For nearly three decades, the assassination of Tupac Shakur has been the darkest, most impenetrable mystery in American pop culture. It has been framed as a simple, tragic story of a gang war—Bloods versus Crips, East Coast versus West Coast—that culminated in a hail of bullets on the Las Vegas strip. The 2023 arrest of Dwayne “Keffe D” Davis seemed to finally close the loop, validating the long-held theory that his nephew, Orlando “Baby Lane” Anderson, was the triggerman.

But what if that entire narrative is a lie? What if the man charged is a pawn, the gang war a diversion, and the truth a conspiracy so vast and corrosive that the government has classified it under “national security”? A stunning, in-depth investigation suggests just that, built on bombshell claims from an undercover federal asset, testimony from the only eyewitness, Suge Knight, and a deep dive into a plot not for revenge, but for a corporate takeover.

The most explosive claim: the FBI has a secret videotape of Tupac’s murder, and they’ve had it all along.

The official case against Keffe D Davis, set for trial in 2026, is built almost entirely on his own words. But those words, it appears, were bought and paid for. According to the source, the story begins in 2008 when a multi-agency task force, led by former LAPD detective Greg Kading, cornered Davis in a sting operation. Facing 25 years to life on drug charges, Davis was offered a proffer agreement—partial immunity in exchange for information on the Biggie Smalls murder.

When he had no information on Biggie, the topic shifted to Tupac. Davis now claims that, under duress, he “fabricated a story” of assisting his deceased nephew, Orlando Anderson, in carrying out the hit. This confession was secretly recorded. But Kading himself was later removed from the task force following allegations of bribing and intimidating suspects into false testimony.

Years later, Kading’s partner on that task force, Darren Dupri, allegedly helped broker a $150,000 deal for Keffe D to appear on BET’s Death Row Chronicles and repeat the same fabricated story. In accepting that money, Davis violated his proffer agreement, giving prosecutors the opening they needed to charge him. He is, in effect, a man arrested for a lucrative lie he was allegedly coerced into telling.

This “scapegoat” narrative is not new. Orlando Anderson himself claimed he was being set up before his death in 1998. The most powerful contradiction, however, comes from the only other man in the car that night. Marion “Suge” Knight, the eyewitness who was grazed by a bullet, has stated unequivocally, and on multiple occasions, that Orlando Anderson was not the shooter. In a 2018 prison interview, and again to TMZ in 2023 after Keffe D’s arrest, Knight was asked if Anderson was the killer. His response: “No… thousand percent.”

Suge has pointed his finger in a different, far more terrifying direction: “crooked cops.” He has specifically named former LAPD Rampart officer Rafael Perez as being involved. He claims the assassination was a “murder for hire hit,” that his car was “blocked in,” and that there was “more than one shooter.” This detail is corroborated by Puffy’s former bodyguard, who claimed an eyewitness told him someone “ran up on the car” to shoot—a detail inconsistent with a simple drive-by.

This is where the story shifts from a street-level beef to a deep-state conspiracy. The documentary’s central bombshell comes from Kevin Hackey, a former bodyguard for Tupac who was, in reality, a covert asset for a multi-agency task force (including the FBI and ATF) investigating Death Row Records. Hackey claims to have seen paperwork revealing that the FBI has a videotape of the entire crime, captured from a car just 24 feet behind Tupac’s BMW.

This tape is the smoking gun. It would indisputably identify the shooters. So why has it never surfaced? According to the report, the FBI has refused to release 97% of its 4,000-page file on Tupac, citing “national security.” The chilling implication is that the tape remains classified because it doesn’t show Orlando Anderson. It may show exactly what Suge Knight claims: active-duty police officers carrying out an assassination.

But why? Why would the LAPD execute one of the biggest stars on the planet? The answer, the investigation suggests, was not justice. It was business.

This theory, known as the “Death Row Takeover,” posits that Tupac’s murder was the first step in a plot to remove Suge Knight and seize control of his $100 million-plus empire. The alleged conspirators: Death Row’s head of security Reggie Wright Jr. (a former Compton cop), Death Row’s lawyer David Kenner, and Suge’s own wife, Sharifa Knight.

The motive was clear. In the weeks before his death, Tupac had begun an audit of Death Row. He was allegedly owed over $10 million in royalties and was furious. He was about to “blow the whistle” on the label’s racketeering and drug activities. He had already fired David Kenner. With Tupac gone and Suge implicated, the empire would be theirs.

The evidence for an inside job in Las Vegas is overwhelming. On the night of the hit, Tupac’s security detail was systematically neutralized. The dozen highly-trained bodyguards, many of whom were off-duty cops, were suddenly told to disarm their weapons, citing permit restrictions they had never faced on prior Vegas trips. Kevin Hackey, the man responsible for the group’s bulletproof vests, was conveniently reassigned back in Compton. Tupac’s personal bodyguard, Frank Alexander, had his security radio taken away. Tupac was left with a single, unarmed bodyguard with no radio, making him a perfect target.

Then comes the “Got ’em.” According to bodyguard Michael Moore, who was with Reggie Wright Jr. and David Kenner at the time of the shooting, a voice came over the security radio and said, “Got ’em.” Moore claims this was immediately followed by another voice, which he believed to be David Kenner, saying, “Don’t say anything over the radio.” It was the sound of a successful, coordinated operation.

With Tupac dead and Suge in the hospital, the cover story was allegedly born. Reggie Wright Jr. reportedly called his father, Reggie Wright Sr.—the head of Compton’s gang division—and told him about the Southside Crips. Wright Sr. then relayed this to Compton cop Tim Brennan (who, years later, would be on the same task force that coerced Keffe D). Brennan, the report claims, was the one who officially started the “Orlando Anderson theory” within law enforcement.

To sell the story to the public, a diversion was needed. In the days following Tupac’s murder, a brutal “10-day war” erupted between the Bloods and Crips in Compton. Kevin Hackey, the undercover asset, believes this war was “orchestrated” to reinforce the gang narrative and throw investigators off the trail of police involvement.

The conspiracy didn’t end with Tupac. The same theory implicates the same corrupt cops in the murder of Biggie Smalls six months later. Famed LAPD detective Russell Poole, who died under mysterious circumstances, long believed his fellow officers murdered Biggie to cover up their involvement in Tupac’s murder. Stunningly, testimony from a cellmate of Rafael Perez alleges that Perez confessed to him. He claimed the “Rampart click” of cops was hired by Reggie Wright Jr. and David Kenner to kill both Biggie and Puffy. They were paid $250,000 upfront for a job that was supposed to be a double hit.

The Keffe D trial, it seems, is not the end of the story. It may just be the final act of the cover-up. The official narrative of a gang rivalry is crumbling, replaced by a far more sinister plot of corporate espionage, corrupt police, and a federal investigation that may be hiding the truth to protect itself. The real killers, it seems, were not gangsters, but men with badges. And the proof is allegedly sitting in an FBI vault, buried by the two words that guarantee its silence: national security.