Tony Bogard was the King of Imperial Courts.

When he was killed Jan. 13 in a shootout at the Watts housing project, the gangbanger-turned-peacemaker was mourned as a martyr akin to Malcolm X. Nationally renowned for championing the 1992 truce between Crips and Bloods, he had become a symbol of redemption in South-Central Los Angeles, luring celebrities and government dollars to a community that rarely reaps such rewards.

But Bogard's heroic transformation was a myth--and a cautionary tale about the corrupting pull of the streets.

Even as he condemned the violence that he had wreaked for more than half his life, Bogard allegedly siphoned thousands of dollars from his gang's drug sales, dice games and robberies, authorities say. The FBI had been investigating him for months, and a federal prosecutor took the unusual step of attending his autopsy just to confirm that the star suspect had been lost.

Whether cruising in his '64 low-rider Impala or appearing on "The Oprah Winfrey Show," the 30-year-old ex-con preached the gospel of self-empowerment, urging economic development to ease the ills of riot-torn Los Angeles. Yet it was the treacherous economy of the underworld--long the source of his livelihood--that ultimately sank Bogard's dreams of tapping the American mainstream.

As he made his rounds that windy night in Imperial Courts, Bogard confronted a fellow member of the PJ Watts Crips in a parking lot on 114th Street. When the shooting stopped, 25 casings lay scattered on the ground, along with Bogard, caught without his customary bulletproof vest.

His supporters say that Bogard was standing up to a dope dealer, demanding that he donate a share of his illicit profits to compensate for poisoning their community. Critics argue it was little more than a shakedown, a common practice whenever Bogard's homeboys failed to "pay tribute" with a cut of their spoils. The alleged assailant, awaiting trial for murder in Compton Superior Court, claims he fired in self-defense--a contention supported by gunshot residue on Bogard's hand.

"Tony's a perfect example of the shades of gray--the good and bad--that's combined in a lot of guys struggling to make it out there," said former NFL star Jim Brown, founder of a recovery program for ex-gang members. "He was instrumental in the peace, that's true. But when it comes to the reality of survival, people go back to what they knew best. The 'hood always tries to reclaim you."