IN­VES­TI­GA­TION AS AMER­ICA REELS FR In­side the world of the bru­tal Ban­di­dos

Midweek Sport - - NEWS -

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,


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.

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