Nobody knew that before the first episode of 50 Cent's new show Hip Hop Homicides aired, the world would be mourning another death of a rap star caused by gun violence. Migos member, Takeoff's unexpected death hit hard, and everyone is still reeling, trying to put the pieces together to a complex puzzle that's all too familiar but remains unsolved.

There are those who feel as if they have the answers to the violence — from stricter gun control, to a real conversation about the violent lyrics of some Hip-Hop artists and how it drips into real life, to delving into the lingering trauma inflicted upon Black people during and after slavery. For his part, executive producer and showrunner, P. Frank Williams is focusing on humanizing the victims of the violence that feels all too common these days.

“Executive producing this series was truly a labor of love,” Williams said in a press release. “Oftentimes, the families and friends of these victims are hesitant to talk about these incidents for a myriad of reasons. But the Hip Hop Homicides team was determined to make sure that we gave them a proper investigation to help fans learn more about what really happened and to also get closure for their families.”

The first episode of the series, which is hosted by journalist Van Lathan, focuses on beloved Brooklyn rapper Pop Smoke, who was killed in 2020 during a robbery at the Airbnb he was renting in Hollywood Hills when he was just 20 years old. While all four of the accused are in jail, questions have circulated about the circumstances surrounding his murder, and the show looks to expose them.

Structurally, the series doesn't stray too far from the setup of most true-crime procedurals, with cinematic backdrops and tension-building music marking major moments as Lathan probes the case. He meets up with an ex-NYPD cop turned P.I. named Jimmy who shares his inside perspective on things outside of a nondescript abandoned building. Pop Smoke's mother, Audrey Jackson, is interviewed inside of an empty church, the stained glass windows echoing off her face as she speaks about her son. And when Lathan is talking to Pop SMoke's closest friend, Michael Durodola (Mike Dee), the camera focuses on his eyes, as if looking for the truth.

Throughout the first episode, there is an air of suspense, particularly when the woman who was with Pop Smoke at the time of his murder agrees to go on camera for the first time and not-so-subtly points the finger at Pop's friend, Mike Dee. The suspense amplifies when Mike at first refuses to speak to Lathan, though he's eventually cajoled by Pop's friend/mentor 50 Cent.

But to the show's credit, it manages not to feel exploitive in its attempts to get to the bottom of the murder — mostly, it just feels really, really sad. The focus on someone so young and vibrant who had his life snatched away so violently and senselessly hovers over the entire episode. Lathan spends time getting to know Pop's mother, his closest associates, and his peers who make the same drill music Pop did, as a way to explain how his musical output may have informed his life choices and environment.

Save for the interview with the woman who was present at the time of the murder, most of the information in the first episode is common knowledge for fans of the young rapper, and readily available online for those who were not. Where Hip Hop Homicide finds its sweet spot is in its portrayal of these young rappers as what they are — young people, often with too much access to things they were never properly experienced enough to handle. When Mike Dee gets on camera the second time with Lathan, he almost looks like a little boy, lost, afraid, overwhelmed, and grief-stricken.

Respected L.A. veteran rapper, Glasses Malone, shows up to chop it up with Lathan, offering a warning to rappers about showing up in cities and not checking in with respected people from the neighborhood. He says that if Pop Smoke had checked in with someone, the chances of him being robbed would've probably been "drastically reduced, 80 percent." The issue of the address where Pop was staying being posted on social media was addressed as well, and will likely continue to be noted throughout the series as a warning note. Glasses Malone goes on to say he doesn't think Pop's incident was a hit, but instead, a robbery gone bad since "flocking" (when people flock to the wealthy to rob them) is such a huge thing in L.A. these days.

In the end, that's essentially where the show wants the viewers to land — Pop Smoke was a tragic causality in an ongoing problem that's ultimately created by racist systems. The kids who committed the senseless act of violence were just that — kids. The shooter was only 15. "These are babies, I'm remembering not understanding the consequences to my actions at 15. So when you tell me the shorter is 15, he don't know," 50 says.

The ex-cop agrees. "A 14-year-old kid can walk in, do a crime like this and not even realize the consequences going in. Those two gunmen are going to go into juvie until they're about 25 years old, and they're gonna get their master's in crime. It is a cycle and it just doesn't break."

In the final moments, Van asks Glasses Malone what can he tell rappers who visit L.A., so that another situation like this doesn't happen again. "Stop trying to market wealth to poor people," Glasses Malone warns. "You don't come around poor people shining... We want to brag to each other about what we got when we know people are suffering and poor and try to market it as 'inspiration' — that's just aspirational at best."

The most poignant moments come in the final minutes of the show when Lathan sits down with Pop Smoke's mom. "After having done this thing, if you can't come back and fix your life, it's a complete loss," she says. "If they haven't been changed, my son died for no reason."

Hip-Hop Homicides airs Thursday, November 3 at 9 PM ET/PT on WEtv.