When trouble came, it arrived by the truckload, but instead of fighting one another, these gangs and their supporters joined forces against what they saw as a common enemy: the police. In Toyoma in 1972, a motorcycle gang led 3,000 rioters in a vicious battle with the police during which several cars were torched and many stores looted. Four years later, in Kobe, an even larger riot took place when police attempted to stop an illicit race meeting. A crowd of 10,000 went on the rampage, destroying patrol cars and taxis and stoning and setting fire to several police stations. A crowd pushed a police truck into a cameraman and killed him and the incident gave birth to a new name for the biker gangs: bosozoku (violent running tribes).
In the same way that Western motorcycle gangs rebel against authority, so the bosozoku took great pleasure in turning traditional Japanese values like wabisabi (elegant simplicity) on its head. They would paint their bikes a variety of garish colours and fit them with oversized windscreens and banana-seat backs that reached up as much as ten feet high.
The bosozoku acted as a recruiting ground for the Yakuza (the Japanese Mafia), but anti-boso legislation ensured that they never became a serious threat. By the early noughties, the police were detaining more than 100,000 each year on traffic violations. Then a law was brought in that allowed police to prosecute the crowds of spectators who turned out to see the gangs ride. The bosozoku fell apart, and in their place Japan saw the creation of smaller, more discreet clubs riding modified Harley Davidsons and aping the style of American gangs.
It was one such club that approached the Outlaws with a view to obtaining a charter and becoming Outlaws Japan MC. And after a period of several months prospecting, representatives from Canada, Germany and the AOA’s mother chapter in Chicago made their way to Okinawa for the patch-over party, along with members from Canada and Germany, but the main contingent of the dozen attendees came from England and Wales. And the patches themselves were handed over by Dink, promoted now to European and Asian President of the Outlaws.
It was, by all accounts, an eventful trip. ‘They’re not like us,’ Dink told Boone soon after he returned. ‘I’m not sure they completely understand what they’re getting into. But they’re part of the club now so if you ever fancy a trip to Japan, you know you’ll be looked after.’
Boone couldn’t get too excited by the club’s overseas expansion. Back home in the Midlands, a power struggle inside the Warwickshire chapter was getting close to breaking point.
The main source of the trouble was one of the newer members, Simon Turner, who Boone had first become acquainted with in the late nineties, when Turner was operating a stolen bike ring. Able to supply virtually any model to order, Turner was a skilled bike thief. He was also fascinated by the whole MC scene and desperately wanted to be a part of it. Boone had his reservations; Turner had a vicious temper and had been sentenced to a ten-year term for pouring petrol over a man and threatening to set him alight in order to secure a drug debt. He kept his own counsel, however, when Turner became an official hangaround, and in due course, a prospect.
The new recruit worked hard and had no problem showing the dedication required to win his full patch. Clearly ambitious, it seemed that his one aim in life was to get into the club as quickly as possible. In fact, once this goal had been achieved, his true craving for violence came to the fore. During regular brawls and bar fights, Turner would be the one to watch, and pull off, lest he ended up accidentally killing someone. And while others looked upon the occasional patrols that involved hunting members of the enemy as a necessary evil and a grim duty, Turner looked forward to them with psychotic relish.
By the end of 2006, Turner was frustrated with the direction his chapter was taking, particularly when it came to the war with the Angels. Although bound by the laws and constitution of the AOA, each chapter of the Outlaws operates independently and is responsible for the conduct of its own members. Turner wanted to be far more proactive about carrying out attacks on the enemy – and with a large chapter like Warwickshire behind him, he was keen to give the other side a pasting they would never forget.
Consumed with the acquisition of power, he did everything he could to gather the support needed to oust Caz and become president of the chapter himself. During church meetings, he was belligerent, voting against the majority just for the hell of it. If he failed to get an agreement to attend a certain venue for a run, he would take a few of his closest supporters and head there anyway, claiming there had been a misunderstanding or that he had been forced to divert because of a breakdown.
There were many in the chapter who wanted to curtail Turner’s power. It wasn’t so much that people were scared of him, it was more that he was an unpredictable character and it made sense to be wary around him. On the other hand, some of Boone’s closest comrades made it clear that they liked Turner, they shared his obsession with guns and his appetite for fighting, and they would follow him to the ends of the earth. One of his biggest fans was Dean ‘Trotter’ Taylor, who Boone had bonded with when they shared a cell in Shrewsbury prison.
Boone hated the way things were shaping up, and it was becoming hard for him to disguise his hostility. ‘I found that piece of crap on life’s scrap heap,’ he confided to a friend. ‘And now I realise I should have left him there.’
The only way to deal with Turner was to get rid of him and Caz had a solution. Warwickshire was a big area, he explained during a national meeting for the Outlaws MC, which both he and Turner attended. That was a problem the Pagans had encountered when they had been operating on their own. The best thing to do, he suggested, was to split the chapter in two. North Warwickshire would be led by Caz; the south Warwickshire chapter would be run by Turner. Anyone who wanted to move over to the new chapter was welcome to do so.
On its inaugural day, the south Warwickshire chapter had six full members and two prospects. So far as Turner was concerned, the time of reckoning had arrived. Along with Sean Creighton, his sergeant-at-arms, and Trotter, his loyal follower, he started to go out on mini-raiding parties, attacking local bikers whether they were affiliated to MCs or not, ensuring that everyone on the scene knew this area belonged to the Outlaws and no one else.
Ultimately, however, his anger was directed at the Angels. Although they had come across numerous opportunities, the club had never taken revenge for the attack on Switch, the Warwickshire Outlaw who had been shot twice in the back while riding home after a church meeting. There was also the issue of the Bulldog Bash, the festival which had been started all those years earlier by the Wolf Outlaws and then been hijacked by the Angels and turned into a massive money spinner. It took place on ground that the Outlaws regarded as theirs – but now that the club had split, it would be taking place in territory that belonged exclusively to the south Warwickshire chapter. Turner saw this as a personal insult, a commentary on his ability to control the area belonging to his club.
Feeding into these frustrations was his knowledge that, internationally at least, the Outlaws were making good on the old motto, ADIOS. He had read about the assassination of Hell’s Angel Roger ‘Bear’ Mariani, shot dead on the I-95 earlier that year. When the cuttings landed on his desk, Turner and his sergeant-at-arms Sean Creighton immediately drew parallels between that case and the shooting of the French-Canadian Angel on the M40 in 2001. No one had been arrested in either incident. The perpetrators, it seemed, had got away scot-free.
In June 2006, Christopher Legere, sergeant-at-arms of the New Hampshire chapter of the Outlaws, was arrested for the murder of a man who had been wearing a t-shirt supporting the enemy. Once again, details of the case were circulated to Outlaws chapters around the world.
The reports told how John Denoncourt tried to enter the Three Cousins lounge, an Outlaws’ hangout, while wearing a Hell’s Angels t-shirt he bought as a souvenir the previous Father’s Day. At least two people tried to dissuade him from going into the bar saying the shirt would cause problems, but Denoncourt said he didn’t care. Legere was seen to go ov
er to the main windows and start pacing, become increasingly irate until he finally stormed out. Moments later he returned. The same people who had tried to talk Denoncourt into removing his shirt or turning it inside out now tried to restrain Legere, but the Outlaw pulled out a semi-automatic handgun and fired at least three shots in the direction of Denoncourt. One bullet ripped through his heart, killing him as he tried to run away.
The bar had been packed but most people insisted they had been in the toilet at the time of the shooting or that they had not seen anything. Legere’s girlfriend, who worked behind the bar, told the court she simply could not remember what had happened on the night in question. Little wonder people were reluctant to speak – the chief prosecution witnesses was himself murdered shortly after the death of Denoncourt.
So far as Turner and the rest of the south Warwickshire chapter was concerned, the Outlaws seemed to have the Angels on the run. Turner was keen to do his bit to keep the momentum going – and to take things to the next level. At this point, however, the Outlaws suffered a series of humiliating setbacks.
Across America, the Outlaws had been feeling so strong and so confident that they decided to attend the 2006 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally in South Dakota. One of the largest biker gatherings in the USA, Sturgis has been going since 1938 and attracts over half a million participants each year. Some Hell’s Angels own property in the area and the club always makes a strong showing at the festival, selling thousands of pounds worth of merchandise and scouting out potential recruits.
The Outlaws have traditionally stayed away. They made an appearance in 1990 and the visit ended in violence when one of their members was shot by a Sons of Silence gang member. Sixteen years later, a statement was placed on the club’s website: ‘Law enforcement agencies have been informed of the Outlaws MC intention to visit Sturgis this year. We are not going there to make any type of statement or display of power. We are simply going there to enjoy the Sturgis venue, see the historical sights and spend time with our brothers.’
Around 300 Outlaws, representing a total of 191 chapters, decided to attend. Rather than staying in the heart of the festival, they based themselves in a rented campsite in the Black Hills, some seventy-five miles from Sturgis itself. Fewer than one hundred Angels were believed to be at the festival at the same time.
Yet during a visit to Custer State Park, two Hell’s Angels in a white pick-up truck ambushed the Outlaws. The exact details of what happened remain unclear (none of the bikers involved made any kind of statement) but what is beyond doubt is that one of the Angels took aim at the Outlaws with a handgun, shooting and wounding five. One of those targeted returned fire, but by then the truck was speeding away.
No Outlaws were killed in the incident, but Turner felt sickened that members of his club had been attacked in this way. Jim Vlahakis, the State Division Criminal Investigation Director, told the press that he planned to meet with the two gangs to ‘try to head off any potential problems,’ and added that eventual retaliation was likely. ‘It may not happen here. It could happen a month from now somewhere else,’ he said. Turner added a quote of his own: ‘It could even happen on the other side of the Atlantic.’
More bad news came the following June. Outlaw Frank Vital was shot dead in the car park of the Crazy Horse Saloon in Forest Park, Georgia – killed by a member of the Renegades MC, a support club for the Hell’s Angels.
Now all that Turner could think about was revenge. He wanted to send a message out into the world: that wherever they were, no Hell’s Angel would ever be safe. He had the means and the motivation, and inspired by international events, he also had the method. So far as he was concerned, the sanction for carrying out a hit came from none other than National President Jack Rosga – the most senior Outlaw on the planet and a man who all the members of the British chapter paid a massive amount of respect to whenever they met up with him.
Daytona was by now an annual pilgrimage for Outlaws all over the world and the UK chapters were no exception. Turner had been over at least once and got to know many key figures from the leading American chapters of the club. He appreciated their no-nonsense approach to the biker life and their attitude to taking care of business. And Rosga, in particular, was an inspirational figure in Turner’s mind.
A veteran of the removals business and head of his own trucking company that earned him $100,000 a year, Rosga was apparently chosen for the post of national president because of his limited criminal history. A single conviction for a minor offence in the 1970s and a breach of a restraining order obtained by his ex-wife were the only blots on his copybook. (With both previous leaders serving lengthy sentences behind bars, the Outlaws were keen to choose someone who could at least give the appearance of being a legitimate businessman.)
But it was all a cover. According to an indictment, which emerged two years later, Rosga was responsible for directing campaigns of violence against enemies of the Outlaws across the country and beyond. In April 2007 he gave members the ‘green light’ to retaliate after an Outlaw member was fatally shot outside a strip club in Georgia. He also told a fellow Outlaw to clean his own house, meaning anyone suspected of helping law enforcement should be killed. He also demanded revenge on the Hell’s Angels after two members were attacked in Florida. And it was at this point that he issued the edict that Outlaws should seek out and shoot members of the rival gang. So far as Turner and the other members of the south Warwickshire chapter were concerned, that ruling applied to them as well.
An attack from a moving car seemed ideal. The car itself would be easy to identify but it would also be easy to get rid of. Hitting a moving target at speed would be difficult but, leaving nothing to chance, Creighton spent weeks practising his marksmanship on a tailor’s dummy that he kept at home.
A few of the more junior members of the chapter were reluctant to get involved but they were soon goaded into action. ‘Are you a fucking Hell’s Angel lover?’ asked Turner. ‘Do you want to be a fucking Hell’s Angel or something? No, then why aren’t you coming with me to shoot one of the fuckers?’
Every member of the chapter had a role. Vice-president Dane Garside would drive the main car. Creighton would be in the passenger seat with one handgun and Turner would be in the rear of the car with another. Creighton, the more accomplished marksman of the two, would aim at the actual target, Turner would shoot at the bike itself with the intention of bringing it down. Even if the first shot missed, crashing a heavy Harley at 80 or 90mph on a busy motorway was almost certain to prove fatal and their mission would be accomplished.
Numerous contingencies and backup strategies were in place so that in the event that their chosen Angel survived the initial burst of gunfire, Dean Taylor was a little further behind in a white Range Rover along with probationers Karl Garside (Dane’s younger brother) and Ian Cameron, while a final member, club treasurer Malcolm Bull, was patrolling the area in a Renault Laguna, acting as a link between their two vehicles. Whatever happened, at the end of the day, at least one Angel had to be dead.
On 9th August 2007, the first day of the Bulldog Bash, the team began carrying out reconnaissance of the network of roads around the festival, performing dry runs of the planned execution. The hit itself was planned for the Sunday and the seven men gathered that morning at five am waiting for a suitable victim.
It had to be a full-patch Angel – there would be little kudos in taking out a prospect or a hangaround – and he had to be travelling in a small group. If there were too many of them the killers risked being pursued by the remaining bikers and being caught. If there were only two or three in the group, they would all stop to assist their fallen brother. With any luck, the bikers might even crash into one another and take out a couple more Angels.
Just before one in the afternoon, the team were waiting in a lay-by on the A46 when they spotted the perfect target. The full patch Angel was at the front followed by a prospect and then what appeared to be a hangaround. Garside put his foot down, following the
bikes for the next thirty miles and gaining on them every second. It was time for the south Warwickshire chapter of the Outlaws to make their mark.
22
MOVING TARGET
12th August, 2007, Warwickshire, England
By the time he saw the gun it was already too late.
Hell’s Angel hangaround Pawel Lec was half-way home, riding his Harley south down the M40 motorway after an exhausting weekend at the Bulldog Bash, when he spotted a dark green car coming up fast from behind and pulled into the middle lane to let it pass.
Lec was bringing up the rear of a three-bike convoy and as he approached junction 12, near Leamington Spa, the car, a Rover 620 saloon, raced past him then suddenly slowed down to match its speed with that of the man at the front of the group, Gerry Tobin.
Lec could only watch in horror as guns appeared out of the passenger side windows and fired two shots in quick succession. ‘The car drove off and it looked like nothing had happened to Gerry,’ Lec said later. ‘Then after a very short time – two or three seconds – I noticed that Gerry let go of the handles of his bike and fell underneath the wheels of mine.’
The first bullet had smashed through the metal mudguard at the back of Tobin’s Harley Davidson FXTB Night Train and skirted through the tread of his rear wheel; the second skimmed the base of the biker’s helmet and lodged in his skull. Somehow, in the course of his fall, both of Tobin’s heavy biker boots came off. He ended up face down on the tarmac close to the central reservation while his bike skidded off onto the grass verge to the left.
Outlaws: Inside the Violent World of Biker Gangs Page 25
