BIKERS SUPPORT GRIEF-STRICKEN PARENTS
Crew in black leather jackets has been a presence at first-degree murder trial
They wear leather vests and dorags on their heads, sport scruffy beards and tattoos and go by names like Wheels, Circus and Got That.
For the past week, this group of hog-riding tough guys and gals has been a steady presence in and outside of the Calgary courthouse building, outnumbering the suitwearing lawyers and black-robed court staff.
Don’t be fooled by appearances, though. Look a little closer at the patches and pins on those leather vests, which read “Keepers of the Children” and “No Child Should Live in Fear.”
All week, I’ve been attending the same courtroom where a minimum of 20 bikers each day have sat, all of us listening to the heart-wrenching testimony in the first-degree trial of Marie Magoon and Spencer Jordan.
The two are accused of killing a 6-year-old girl in late 2011; the Crown alleges that Spencer Jor- dan’s biological daughter, Meika, was tortured over a period of several days before being declared dead on November 14, 2011.
In the spectators’ gallery, those ominous looking bikers have sat each day in stoic silence with Kyla and Brian Woodhouse, Meika’s mom and stepfather.
On Friday morning, they are nowhere to be found; neither are Kyla and Brian Woodhouse, or any other family member. Across from the near-empty courtroom, a man has just been sentenced to 22 months for torturing and killing a dog and a cat.
Looking into that packed courtroom, I wonder what happened to all those standing up for Meika Jordan. A quick phone call to one of the bikers clears up the confusion.
“The family just decided to take a break today, they went to the mountains,” Got That tells me. “When they return, we’re all going to be there, watching their backs.”
As the public relations guy for the Calgary chapter of Bikers Against Child Abuse ( bacaworld.org), Got That means what he says.
“I survived cancer 15 years ago, and started doing a lot of fundraising and volunteering,” says the man known to the rest of the world as Scott, a 52-year-old mortgage broker. “I adore chil- dren, so joining BACA just seemed like a natural evolution of what I was already doing.”
While Calgary has only had its chapter for just over a year, BACA has a long and storied history stateside. More than 20 years ago, Utah therapist John Paul Lilly staged an “adoption” ceremony for a child who was being abused. As the story goes, the child immediately felt empowered by the protection of burly, brave bikers, Lilly among them, and a movement was born.
Over the past two decades, the organization has grown into an international force with more than 3,000 members in eight countries.
With a mission statement to create safe environments for abused children, the non-profit organization whose members are not affiliated with other bike groups, makes sure they pass criminal and other background checks, as well as travelling in pairs so no member is ever alone with a child.
Last year, Scott — they don’t give out their last names for security reasons — says several of the Calgary members rode 11 hours each way to support a child at a trial in northern Alberta. “And when we did our march at the start of Meika’s trial, members from all over Western Canada came to support us.”
Their mandate is to support the child victims, accompanying them as they face their alleged abuser in court. In the case of Meika Jordan it’s all about Brian and Kyla Woodhouse, who are members of BACA and go by the nicknames Woody and Peeka (Peeka Pie was her mom’s nickname for Meika).
“Our job is to be with them every step of the journey,” says Scott, who counts in his group several blue-collar workers along with a few entrepreneurs and an accountant. “When Kyla runs out of the courtroom because she can’t listen to one more word, we’re right behind her.”
Earlier in the week, Woodhouse’s quick retreat with the ensuing stampede of bikers caused a few sheriffs to follow in hot pursuit. “They have nothing to worry about,” says Scott, who recoils at the suggestion there is even a trace of vigilante ethos in their approach. “We don’t care about the perpetrators, we are there for the victims.”
While appearances can be deceiving, Scott, whose bike of choice is a Vaquero, says he doesn’t care a whit if people don’t like the scruffy appearance of him and his crew.
“If we intimidate by the way we look, that’s fine,” says the kind man with a gentle laugh. “We only care about how we make the people we’re protecting feel.”
I adore children, so joining BACA just seemed like a natural evolution of what I was already doing.