Protect the Throne

Jay-Z faces the fight of his life as the empire he built for decades starts to crumble

It’s not often I spend my Sunday afternoon devouring a bucket of popcorn at a sporting event, but of course the one day I decide to cosplay as your regular all-American girl into #sports, the Illuminati decides it has other plans for me.

With only two minutes left on the clock of a two-point game between the Buffalo Bills and Los Angeles Rams, my phone vibrates with a text message from a friend, asking me to verify the legitimacy of a news story that had just broke.

“Jay-Z accused in a civil lawsuit of raping a 13-year-old girl in 2000 along with Sean ‘Diddy’ Combs,” the headline reads. Suddenly the outcome of the game didn’t seem important.

It’s been almost fourteen years since the release of Watch the Throne. And somehow everything’s falling apart. Diddy’s in federal prison. Kanye’s in Japan, dodging lawsuits monthly. And now Jay-Z faces a lawsuit that threatens to destroy his legacy. The walls are tumbling down for all of these men who once ruled it all. For Jay-Z and Kanye the battle isn’t over yet, but the cracks are showing.

Did they all sign a deal with the devil at the same time or something? Why are their crash outs in sync?

I shift my focus back to the game. 1:00 is left in Q4. The Bills defense is also crumbling.

I overhear a group of women talking next to me, decked out in Buffalo Bills gear speaking about how upset they are. I assume they're just frustrated watching their heroic quarterback Josh Allen fumble on the field- perhaps too high off his recent engagement to actress Hailee Steinfeld to focus on the game. Surprisingly though, they’re talking about a different hero of theirs — Mr. Shawn Carter.

“I’m really upset because I love him,” a #BillsMafia fan tells her girlfriend. I wiggle my way into their conversation and quickly learn they are both Jay-Z fans. “I knew it was coming, but my heart is still breaking,” she adds.

Her friend agrees, “I’m sad to hear about it. I really hope it’s not true.”

I’m struck by their grace. Empathy for billionaires is rare these days.

Online, the reaction has been different. People are praying for his downfall. Since Diddy’s arrest, whispers have grown louder, predicting Jay-Z as the next domino to fall. Anyone following the case closely likely has a TikTok For You page packed with clips linking the two hip-hop moguls together, some influencers alleging Jay-Z is more “evil than them all.” And yet, somehow, the women I spoke with yesterday seemed blissfully detached from these darker speculations. Their love for Jay-Z remains rooted in nostalgia, unshaken by the sinister theories that have shadowed the Carters for decades.

I flash back to the early 2000s, when grainy YouTube videos dissected the supposed Satanic imagery surrounding them—Beyoncé forming a circle with her fingers and holding it up to her eye, or the couple throwing up their signature Roc-A-Fella diamond hand sign. I remember throwing up diamond hands myself anytime Jay-Z’s distinct voice started rumbling from the speakers at whatever sticky nightclub I ended up at. And every time, my dancing partner, the first “conspiracy theorist” I’d ever met, would slap my hands down, scolding me for participating in an occult ritual.

“I don’t care. I want to be in the Illuminati,” I’d joke, a response that would infuriate him. Deep down though, I believed the hand gesture was harmless, nothing more than a go-to-pose to strike when “Empire State of Mind” came on. I worked up a sweat every weekend, treating the local dance floor like it was an audition for Save the Last Dance.

I admired the power Jay-Z and Beyoncé exuded and was inspired by Beyonce’s curated image of perfection. Every costume and hairstyle—from beaded headdresses to structured diamond corsets cohesively matched the aura of her music, every detail carefully crafted to build this illusion of unachievable perfection. Beyoncé was angelic, flawless and larger-than-life- an untouchable goddess, a celestial being who stood so far above the rest that no one before or after her could ever dare to rival her level of superstardom. She wasn’t just the queen of pop, she was the queen, an immortal figure whose reign was absolute. She understood the weight of the crown and was always ready to serve- looks, hair flips, and most importantly- her loyal Beyhive. Her fans revered the image she created for the world, but never got to know woman behind it all.

People were intrigued by the conspiracies surrounding the Carters in the early 2000s, captivated by the idea that a hidden force was orchestrating their success from behind the scenes. Who was really in control? Nobody knew but everyone wanted to find out. Beyoncé claimed “girls run the world,” but we all knew it was never the girls. Beyoncé lied to us. The world was run by an elite cabal, my tinfoil hat friend thought, where the only way to reach unprecedented levels of wealth was to sell your soul to the devil. Achieving fame and fortune through black magic sacrifice- although deeply alluring, was never fully convincing. I rationalized Beyoncé's success as a product of her hard work, recalling how she’d wake up every morning and sing her hits while running laps. Imagining Beyoncé belting “Halo” during a morning jog seemed more believable than picturing her sipping blood from a rusty goblet at midnight.

But now, as we’ve entered the age of Aquarius—an era defined by the unmasking of long-buried truths, my friend’s warnings feel less like mystical ramblings and more like a chilling prelude to the strange times ahead. The reality of what was required to reach these unthinkable levels of fame were much darker than we understood. Before the #MeToo era exposed the twisted hill stars had to climb to land a role in the industry, entertainers were taught that looks and talent were enough. Be hot, learn to sing and dance, pick up an instrument or- if you’re lucky- be born a twin (and in that case little talent is required). Post-Weinstein, we’ve learned welcoming unwanted sexual experiences with a smile, navigating blackmail rings and disassociating from physical and psychological abuse were the real skills we needed along the way. It was never tap dancing and the clarinet. It was surviving the exploitation hidden from the viewer.

Somewhere along the way, Queen Bey, like Barbie, became a little too perfect.

We’ve watched Beyoncé twirl her ponytail around in a circle for 20 years, but we still don’t know a thing about her.

The Carters thrived for years by embracing mystery—the allure of inaccessibility. But in the age of the influencer, that mystique is losing its appeal.

Instagram is killing the pop star.

Sure, Beyoncé still has the Beyhive, but online comments reveal her influence is fading. Influencers are building authentic connections that traditional celebrities never did.

The untouchable act is wearing thin. People are tired of the diamond hands, the all-seeing eye symbols and the hellish visuals at every show.

As the Diddy case unfolds and Jay-Z’s skeletons crawl to the surface, we might finally understand why Beyoncé kept her soul so hidden her entire career. If she was suffering, we wouldn’t know. If she was controlled, we’d never find out. The Carters have made an art out of secrecy, and perhaps that’s what made them so untouchable.

While the queen has retreated into a more isolated and private existence as a billionaire, retreating far away from society, her king has been spreading his wings, growing his empire across multiple industries.

Sitting in the stands of Sofi Stadium on the day the Jay-Z news broke, could be considered a coincidence, or just a testament to how far Jay-Z’s reach expands. In 2019, his entertainment company, Roc Nation, entered a $25 million, five-year partnership with the NFL to oversee the Super Bowl halftime show. For the last five years, Jay-Z has been given the authority to select halftime show performers, trusted with the responsibility of putting together the most hyped television spectacle, bringing artists like The Weeknd, Rihanna and Usher to the stage.

Driving through Compton on our way to the game today, I spotted a chaotic display of bootleg "Not Like Us" T-shirts strung up for sale at a busy intersection. It’s not surprising Jay-Z chose Kendrick Lamar to perform at the 2025 halftime show. His grip on the culture right now is unmatched. I start wondering though, if the pending lawsuit will affect this partnership.

50 Cent wondered the same, asking if the Super Bowl was still on.

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The Rams ended up scoring a crucial win over the Bills Sunday, keeping their playoff dreams alive. But the real winner of the weekend was Jaguar Wright—Jay-Z’s former backup singer who has been praying for the day that Jay-Z would face his skeletons.

“If this goes to court, Jaguar, do you think the world is going to be shocked at what comes out?” Broadcaster Piers Morgan asked Wright back in October an during an interview for, Piers Morgan Uncensored.

“Absolutely,” Wright replied. “I just don’t understand why. It’s been happening for decades.”

Wright’s answer highlights the powerful divide happening in society right now- those shocked by the allegations and those who saw them coming. But what’s even more noticeable is the divide between those who still worship celebrities and those who are eager to see them fall.

Wright has been one of the only voices brave enough to speak out against both Diddy and Jay-Z publicly, calling Jay-Z ‘one of the most dangerous people she’s ever met.”

After Wright’s episode aired, Jay-Z’s legal team sent Piers Morgan a threatening letter which resulted in Morgan editing out Jaguar Wright’s segment from the show and releasing an on-air apology to the Carters.

Wright herself, has yet to receive a legal document from the Carters, which begs the question, why?

Until now, I’ve steered clear of writing about the Carters. For months, I’ve tiptoed around their name, afraid of the weight it carried—especially after a conversation I had in late September with a popular journalist at the Rescue the Republic event in Washington D.C., who warned me to never mention Jay-Z.

“Avoid the Carters at all costs,” he advised.

After today, the gloves are coming off. Now that Jay-Z has been publicly named in a civil lawsuit attached to Diddy and nearly every major outlet has ran the story, the coast might finally be clear to talk about the Carters and the legacy they’re leaving behind. A legacy they now must fight to protect.

Pray it won’t fade away.

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