred on his twenty-fourth birthday in September of 2000. While driving, his vehicle was violently rear-ended by an intoxicated driver, causing a horrific collision that left the young rapper with severe bodily trauma, including a broken neck. The physical impact abruptly derailed his rising career and plunged him into an agonizing period of immobility and rehabilitation.

Hospital physicians prescribed an intensive cocktail of heavy pain management medications, yet the debilitating agony persisted long after his official clinical discharge. The lingering trauma left him unable to walk without excruciating difficulty, rendering standard medical prescriptions largely ineffective against the relentless physical torment. In his search for immediate relief, Singleton recalled experimenting with phencyclidine, commonly known on the streets as PCP or angel dust, during his youth.

Remembering the profound dissociative numbness the illegal chemical produced, Singleton began consuming PCP regularly as an extreme self-administered form of street anesthesia. The substance provided instantaneous relief from his broken neck, effectively severing his conscious awareness of the physical torment ravaging his body. However, the powerful synthetic dissociative carried extreme psychological consequences, triggering intense visual hallucinations, unpredictable emotional swings, and complete breaks from reality.

Singleton’s reliance on the substance quickly evolved into a severe, escalating cycle of chemical dependency that dominated his daily existence. Associates observed that he was under the influence of the potent drug almost constantly, wandering through vivid hallucinatory states that warped his perception of the surrounding world. Whenever the immediate pharmacological effects wore off, he was left feeling deeply disoriented, aggressively overstimulated, and plagued by an insatiable, ravenous hunger.

During this increasingly chaotic period, Singleton spent a significant amount of his time in Southeast Los Angeles with an acquaintance named Thomas Moore, frequently referred to as Forest. Moore was heavily immersed in the local music culture and urban street life, sharing a residence with his girlfriend, a radiant twenty-one-year-old woman named Tynisha Ysais. The apartment served as a frequent gathering hub for local musicians, neighborhood acquaintances, and individuals seeking access to illicit street drugs.

Tynisha Ysais was known by those close to her as a warm, ambitious young woman who held aspirations of establishing a successful career as a professional model. Her friends fondly nicknamed her Pocahontas, remembering her extraordinary smile and remarkable ability to maintain optimism regardless of the difficult circumstances she faced. She was also a dedicated mother of two young children, balancing her personal ambitions with the responsibilities of family life.

Despite the outward appearance of domestic normalcy, serious troubles simmered behind closed doors between Ysais and her boyfriend, Thomas Moore. Tynisha’s mother, Carolyn Stinson, would later reveal that the couple shared an intensely volatile and physically violent relationship that was rapidly deteriorating. According to Stinson, Tynisha had reached her breaking point and was actively finalizing a secret exit plan to permanently leave the apartment with her children.

The exact nature of Singleton’s living arrangements during this timeframe remains surrounded by conflicting accounts, with some narratives claiming he lived alone while others describe him sharing space with gang associates. In the documentary Rhyme and Punishment, accounts emerged suggesting that individuals within the Los Angeles street scene actively encouraged Singleton to consume excessive amounts of PCP until he experienced total blackouts. Singleton himself echoed these claims, maintaining that peers constantly supplied him with the substance.

According to Singleton’s personal recollection, the group continued passing the drug around endlessly until his memory vanished completely into a dark, drug-induced void. He claimed that the next coherent moment he experienced occurred weeks later, waking up behind bars to discover he was being accused of an unspeakable, monstrous crime. He had no conscious recollection of the horrifying events that took place while he was wandering in a state of extreme chemical psychosis.

The legal timeline presented by prosecutors established that Singleton and Thomas Moore spent the evening of April 8, 2002, and the early hours of April 9 heavily smoking PCP together. By the following morning, the intoxicating effects began to fade, causing Singleton’s chronic physical neck pain to flare up with overwhelming intensity. Desperate to acquire another chemical fix to numb the agony, Singleton drove back over to the apartment shared by Moore and Ysais.

When Singleton arrived at the residence, Thomas Moore was absent from the property, Ysais’s two young children were safely away attending school, and the family pit bull was secured inside a bedroom. Tynisha was left entirely alone in the living area when Singleton entered, either experiencing intense lingering intoxication, severe withdrawal, or acute paranoid delusions. What followed within the confines of the apartment was an act of extreme, unbridled violence that shocked the entire nation.

According to the official investigative narrative, Singleton grabbed a large kitchen knife from the counter and launched an immediate, brutal assault on the defenseless woman. The attack was characterized by savage physical force, resulting in extensive trauma, fatal stab wounds, and the horrific mutilation of her internal chest cavity. In a state of total psychological detachment, Singleton tore into her torso, removed one of her lungs, and consumed portions of the human tissue.

Outside the apartment building, a neighbor and close personal friend of Tynisha named Alyssa Allen looked out of her window and witnessed an alarming, surreal scene unfolding in the street. A tall, completely naked man, heavily smeared with wet blood, was running erratically down the pavement directly away from Ysais’s residence. Horrified by the sight, Allen immediately dialed emergency services and rushed across the way to check on the welfare of her friend.

Upon stepping through the front door of the apartment, Allen was met with an unimaginably gruesome scene and let out bloodcurdling screams that echoed through the neighborhood. Inside, Tynisha Ysais lay dead on the floor, her body subjected to catastrophic mutilation that defied rational comprehension. Responding police cruisers swiftly converged on the surrounding blocks, locating the towering figure of Big Lurch wandering aimlessly down the roadway in broad daylight.

The arresting officers observed that Singleton was entirely naked, covered in fresh blood, and exhibiting bizarre, primal behaviors that indicated profound psychological distress. Eyewitnesses and police reports noted that he was staring blankly into the open sky, barking aggressively like a dog, and tearing violently at his own hair. As officers moved in to restrain him, he growled and thrashed wildly against the handcuffs, requiring multiple responders to fully subdue him.

Singleton was immediately transported to a secured medical facility, where clinical examinations revealed foreign human tissue and blood inside his stomach contents. The enormous concentration of phencyclidine coursing through his bloodstream subsequently caused him to slip into a profound, drug-induced coma that lasted for two full weeks. When he finally regained consciousness in the hospital ward, the aspiring rap artist found himself formally charged with aggravated mayhem and first-degree murder.

The official autopsy report performed on Tynisha Ysais documented the horrifying extent of the physical violence inflicted during the fatal morning encounter. The medical examiner discovered the broken blade of a knife deeply lodged near her left shoulder blade, alongside a fractured eye socket, broken neck, and shattered jaw. Her right lung had been entirely excised from her chest cavity, with forensic examiners noting what they characterized as distinct human bite impressions.

Detectives testified that the bite patterns found on Ysais’s face and internal organs corresponded to Singleton’s dental structure, though forensic bite mark analysis has since faced intense scientific scrutiny as an unreliable discipline. The National Institute of Standards and Technology has noted that human skin is an unstable medium that distorts easily under trauma, swelling, and decomposition, rendering precise dental comparisons highly problematic. Nevertheless, the physical and circumstantial evidence against Singleton remained overwhelming in the eyes of investigators.

Tynisha’s grieving mother, Carolyn Stinson, was utterly devastated by the loss of her daughter and the incomprehensible brutality surrounding her sudden death. She later recounted how mortuary and coroner staff actively discouraged her from viewing the body due to the sheer severity of the mutilation. In the wake of the tragedy, Stinson sought accountability not only from the justice system but also from the record executives managing Singleton’s career.

Stinson initiated a high-profile wrongful death lawsuit against Stress Free Records, Black Market Records, and Death Row Records, alleging corporate culpability in her daughter’s demise. She asserted that record executives actively supplied Singleton with illicit narcotics to cultivate an authentic, hyper-violent gangster rap persona that could be aggressively marketed to consumers. She argued that the industry deliberately capitalized on real-world volatility, blurring the line between artistic expression and genuine criminal behavior.

Marion “Suge” Knight, the notorious head of Death Row Records, publicly pushed back against the allegations with characteristic hostility and absolute denial. He asserted to the media that he had never met Singleton, had never heard him perform, and possessed zero business or personal ties with the aspiring Texas artist. Knight vehemently labeled the civil lawsuit as an extortionate attempt to extract financial settlements, leading Stinson to eventually withdraw the suit due to limited legal resources.

Despite dropping the legal action, Carolyn Stinson consistently voiced alternative theories regarding what truly transpired inside the apartment on that fateful morning. In subsequent interviews, she strongly expressed her belief that her daughter’s boyfriend, Thomas Moore, played a direct and calculated role in orchestrating the fatal violence. She pointed to the domestic abuse history between them, highlighting that Tynisha had packed her possessions and was preparing to abandon the relationship that very day.

Stinson questioned several perplexing pieces of evidence gathered from the crime scene that were never fully integrated into the prosecution’s official narrative. She noted the presence of an unidentified bloody handprint discovered on a child’s scooter, alongside anomalous footwear impressions and unaccounted-for DNA profiles recovered near the back exit. Furthermore, toxicology reports revealed massive concentrations of PCP within Tynisha’s system, leading Stinson to suspect that the victim had been forcibly incapacitated prior to the attack.

When the criminal trial commenced in Los Angeles County, Singleton was represented by Milton Grimes, the very attorney who owned the record label to which he had been signed. Grimes structured his defense strategy primarily around the concept of drug-induced psychosis and diminished mental capacity resulting from heavy chemical intoxication. He argued to the jury that the excessive ingestion of PCP had stripped Singleton of his rational human consciousness, reducing him to a primitive state.

The prosecution team, led by Deputy District Attorney Drew Jaspin, vigorously countered the defense’s strategy by citing established California statutory law regarding criminal responsibility. Under California Penal Code Section 29.4, voluntary intoxication cannot be legally utilized to dismiss or negate an individual’s capacity to form purposeful intent, premeditation, or malice aforethought during the commission of violent crimes. Because Singleton had ingested the narcotics willingly, the legal threshold for an insanity defense was virtually impossible to satisfy.

Witness testimony presented by the state further undermined the defense, with acquaintances claiming that Singleton had intentionally waited until others vacated the premises before confronting Ysais. A court-appointed psychiatrist confirmed Singleton’s diminished capacity resulting from substance abuse, yet the statutory limitations prevented the medical evaluation from shielding him from full legal culpability. The jury deliberated for a remarkably brief period of approximately one hour before returning a unanimous guilty verdict.

Singleton was formally convicted of first-degree murder, aggravated mayhem, and torture, receiving two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole from Judge Jack W. Morgan. In 2005, an appellate court reviewed his convictions and systematically upheld the original trial court’s determinations, cementing his permanent incarceration within the California state prison system. Despite the finality of the legal proceedings, numerous legal analysts and observers continued to question how the defense was managed.

Legal critics pointed out that attorney Milton Grimes was an experienced, high-profile litigator who should have recognized the futility of relying solely on a voluntary intoxication insanity defense under California law. Moreover, Grimes failed to introduce Singleton’s pre-existing clinical diagnosis of bipolar disorder, an established medical history that could have potentially served as a viable mitigating factor during sentencing. Singleton later maintained that Grimes had previously assisted him following releases from psychiatric facilities, making the omission particularly glaring.

Grimes’s professional reputation would suffer significant damage in the years following the trial, marked by legal malpractice findings and state bar disciplinary actions. In 2004, a civil jury found Grimes liable for professional negligence after he failed to appear at critical hearings for a former client, resulting in the wrongful dismissal of a major civil rights lawsuit against law enforcement. He faced multiple temporary suspensions from practicing law in California due to administrative noncompliance and confidential ethical infractions.

Decades later, in April of 2025, Grimes faced federal criminal prosecution after IRS Criminal Investigation uncovered extensive, long-term financial crimes spanning over twenty years. Federal investigators determined that Grimes had systematically diverted millions of dollars from client trust accounts, law firm funds, and cashier’s checks to evade substantial federal and state tax liabilities. He was ultimately convicted, sentenced to eighteen months in federal prison, and ordered to pay over seven million dollars in restitution.

While Singleton remained locked away inside maximum-security facilities, his former record label moved forward with releasing his unreleased music to capitalize on the widespread notoriety surrounding his case. Black Market Records took the original tracks intended for his planned debut, The Puppet Master, and compiled them into an album cynically retitled It’s All Bad. The label manufactured controversial cover artwork depicting Singleton holding a silver platter bearing a severed human skull, directly exploiting the cannibalistic details of his conviction.

Among the tracks featured on the controversial album was a dark composition titled “I Did It to You,” which prosecutors had successfully played for the jury during his criminal trial. Singleton later lamented how the prosecution framed the fictional horrorcore lyrics as a literal, premeditated blueprint for the tragic violence that occurred in Southeast Los Angeles. He maintained that his creative work had been intended purely as cinematic horror storytelling, drawing inspiration from iconic fictional villains rather than genuine violent desires.

In recent years, the digital presence of Big Lurch’s music catalog experienced a revival across major streaming platforms under the management of 3XL Entertainment. The independent entertainment imprint was established by his son, Antron Singleton Jr., who grew up determined to preserve his father’s musical legacy and advocate for his freedom. Antron Jr. emerged as a tireless supporter of his incarcerated father, utilizing social media platforms, public campaigns, and legal advocacy to bring renewed attention to the case.

In February of 2024, Antron Jr. launched a public petition to demand an official review of his father’s conviction, citing procedural inconsistencies, unexamined physical evidence, and inadequate legal defense during the original 2003 trial. The campaign emphasized the questionable forensic bite mark analysis, the presence of unidentified third-party DNA at the crime scene, and the persistent claims that other individuals were involved in the tragedy. The following year, an online fundraiser was initiated to support ongoing independent investigative and legal efforts.

Today, Antron Singleton Sr. remains incarcerated deep within the California correctional system, continuing to serve out his life sentences without any immediate legal path toward parole or retrial. Despite the passage of decades and the harsh realities of lifelong imprisonment, he has remained accessible to independent journalists, researchers, and documentary filmmakers investigating the dark intersections of hip-hop history, substance abuse, and criminal justice. The tragic story of Big Lurch endures as one of the most chilling and complex cautionary tales in modern American music history.