INVESTIGATION AS AMERICA REELS FR Inside the world of the brutal Bandidos
BLOOD-THIRSTY biker gangs brought murder to the streets of America this week after a brutal shoot-out left NINE dead.
It began as a bout of fisticuffs between members of the Bandidos Motorcycle Club and their enemies, the Cossacks, in a restaurant in Waco, Texas.
And it quickly escalated into all-out war, as knives, heavy metal chains and guns wreaked havoc, leaving gore-soaked corpses and 18 others in hospital.
A staggering 100 rounds of ammunition were exchanged between the two-wheeled enemies – and cops have since made a whopping 170 arrests.
A clearly stunned Waco police Sgt W Patrick Swanton said: “There were dead everywhere, blood everywhere.”
But for those with intimate
you cock up as a member of the Bandidos, you pay a heavy price.
And while the idea of loyalty above all else is held dear in the club, Bandidos also have no qualms about massacring fellow ‘brothers’.
That’s what happened in 2006 when eight men – George ‘Pony’ Jessome, 52, George ‘Crash’ Kriarakis, 28, Bandido Canada president John ‘Boxer’ Muscedere, 48, Luis ‘Chopper’ Raposo, 41, Toronto chapter president Frank ‘Bam Bam’ Salerno, 43, Paul ‘Big Paulie’ Sinopoli, 30, Jamie ‘Goldberg’ Flanz, 37, and Michael ‘Little Mikey’ Trotta, 31, – were gunned down in cold blood by fellow Bandidos members in a barn near London, Ontario, Canada.
It began when Flanz accidentally swiped drugs belonging to the Hells Angels – a major no-no which threatened to derail the Bandidos’ shaky truce with their foes.
Six men connected to the Bandidos – Wayne Kellestine, Frank Mather, Brett Gardiner, Michael Sandham, Marcelo Aravena and Dwight Mushey – would end up being convicted of the first-degree murder of their biker ‘friends’. Caine takes up the story:
Bandidos leader John ‘Boxer’ Muscedere was an old-school biker, quicker to respond with his fists than his wits, though he was no fool. Now Boxer was dead. Everybody around him – at least everybody knowledge of the Bandidos – a drug-smuggling, gun-running group established by Vietnam war veteran Donald Chambers in 1966 – this grisly episode will have come as no surprise.
And other experts reckon it’s only a matter of time before these terrible scenes are repeated right here in the UK. Canadian Alex Caine spent 30 years as an undercover police officer, infiltrating North America’s most feared biker gangs.
In his book,
INSIDE JOB: Alex
Caine who was still alive – just seemed to accept their defeat, at the hands of their friends and fellow Bandidos, no less.
A prospect called Jamie Flanz tried to sweep away the evidence of it, but they were really just pushing the puddles of gore back and forth between cracks in the cement floor of Wayne Kellestine’s barn.
Kellestine was a white supremacist with a fondness for Nazi paraphernalia who even mowed a swastika into his lawn.
Boxer had been forced down at gunpoint – his power gone. Shortly after that he had been taken outside and would not be coming back.
Shots echoed from outside the barn. One by one the gang were being led out of the barn, to meet their deaths.
To neighbours, it would have sounded like firecrackers going off – a series of sharp pops and bangs lasting only moments.
‘Chopper’ Raposo had looked up and seen a rifle aiming down at him from the loft above. He pulled his sawed-off shotgun and got at least one blast off.
president Michael ‘ Taz’ Sandham was no doubt thankful for his bulletproof vest, which stopped the pellets which would have otherwise ended up in his chest.
Taz quickly returned fire. The blast from his shotgun hit Chopper in the upper body. Blood poured from numerous holes in his neck and chest.
Chopper was also shot at least once with a .22 calibre – the bullet severed a finger on his right hand and entered his chest.
‘Big Paulie’ Sinopoli tried to make it outside. A bullet in the thigh brought him down and he lay moaning on the floor.
‘Crash’ Kriarakis was also shot, taking a round in the stomach. Both were shot by a smallcalibre weapon by Kellestine.
Kellestine yelled as loudly as he could, ‘Everybody hit the floor, down, on the floor!’
By this point four of the eight arrivals had been shot: Pony, Mikey, Boxer and Jamie were lying on the floor.
Bam Bam was sitting on a couch over near the northwest corner of the room. Next to him, sitting on the floor in front of the couch, his eyes frozen in open surprise, his arm thrown back, lay Chopper. A massive amount of blood ran down his neck and chest and a large stain pooled around him on the floor.
Taz stood motionless at the edge of the loft, riddle in hand, his shotgun at his feet. Bam Bam had taken a shotgun blast of pellets in his lower leg.
Then Kellestine did something particularly strange.
He had obviously been dipping into the two-kilo cocaine sample he’d been given a few weeks earlier. He started dancing and singing the Deutschland SS anthem.
Boxer had finally had enough. He stood up and said, ‘If you’re going to do me, do me now. I want to go out like a man’.
Mikey and Jamie were ordered to roll Chopper’s body up in a carpet. They then GOING TO WAR: The Cossacks carried out the bloodsoaked sofa Chopper had been sprawled against.
Kellestine said to Boxer, ‘ Come on, let’s go outside for a few minutes and talk’.
They exited the barn. And any thoughts of Boxer’s walking away from the situation were dispelled when the echo of several gunshots resonated through the building.
Wayne told Pony to get in the back seat of a truck. Pony climbed in and Kellestine stuck his rifle in and shot him in the head. He lifted Pony’s shirt, pushed the barrel of his gun up underneath and fired a second shot into Pony’s chest. Pony slumped down, blood seeping from his gaping wounds.
Kellestine pointed to Big Paulie. ‘ Come with me’, he said. Without protest, Paulie got up and followed Kellestine out of the barn. A few minutes later, another volley of shots rattled the building. Then it was Bam Bam’s turn.
Jamie was the last to go. He knew beyond doubt that he was about to be shot by the very men he’d hoped, as a Bandidos prospect, to call his brothers.
Taz herded Jamie into the back seat of a grey Pontiac Grand Prix. The window was open and Taz pointed a handgun into the car, looked at Jamie for a second, and then shot him in the face.
Jamie sat for several minutes, blood dripping from the wound in his cheek onto his black nylon jacket. He didn’t die.
Now Mushey got into the front seat of the car. He turned around and paused for a moment. It seemed to him like Jamie was trying to say something.
Mushey fired a round into Jamie’s face, killing him this time.
he lifts the lid on their no-nonsense approach to the most barbaric acts of violence imaginable.