News (Media Awareness Project) - CN ON: Fortress Niagara |
| Title: | CN ON: Fortress Niagara |
| Published On: | 2008-12-16 |
| Source: | Tribune, The (CN ON) |
| Fetched On: | 2008-12-16 16:40:11 |
FORTRESS NIAGARA
The coke was pure enough to freeze a man's brain. At least, that was
the joke.
Niagara Hells Angels president Gerald Ward's product was top-notch.
Eighty-five to 91 per cent pure.
"I never even tried it, I'm like, I'm trying not to touch it," Steven
Gault said, laughing about the potency at Ward's Quaker Road house in
August 2005.
Gault, a member of the Oshawa chapter, paid $42,000 in cold, hard cash
for 1.1 kilograms.
Business was brisk for the new Niagara chapter.
The grip of cocaine on addicts doesn't loosen in rough economic times.
The Hells Angels' product was a guaranteed money-maker.
Tens of thousands of dollars were being traded for kilograms of coke
in Niagara parking lots.
Like any CEO, Ward was consumed with the complex issues of his market.
Supply and demand. Pricing. Quality control. Eliminating
competition.
That last part was easy. The power of the patch kept potential
entrepreneurs in check.
"They have complete control of the coke dealing in the whole Niagara
region," a Hells Angel-turned-police-agent said later in court.
"Anyone steps in there, they'll kill him point-blank. You don't play
with their game. So ... all their lives are built upon drug dealing."
The Hells Angels may have had a monopoly on Niagara's drug trade, but
Ward prided himself on the quality of his product.
The cocaine had a reputation for being so pure, buyers came from
outside the region. Dealers would cut the drugs, turning a higher profit.
That's 2,000 half-grams in a kilogram, at $40 a shot. Or 4,000
half-grams if it's watered down. Enormous profit.
"Yeah, I have never had a complaint for probably 10 years," Ward
said.
Company headquarters were based in the seemingly impenetrable Darby
Road clubhouse in rural Welland.
Fortress Niagara.
It stuck out like a sore thumb on a barren road surrounded by farmers'
fields. A chain-link fence with barbed wire screamed "Keep Out." So
did the electronic security gate. Surveillance cameras. A metal door
filled with cement that opened outward.
It was a place even police dared not tread. That's what Ward thought
anyway.
"I got a couple friends of mine that are cops, eh? I've known them all
my life; they're terrified of coming here because they drive by and
see all the cameras on the outside," he told Gault.
"Actually they haven't bothered us down here; like we've never been
raided and nobody's ever been charged down here. We've been lucky."
If the outside was built to intimidate, the insides of the clubhouse
looked like a Legion hall, an intelligence officer said. A bar,
kitchen table, various Hells Angels trinkets. Christmas cards from
other chapters celebrating the season and brotherhood.
Ward conducted business from either his fortress or his house, where
he stuffed plastic bags filled with wads of cash inside a compartment
in an entertainment unit - $304,430 at last count.
Transactions typically went like the one in October 2005, when Gault
met Ward at his Welland home. Ward offered to sell a kilogram of
cocaine, Gault agreed, and right-hand man Kenneth Wagner left to
arrange delivery.
"It's good, eh?" Ward asked of his product.
"From what I hear, " Gault said. Ward laughed.
They agreed on $38,000 for the drugs and drove in separate vehicles to
a motorcycle store on Regional Road 20 in Fenwick. Waiting in the
parking lot were local Hells Angels associates Timothy Muise, who
waved at the arrivals, and Alain Lacroix, who was driving a PT Cruiser.
Lacroix and Gault got into the PT Cruiser, where Gault reached into a
drawer under the passenger seat. He removed a package and bagged it.
Gault then got out of the car, back into his own vehicle and drove
away.
Three days later, he went to Ward's house and paid
up.
Ward sold $156,000 worth of cocaine to Gault alone between August 2005
and February 2006. He never touched the drugs himself.
Ward would order Wagner to set up a deal. Wagner would call the
players.
The Niagara crew could barely keep up with demand. A shortage in
supply threatened to drive up Ward's asking price.
Ward bought less supply to save money, figuring the price would
eventually go down.
Gault said it was like "playing the stock market."
"Pretty well the same thing," Ward said. "You're up, you're
down."
Crunching numbers wasn't Ward's only worry. He had to keep the club
and its members in order.
He complained bitterly to Gault about non-Hells Angels donning the
winged death head.
The Niagara chapter would track down anyone using the Hells Angels
name falsely and "make 'em pay" - literally.
"I just got 10 grand off a guy two weeks ago," Ward told Gault. "He
used my name three times, my name personally."
Even Ward's son got $2,000 from a man in a bar who bragged he was part
of the club.
According to Ward, the conversation went like this:
"Where you from?"
"Niagara, I'm a Hells Angel." "Niagara. You sure?"
"Yep."
"Do you know who my father is?" "Nope."
"My father's Gerry Ward." "Oh f---, f--- off."
Just as infuriating to Ward were gang members who used cocaine in
their chapter clubhouses. Bad for business.
"If I catch anybody in the clubhouse doing it, we bar him for life,"
Ward said. "We don't let him in no more."
He refused to let visiting Hells Angels do coke at Darby
Road.
"It's going to be a downfall to the charters that do it," Ward said,
complaining about Simcoe County in particular.
His own members seemed to have their act together.
Wagner and Muise even had time to open their own used-car business,
Gasline Auto Sales, on Highway 3 in Port Colborne. The July 2005 grand
opening made it into the business section of The Tribune. Neither man
wore their colours for the photo-op.
Times were good. But the tide was about to turn.
Police raided a Hells Angels stash house on Adelaide Street in Port
Colborne.
Inside, they found trace amounts of cocaine and drug-trafficking
items.
A flurry of telephone conversations between Wagner, Muise and
homeowner Deborah Fetz followed.
"Yeah, we got problems I think, buddy," Muise told
Wagner.
"What kinda problems?" "Not good ones, um yeah...."
The police raid, while problematic, didn't stop Ward from arranging
another $38,000 cocaine sale to Gault two weeks later at the Seaway
Mall.
He was untouchable, after all.
The Niagara chapter was still open for business.
"Comfort leads to complacency," a local member of the provincial
joint-forces biker enforcement unit said later.
"We want to be out of sight, out of mind," said his
partner.
The end of the road was coming.
Sept. 28, 2006. For Ward, another Thursday. For police, Project
Tandem. Officers across the province simultaneously swooped down on
Hells Angels clubhouses and properties.
They were armed with evidence from wiretaps and body-pack microphones.
Secret conversations between Hells Angels members.
A devastating, almost crushing blow to the organization.
Ward was arrested.
So was Wagner.
Rookie Angel Richard Beaulieu was arrested. Muise, Lacroix, and Fetz
were hauled off in cuffs.
Gault went into witness protection. He would collect more than $1
million for his troubles.
Conversations between Gerald Ward and Steven Gault, and between
Timothy Muise and Kenneth Wagner, were taken from transcripts of
police recordings used in court.
[sidebar]
THE FACTS
Hells Angels clubhouses have security systems and fortifications for
protection from attacks by rival gangs or police raids. The Niagara
chapter's bunker at 855 Darby Rd. was no exception. Det. Sgt. Kenneth
Davis of the province's joint-forces biker enforcement unit called it
the "premier" clubhouse in Ontario.
Rural location deters surveillance because any increased traffic or
parked vehicles could easily be detected.
Perimeter of property has chain-link fence capped with barbed wire.
Fence facing Darby Road has dark-coloured tarp to block view of the
property.
Electronic security gate controls road access to the
property.
Video surveillance cameras cover the entire property, surrounding yard
and street.
Main-floor window openings are filled in with cinder
blocks.
Metal door has pipe-like double bolts on the inside portion of the
exterior doors.
Inside, a room for a computer and fax machines, a bar area similar to
a licensed premise, and chapter photographs from around the world,
with posters and Hells Angels paraphernalia.
A sign inside says: "What you see here -what you say here -what you
hear here -stays here when you leave here."
The coke was pure enough to freeze a man's brain. At least, that was
the joke.
Niagara Hells Angels president Gerald Ward's product was top-notch.
Eighty-five to 91 per cent pure.
"I never even tried it, I'm like, I'm trying not to touch it," Steven
Gault said, laughing about the potency at Ward's Quaker Road house in
August 2005.
Gault, a member of the Oshawa chapter, paid $42,000 in cold, hard cash
for 1.1 kilograms.
Business was brisk for the new Niagara chapter.
The grip of cocaine on addicts doesn't loosen in rough economic times.
The Hells Angels' product was a guaranteed money-maker.
Tens of thousands of dollars were being traded for kilograms of coke
in Niagara parking lots.
Like any CEO, Ward was consumed with the complex issues of his market.
Supply and demand. Pricing. Quality control. Eliminating
competition.
That last part was easy. The power of the patch kept potential
entrepreneurs in check.
"They have complete control of the coke dealing in the whole Niagara
region," a Hells Angel-turned-police-agent said later in court.
"Anyone steps in there, they'll kill him point-blank. You don't play
with their game. So ... all their lives are built upon drug dealing."
The Hells Angels may have had a monopoly on Niagara's drug trade, but
Ward prided himself on the quality of his product.
The cocaine had a reputation for being so pure, buyers came from
outside the region. Dealers would cut the drugs, turning a higher profit.
That's 2,000 half-grams in a kilogram, at $40 a shot. Or 4,000
half-grams if it's watered down. Enormous profit.
"Yeah, I have never had a complaint for probably 10 years," Ward
said.
Company headquarters were based in the seemingly impenetrable Darby
Road clubhouse in rural Welland.
Fortress Niagara.
It stuck out like a sore thumb on a barren road surrounded by farmers'
fields. A chain-link fence with barbed wire screamed "Keep Out." So
did the electronic security gate. Surveillance cameras. A metal door
filled with cement that opened outward.
It was a place even police dared not tread. That's what Ward thought
anyway.
"I got a couple friends of mine that are cops, eh? I've known them all
my life; they're terrified of coming here because they drive by and
see all the cameras on the outside," he told Gault.
"Actually they haven't bothered us down here; like we've never been
raided and nobody's ever been charged down here. We've been lucky."
If the outside was built to intimidate, the insides of the clubhouse
looked like a Legion hall, an intelligence officer said. A bar,
kitchen table, various Hells Angels trinkets. Christmas cards from
other chapters celebrating the season and brotherhood.
Ward conducted business from either his fortress or his house, where
he stuffed plastic bags filled with wads of cash inside a compartment
in an entertainment unit - $304,430 at last count.
Transactions typically went like the one in October 2005, when Gault
met Ward at his Welland home. Ward offered to sell a kilogram of
cocaine, Gault agreed, and right-hand man Kenneth Wagner left to
arrange delivery.
"It's good, eh?" Ward asked of his product.
"From what I hear, " Gault said. Ward laughed.
They agreed on $38,000 for the drugs and drove in separate vehicles to
a motorcycle store on Regional Road 20 in Fenwick. Waiting in the
parking lot were local Hells Angels associates Timothy Muise, who
waved at the arrivals, and Alain Lacroix, who was driving a PT Cruiser.
Lacroix and Gault got into the PT Cruiser, where Gault reached into a
drawer under the passenger seat. He removed a package and bagged it.
Gault then got out of the car, back into his own vehicle and drove
away.
Three days later, he went to Ward's house and paid
up.
Ward sold $156,000 worth of cocaine to Gault alone between August 2005
and February 2006. He never touched the drugs himself.
Ward would order Wagner to set up a deal. Wagner would call the
players.
The Niagara crew could barely keep up with demand. A shortage in
supply threatened to drive up Ward's asking price.
Ward bought less supply to save money, figuring the price would
eventually go down.
Gault said it was like "playing the stock market."
"Pretty well the same thing," Ward said. "You're up, you're
down."
Crunching numbers wasn't Ward's only worry. He had to keep the club
and its members in order.
He complained bitterly to Gault about non-Hells Angels donning the
winged death head.
The Niagara chapter would track down anyone using the Hells Angels
name falsely and "make 'em pay" - literally.
"I just got 10 grand off a guy two weeks ago," Ward told Gault. "He
used my name three times, my name personally."
Even Ward's son got $2,000 from a man in a bar who bragged he was part
of the club.
According to Ward, the conversation went like this:
"Where you from?"
"Niagara, I'm a Hells Angel." "Niagara. You sure?"
"Yep."
"Do you know who my father is?" "Nope."
"My father's Gerry Ward." "Oh f---, f--- off."
Just as infuriating to Ward were gang members who used cocaine in
their chapter clubhouses. Bad for business.
"If I catch anybody in the clubhouse doing it, we bar him for life,"
Ward said. "We don't let him in no more."
He refused to let visiting Hells Angels do coke at Darby
Road.
"It's going to be a downfall to the charters that do it," Ward said,
complaining about Simcoe County in particular.
His own members seemed to have their act together.
Wagner and Muise even had time to open their own used-car business,
Gasline Auto Sales, on Highway 3 in Port Colborne. The July 2005 grand
opening made it into the business section of The Tribune. Neither man
wore their colours for the photo-op.
Times were good. But the tide was about to turn.
Police raided a Hells Angels stash house on Adelaide Street in Port
Colborne.
Inside, they found trace amounts of cocaine and drug-trafficking
items.
A flurry of telephone conversations between Wagner, Muise and
homeowner Deborah Fetz followed.
"Yeah, we got problems I think, buddy," Muise told
Wagner.
"What kinda problems?" "Not good ones, um yeah...."
The police raid, while problematic, didn't stop Ward from arranging
another $38,000 cocaine sale to Gault two weeks later at the Seaway
Mall.
He was untouchable, after all.
The Niagara chapter was still open for business.
"Comfort leads to complacency," a local member of the provincial
joint-forces biker enforcement unit said later.
"We want to be out of sight, out of mind," said his
partner.
The end of the road was coming.
Sept. 28, 2006. For Ward, another Thursday. For police, Project
Tandem. Officers across the province simultaneously swooped down on
Hells Angels clubhouses and properties.
They were armed with evidence from wiretaps and body-pack microphones.
Secret conversations between Hells Angels members.
A devastating, almost crushing blow to the organization.
Ward was arrested.
So was Wagner.
Rookie Angel Richard Beaulieu was arrested. Muise, Lacroix, and Fetz
were hauled off in cuffs.
Gault went into witness protection. He would collect more than $1
million for his troubles.
Conversations between Gerald Ward and Steven Gault, and between
Timothy Muise and Kenneth Wagner, were taken from transcripts of
police recordings used in court.
[sidebar]
THE FACTS
Hells Angels clubhouses have security systems and fortifications for
protection from attacks by rival gangs or police raids. The Niagara
chapter's bunker at 855 Darby Rd. was no exception. Det. Sgt. Kenneth
Davis of the province's joint-forces biker enforcement unit called it
the "premier" clubhouse in Ontario.
Rural location deters surveillance because any increased traffic or
parked vehicles could easily be detected.
Perimeter of property has chain-link fence capped with barbed wire.
Fence facing Darby Road has dark-coloured tarp to block view of the
property.
Electronic security gate controls road access to the
property.
Video surveillance cameras cover the entire property, surrounding yard
and street.
Main-floor window openings are filled in with cinder
blocks.
Metal door has pipe-like double bolts on the inside portion of the
exterior doors.
Inside, a room for a computer and fax machines, a bar area similar to
a licensed premise, and chapter photographs from around the world,
with posters and Hells Angels paraphernalia.
A sign inside says: "What you see here -what you say here -what you
hear here -stays here when you leave here."
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