LIVING IN HELLS' SHADOW

Fearful Witness Helped Put 6 Outlaw Bikers Behind Bars

Sylvain helped shut down the Hells Angels chapter in Thunder Bay.

But the man, who didn't want his full name used to protect himself,
says he has nothing to show for being a police agent who helped close
down the clubhouse.

He's now relocated somewhere in Canada under Ontario's witness
protection program.

"To be honest, right now at this moment, I'm shaky, I'm a bit scared.
In fact, right now, I'm a lot scared," Sylvain says.

He says he received about $300,000 for working with the Biker
Enforcement Unit in Project Husky, a two-year probe that ended in
2006 and arrested six members, 21 of their associates and shut down
an alleged $2.3-million drug distribution network that linked
Ontario, Quebec and Alberta.

Prison terms ranged from four months to 6 1/2 years for a wide range
of offences.

Last March, a court ordered the Heron St. clubhouse forfeited to the Crown.

"This is a very significant forfeiture," Det.-Insp. Dan Redmond, BEU
commander said then in a press release.

Thunder Bay Police Chief Robert Herman added the clubhouse had "long
been a thorn in our side. Its forfeiture is a good news story for our
community and demonstrates our commitment to working with our
partners to stop the unlawful activities of outlaw motorcycle gangs."

The man who made it happen, Sylvain, has little left after buying
vehicles for his work as a driver and says his cover has been blown.

Everyone in the small undisclosed town he's living in knows he worked
for the police and are too scared to hire him.

$29 A DAY

He turned down the program's last offer to relocate him, covering
expenses and $29 a day for six months.

"You think I made something? I made (nothing)," he says.

He wants a better deal and police are threatening to cut him off now
that he's spoken to the Sun.

Sylvain was urged to go to police by an ex-girlfriend after he got
himself jammed with the Italian mob in Montreal. The rig driver
admits to bringing in large loads of cocaine in tractor-trailer
shipments from Miami, including one of 200 kilos in the 1990s, sins
that police are aware of, he says.

He says he was wrongly accused of taking four kilos by his underworld
bosses and was beaten savagely.

"The first beating I had was just practice," he says.

Sylvain was later targeted with death and while in New Jersey hiding
from the mob, he turned to the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration,
who in turn set up a meeting with the RCMP in Miami.

What Sylvain wants now since he's too well known in Canada is to move
to the U.S., hopefully to work for American law enforcement.

But the only recent job offer he got from police was another attempt
at the Hells in Canada, who now know what he looks like.

"You can change your name as much as you want to, but you can never
change my face," Sylvain says.

In Project Husky, the truck driver provided what police dubbed the
"Trojan Horse," a tractor-trailer used on the gang's runs and
advertised a motorcycle shop.

Since then, Sylvain has been on the move.

His first relocation was a bug-infested fishermen's shed "and they
moved me to another place, and then another place. At that time, I
could not work or nothing because they were changing the name and the
SIN number.

"How can you go to work if you don't have a SIN number? At the last
relocation, the RCMP wanted me to work for them somewhere in the
country. When I got there, it was to work the Hells Angels again. I
cannot work the Hells Angels in the same country," Sylvain says.

In July, he says he befriended a man who stayed at Sylvain's home.

The friend, he says, is a Hells hang-around from Quebec.

"I didn't know at the time, I let him stay at my house for a few days
and this is where I found out what he was," Sylvain says. "When I
informed the BEU, they made a threat assessment right away."

The emotional strain hit then when the man who finally was able to
build up a new family, had to give them up and start over.

Again.

"So the man I called dad and the guys I called brothers, the RCMP
told them they are not going to see me ever (again), that I was
working for them and I did an excellent job," he said. "They put me
in a motel and then they wanted to move me" to a place in Canada with
chronic high unemployment.

ON HIS OWN

The assistance program would cover his expenses and $29 a day for six
months, but after that, he'd be on his own.

"I didn't take their deal," he said. But word got around about
Sylvain, and no one wants to hire him.

"Everybody is scared of me because now they don't know if I was a
Hells Angel or if I was a spy, and no one wants to talk to me. And
now, Witness Protection don't want" to help, Sylvain said. "The only
thing I ask is to move me to the States. But I know that is not going
to happen. Because they're done with me."

Sylvain admits to being hard to handle. As an agent, he did what he
believed was right rather than what the cops told him, making for a
rocky relationship.

Ontario Attorney General spokesman Brendan Crawley refuses to speak
about Sylvain. The program is shrouded in secrecy to protect people.

Crawley says the program is geared to help people like Sylvain to
start over with a new identity, proper documents and some cash.

If a person in the Witness Assistance and Relocation Program,
operated jointly between the ministry and police, feels he's being
short-changed, "such a person should raise any concerns they have
with their contacts in the program," he says.

The program is not meant to be a permanent source of income. Crawley
says it doesn't provide rewards or benefits in return for testimony,
but covers expenses involved in moving, rent, utilities, food,
education or upgrading job skills, medical expenses, security systems
and changing identities.

"The goal of the program is to help people relocate, get
re-established and get on with the rest of their lives."