“MY BABY IS INNOCENT…” Pooh Shiesty’s mom Glattis Baines broke down in tears as she realized it’s really OVER | HO’

Her son AND his father both arrested in the same morning for allegedly kidnapping & robbing Gucci Mane at gunpoint! But here’s the twist… she’s only posting prayer hands on Facebook while facing the collapse of her entire family.

MEMPHIS, TN – On April 1st, 2026, at 6:00 in the morning, FBI agents pulled up to a family home in Cordova, Tennessee. They weren’t there for the rapper.

They were there for his father. And when they knocked on that door and started executing that federal warrant, somewhere in that house was a mother.

A woman named Glattis Baines. And she watched the feds walk out of her home with the father of her son in handcuffs while her son was being arrested in a whole different state at the same time.

Her son. His father. Both gone. Same morning. Same federal case.

The case they were both taken in for? Robbing and kidnapping Gucci Mane—one of the most legendary figures in the history of trap music—at gunpoint inside a Dallas studio.

While her son was supposed to be on home detention. While he was wearing a federal ankle monitor. While she had just watched him come home from federal prison six months earlier.

Pooh Shiesty’s story is not just a crime story. It is a family story.

Pooh Shiesty, born Lantrell Williams Jr., was not just another rapper from Memphis. He was the one who broke through. The one who put Memphis drill on the national map in a way that hadn’t been done before. His debut mixtape, *Shiesty Season*, dropped in 2021 and hit number 12 on the Billboard Hot 100. Features from Gucci Mane himself.

Features from Big 30—his day one, his brother from the city. The streets were behind him. The industry was behind him. His family was behind him.

But the rise didn’t last. The legal system caught up. By 2022, Pooh Shiesty was sitting in federal prison on a gun conspiracy charge out of Miami, looking at five years.

He came home in October 2025. New car. Fan love. A whole celebration that went viral online. His mother watched her son walk back into the free world and had every reason to believe the worst was behind them.

It wasn’t. Because three months after he came home, he allegedly walked into a recording studio in Dallas, Texas, with nine people—including his own father—and did something that would send shockwaves through hip hop, through Memphis, and most importantly, through his family.

And his mother, Glattis Baines, would be left behind to watch it all collapse in real time.

To understand how it all fell apart, we have to go back. Lantrell Williams Jr. grew up in Memphis, Tennessee—a city with its own culture, its own sound, its own code. The city that gave us 36 Mafia. The city that built its own version of street music that the rest of the country eventually caught up to.

Pooh Shiesty came out of that world, and his mother Glattis Baines raised him. She was in his corner from the start. When he started gaining real traction in music, when the Gucci Mane co-sign landed, when 1017 Records came calling in 2020, it looked like everything the family had been working toward was finally paying off.

His father, Lantrell Williams Sr., was also in the picture. Present. Close. And according to federal prosecutors, significantly more involved in his son’s world than most people knew.

Then there was Rodney Wright Jr.—Big 30—his Memphis brother. They came up together. Recorded together. Featured on each other’s projects. When *Shiesty Season* dropped and blew up, Big 30 was right there. When Pooh Shiesty went to prison, Big 30 kept moving.

And when Pooh Shiesty came home, Big 30 was still there. That loyalty, that bond, is important because it is exactly what prosecutors say made Big 30 one of nine people standing in that Dallas studio on January 10th, 2026.

In October 2025, Pooh Shiesty walked out of federal prison after serving three years of a five-year sentence. He had pleaded guilty to conspiring to possess a firearm in connection with crimes of violence and drug trafficking.

He came home early. He came home to fans going crazy on social media. He came home to a viral moment. But he came home with conditions. Federal home detention. An ankle monitor strapped to his leg.

Strict terms. He could not commit another federal offense. He could not possess a firearm. He had restrictions on his movement. The government was watching.

Now, according to prosecutors, at some point in those first months home, Pooh Shiesty started having problems with his record deal. He was still signed to Gucci Mane’s 1017 Records, and he was not happy about it.

Sources close to the situation say that by 2024, Gucci Mane had actually released most of his artists from the label—but he kept two. Pooh Shiesty was one of them. That is the part that makes your head spin. Gucci kept him. Specifically kept him. Even while he was in prison.

And according to prosecutors, that was exactly the problem Pooh Shiesty could not get past.

But instead of hiring a lawyer, instead of going through his management, instead of any of the legitimate routes that exist in the music business for contract disputes, prosecutors say Pooh Shiesty started planning something else entirely. Something that involved nine people. A road trip from Memphis to Dallas. A stop at a Staples office supply store. And weapons.

Fast forward to January 10th, 2026. Pooh Shiesty reached out to Gucci Mane and arranged a meeting. A studio session on Dallas Parkway. Come in, let’s talk about the contract. Figure this out face to face. Gucci Mane agreed. He flew in from Atlanta with two other music industry professionals, including his head of security. They landed in Dallas on a Saturday afternoon thinking they were walking into a business conversation.

According to federal court documents, investigators later learned that Pooh Shiesty’s father, Lantrell Williams Sr., had visited a Staples store hours before that meeting. Prosecutors believe he printed the contract termination paperwork there. The documents that were going to be placed in front of Gucci Mane. The ones he was going to be asked to sign. The meeting was never about talking. It was already decided.

On January 10th, 2026, at approximately 3:43 in the afternoon, the group entered the studio. Three victims walked into that building thinking they were in a professional environment. What prosecutors say happened inside over the next hour is what the federal government is now calling a coordinated armed takeover.

Pooh Shiesty asked to speak with Gucci Mane privately. He pulled him into the recording room. With him in that room, according to the FBI affidavit, was his own father, Lantrell Williams Sr., and Big 30. Three against one. Pooh Shiesty placed the contract termination paperwork on the table in front of Gucci Mane. He told him to sign. Gucci Mane refused.

And that is when, according to prosecutors, Pooh Shiesty pulled out an AK-style pistol and pointed it at the man who built 1017 Records. The man who gave him his first major co-sign. The man who had kept him on the roster while he sat in a federal prison cell.

Gucci Mane signed. And then the robbery. Because it did not stop at the contract. After Gucci signed, Pooh Shiesty allegedly took his wedding ring off his finger. His watch. His earrings. His cash. Everything.

Meanwhile, outside that recording room, the remaining six co-conspirators had drawn their weapons on the two other victims. One of them, identified in the complaint only as MM, was pushed onto the studio couch and stripped of his wallet and jewelry.

The other, identified as BP, was choked from behind to the point of nearly losing consciousness. He was then robbed of a Rolex watch, a Louis Vuitton bag, Apple AirPods, and additional valuables. And Big 30? Prosecutors say Big 30 stood at the studio door. He blocked it with his body. Nobody was getting out until the job was done.

At one point, according to the criminal complaint, the victims believed they were about to be executed. They thought that was the end. Right there in that studio on Dallas Parkway on a Saturday afternoon.

Eventually, they were ordered out. The crew loaded into their vehicles—a 2020 Dodge Charger Hellcat registered to Pooh Shiesty’s father, and two rental cars also rented in his father’s name—and they left.

They got a hotel room in Dallas that night. And within hours of leaving that studio, multiple co-defendants were posting on social media. Flashing the stolen jewelry. Flexing the stolen Rolexes. Broadcasting the evidence to their own followers.

The investigation that followed was overwhelming. And the most remarkable thing about it is how much of the evidence came from the defendants themselves. The ankle monitor on Pooh Shiesty’s leg placed him at the studio at the exact time of the robbery—in direct violation of his home detention terms.

He was supposed to be home. The federal government was already tracking his location in real time and did not even know yet what he had done.

License plate reader data documented the convoy traveling from Memphis to Dallas in the days before January 10th. Cell phone records corroborated the same timeline. Rental car paperwork tied Lantrell Williams Sr. to the vehicles the group used. Surveillance footage from the studio building, from a neighboring office building, from the Staples store, and from the hotel where the crew stayed afterward—all of it captured on camera.

Then the fingerprints. Investigators recovered latent fingerprints from inside the studio, including from red plastic cups left behind by the crew, and matched them to multiple defendants.

And then the AirTag. One of the stolen wallets had an Apple AirTag inside it. The last recorded location of that AirTag was a parking lot directly adjacent to the apartment building where Lantrell Williams Sr. has a lease—the same building where Pooh Shiesty had been staying. The stolen wallet led the feds back to the front door.

On April 1st, 2026, FBI agents executed a search and arrest warrant at the family home in Cordova, Tennessee. Lantrell Williams Sr. was taken into custody in Memphis. Pooh Shiesty, who had been staying at a residential re-entry facility in Dallas, was taken into custody there.

Eight of the nine suspects were arrested across Dallas, Memphis, and Nashville in a single coordinated operation. The ninth—Terrence Rogers, the one who had posted the stolen Rolex on social media—was still being sought at the time of the DOJ announcement.

The 32-page criminal complaint was unsealed on April 2nd. And that is when the rest of the world found out what had happened to Gucci Mane in that Dallas studio on January 10th.

Now, here is the part that split the internet completely in half. Federal documents show that one of the victims—referred to as RD, Radric Davis, Gucci Mane’s legal name—cooperated with investigators. He identified his attacker by Instagram handle. He described what the man was wearing. He told the feds exactly who walked into that studio.

50 Cent went online almost immediately, referencing Gucci’s street history and questioning how the same man who built that reputation ended up cooperating in a federal case. The post got deleted, but the screenshots lived forever.

The debate that followed was immediate and divided. Was Gucci wrong for cooperating with law enforcement as a victim of an armed robbery and kidnapping? Or does the fact that he built his name on a certain code change the calculus? The internet has been arguing about it ever since.

Big 30’s lawyer, Arthur Horn, came out with a statement. He said his client has no prior criminal history, that he and Pooh Shiesty came up in the music game together, that they were close, and that people should not pass judgment until all the facts come out. He expressed hope that Big 30 would get a bond and be able to fight the case from the outside.

Every defendant, all nine, faces a maximum sentence of life in federal prison if convicted.

But let’s talk about what nobody is really sitting with. Glattis Baines.

On the morning of April 1st, she watched FBI agents execute a federal search warrant on her family’s home. Lantrell Williams Sr.—Pooh Shiesty’s father—was taken out of that house in custody.

And her son—her firstborn, the one who just came home six months ago, the one whose release she celebrated, the one the whole city celebrated—was being arrested in Dallas at the same time. Her son and his father. Both gone. Same morning. Same federal kidnapping case.

She did not say nothing directly. She went to Facebook and she started posting. On Wednesday, she wrote: “It’s power in the name Jesus.” Just that. Prayer. Faith. Nothing about the case. Nothing about the charges.

Then on Thursday, after the DOJ press conference, after the whole world found out it was Gucci Mane, after the 32-page complaint dropped and the internet went into full meltdown, she posted again: “My ears ringing. #keepitpushin #blessingsonblessings” with a row of prayer hand emojis.

And then one more: “I’ve been blocked, you hating folks. #Amen.”

That is all she gave the public. Three Facebook posts. No press statement. No interview. No tears on camera. Just a mother leaning on her faith while the world talked about her family. And that silence—those three posts, those prayer hands—says more than any press release ever could.

Think about what Glattis Baines has been through. She raised a son who became one of the biggest rappers in Memphis history. She watched him catch a federal case at the height of his career. She visited him in prison. She watched him walk out in October 2025 and come home to fans going crazy. She had every reason to exhale.

And then four months later—four months—the FBI is at her front door at 6:00 in the morning, and they are taking the father of her child. That is one of the most painful things a mother can imagine. And she handled it with nothing but prayer and silence and maybe a little bit of defiance toward the people she felt were talking sideways.

YSL Woody, who has his own history with the legal system, went on Instagram looking visibly shaken. He talked about watching Pooh Shiesty come home, drop a “First Day Out” record, and get sent right back. “Pride and ego are the real enemies,” he said. “The cycle stops when the mindset changes.”

The comments under his video were split—some agreeing, some defending Pooh Shiesty, some questioning Gucci. Claressa Shields backed Woody up publicly on X. The entire culture was reacting in real time. But Glattis Baines just posted her prayer hands and kept it moving.

This case changed things for real. For Pooh Shiesty—a man who had every tool he needed to rebuild, a fan base that was waiting, a music industry that still had space for him, a potential second act that most people coming out of federal prison never get—it is now looking like it may be over. If convicted, he faces life in federal prison. At the age he is right now, that is the rest of his life.

For Big 30—who by all accounts was not the architect of this situation, who had no prior criminal history according to his own lawyer, who came up in music and built his own momentum—the cost of loyalty to one friendship could be everything. His entire future is now in the hands of a federal court in the Northern District of Texas.

For Lantrell Williams Sr.—the father, the man who allegedly rented the cars, printed the papers, and drove to Dallas with his son—he is now a federal kidnapping defendant. He went from being a father who stayed close to his son’s world to being charged alongside him in the same criminal complaint.

And for Gucci Mane—who has spent years building a legitimate legacy after his own legal history, who went sober, who built 1017 Records into a real institution, who earned a Grammy nomination, who wrote a memoir about survival and transformation—he now has to carry the weight of what happened to him in that studio on January 10th, and the weight of what the internet said when he decided to cooperate.

Both sides dispute claims that have not been tested in court. Pooh Shiesty’s legal team has not released a public statement responding to the specific allegations. Gucci Mane has not commented on the snitching allegations. The federal case is just beginning.

Today, Pooh Shiesty is in federal custody awaiting trial. His father is in federal custody. Big 30 is in federal custody fighting for a bond. Terrence Rogers was still being sought. And Glattis Baines is somewhere in Memphis posting prayer hands and waiting.

That is the part of this story that nobody is going to make a song about. Nobody is going to post about it on social media. But it is the part that is most real. The mother left behind again.

Pooh Shiesty’s last Instagram post before his arrest was a video of a new luxury car. He shared it on March 11th. The comment section is now full of people saying the feds are about to seize it. Glattis Baines is still on Facebook posting prayer hands. And the federal case is just beginning.