From behind the cold steel bars of Louisiana State Penitentiary, where every legal door has now been permanently slammed shut, Corey “C-Murder” Miller has released what appears to be his final public message to the world — a stark, unflinching letter that is less a plea for mercy and more the quiet sound of a man accepting there is no way back.
The letter, handwritten and photographed by a trusted visitor before being shared through Miller’s legal team and social-media channels on February 5, 2026, arrives just days after the Louisiana Supreme Court rejected his last remaining appeal. The 55-year-old rapper and former No Limit Records artist has spent nearly 25 years incarcerated for the 2002 nightclub shooting death of 16-year-old Steve Thomas in Harvey, Louisiana — a conviction he has maintained was wrongful from the start.
There are no soft apologies in the text. No last-minute cries for clemency. No renewed vows of innocence. Instead, the tone is grim, resigned, and disturbingly final — the voice of someone who has run out of moves and is now simply marking what remains before silence takes over.
“I’ve carried this weight long enough,” Miller writes. “Every appeal, every hearing, every hope — gone. I don’t ask for forgiveness from those who won’t give it. I only ask that you remember who I was before the cage: a brother, a son, a creator who tried to lift people up. I failed in many ways. But I never stopped trying.”
The letter briefly mentions Master P (Percy Miller), his older brother and founder of No Limit Records, not as a source of comfort but as the last name spoken before the end: “P, you gave me everything. I wish I could’ve given more back. Tell the kids I love them.” He also acknowledges loyal supporters: “To everyone who wrote, who visited, who believed — thank you. You kept a piece of me alive. Now it’s time to let it rest.”
Sources close to Miller’s legal team describe the tone as “unsettlingly calm” — the words of a man who has exhausted every avenue and is now preparing to live out the remainder of his natural life inside Angola prison. The letter contains no new claims of innocence or evidence; instead it confronts failure, consequences, and a legacy sealed by irreversible choices made more than two decades ago.
The document’s release has triggered an immediate and polarized reaction online. #FreeCMurder trended again within minutes, with longtime supporters sharing the full text and calling it “a dignified exit from a rigged system.” Others — including some who followed the case closely — called it “chilling” and “final,” noting the absence of any last-minute fight or defiance. One viral comment read: “This doesn’t sound like a man still hoping for justice. It sounds like a man who’s already accepted he’s never leaving.”
Miller was convicted in 2003 of second-degree murder in the shooting of Thomas outside the now-defunct Platinum Club. He was granted a new trial in 2009 after a witness recanted, but was convicted again in 2011. Appeals have been exhausted at every level, including the U.S. Supreme Court’s refusal to hear the case in 2024.
For Miller’s family and fans, the letter feels like the closing of an era. Master P has not yet commented publicly, but sources say he is “devastated” and plans to release a statement soon. The No Limit community — once one of the most dominant forces in Southern rap — has been in mourning since the news broke.
As the final chapter of C-Murder’s story is written not in a courtroom but in his own hand, the words linger like an echo from a life already buried: no redemption, no reversal, just the quiet acceptance of consequences. Whether viewed as tragic, deserved, or both, the letter ensures that when the cell door closes for the last time, the voice that once commanded stages will fall silent — not in anger, but in finality.
