Brain of Jay





“I just remember waking up in a pool of my own blood.”

To start, Brian needs an entire book on himself; here’s a man who has been through it all, but at his own discretion, just like I had. Everyone that “knows” Brian in our area sees him as a crazy, intimidating, scary beast—they only see his costume, the costume that he created to hinder his agony. Under Brian’s devious villain attire lies a compassionate, big-hearted man that wants to spread his love to the world—in reality, he’s a super hero.

Growing up, Brian had nothing but the best for his life, and his family provided him with everything that he could have asked for. His family, mother, father, and brother, Kevin, meant the world to him, and playing the role as a big brother to his family and friends, he would give his arm to someone if they just needed a hand. Brain, was a clear-headed person, not a drug or a worry in the world.

He was born and raised in our hometown of Bellville, NJ, with great academics during his time in Belleville High School, achieving As and Bs. His ambition to the world showed that he was a man who understood what a real connection with humanity truly meant. It was just natural for Brian to share his caring tenderness with everyone in his surroundings. This man was an angel in disguise.

Eventually, life has to take a dip at one point or another. Everyone’s dip in life is different; some people’s are more severe than others. While the Davises were smiling high in the bright sunlight behind their white picket fencing, a dark cloud hovered over the shiny skies and condensed a life-changing storm that ripped their fencing right out of the foundation. Brain’s family had been swept away by the harsh storm that only Brian was able to weather. His mother was diagnosed with cancer and eventually couldn’t fight any longer. After his mother’s death, his father, who was a Vietnam War vet, died from an overdose from the Oxycontin that the government doctors had prescribed him because of his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the war. Finally, his brother, Kevin, who he loved ever so dearly (and many of us did as well), was stabbed to death. These were the only people Brian had in his life—this was one storm that seemed impossible to withstand.

After the loss of his loving mother and the prescription pill addiction of his father, Brian began to feel cheated in life. The love he possessed slowly started to bleed out of his heart, and the wounds scabbed up with black tar to conceal his newfound anger. He didn’t believe this was fair to him; after all, he was a caring person growing up and only wanted nothing but the best for his family. During his caring times, his anger would sporadically take over, and he would chase down drug dealers who had been fueling his father’s addictions. In his words,

“I wanted to kill those motherfuckers.”

Brian and I have come a long way and have been friends for a long time growing up. We have been down the same road of sedation, so after all was said and done, he was kind enough to open up to me and share his story in his own home: wildlife in the forests of his backyard that held up an above ground swimming pool, his tropical, glowing six-by-three fish tank, and him accompanied by the new love of his life, his dog Ninja. This new comfortable setting of Brian’s life showed me how much he’s grown and how he is much less of the monster he used to be.

“Yeah, I’m sure you kicked their asses.”

“NO, I mean I wanted to KILL them, like literally kill them. These drugs were killing my father, and he had no idea. He had never acted this way; he was always a great father.”

December 15, 1999, Brian was twenty-three years old when his mother passed away from cancer. Then a year later, on January 1, 2000, his father died from overdosing. The tragedy was when things went downhill for the Davis brothers; all they had was each other, but Brian had a lot of anger building up inside, and he decided to unleash his anger to the world—and himself. The pain was too harsh for him to pertain, so he masked his sorrows with sedation, drugs that would hopefully keep him happy but mask his depression.

“My father dropped dead in our own house. The ambulance workers weren’t strong enough to carry him; me and Kevin had to carry my father’s body down the stairs.”

“What . . . are you serious?”

“Yeah man, after that my brother and I lost it, kid! Just lost it!”

The year 2000, as you already know, was the peak for ecstasy, coke, ketamine, and all uppity-club drugs for our tribe of people, and on the other hand, there was an uproar for prescription pills from another tribe, who enjoyed feeling numb. Brian was familiar with this tribe since his father used to be a part of it. He figured he would feed others the same drugs his father died from; he figured it was only fair for others to feel the same pain him and his brother were undergoing. So, Brian decided to start pushing opiates on the street, mainly Oxycontin—and a lot of it. His younger brother, Kevin, followed in his footsteps.

“My brother was a good kid. He shouldn’t have followed me, and I was a bad influence.”

“Your brother never did drugs before?” I asked.

“Never, kid! Never! Until I introduced it to him, he was an all-star baseball player and got a scholarship to play in college. He followed me; it’s my fault, my fault he’s dead. I should have been the one who died. Ninja, get down!” He grabbed Ninja away from the cushion where the microphone sat and pulled his dog onto his lap with one arm—maybe he needed a little comfort.

Brian’s deep, raspy voice started to clog up a bit as he started talking about his brother. After his parents’ death, he and his brother were inseparable. These two monsters were called the Bash Brothers. They claimed their dominance on the streets as the two baddest alpha males known to mankind. This tag-team was nothing to mess with—too much anger, too many steroids, and they were the kingpins of the prescription drug community. They were respected and feared like Al Capone, as they ran one of the biggest Oxycontin rings throughout our tristate area. These guys were vicious and a pair of animals you didn’t want to pet. They were ruthless and cared nothing for their barbarous actions; they would beat people into oblivions with no remorse. At one point, they were scarier than Michael Myers and Jason Vorhees teaming up on Halloween. I was glad to be friends with them; at the time, they weren’t a pair of guys you wanted to be in opposition with. But villains only last for so long.

January 15, 2005, Kevin was hanging out at local strip club named Lookers in Elizabeth, NJ. Without the attendance of Brian, he had gotten into an altercation with two stick-up kids. Long story short, they stabbed Kevin to death right outside of the club, leaving him holding his intestines. Kevin was tough, one of the strongest guys I’d known, and he had the biggest heart and always showed me nothing but love. It was a travesty to see him go—especially for Brian, because his brother, Kevin, was all he had left.

“That was the breaking point for me, kid! To watch my brother get buried was, was, was terrifying. I didn’t know what to do; he’s all I had.”

“I couldn’t even imagine . . .” Listening to him talk put me in more tears than watching one of my own get buried. Here was a big, strong, tattooed monster—with the lightest heart. “I thought your parents’ death would have been your breaking point.”

“NO, the breaking point was when they lowered my brother’s body into the coffin, and then twisted it to close the top. That’s when I lost it, kid!” Continually petting his dog, Ninja, Brian’s heartbreaking story put the room into a moment of silence.

Things didn’t seem to pan out the way he had planned since the year 1999. After the passing of his mother, it seemed that his life was going in a downward spiral. He felt like he had nothing to live for. Brian continued to run the streets and stay sedated—I don’t blame him. His life, as he knew it, was already over.

October 25, 2005, nine months after his brother’s passing, was the day Brian’s world came to an end—he got pinched (caught). The drug ring was over, and the feds got a hold of the entire circuit. Doctors, along with ten other pawns, soldiers, drug peddlers, and kingpins that were involved had all been exploited when a shit-bird canary decided to chirp his way into freedom. The bird sang, and sang his way back into the lighter day through the fresh winds of North Jersey, but he had to keep flying away; his flock no longer accepted him inside his old nest.

Brian had been convicted for conspiracy and distribution of Oxycontin; then he was sentenced to five years inside FCI Otisville Penitentiary.

“It was hard man! I mean, like, the prison was clean, but I’ve being doing drugs and getting banged up for five years straight, kid. It was the first time I had been sober. All my pain came back when I was in prison; having to face my parents’ deaths, and my brother’s death while I was in prison killed me man—I didn’t think . . . I didn’t think I was going to make it!”

“Damn, I didn’t even think of that.”

“Yeah, kid, it was like the first time I felt an emotion again. I felt what it was like to not have any love in my life! It was crazy . . . Bro, I had to read Harry Potter. I was reading love books in prison—I missed it.”

His jail time was more of an awakening, where he finally got back to his brain and was able to have a conscious thought. The cold-sweated misery formulated a condensation that sank back into his pores, and the sink was painful and sinking in deep. He was getting over drug addictions with no rehab, facing his parents passing with no mask, and absorbing his brother’s death in an empty eight-by-eight cell block all alone, for three years, with nothing but Harry Potter.

The Oxycontin epidemic had flipped Brian’s life in a complete one-eighty. He did his time, paid his dues for his criminal activities, and came out clearer than ever, but his time in this crisis wasn’t over. A few months after his sentence, on the night of his birthday in 2012, Brian lost his mind with the numbing chemicals of narcotics. He figured he had been clean for over five years, and he would be able to handle a little partying—wrong. Later that night, Brain decided to take the reaper’s scythe into his own hands and try to omit himself from existence. Long story short, in a kiddy pool of his own blood, ninety-four stitches later between both wrists and his jugular—he’s alive to share his story—and more alive than ever.

“You know, you see a lot of crazy shit in this world, and think, what are those people doing? Are they crazy? Sometimes, when people go through that, they’re not themselves. I know I wasn’t myself. I don’t remember anything when I was sedated.”

“So, you don’t remember trying to commit suicide?”

“NO. I just remember waking up in a pool of my own blood.”

These drugs, like many others in our area, possessed Brian’s life in one way or another, from taking away his loved ones and eventually almost causing him to take his own life—but they didn’t—Brian is too strong of a man with the heart of a lion. Being able to survive the plague that prescription drugs brought into his life shows just how durable this man is—more importantly, he realized that he has a purpose on this planet.

“We’re here to love, and . . . and . . . and help each other as human beings! I will live the rest of my life serving and working for people; that’s just God’s way. To help each other, that’s our purpose.” Sitting in Brian’s living room and listening to him open up, really showed how humbled and tamed this “monster” has become. To sit here with him and absorb his light, and out of his darkness feel the utmost pleasurable connection a human being could be a part of—I was humbled.

“When you open your eyes and find your way, in any God, whatever religion or path a person finds, as long as you open your heart—you’ll witness miracles. For me, it was the Holy Spirit, and God is the reason I’m still here breathing, and that’s a miracle, kid!”

Like I said, this man needs a book on his own; he has been through so much, especially in reference to prescription drugs, death, and how they can completely ruin your life. It is a miracle he survived through the fires of the devil’s advocate and found his beam of light through the smoky maze of demonic compounds. The combination of anger, lifelessness, and self-mutilation would bury anyone that breathes oxygen—but not him—he managed to stay strong and changed his ways. All in all, this does not justify a sympathetic perception just because he decided to find God after expressing his apprehensions. That just means we haven’t lived through tragedies that caused us to proclaim vengeance; we never had a reason to get blood on our hands to deal with extreme circumstances—but if you were walking in his mud, during his death storm, how would you react?

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About Jay Isip

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  1. Kim sweetman

    October 14, 2015 at 9:26 pm

    Great story and very well written. I grew up across the street from Brian and Kevin in silver lake. I watched the beginning of this story first hand and the rest in the papers. Kevin was always a doll. The kid had a heart of gold. After my dad passed the whole neighborhood sent food to my mom. His mom and aunt delivered it personally. Brian helped me learn to ride a two wheel bike and how to play handball on the #4 school playground. I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear he is doing well. Thanks for the story. Keep up the good work.

    • Jay Isip

      October 14, 2015 at 11:11 pm

      Yeah, hes a great man inside. Thank you for your kind words…

  2. Dina medeiros

    October 15, 2015 at 1:06 am

    I personally grew up with Brian as a child threw half of our adulthood he was my PROTECTER as well as all the other young silver lake girls his mom Phyllis was axing woman with a heart of gold and Hal was the nicest guy in the world just don’t get on his bad side lol we all grew up together Kevin is still dearly missed he had a amazing talent baseball was his thing ….. I had a very close bond with grandma Phyllis as she was like a grandmother to me and shared the same name with my grandmother all I can remember her and my grandma screaming out our names like BRIAN KEVIN DINA ANTHONY us kids were always together plus more kids to only mention a few SAL , JOHN , the PARMENTERs DANNY-RACHEL MICHAEL LORI DEANA JASON MARK and a few more and that was our childhood crew we always hung out at the #4 school yard and or the friendly house … Summers were great we all always played softball dodgeball tag went swimming and our winters were AWESOME we used to literally build snow walls and have the best snowball fights lol I can say one thing about BRIAN DAVIS IF HE CARES ABOUT YOU HE WILL HAVE UR BACK 💯 and he never let anyone mess with me unless it was him lol soooooo ashot out to Brian for BRIAN JUST BEING BRIAN MAY GOD BLESS HIM NOW AND ALWAYS ………. Rip KEVIN u may not be here physically but you will never be forgotten God bless

  3. Michael Nicosia

    October 15, 2015 at 6:37 am

    Always a strong brother that always has your back. Hearts always been tough and in the right spot. Mad love for the brother then and now. God is perfect and unstoppable .

  4. Donna alessio

    October 15, 2015 at 5:05 pm

    this was a great story. I’ve heard of him but never knew him. It’s amazing how people can turn their lives around. God bless him through this journey of life!

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