The issue with James Brown’s multimillion dollar estate was an ongoing legal battle for several years after his December 2006 passing. One of Brown’s daughters, Yamma Brown, spoke of her reportedly violent relationship with her then-husband, and his alleged aggressive means to get his hands on the estate of James Brown.
Yamma shared explicit details about what happened just days after her father passed away in her book, Cold Sweat, My Father James Brown and Me. It was her account of the day that she knew her marriage was over, two days before her Dad was to be buried. But why?
Daughter Claims Husband Tried To Convince Her To Get Brown’s Money From Sisters
In an except from her book, Yamma said this of her then-husband, Darren:
Yamma Brown – Darren filled his head with other ideas. Ideas about how Darren could turn Dad’s considerable wealth into so much more that everyone in the family would benefit from, if only we would turn over the reins to him. That’s all he’d talked about since Dad died. The estate. He wanted to manage it for the family. He could turn Dad’s millions into billions with the right investments. That was his expertise. Would I please get my damn family to agree?
My sister was especially leery of the part of Darren’s plan that put him in charge of the estate. When I told him that afterward, he blew a gasket. “That stinking, rotten bitch!” he raged. “Who does she think she is?” He badgered me to pressure Deanna to see things his way, but even though I was too afraid to come right out and tell him, I wasn’t about to try to talk Deanna into anything, nor could I. Deanna is a strong woman, and she didn’t trust Darren, with good reason. She knew his history. He had blown his share of business deals—and our new house was on the way to foreclosure, for God’s sake. Why would she put her future in his hands?
Yamma says she refused and that things then turned violent:
“I’m not going to try to convince my sister to do anything, Darren,” I said firmly, interrupting my husband in the middle of his rant. “Please! Just let me mourn my dad.” He stopped shouting and stared at me. He was stunned that I was talking back. How dare I?
Darren lurched at me, cursing and spewing his rage with such force that his spit sprayed my face. “Who do you think you are?” he shouted. “You stupid bitch. You and your family don’t know what you’re doing. You’re going to f@!k up everything.” I wiped his saliva from my cheeks and turned to walk away. “Do you hear me?” he yelled, his voice seething with scorn. “You have no idea how to run this, and neither does anyone else in your family. What the hell do you know about anything?” God, I hated him. “Don’t you walk away from me! Don’t you dare walk away.”
“You’re crazy!” I cried. “You need help!”
That’s when Yamma says she grabbed a knife:
Backing into the kitchen, I saw the paring knife on the counter. I grabbed it and started swinging. Darren’s eyes said everything. I knew that at that moment he could kill me. “Leave me alone!” I cried. Darren lunged at me. We scuffled for a few seconds. I stuck the knife in his forearm and watched as blood trickled onto the floor. I tried to run away, but he grabbed me from behind, spun me around, and drove his fist into my face. I went down, and my head smacked the tile floor. Warm blood seeped from a gash in my scalp. I imagined gooey yoke oozing from a cracked egg.
I lay there for a moment, trying to focus, wondering how badly my head was bleeding, questioning whether I would even be able to save myself. If I could keep from losing consciousness, I still had a chance. My kids, I thought. I have to win this battle for my kids. My nephew appeared and tried to pick me up, but I screamed out in pain. I could barely move my mouth. It hurt to try to talk. I heard Darren rummaging through my closest, pulling all of my clothes off the hangers. I lay very still as he paced back and forth between our bedroom and the kitchen. Had he lost his mind?
She continued:
“You cut me!” he screamed. “You f@!ked up. You’re going to jail and I’m going to get the kids. Now get your sorry ass up.”
At that moment, lying on that cold tile floor, with my head pounding and my vision blurred, I saw my marriage with absolute clarity, and I knew it was over. I’m not sure why I was so certain this time. Maybe Darren had finally beaten the pretense out of me. My marriage had survived for ten years on false hope and make-believe. Now there was nothing left but the bare and brutal truth. I was an abused woman and I wasn’t going to take it anymore. Any feelings I still had for Darren were finally dead. Now if only God would let me live. That’s when the room went black.
