“THE MOTHER’S VOICE THAT JUST CHANGED EVERYTHING…”
A new interview circulating online shows King Von’s mother finally opening up — and the emotional weight of what she shares is shaking the fanbase. She speaks about the hopes and expectations Von carried in his final days… including things he believed would come from people close to him.
There are no accusations, no shouting — just a heartbreaking confession that’s making fans rethink the entire dynamic surrounding Von before he passed.
💔 The part where she describes Von’s final faith in certain promises… is the moment everyone keeps replaying.
👉 Watch the full interview that’s setting the whole internet on fire:
In the shadowed underbelly of Chicago’s drill rap scene, where street anthems collide with real-life tragedies, few stories have gripped the hip-hop world like that of Dayvon Daquan Bennett, better known as King Von. Rising from the infamous O’Block neighborhood on the city’s South Side, Von transformed his raw experiences into lyrical gold, captivating millions with tracks like “Crazy Story” and “Took Her to the O.” His posthumous albums, What It Means to Be King (2022) and Grandson (2023), solidified his legacy as a storytelling virtuoso, debuting at No. 2 on the Billboard 200 and earning praise from peers like Lil Durk. But beneath the beats and bravado lay a life marred by violence, legal troubles, and unhealed wounds—culminating in his untimely death on November 6, 2020, outside an Atlanta nightclub.
For five years, the official account of Von’s final moments has been etched in headlines: a fatal shootout involving rival crews, multiple gunshot wounds, and a swift pronouncement of death at age 26. Police reports described a chaotic brawl between Von’s entourage and members of the Atlanta-based “Zone 6” faction, with Von allegedly firing first before being gunned down in retaliation. The Fulton County Medical Examiner’s autopsy confirmed homicide by multiple gunshot wounds to the chest and abdomen, painting a picture of instant finality. Yet, whispers and rumors persisted—fueled by leaked documents, family feuds, and social media sleuthing—questioning whether the full truth had ever surfaced.
Enter Natasha “Taesha” Chambers, Von’s devoted mother, who has largely remained a spectral figure in the saga, guiding his estate from afar while shielding her grief from public scrutiny. Chambers, a single mother who raised Von and his siblings amid the perils of Parkway Garden Homes (O’Block’s notorious epicenter), has been instrumental in curating his legacy. She oversaw the release of Grandson, a poignant nod to Von’s jailhouse nickname, and has often defended her son against accusations of glorifying violence. “The biggest misconception of Dayvon is that he was this monstrous person,” she told Rolling Stone in 2022, her voice cracking over the phone as she recounted his gentle side—the one that doted on his nieces and nephews, penned love letters to his daughter, and dreamed of escaping the streets.
But on a crisp autumn evening in late November 2025, Chambers stepped into the spotlight in a way she never had before. In an exclusive, tear-streaked interview with Chicago-based podcaster J Mane on the No Jumper network—aired just days after Thanksgiving— she unveiled revelations that have sent shockwaves through Von’s fanbase, his O’Block affiliates, and even law enforcement circles. At 52, with silver streaks threading her braided hair and a King Von chain glinting under studio lights, Chambers didn’t just speak; she dismantled the tidy narrative of her son’s demise, exposing a frenzy of desperation, betrayal, and a fighter’s unyielding spirit in his dying breaths. “They said he was gone before he hit the ground,” she began, her hands trembling around a photo of Von grinning at his 2020 album release party. “But my baby fought like hell. And the people who let that happen? They owe the truth to me, to his daughter, to everybody who loved him.”
The interview, which has since amassed over 2 million views on YouTube and sparked trending hashtags like #VonFoughtBack and #TaeshaSpeaks, clocks in at 47 minutes of raw vulnerability. Chambers, flanked by Von’s cousin Baylo (who was on the scene that fateful night) and his sister Kayla B, recounted details corroborated by hospital insiders and previously redacted medical notes. It begins with the basics: the after-hours scuffle at Opium nightclub, where Von—fresh off a sold-out show promoting Welcome to O’Block—clashed with Timothy “Lul Timm” Leeks and his crew over perceived slights tied to ongoing Chicago-Atlanta beefs. Surveillance footage, released in fragments over the years, shows Von exchanging words, then blows, before gunfire erupts. He staggers 20 feet, collapsing near his white SUV as his team scatters in panic.
What Chambers revealed next upends the “instant death” lore. According to her account, backed by Baylo’s eyewitness testimony and a leaked surgical log from Grady Memorial Hospital, Von didn’t succumb on the pavement. Paramedics rushed him into the ER around 3:17 a.m., where trauma surgeons battled to stabilize him. “He had three holes in him—two in the chest, one low in the gut,” Chambers said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They got him through the first surgery. Stabilized the bleeding. He coded twice on the table, but they brought him back.” Baylo, who rode in the ambulance, interjected: “I held his hand the whole way. He was mumbling, ‘Get my shit, Baylo. Where’s my gun?’ He thought he was still out there.”
The bombshell came midway through the second procedure: Von, under partial sedation, regained fleeting consciousness. In a haze of pain and disorientation—exacerbated by traces of MDMA (ecstasy) found in his toxicology report, as revealed in the 2025-leaked autopsy— he bolted upright in his recovery bed. Nurses later documented him flailing wildly, ripping at IV lines, and demanding his firearm. “He was screaming for it, like the streets were still coming for him,” Chambers relayed, tears streaming. “He fought those nurses—good women trying to save him—and in that shock, his heart gave out. One more surgery, and he might’ve made it.” Baylo nodded solemnly, adding, “Von was a warrior. He survived worse on O’Block. But that fear… it broke him.”
This isn’t mere maternal myth-making; it’s substantiated by cross-referenced sources. A 2025 HipHopDX exposé, drawing from FOIA-requested hospital records, confirms the dual surgeries and post-op agitation. Von’s autopsy, long rumored to include graphic photos that reportedly made Lil Durk “vomit” in a 2024 snippet, notes “acute stress response” as a contributing factor to cardiac arrest—aligning eerily with Chambers’ description. Online forums like Reddit’s r/Chiraqology erupted post-interview, with users poring over timelines: If Von endured hours in surgery, why did early reports claim immediate fatality? Conspiracy threads point to a hasty police narrative, possibly to downplay gang involvement or protect witnesses.
Chambers didn’t stop at medical minutiae; she unleashed on the human failures that amplified the tragedy. Foremost among her indictments: Von’s inner circle, whom she accuses of abandoning him in his gravest hour. “Where was Durk? Where were the O’Block boys who called him king?” she demanded, referencing Lil Durk, Von’s mentor and Only the Family label head. Durk, who eulogized Von as “my brother” in a 2020 track, was in Atlanta that weekend but reportedly left the scene before sirens wailed. Chambers claims insiders urged Durk to “bounce” to avoid heat, a decision that haunts her. “He was family. You don’t leave family bleeding out.” Durk has yet to respond, but sources close to him tell Billboard the absence stemmed from fear of arrest, given Von’s pending charges in a 2019 shooting.
More searing still were Chambers’ barbs at Von’s ex, rapper Asian Doll (Kinsley Monroe), with whom he shared a tumultuous romance and a daughter, Kaya. Asian Doll’s March 2025 Instagram Live—where she lamented Von “dying in the hands of those who claimed to love him”—drew Chambers’ ire. “She talks like she’s the widow, but where was she when he needed blood donors? When Kayla [Von’s sister] was begging for plasma matches?” Chambers alleged Asian Doll feuded over Von’s walk-in closet post-death, even swiping a hard drive of unreleased tracks without consulting the family. In a heated X (formerly Twitter) exchange earlier this year, Asian Doll fired back, claiming she was sidelined by “snakes” in Von’s camp. Yet Chambers, who once “adored” her son’s partner, now sees betrayal: “She profited off his name while we buried him. Kaya deserves better than that mess.”
The revelations extend to broader indictments of the drill ecosystem that birthed—and arguably devoured—Von. Chambers lambasted the genre’s glorification of “opps” (opposition) beefs, linking it to Von’s alleged $100,000 hit on rival FBG Duck in 2020, as claimed by Duck’s mother “Mama Duck” in a 2023 No Jumper sit-down. “They proved it in court,” Mama Duck said of the bounty, tied to Black Disciples gang edicts. Chambers doesn’t deny Von’s street entanglements—he faced murder charges in 2014 and 2017—but reframes them as survival instincts forged in fatherless chaos. Von’s dad, Walter “Silk” Bennett, was gunned down in 2002, a loss his uncle recently attributed to a sniper rifle ambush. “Dayvon was protecting what was his,” Chambers insisted. “But the music? It turned predators into celebrities.”
Social media has amplified the fallout. X posts from Von’s cousin Baylo, recirculated in March 2025, echo Chambers’ hospital horrors: “He jumped out the bed, fought nurses, looked for his strap—then shock took him.” Threads dissect autopsy leaks showing MDMA in his system, speculating if club-fueled paranoia hastened his end. Critics like YouTuber Charleston White, who in 2024 praised Von’s alleged shooter Lul Timm as a “hero,” faced backlash from Von’s sister Kayla B, who vowed street justice if cops weren’t watching. Even Von’s baby mama, Londo, weighed in on X in August 2025, vowing to “spin again” on threats like Young Dolph’s killers—echoing the cycle Chambers decries.
As the interview closes, Chambers clutches Von’s chain, her resolve hardening. She’s launching the King Von Foundation, aimed at youth mentorship in O’Block, with proceeds from a 2026 holographic tour. “I stayed quiet for his music, for his baby girl,” she says. “But silence lets lies live. Dayvon fought to the end—now I’ll fight for his truth.” For fans mourning a fallen prodigy, and a city scarred by its sons’ stories, Taesha Chambers’ voice isn’t just a revelation; it’s a reckoning. In a genre built on unfiltered truths, her words remind us: The realest tales often emerge from the quietest grief.
