And Sandham wept often, citing a fear for his life and how he worried about what would become of his daughter. He had earlier testified that he “technically” had four children, but only mentioned concern for one.
Mushey and Gardiner fired their lawyers. They didn’t explain why. Local media speculated that it was a move intended to make it appear as though they were not helping put the other bikers behind bars. Realizing they were both facing serious prison time, both Mushey and Gardiner would have been well served to appear as little like rats as possible.
Closing arguments were heard October 19. Sandham’s lawyers accused Kellestine of being a psychopathic mastermind who found an opportunity to guarantee his standing while getting a chance to kill people. Kellestine’s lawyers accused Sandham of being a Machiavellian genius attempting to use violence to get ahead in the biker world while trying to frame Kellestine for the whole thing.
The jury went into deliberations on the morning of October 29. The following morning they had a unanimous verdict. Kellestine, Sandham and Mushey were all found guilty of eight counts of first-degree murder. Mather and Aravena were each found guilty of seven counts of first-degree murder and one count of manslaughter. And Gardiner, bringing up the rear as usual, was found guilty of six counts of first-degree murder and two counts of manslaughter. Of course, under Canadian law, even one count of first-degree murder guarantees life imprisonment with no chance at parole for 25 years. And that’s the maximum penalty for crime in Canada anyway, so the individual tallies of murder and manslaughter convictions were largely academic.
As the verdicts were read out, most of the accused remained stoic. Aravena buried his head in his hands, Gardiner looked like he was crying a bit (but it was hard to tell) and Mushey bowed to the judge. Kellestine, ever the showman, looked over at the media, grinned and gave a “whaddaya-gonna-do?” shrug.
Just as Superior Court Justice Thomas Heeney was thanking the six-man, six-woman jury for their patience and hard work, reality set in for Aravena. He exploded. “They’re fuckin’ goofs!” he screamed at the jury while giving them the finger with both hands. “You know some of us are innocent! You’re pieces of shit!” His lawyer, Tony Bryant (who made headlines years earlier as Paul Bernardo’s defense attorney), tried to restrain him. Aravena kept waving his arms and shouting. “Fuckin’ Tony! Fuckin’ Tony!” Then he started shouting unintelligibly, and a group of OPP officers stormed in to restrain him.
Although it may sound childish and comical, the word “goof” is considered perhaps the worst insult among Ontario’s likely-to-go-to-prison set. At least two murders in Kingston alone since the ’80s were reported to be the result of someone calling someone else the G-word.
Angry cries of appeals were heard immediately. But, of course, such high-profile verdicts are virtually impossible to overturn.
Sandham, Mushey, Aravena and Gardiner (who was from Southwestern Ontario, but had moved to Winnipeg in an attempt to become a Bandido there) were sent to prison in Manitoba. Mather was sent back to his native New Brunswick. Only Kellestine went to Kingston.
Chapter 14
Mongols, Mexicans and B.C. Bud
In January 2008, while Kellestine and his accomplices were awaiting trial, a court in Georgina (about an hour north of Toronto in good traffic) heard the case of the Shawn Douse murder. Accused were four Bandidos members — would-be president Aragon, full-patch Acorn, and prospects Randolph Brown and Robert “Bobby” Quinn. Also implicated were Sinopoli and Flanz, but, of course, they were both dead.
Most of the evidence came from a woman who testified they recruited her to help them “get back at” a friend. The woman, who knew Douse and also knew he was a cocaine dealer, was urged on December 7, 2005 to call him and invite him to Flanz’s house on Hattie Court in Keswick so she could make a purchase. She was also aware that the Bandidos and Douse had some beef and Acorn explained that he was annoyed with Douse for selling cocaine to his family and friends, especially his girlfriend’s sister, whom he said he was worried about because she was on the verge of breaking her probation.
The bikers were hiding behind the door when she let Douse into the house. Immediately, they began to beat on him. Brown stuffed a gag into his mouth, the others — although notably not Flanz — began to punch and kick him. After a brief struggle, it was obvious that Douse was dead. Brown then ordered the horror-stricken witness to clean up the blood, which had splattered on the walls and had drenched the entrance hall carpet so completely that it was running down the basement stairs.
The Bandidos then wrapped Douse’s body in sheets and a sleeping bag, put it in a car and drove away. A man walking his two dogs found it the next day — burned beyond recognition — in a deserted field in Pickering, just east of Toronto.
All of them were charged with second-degree murder. Since asphyxiation was a major contributor to Douse’s death (along with the beating and acute cocaine poisoning), Brown of nearby Jackson’s Point was the only one who couldn’t plea bargain. Acorn and Quinn — both of Keswick — pleaded guilty to manslaughter, while Oakville-based Aragon bargained down to aggravated assault. They all went to prison for a minimum of seven years.
You might think that with the Shedden Massacre crew behind bars for twenty-five to life and four more Bandidos from the Douse murder also in prison, it might have been the last gasp of Bandidos in Ontario, but you’d be wrong. And the Shedden Massacre wasn’t the last time Bandidos made headlines.
On the night of December 1, 2006, David “White Dread” Buchanan went out with friends to celebrate his 33rd birthday. Buchanan wasn’t just any guy. In fact, he was sergeant-at-arms for the Hells Angels West Toronto Chapter. That rank is usually reserved for the toughest and most aggressive member of the chapter. The job, in a nutshell, is to act as the chapter’s disciplinarian and primary offensive weapon. The muscular, tattooed Buchanan was up to the task.
And Buchanan wasn’t any biker, either. His nickname — usually shortened to “Dread” — came from the fact that, though white, he was born in Jamaica. Like many other Jamaicans, his family immigrated to Canada and settled in the crime-ridden Rexdale neighborhood in the northwest corner of Toronto, bordering Woodbridge.
As a youth, Buchanan ran with a mostly black street gang called the Mount Olive Crew. It was based in a high-rise apartment complex located at 1 Mount Olive Drive at the corner of Kipling Avenue. They were notorious in the neighborhood for drug sales and retaliatory (and even random) violence. And just as small-scale biker gangs strive to become Hells Angels or Bandidos, the Mount Olive Crew became the Mount Olive Crips sometime around 1995.
While Buchanan never led the gang, he was a very respected and valued member. He provided not just muscle, but income as well. He had a reputation as the area’s primary gunrunner. “He was certainly a source [of weapons] for the street gangs in the Rexdale area,” said Toronto Detective-Sergeant Kevin Torrie. “He was certainly very well known in the Etobicoke [western Toronto] area, that’s for sure. He certainly had no problem flexing when he was younger.”
His exploits and assets did not escape the notice of the local Hells Angels, who many in local law enforcement say supply the black gangs with drugs and weapons. They recruited Buchanan from the Mount Olive Crips, and made him a member quickly. His skills and connections guaranteed him a solid position, and he became sergeant-at-arms before long.
The bar he went to on his birthday wasn’t just any strip joint either. Club Pro Adult Entertainment is located on Doughton Road, near the corner of Jane Street and Highway 7 in Concord, just north of Rexdale and east of Woodbridge.
It has a reputation as a rougher club than most in the region. When I was talking to a Toronto prosecutor about strip joints in the area because of a case that involved a 13-year-old stripper from Bosnia-Herzegovina, her child-soldier-turned-drug-dealer boyfriend from El Salvador and legendary Hells Angel Maurice “Mom” Boucher, she summed up the club’s reputation pretty succinctly. “You have to put [downtown club]
The Brass Rail at the top, and Club Pro at the bottom of the list,” she said. “Club Pro has earned its name, if you know what I mean.”
It was something of a Bandidos hangout. In fact, perhaps the most prominent of all of Canada’s remaining Bandidos worked there. It was none other than Francesco “Cisco” Lenti, the former Loner, Diablo and Satan’s Choice member, who had been a fixture — albeit something of an eccentric one — in the Toronto biker scene for decades. He was 57 and walked with a pronounced limp from when his right leg was almost severed by a car bomb, but he still commanded some respect in his milieu.
His job at Club Pro was to be a “cooler.” Not a bouncer per se, a cooler’s responsibility is to calm situations and disputes down in an attempt to prevent violence. Lenti would approach troublemakers and use his talents as a negotiator to cool things down. He was also charged with the task of preventing customers from bringing drugs and weapons into the building. Club Pro owner Domenic “Mimmo” Marciano described the position by saying: “He was kind of the buffer, the cooler, to eliminate the other element that we didn’t want.”
Lenti knew from experience it was a dangerous business to be a biker from another gang in Hells Angels’ territory. Back in June 2006, some West Toronto Hells Angels met with him in a restaurant and offered him membership, no questions asked. Lenti politely refused.
Insulted, the Hells Angels (according to a police informant) decided not just to kill Lenti, but to display his body — in full Bandidos colors — on a public highway as a warning to others. That sort of thing is common practice in Mexico and Colombia where bodies (or more often, just the heads) of informants, rival gang members and police are often displayed as a terrorist tactic. It was, the Hells Angels said, intended to discourage anyone from joining Bandidos.
But one of the three men given the task of assassinating Lenti, Stephen Gault, happened to be a police informant. The police arrested the other two — full-patch Nomad Remond “Ray” Akleh and Hells Angels’ Oshawa chapter president Mark Cephes Stephenson — and warned Lenti of the plot. After that, Lenti began to carry a loaded 9-mm handgun with him everywhere he went.
And on the night of December 1, 2006, it was tucked into the waistband of his pants.
Lenti had his hands full that night. Buchanan hadn’t come to celebrate his birthday alone. In fact, he brought with him some considerable muscle — fellow members Dana “Boomer” Carnegie and Scott Desroche, along with prospect Carlo Verrilli.
Lenti had been at work for a little more than two hours when at 12:53 on what was by that time the morning of December 2, he went from the club’s office to the bar to get himself a coffee and a water. He recognized the four Hells Angels, even though they were not wearing their colors. He sat at the far end of the bar.
Whether by plan or by chance, the Hells Angels noticed Lenti and surrounded him in his chair. They began to argue. The Hells Angels forced him to acknowledge his identity and affiliation with Bandidos and accused him of attempting to establish a Bandidos chapter in their territory.
Realizing he was in a poorly lit part of the room that was out of the view of the club’s security cameras, Lenti got up from his seat and went into the brighter, more exposed lobby. The Hells Angels followed, and the argument resumed. A small crowd gathered to watch. Witnesses swore that Lenti appeared to be doing his best to calm the men down. Surveillance video backed them up. Buchanan was seen to be carrying an empty beer bottle by the neck.
One of the club’s bouncers decided to help Lenti out, and asked the men to leave. He was told to shut up, then pushed and eventually punched in the face by one of the bikers. Then Buchanan turned back to Lenti and punched him in the eye, knocking him down. When he got up, Lenti decided that Verrilli and Desroche were closing in on him. At that point he claimed he saw Buchanan flash a gun. So Lenti pulled out his own handgun. “I seen that guy pull it [a gun] out,” Lenti said later. “I went boom, boom, boom, boom. I just went for it. I shot him to death.” (No witnesses reported seeing any of the Hells Angels with a gun and none showed up on tape.)
As soon as he saw Lenti pull out his gun, Desroche jumped into a janitor’s closet. He would continue to hide in it throughout the incident.
Lenti kept shooting. He hit all three of the visible Hells Angels. Buchanan and Verrilli fell to the floor. Carnegie managed to flee out the front entrance. After a few seconds, Buchanan stirred. He rolled onto his back, and realized he couldn’t get up by himself. He offered his right hand to Lenti, in effect asking him to help him up. Instead, Lenti shot him just under his left eye. It killed him instantly. Lenti ran toward the door. Just before he left the building, he shot Verrilli — who was lying on the floor in a full-fetal position — one more time. Lenti took the gun with him, but left seven 9-mm shell casings on the floor. No other guns were recovered from the Hells Angels or the club.
Somebody called 911. Desroche left the closet and fled the scene, but returned minutes later to attempt CPR on Buchanan. When the ambulances arrived, Verrilli was taken to Sunnybrook Hospital, while the less seriously wounded Carnegie managed to drive himself to the much-closer Humber River Regional Hospital.
Lenti surrendered to police the next day, and later pled guilty to manslaughter in the death of Buchanan and to aggravated assault for the shootings of Verrilli and Carnegie. He was sentenced to six years in prison. About a year after the incident, Verrilli sued Club Pro for $1.1 million for the “psychological and physical injuries” he claimed to have suffered at the bar.
The Bandidos name flared to prominence one more time. On the unseasonably cool morning of August 30, 2007, a man named Jason “Salami” Pellicore was on his way to his daily workout at the Complete Fitness club in Richmond Hill, just north of Toronto. It was 9:25 a.m. and Pellicore was traveling from his car to the club when he was confronted by a man wearing a full-face motorcycle helmet. The man then pulled out a handgun and shot Pellicore four times in the head and abdomen.
A woman who was passing by saw the shooting and ran into the health club screaming for help. Tony Farrah, a friend of Pellicore’s, jumped off a treadmill and ran into the parking lot. He was joined by his nephew and a health club employee named Frank who initiated CPR as the two Farrahs did their best to minimize Pellicore’s blood loss and make him comfortable. Soon paramedics arrived and took him to York Central Hospital where he was pronounced dead after a short revival effort.
Witnesses said the assailant escaped on a small motorcycle or scooter. Definitely not a Harley. A man and bike matching the descriptions was captured on surveillance cameras, circling around the club before the shooting, perhaps waiting for Pellicore to arrive.
Pellicore had been in some trouble before he was murdered. York Police Detective-Sergeant John Sheldon told media at the time he believed the murder “was a targeted hit.” He said that Pellicore was well known to local police and that they had visited his home many times in the past. Some sources said he made his money as a Mafia debt collector, but wasn’t always in their good books because he didn’t always return with all of his bosses’ money.
Pellicore was actually out on bail awaiting trial along with a Pefferlaw man named Jose Silva for uttering death threats, extortion, weapons charges and mortgage fraud. And he had some problems with local bikers; in fact, the Hells Angels.
Earlier in his career, Pellicore was a prospect for the West Toronto Hells Angels, but he had quit because of the menial and degrading chores full-patch members forced him to do. A few weeks before the shooting, Pellicore had suffered a beating from some Hells Angels. He then went to police and told them he felt his life was in danger. He had become convinced that a Hells Angel had stolen his girlfriend. The same Hells Angel had since been kicked out of the club for excessive use of crack cocaine, but after the assault, Pellicore was sure the club had it in for him.
Perhaps he meant it, or perhaps he just wanted to irritate the man who stole his girlfriend, but Pellicore started telling people he was going to establish a new Bandidos chapter
in another small community north or Toronto, his hometown of King City.
American Bandido Edward Winterhalder, who has become something of a go-to guy for media concerning the gang (especially in Canada), said he believed that Pellicore had some involvement with the club, but opined that the hit was not related to a Hells Angels-Bandidos war in Ontario. “This will probably be something that is not club-related in the end,” he said. “I think it will have something to do with his private life. Normally, when something like this happens, it’s traditionally over either women or over drugs — he, to my knowledge, had no interest in drugs at all.”
Someone claiming to be Pellicore’s cousin posted a memorial on the guestbook of Bandidos’ official website (which is now based in Denmark), and many people have written their condolences for him on another biker-oriented site — Levack, Ontario-based White Trash Networks, which can be found at bikernews.org — most of them mentioning his affiliation with Bandidos.
His killer was never caught.
By the fall of 2007, the Shedden Eight were dead, Pellicore was dead, Weiche was in hiding (his father says he’s in Winnipeg, but other sources have told me Alberta), Aragon was laying low, Lenti, Kellestine and his friends were all behind bars. There really wasn’t much left of Bandidos in Canada. And on October 1, their extinct status became semi-official. A post showed up on Bandidos’ official website guestbook that read: “As of October 2, 2007, the Bandidos MC 1% Canada is officially shut down. There isn’t no more Bandidos MC membership in Canada.” It has since been removed.
It was signed by “Cisco 13. 1%er Canada.” Cisco, of course, is Lenti’s nickname. As Bandidos’ top-ranking survivor, he would be the person in charge of closing up shop. The extenuating circumstance that he was in prison was trumped by the fact that there was nobody left to delegate the task to.
Jerry Langton Three-Book Bundle Page 22
