Jerry Langton Three-Book Bundle (30 page)

About a month later, on May 6, all murder charges were dropped against Niessen and Morris. Interviews with the accused had convinced police they were not present at the farm at the time of the killings. Instead, they were charged with being accessories after the fact.

Back in Winnipeg, Sandham continued as though nothing had happened, raising money and recruiting prospects for Bandidos. But a new rival emerged. One of the few surviving Ontario Bandidos, Aragon, who didn't make the trip to Kellestine's farm because he was out on bail and cautious of being watched by police, was attempting to reorganize the Toronto chapter with himself as president. He saw Sandham as an obstacle to this and began a campaign against him. He told the Americans that Sandham was a former cop. Sandham, lying, explained to the Texans that his only experience with the police was a mandatory special-weapons course he participated in while he was with the military. And he retaliated against his accuser, claiming that Aragon — like many Toronto members — was breaking a Bandidos' bylaw by not owning (or even knowing how to ride) a Harley.

The American reaction showed anger at the pair of them, frustration that the Canadians still couldn't get their act together and confusion as to why two Bandidos “brothers” would be so openly hostile to each other. Houston's Carlton “Pervert” Bare was given the duty of communicating with them. He told Sandham that cops and ex-cops could never be Bandidos and that if he found out Aragon's allegations were true, he'd pull Sandham's patch. And he told Aragon that without Harleys, he and his men couldn't consider themselves Bandidos either.

Sandham promised to visit Texas and iron everything out; he also promised to tell them more about Aragon. For an extra bit of ammunition, he signed on to Mushey's e-mail account and, pretending to be him, wrote the Texans a long and strident letter in support of Sandham and his leadership skills, noting that he believed that Sandham had never been a cop.

Just as that crisis was looming, on June 16, police in Winnipeg arrested Sandham, Mushey and Aravena and took M.H. into protective custody.

The American Bandidos denied involvement, and no charges related to the Shedden Massacre were ever laid against them. There was never any evidence that the Americans ordered or even authorized Kellestine or Sandham to use force when taking Toronto's patches away.

On December 8, Niessen and Morris came to trial. All charges were dropped against Morris, who had spent six weeks in jail before making bail. Niessen received a two-year sentence for obstruction of justice.

The accused Bandidos first showed up in court on January 8, 2007. And Kellestine was immediately a problem. When he was led into the courtroom for his preliminary hearing, he gave the collected reporters the finger and swore at the courtroom artist. When asked about his client's behavior, Kellestine's lawyer chalked it up to stress. “He's got a lot of pressure on him,” Clayton Powell said. “I don't know, it seems okay to me.”

Sandham wept openly and would sometimes cover his ears when certain grisly details of evidence were discussed.

Some of the lawyers complained about being searched on their way into the courtroom.

After suffering a brutal beating in the jailhouse shower later that month, Kellestine was moved into protective custody.

On March 27, 2008, an unknown assailant set the Kellestine farmhouse on fire. It was destroyed, but the big, ominously black barn where the initial confrontation took place still stands intact.

The trial opened in September 2009, 41 months after the incident. As in most biker trials, there were some ridiculous incidents. The accused complained there was not enough meat on their ham sandwiches. They were later caught flushing ham down toilets, which allowed the court to dismiss their claims.

Kellestine told a story of how he demonstrated to the other Bandidos how stupid Gardiner was by sending him out of the house to pick pickles off his pickle tree. He also said that Mushey pushed a note up against his cell partition that read, “You're a dead man.” When asked where it was, Kellestine said Mushey had eaten it.

Gardiner motioned to a local reporter that he wanted to talk with her. When he did, he handed her a note, it read:

Sandham too was in protective custody, and his clear plastic partition was later covered in paper to prevent the other bikers from intimidating him. He testified that he only joined Bandidos in an effort to become a highly paid police informant.

He also likened Bandidos membership in Canada to a “revolving door,” and said that members were stripped of their patches all the time in a nonviolent way. While that concept perfectly rationalized his argument that he arrived at the unpatching ceremony without any idea that violence would be involved, it did not explain why he was armed with a powerful rifle and wearing a bulletproof vest.

M.H. — who was an actual police informant — described the Canadian Bandidos succinctly: “They were at the very bottom rung of biker gangs. Some were in their forties but still lived with their parents. They were not making any money, many of them had been rejected by Hells Angels and half of them didn't even own a motorbike.”

And various details of Kellestine's character — beyond his Nazi fixation and fondness for firearms — came out. Sandham mentioned that he heard Kellestine muttering to himself about murdering two of the Toronto members and “cutting them into little pieces.” When the court asked why he didn't take that as a warning sign, Sandham replied that he thought Kellestine was joking, When the court was aghast, he explained by saying, “He has a very, very dark sense of humor.” To emphasize this, Sandham told a story of how when he and Kellestine were walking in some nearby woods, they came across some deer droppings. Kellestine popped them in his mouth and started chewing. When he saw Sandham's horrified reaction, he started laughing uproariously.

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.

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.