“PICK OUT YOUR CASKET” Hernadez Gavon Reacts To Key Glock Putting 100k Bounty On His Head | HO’
The streets of Memphis are boiling over after Hernandez Govan walked free from a murder trial, and now Key Glock is making his feelings violently clear.
The Paper Route Empire rapper didn’t hold back when asked what Govan should do next following his acquittal in the murder of Young Dolph.
‘He need to go pick out his casket and [expletive] little [expletive] like that. That’s all he need to go do,’ Key Glock stated bluntly.
But he wasn’t the only one with something to say. Another affiliate going by the name Kenny Money also responded with accusations that cut even deeper.
‘Federal informant, man. They going to put them back on the street so they can go back to work, man. How you think they survive?’ Kenny Money claimed.
The situation has become so tense that federal investigators are now reportedly watching every move, concerned that street justice might override the legal system’s decision.
Hernandez Govan, 45, was supposed to be the mastermind who orchestrated Young Dolph’s assassination for a measly $20,000 cut. But after a week-long trial, a Memphis jury rejected the prosecution’s narrative completely.
This acquittal didn’t just free one man. It exposed how the state built their whole case on testimony from a desperate snitch named Cornelius Smith, who was willing to say anything to avoid life in prison.
The backstory goes deep into Memphis history. Govan was connected to Big Jook, Yo Gotti’s brother, through complicated family relationships. They’d gambled together, done business, kept it cordial in the streets.
But Govan also knew Young Dolph personally from way back, before the rap beef even started. When Dolph had one foot in the streets and one foot in music, him and Govan would do marijuana transactions together.
By 2021, Govan was trying to transition from street life to the music business. He was working on signing an artist named Straight Drop to CMG Records through his connection with Big Jook.
Straight Drop would later become one of the two shooters who killed Young Dolph.
According to Govan’s account, he thought he was making a legitimate business move that could finally get him out the streets for good.
In the months leading up to Dolph’s murder, Govan arranged for Big Jook to come over to his house in Orange Mound to listen to Straight Drop’s music. Getting Jook to pull up in the ghetto wasn’t easy—he was Yo Gotti’s brother and had status to protect.
Everything was going smooth until there was a knock at the door. It was Cornelius Smith, a known pill head who Govan knew through his deceased godbrother.
When Govan stepped outside, Cornelius hit him with wild street talk: ‘Man, they ain’t trying to do nothing about Dolph trying to kill Gotti.’
Govan wasn’t interested. He told Cornelius that wasn’t his business and went back inside to finish the music meeting.
‘I told him that wasn’t my business and wanted to go back in and finish discussing the music and the actual deal and that was that,’ Govan later stated.
According to Govan’s lawyer Manny Aurora, there were no incriminating text messages between any of these people about planning a murder. No evidence of payments. No recordings.
Nothing but the word of a desperate snitch facing life in prison.
On November 17th, 2021, Young Dolph went to his favorite cookie shop, Makeda’s Homemade Butter Cookies. At 12:25 p.m., a white Mercedes Benz pulled up. Two men jumped out—Justin Johnson and Cornelius Smith—and started shooting.
Dolph got hit about 20 times and died right there in the parking lot. The whole city was shook.
What happened next exposed just how sloppy this whole operation really was. These men drove the murder weapon right back to Orange Mound and parked it in a yard directly across the street from Govan’s house.
That’s when everybody knew this wasn’t some mastermind operation. This was panic mode by young, inexperienced killers.
By January 2022, Justin Johnson and Cornelius Smith were both listed as suspects. But prosecutors had bigger plans—they wanted the so-called mastermind.
In November 2022, while Govan was still dealing with the grief of losing his 24-year-old daughter to a botched robbery in Houston just two months earlier, the Shelby County Grand Jury indicted him on first-degree murder charges.
The timing couldn’t have been worse. Govan had just lost his daughter in September. His brother died in a car wreck around the same time. His grandmother passed away. All within a three to four month span.
Now he was being arrested for a murder he claims he had nothing to do with.
Initially, Govan was ready to take a plea deal. After months of negotiations, they worked out an agreement for 10 years. With jail credit, he figured he could do three to four more years and be home with his kids.
His 15-year-old autistic son, who’s essentially non-verbal, was pushing for the plea deal. The boy just wanted his father home.
The paperwork was signed. The deal was accepted by the court.
Then Young Dolph’s family got involved.
After Govan signed the 10-year plea deal, the prosecution took it to Dolph’s family for their input. The family rejected it, saying 10 years wasn’t enough for the man they believed orchestrated their loved one’s murder.
The elected DA pulled the deal back. Now it was trial or nothing.
The trial began on August 18th, 2025, and lasted less than a week. In court, Cornelius Smith’s testimony fell apart under cross-examination.
This man claimed he got shot in the shoulder during the murder but didn’t seek medical treatment for a month. He said the bullet was lodged close to his neck, but somehow he didn’t get an infection for weeks.
‘The Mercedes had no blood in it,’ Aurora questioned. ‘Where did the blood go?’
The prosecution tried to show phone records as evidence of conspiracy, but Aurora exposed how they manipulated the data. They cut off columns showing call duration, making it look like conversations happened when really the calls went straight to voicemail.
On the final day of trial, the jury deliberated for only about three hours total before reaching a verdict.
Just like that, Govan walked free.
But freedom in the courthouse doesn’t mean freedom in the streets.
Key Glock, who was like young Dolph’s little brother and helped build Paper Route Empire from the ground up, felt like the city had failed his mentor.
‘My city failed. But what’s new? Long live Dolph,’ he posted.
This wasn’t just about one verdict to Key Glock. This was about years of watching the legal system fail to bring justice for his fallen brother.
Young Dolph had been shot at multiple times before his death. Three times according to the autopsy, with old bullets still lodged in his body when he died. The beef with CMG had been going on for years.
And now the man accused of masterminding the final fatal attack was walking free.
Paper Route Woo issued what sounded like a direct threat, warning that Govan needs to leave Memphis immediately.
‘He need to go pick out his casket. Let me rephrase that. His ass don’t think fat be greasy. His ass need to go do that.’
The streets were talking and none of it was good for Govan. Social media flooded with threats, accusations, and promises of street justice.
Even though he beat the case legally, the court of public opinion had already found him guilty, and Paper Route Empire wasn’t accepting this verdict.
Govan’s victory came at a massive financial cost. Aurora estimated the case would have cost $800,000 to a million for a regular client. Aurora took it on largely pro bono because of Govan’s son and the obvious problems with the prosecution’s case.
‘Most people say the criminal justice system needs reform because too many people are running the streets,’ Aurora explained. ‘I just hope maybe for once people see that there’s an underbelly where a lot of stuff happens in the opposite way.’
Today, Govan is planning his exit from Memphis. But that’s easier said than done.
‘Is it a goal of mine to move me and my kids from Memphis, Tennessee at some point? Of course it is because I don’t want to raise my kids here,’ Govan said in his first interview after the trial.
But relocating takes resources. Despite beating the case, Govan spent everything he had on legal fees. He’s essentially starting over at 45 years old, trying to build a new life while looking over his shoulder constantly.
Key Glock continues to carry Young Dolph’s legacy through Paper Route Empire. But the pain of losing his mentor and seeing the alleged mastermind walk free will probably never heal.
That ‘my city failed’ post represents more than just anger about one verdict. It’s frustration with a system that he feels doesn’t value Black lives, doesn’t understand street culture, and doesn’t deliver real justice.
The relationship between Key Glock and Young Dolph went beyond just music. Dolph discovered Glock, mentored him, and built Paper Route Empire partly around Glock’s talent. When Dolph died, Glock didn’t just lose a business partner.
He lost a father figure.
Meanwhile, Paper Route Empire and their affiliates have made it clear through social media that Govan’s legal victory doesn’t mean street victory. The threats, the warnings, the bounty talk—they all point to a man who won in court but lost in the culture that ultimately determines who lives and dies in Memphis.
The federal investigation angle becomes more serious when you consider that if Key Glock or anyone else in PR actually puts money on Govan’s head, they could face serious federal charges.
Conspiracy to commit murder across state lines. Racketeering. Organized criminal activity.
All of this falls under federal jurisdiction, and the feds don’t play games with high-profile murder cases.
Govan’s acquittal proves that in America, you’re innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. But it also proves that sometimes being legally innocent doesn’t make you safe in the streets.
This man survived 26 years of criminal charges, multiple shootings, losing his daughter to violence, and the biggest murder case in Memphis history, only to win everything legally and still have to run for his life.
Hernandez Govan’s story is a reminder that in street politics, there’s no such thing as a clean victory. You might beat the state. You might have the best lawyers. You might prove your innocence beyond any reasonable doubt.
But you still have to live with the consequences in a culture that doesn’t always respect legal verdicts.
And for a 45-year-old man from Orange Mound who just wanted to transition from selling pills to selling records, who wanted to set his kids up for a better life than he had, those consequences might last the rest of his life.
The streets of Memphis are watching. Waiting.
And Key Glock’s ‘my city failed’ post might just be the beginning of a whole new chapter in this story. One that could end with federal investigations, more violence, or perhaps the most unlikely outcome of all—nothing at all.