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Milwaukee police on Monday, April 20, began digging up a home once owned by notorious Milwaukee drug dealer Michael Lock.

The dig marks another chapter in Lock’s long criminal history in Milwaukee, which has included convictions for homicide, drug dealing, kidnapping, torture and running a prostitution ring.

As of 6 p.m., April 20, police had partially dug up the concrete driveway and yard in Lock’s former home. Lock has been convicted of murders of other drug dealers whose bodies were found under concrete slabs at a different home he owned.

As the dig continues, here’s what to know about Lock:

Who is Michael Lock?

Lock was the head of a murderous criminal organization known as the “Body Snatchers” and one of the leading criminal operators in Milwaukee until his 2007 arrest.

Over the course of a decade, Lock’s organization sold large volumes of cocaine, tortured and killed other dealers, prostituted women across the Midwest and ran a mortgage fraud scheme.

April 21, 2016.

Ten years later, that day still doesn’t seem real to me.

I was sitting in the newsroom of The Montclair Times in the early afternoon when word came that Prince had died.

I was incredulous. One of my musical heroes was gone. No way.

I was skeptical because I am a reporter. But also because it was Prince — a superstar so secretive and controlling of his music and public image that you could imagine he would have to give his permission to let the world know of his demise.

As the day passed, videos showed grieving fans standing outside his home and music studio complex, Paisley Park, not far from his beloved Minneapolis. That’s when the reality dawned on me.

Prince Rogers Nelson had gone 2 the afterworld at only 57 years old.

He was gone so young — he had so much more music in him to record, release and perform in public for an adoring audience. He died alone after collapsing in an elevator at his complex.

Those things made me sad.

But I was also annoyed at myself. For not being a better aficionado of his music — by never seeing him in person and not collecting every piece of music he ever recorded.

After a few days of listening to the radio and online to “Purple Rain” and “1999” being played ad nauseam, I also heard lesser-known cuts like the heartbreakingly melancholic and sadly appropriate “Sometimes It Snows In April.”

When I heard the depressing reports that he died due to an accidental fentanyl overdose, I resolved to pay proper tribute to The Purple One.

I would go to Minnesota on a Prince Pilgrimage.

‘Nothing Compares 2 U’

April to June 2016.

I said I would go to Minneapolis, to Prince’s home ground, to pay my respects to him. I didn’t think I would go through with booking a ticket on United Airlines from Newark for the weekend before his birthday.

I had used up most of my vacation days and had one to spare, but not another to stay through Prince’s actual born day. Just my luck.

At least I was fulfilling a commitment to an artist I adore.

I wouldn’t say I was a fanatic for his Royal Badness (one of the many nicknames he carried in his lifetime). But he’s one of the few musicians who really moved me.

I heard his music growing up in the 1980s in Jersey City as a matter of course when the radio dial was set on R&B or pop music stations like KISS-FM and Z-100.

When Prince’s sixth studio album, “Purple Rain,” was released in the summer of 1984, it was a revolution that pushed the rising star into the stratosphere.

I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing the screeching guitar and chanting of Prince that provided the intro to “When Doves Cry,” or the rhythmic strumming of the guitar and the clashing electric drums that start off the album’s title song.

However, it was watching “Purple Rain,” the movie, that put me on the Prince Express. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t act to the satisfaction of critics or that the plot seemed corny. I was just absolutely enthralled by him and his band, The Revolution, tearing through numbers that were a mélange of funk, rock and new wave, while in a musical rivalry with another badass, Morris Day, and his group.

My 13-year-old self also developed a crush on the leading lady, Apollonia Kotero, for her sultry voice and because she stripped nude to purify herself in the waters of Lake Minnetonka. It blew my mind then (and still blows my mind now).

Prince would remain in the background of my music listening as the years passed.

If it wasn’t his voice, it was the voice of others singing his songs, because he was as adept a songwriter as he was a performer. “I Feel for You” (Chaka Khan), “Manic Monday” (The Bangles) and “Nothing Compares 2 U” (Sinéad O’Connor) are some of the major hits that came from his pen.

The first vinyl album I ever got, in my teens was “Around the World in a Day,” his 1985 anti-commercial and purposely obscured follow-up to “Purple Rain.”

In college and afterward, whenever I had a few bucks in my pocket, I bought various albums on CD: “Diamonds and Pearls,” “The Black Album,” “The Gold Experience” and “Rave Un2 the Joy Fantastic,” and “Lovesexy” on cassette. I paid for a ticket to watch what may be Spike Lee’s worst movie, “Girl 6,” in part to hear Prince’s music.

But it wasn’t just Prince’s virtuoso musicianship that made me a believer. It was also his personality, confounding and infuriating at the same time, that intrigued me.

I chatted with NYU classmates about how he slept no more than two hours a day because he worked so hard in the studio, playing all the instruments and producing every track. Yet he looked like he hadn’t aged a minute.

You would hear stories of him boosting artists that he admired by having them play on his albums and in concert. Then you would hear stories of his unkindness and controlling nature toward his bandmates and others in his inner circle.

He was a man who attained a level of stardom that demanded he bask in the spotlight at all times. Then there was the man who operated in secrecy and would alternate between the public, large-scale appearances and his surprise late-night concerts at small venues.

He was a true Gemini.

In the late spring of 2016, I was taking in all of who Prince was, as he was no longer among us mere mortals, while preparing to pay homage to him.

‘MPLS’ and ‘Uptown’

June 3 to 5, 2016.

“Rock ‘n’ Roll Is Alive! (And It Lives in Minneapolis)”

Prince’s 1993 song popped into my head as the United Airlines plane landed at Minneapolis-Saint Paul International Airport around 10:30 p.m. on June 3.