Canadian True Crime - The "Shedden Massacre" [1]

Episode Date: April 9, 2025

ONTARIO - A three-part series. After a rural Ontario farmer makes a shocking discovery on a field, the quiet village of Shedden finds itself the backdrop to one of Canada’s most infamous mass murders.It was the bloody culmination of shifting alliances in the outlaw biker underworld in Canada—but it’s also a deeper story about a search for connection and belonging… that ultimately ended in a senseless tragedy.The intention of this episode is to take a detailed look back at a shocking crime sensationalized through headlines.Parts 2 and 3 of this series will be released to everyone a week apart.Look out for early, ad-free release on CTC premium feeds: available on Amazon Music (included with Prime), Apple Podcasts, Patreon and Supercast.Canadian True Crime donates monthly to help those facing injustice.This month we have donated to the Canadian Mental Health Association. Full list of resources, information sources, credits and music credits:See the page for this episode at www.canadiantruecrime.ca/episodes Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

With the Fizz loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with Fizz. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at fizz.ca. It's time to upgrade your sleep and experience true Canadian craftsmanship with a Logan & Cove Luxury Hybrid Mattress. I've had my best sleep ever since I started sleeping on a Logan & Cove luxury hybrid mattress. I've had my best sleep ever since I started sleeping on a Logan & Cove.

Designed and handcrafted right here in Canada, this premium hybrid mattress blends plush memory foam with precision pocketed coils for an absolutely perfect balance of softness and support. I feel like I'm sinking into a cloud and I wake up feeling rested, refreshed and free from aches like I've experienced five-star comfort every night but without the luxury price tag. And you can too. An exclusive offer for Canadian listeners. Upgrade to a Logan & Cove right now and get a free bedding bundle featuring two memory

foam pillows, a waterproof mattress protector and a cotton sheet set. And it all starts at just $799. This is your chance to experience high-end comfort at a fraction of the cost of traditional mattress retailers. And luxury should come with peace of mind. With Logan & Cove's 365-night risk-free trial, you get a full year to see the difference for yourself.

If it's not the best sleep you've ever had, they'll pick it up for free, donate it to charity and give you a full refund. Don't wait. Experience affordable Canadian luxury with Logan & Cove today. Visit loganandcove.ca.ca.ca. to claim this special offer for Canadian listeners. loganandcove.ca.ca. Hunger Games fans, get ready because the story's not over yet.

Sunrise on the Reaping is the thrilling new prequel from Suzanne Collins, and you can listen to it now at audible.ca. This is the untold story of Haymitch Abernathy before he was Katniss's mentor. As the 50th Hunger Games begin there's terror in the districts, twice as many tributes have been chosen so the games will be double the size and double the danger. Haymitch is just another tribute ripped from his home and the girl he loves. And there's fierce new challenges, shocking twists and epic fantasy. But he feels a strong instinct to fight that could change everything. Listen to Sunrise on the Reaping now at audible.ca.

Canadian True Crime is a completely independent production funded mainly through advertising. You can listen to Canadian True Crime ad-free and early on Amazon Music included with Prime, Apple Podcasts, Patreon and Supercast. The podcast often has disturbing content and coarse language. It's not for everyone. Please take care when listening. Hi there, I hope you're well. This is the first part of a three- part series covering a shocking event that many of you

have requested over the years. But as we know, it's rarely ever just about that one event. There's a complex set of circumstances that led up to it, with so many moving parts and players and a vast amount of detail. I also discovered there's a lot of nuance to this case. Under the surface, it's a deeper story about a search for connection and belonging that ultimately ended in a senseless tragedy, our sincere condolences to those involved. This series has been primarily pieced together from multiple court documents and the news

archives, most notably the reporting of Jane Sims for the London Free Press and Peter Edwards for the Toronto Star, as well as his 2010 book, The Bandito Massacre. And with that, it's on with the show. It's about 8am on a Saturday morning in rural southwestern Ontario. A retired dairy farmer named Russ answers his phone. A neighbour is on the other line and he's just noticed a couple of strange vehicles parked around one of the fields. Russ has no idea what his neighbour's talking about and immediately heads over to that particular field

with his wife, Mary. Their dairy farm is located near the tiny village of Sheddon, about 30 minutes' drive from the city of London, Ontario. It's field after field with dirt roads and small wooded areas. Sure enough, as Russ and Mary are driving along, they see a gray SUV backed into a shaded corner of a field. The rear hatch isn't closed properly.

Up ahead, there's more vehicles. Mary would later say she and Russ both watched forensic procedural shows on TV. Their instincts told them they shouldn't touch anything and they should probably stay well away. They quickly jot down the licence plate numbers and rush back home to call the police. The Ontario Provincial Police arrive a short time later and Ras points them to where the

mysterious vehicles are parked. An officer walks up to the grey SUV with the rear hatch ajar. He pulls it up and stands back. Lying across the width of the hatch is the body of a very heavy-set man wearing a gray shirt and gray striped pants lying sideways. Inside the car, there are two more bodies, one on the back seat and another on the front passenger seat.

About 200 meters away at the side of a dirt road, there's a tow truck with the body of a white-haired man in his 50s on the back seat. There's a small silver hatchback hooked up to that tow truck, with a body in the driver's seat slumped over the steering wheel. On the front passenger seat is another body, and a third is lying across the back seat wrapped in carpet. The last vehicle further up the dirt road is a dark gray family sedan.

There's a child's car seat strapped into the back and slumped over next to it is another body, surrounded by toys. That's a total of eight bodies. Six of those bodies have their faces covered with cloth. Dozens of OPP officers have been dispatched to the scene with police dogs. In the air are helicopters surveilling the area. They find nothing and no one. It looks like whoever is responsible for this has already left the scene. A massive investigation is launched as word of the discovery starts to get around. Local residents are shocked to hear that eight bodies had been found in four cars abandoned on a farmer's field.

This area is typically peaceful. The last mass murder in the area happened more than a hundred years earlier, the savage killing of the Donnelly family in Lucan, north of the city of London, better known as the Black Donnelly's case. That afternoon, the Ontario Provincial Police hold a news conference confirming the disturbing discovery, describing it as shocking even for them. But they aren't in a position to reveal how the eight men died yet. They need to identify them first. All they can say is that it was an isolated incident. There's no danger to local residents and

the farmer and his wife who discovered the vehicles are not suspects. As helicopters continue to survey the area from above, aerial photographs are taken of the scene. One of those photos show a grey SUV with the rear hatch wide open and clearly visible is the body of one very large man. Mercifully, his face is hidden but the photo is quite confronting. Within days, that photo would be published on the front page of many Canadian newspapers. It would spark public outrage from people who were distressed about seeing it themselves, not to mention having to shield their children from seeing it. It would also greatly distress the family of the man lying in the trunk. That evening, the four vehicles are removed from the scene with the body still inside and taken by covered transport truck to OPP headquarters.

All of that happened on Saturday, April 8th of 2006. The following afternoon, a local resident in the same rural area is watching as a situation develops on his neighbour's property. The Ontario Provincial Police have shown up and it looks like they're raiding the White Farmhouse there. He sees four people being led out of the home, their hands in the air. One of them seems to be a woman. The resident knows that his neighbour is Wayne Callistine, a long-time known associate of several outlaw motorcycle clubs in the area. That same day, an OPP spokesperson confirms that all eight victims knew each other and were from the Greater Toronto area. There's no information about why their

bodies were found in a rural area more than two hours southwest of the city. The police also refused to discuss rumours gaining traction that the deaths are linked to outlaw motorcycle clubs known to be present in the area, most notably the Hells Angels, the Loners and the Bandidos. Behind the scenes, the rumours were true. The police had immediately eyed off 57-year-old Wayne Callistine as a person of interest. He'd been convicted and incarcerated several times, but it was widely known that he'd gotten away with much more than what was on his record. And his rambling farm, surrounded by a barbed wire fence,

was only about 10 kilometers from the location where he was supposed to be. He was a man of interest, and he was a man of interest in the area. He was a man of interest in the area, and he was a man of interest in the area. than what was on his record. And his rambling farm, surrounded by a barbed wire fence, was only about 10 kilometres from the location where those vehicles were abandoned, near the village of Shedden.

If Wayne Callistine was involved in killing the eight men, it was obviously pretty stupid of him to leave the evidence right on his own doorstep. But Wayne Callistine was known to be a violent and unpredictable individual who thrived on chaos. Anything was possible. The Ontario Provincial Police applied for a search warrant and showed up with a tactical team to search the farm. Wayne Callistine met them on the driveway, arms raised. He said he'd

cooperate fully and cautioned police that they didn't have to knock down his front door like they'd done in the past. He reassured them that he'd left his front door unlocked for them and his German Shepherd was in a pen. Wayne Callistine was taken to the station for questioning with Detective Sergeant Mark Loder of the Ontario Provincial Police. Wayne seems bewildered about why he's there. He points out that he's not wearing a patch from any motorcycle club. He says he's retired. But the investigator has already noticed Wayne

Callistine is wearing a belt that says Bandido's one percenter. Only official members of the club are allowed to wear one. I have some questions I want to ask you. Just before you proceed any further, how long can you hold me before you have to release me? I'm not holding you. Okay.

I'm free to go. I suppose technically you could. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Can I ask you a question? Are there any other bikers here? Well, the investigation is ongoing. Okay. I'll see you after the first one. You're not here by accident, you know that.

Okay, so I'm here because? Well, I would say vicinity to the crime scene has something to do with it. How far is that from your house, Wayne? I don't know, the foggest idea of where it was. Shedding is, what, 15 minutes? Well, you know what, I don't know the order that well, but it's 10 minutes probably.

I don't see a patch I got on my back. What's that? There's no patch on your back? No. I did see a belt on your waist. If you want to find it. I do know some stuff. I don't think I know enough to know you and me

wearing that belt if you were out or retired like you said. This is bullshit. You know as well as I do. So if this is to stop me from, actually I shouldn't even say anything. If you're afraid I'm going to retaliate or something like that. I've retired, I've got nothing to do with nothing. I retired, I've got nothing to do with nothing. So to me, like, this is like, I can't believe this is happening because this doesn't make sense to me. Back at Wayne Calistine's farm, the tactical team entered the large,

dilapidated looking barn located not far from his farmhouse. Inside was a chaotic scene, a large dusty room with a dark loft area in the rafters and in the middle of the room was a circle of white plastic patio chairs. Confederate and Nazi flags adorned the walls and beer bottles were strewn about along with old mattresses and couches. And the floor, it was partially wet, smeared with a faint reddish color, like a mop had been used. In another area, there were blood spatters

and scattered pieces of human flesh, and a bucket containing a bottle of bleach. For years, the most Shedden had been known for was its annual Rhubarb Festival. But all that changed after April of 2006, when those abandoned vehicles were discovered, the quiet village suddenly became the backdrop for one of the most infamous mass murders in Canadian history. This is the story of what's widely known as the Shedden Massacre.

It didn't actually take place in Sheddenden and it wasn't an isolated act of violence. It was the bloody climax of shifting alliances and the outlaw biker underworld in Canada. To truly understand how it all led to that fateful night, we have to go back to the beginning. for night, we have to go back to the beginning. Wayne Earl Callistine would be described by police as the kind of man who made the hair on your neck stand up. There's almost nothing publicly known about his childhood or family life, other than the fact that he was born in 1949 to a family of German ancestry and he appears to have spent most, if not all, of his life around the city of London in southwestern Ontario. It also appears that

Wayne Callistine was troubled in childhood. His criminal record officially began in 1967 when he was just 18 years old. He was convicted of three counts of assault causing bodily harm, which included an attack on a bus driver. He was jailed for 30 days. It wouldn't be the last time. Over the next 10 years, Wayne would rack up multiple assault convictions and weapons charges. Living a normal life on the straight and narrow was not for him. Wayne Callistine decided to join some kind of group involved in organised crime.

An outlaw motorcycle club would be just perfect. Motorcycle clubs began in the early 1900s as a hobby like any other, with enthusiasts gathering together in earnest to go for rides. In 1924, the American Motorcycle Association, or AMA, was established to promote motorcycling as a respectable and organized activity, encouraging responsible riding and community events. But a new subculture started to emerge after World War II as returning soldiers struggled to get back into civilian life, find a job and act like everything was normal again. Veterans found themselves feeling unsupported and disillusioned

and likely suffering what is now known as post-traumatic stress disorder. They craved camaraderie, that sense of brotherhood they felt during the war. They sought an escape from the constraints of civilian life, maybe even an occasional adrenaline rush. And hitting the open road on a cruiser motorcycle like a Chopper or a Harley Davidson with a group of like-minded individuals gave them that sense of freedom they were craving. But some of these riders started feeling constrained by the rigid rules imposed by the American Motorcycle Association.

They did not want to be told what to do. And that's where the Outlaw Motorcycle Club subculture was born. It became mainstream in 1947, when a large group of rowdy, drunk motorcyclists caused chaos during an AMA rally and then proceeded to terrorise a sleepy Californian town for days. The incident is known as the Hollister Riots and the American Motorcycle Association was careful to publicly dismiss it as the actions of a very small minority. As the law goes, the AMA stated that 99% of their members were law-abiding citizens, not realising that they had effectively created a kind of rallying cry for the outlaw

bikers who weren't. And those bikers latched on to the term one percenter as a badge of defiance. The one percenters have been the bane of the AMA's existence ever since as they develop their own club culture. As bikers who were supposedly rebelling against rules they sure did seem to like them. Outlaw motorcycle clubs are known for having strict internal rules, hierarchies and codes of conduct, with rituals and symbols that prioritize the concept of rebellion with club loyalty as a core value.

As clubs like the Hells Angels rose to prominence in the United States, the outlaw motorcycle culture spilled over the border into Canada. In the late 1970s when Wayne Callistine was about 28 years old, he learned through his criminal contacts that the outlaws motorcycle club was expanding into Canada. He made it known that he was interested in joining. The club did not want him. By that point, Wayne already had a reputation as a violent and reckless career criminal, a heavy drug user and dealer in the southwest Ontario area. He was also known to be the most likely suspect in the 1978 murder of Toronto clothing store owner John

DeFlippo, who was shot at home in front of his wife and baby. But as was often the case with Wayne Callistine, the police didn't have enough evidence to arrest him. The outlaws saw him as a huge liability. He was unpredictable, he attracted attention from law enforcement and he seemed to relish it. Wayne kept asking and the outlaws kept saying no. But eventually the outlaws saw an opportunity to give Wayne Callistine what he wanted, while also getting what they wanted, which was basically for him to

shut up. The club wanted to grow its numbers by installing a puppet or satellite club in southwestern Ontario, Wayne's Stomping Ground. A puppet club is a completely separate club that exists to support and be subservient to the larger, dominant club, often doing its dirty work. It means the larger club can expand its influence without expanding its legal risk exposure. If someone from the puppet club were to get arrested, the larger club has plausible deniability. It's a completely different club.

Wayne accepted the outlaw's offer to be president of this new puppet club which was named the Holocaust Motorcycle Club. He introduced a new patch for it, a set of embroidered emblems or insignias worn on a biker's cut-off vest or jacket to symbolise their membership of a particular club. It's basically a club logo. And in the outlaw motorcycle subculture, patches are considered a powerful visual representation of identity and loyalty. They often also include indications

of the member's rank or earned status in the club, as well as specific affiliations or other significant symbolism. Wayne Callistine's patch for his Holocaust motorcycle club included imagery inspired by Nazi symbolism. It was chosen to be intentionally offensive. Wayne idolized Adolf Hitler and was a known racist and bigot. And his beliefs weren't an anomaly. The American Motorcyclist Association was founded in 1924

as a whites-only organisation and didn't allow black Americans to join until the 1950s. The outlaw motorcycle subculture that grew out of that has always had known links to white supremacy. Another feature of outlaw motorcycle clubs is nicknames and Wayne liked to call himself Weiner, explaining to anyone who asked that it was because he had a large penis. He was also known to be a pathological liar who talked himself up. Wayne became a fixture of the 1980s outlaw bycacine in Ontario,

dealing and trafficking hard drugs like LSD and cocaine, issuing threats, beating people up, and surrounding himself with people who either feared his unpredictable brutality or admired it. He was very good at talking his way out of serious convictions, often ending up with a fine or a token one-day jail sentence. This only cemented his reputation as a dangerous, untouchable figure. Thanks to his drug deals and other criminal activities, Wayne was able to purchase a 50-acre farm outside the village of Iona Station, located in a rural area just south of the city of London, Ontario. It would later be described as a run-down farm cluttered with rusted cars and other junk. Within a few years, Wayne had changed the name of his club

to the Annihilators Motorcycle Club and was operating it out of his property at Iona Station. The barn was where they conducted their business. Wayne painted the club's new logo on the outside of it. The Annihilators's motorcycle club, Patch, was slightly different, but retained some of the Nazi symbolism from his old club. He decorated the inside of the barn

with Confederate flags and Nazi memorabilia. In the early 1990s, Wayne was charged with attempted murder after shooting a member of a rival motorcycle club four times. The victim lived, but the charges were dropped after he refused to testify against Wayne. Loyalty was a key value for a one percenter. You don't turn on your brothers and you don't rat on anyone, rival or not. But the law was coming for him. Wayne was caught selling drugs and a firearm

to an undercover officer and convicted and sentenced to six years in prison. A psychological assessment had found that quote, criminality appears to be a matter of choice of lifestyle for Wayne. His behaviour was likened to that of a paranoid narcissist, an inflated sense of self-importance and entitlement accompanied by a tendency to be excessively suspicious of others. While in prison, Wayne completed anti-violence and anger management prison courses and started applying for parole as soon as he was

eligible, insisting that he was done with the one percenter life, done with the guns, drugs and outlaw bikers. Although the police had described Wayne as a quote, very violent person who uses intimidation to gain control of others, he was taken at his word and released after serving two thirds of his sentence. But after he failed drug tests, his parole was revoked. He was let out a second time, but the police saw him

associating with bikers and his parole was revoked again. One of those bikers was a man named Giovanni Muscedre, a fellow member of the Annihilators who was about 10 years younger than Wayne. The son of Italian immigrants, Giovanni had been bullied as a child for his background and Italian accent, but he fought back. He took up boxing as a sport, got fit and adopted a tough guy persona, calling himself John instead of Giovanni. But when he found himself married with a child at a fairly young age, he gave up all his boxing ambitions for steady work at a

manufacturing plant. John Mouchadre reportedly hated the job, but providing for his family was of utmost importance to him. Years later, after two divorces and a total of five children, John started riding motorcycles and got into the outlaw motorcycle club culture. He didn't much like guns, had no criminal record and wasn't looking to start one. What he found was a sense of belonging and camaraderie with like-minded men. It was just what he was looking for. John was soon introduced to Wayne Callistine and in 1997 joined his annihilators motorcycle club.

He went by the nickname Boxer. John Boxer-Mouchadre didn't share Wayne Callistine's white supremacist or bigoted views in any way, but the principle of brotherhood was extremely important to him and he was fiercely loyal, some would say to a fault. I'm obsessed with stackable jewelry. Why pick just one piece when you can play, mix and stack them for a totally unique look? And that's where Majuri comes in. It's a fine jewelry brand known for its minimal, yet playful aesthetic.

Majuri's gorgeous pieces are designed for stacking and perfect for everyday wear. Just get one piece that you're feeling today and start playing. There's no right or wrong answers. You can mix styles and metals. I love the duo beaded stacker ring in yellow gold. And when your stack is ready, repeat.

Why not add an extra stacker ring or a gorgeous single stud to make your ear stack even more unique? Mejuri pieces are designed in-house and handcrafted by world-renowned jewelers with a focus on high quality. They're also committed to ethical and sustainable production. So with Mejuri, you don't have to choose between fine jewelry and your values or the planet. So play, mix and stack in store, in app or at mazuri.com. That's m-e-j-u-r-i dot com. Missouri. It's time to upgrade your sleep and experience true Canadian craftsmanship with a Logan & Cove Luxury Hybrid mattress. I've had my best sleep ever since I started sleeping on a Logan & Cove. Designed and handcrafted right here in Canada, this premium hybrid mattress blends plush

memory foam with precision-pocketed coils for an absolutely perfect balance of softness and support. I feel like I'm sinking into a cloud, and I wake up feeling rested, refreshed and free from aches like I've experienced five-star comfort every night but without the luxury price tag. And you can too. An exclusive offer for Canadian listeners. Upgrade to a Logan & Cove right now and get a free bedding bundle featuring two memory

foam pillows, a waterproof mattress protector and a cotton sheet set. And it all starts at just $799. This is your chance to experience high-end comfort at a fraction of the cost of traditional mattress retailers. And luxury should come with peace of mind. With Login and Cove's 365-night risk-free trial, you get a full year to see the difference for yourself.

If it's not the best sleep you've ever had, they'll pick it up for free, donate it to charity, and give you a full refund. Don't wait. Experience affordable Canadian luxury with Logan & Cove today. Visit loganandcove.ca slash ctc to claim this special offer for Canadian listeners. Loganandcove.ca slash ctc. With the Fizz loyalty program you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan.

You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with Fizz. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at Fizz.ca. When Boxer Moucher-Dre joined the Annihilators, it was a turbulent time in the Canadian outlaw motorcycle club space. Multiple turf wars were being fought in Canada during the 1990s. The Quebec biker war was the most well known, a prolonged conflict between major outlaw

biker clubs in Canada that intensified in March of 1985. Tensions had escalated between two factions of the Hells Angels in Montreal, involving excessive drug use, violence and allegedly stealing money from their own club. So one faction invited the other to what's referred to as a church meeting, a mandatory club meeting where business is discussed and rules are enforced. But instead they were blindsided. Five Hells Angels were shot dead that night, their bodies wrapped in sleeping bags and dumped into the St. Lawrence River. It would be known as the Lennoxville Massacre, a violent internal cleansing of the Hells Angels, and it divided rival outlaw biker clubs in the province.

It also marked a turning point in Quebec's biker wars. The following year, some Quebec bikers founded their own one percenter club specifically to compete against the Hells Angels. The prize? Control over the lucrative narcotics trade in the province. They named this new club the Rock Machine and thus began an intense and bloody conflict that would end up lasting more than 15 years. The 1990s were a time of intense expansion and rivalry across Canada,

not just Quebec, as one percent of clubs tried to grow into the biggest and baddest in the country. Small clubs merged together. Larger clubs would absorb the smaller clubs, getting them to patch over, as it's called. A quick and easy way to grow their numbers. Wayne Callistime would have been more than happy for his annihilators' motorcycle club to patch over to the Outlaws instead of just being their puppet club. The Outlaws still did not want him, but he soon found a club that did. In 1999, Wayne broke it a deal with another larger club called The Loners, based just north of Toronto.

The Annihilators were going to patch over and form a new chapter of The Loners near the city of London where Wayne was from, and he would be the president of that chapter. He was thrilled. The loners, not so much. They were primarily Italian Canadians and they didn't really get Wayne's overtly uncouth, backward hillbilly aesthetic, but they needed each other's numbers to survive. The fact that boxer Muxedre was also Italian and had a much more pleasant personality than Wayne sweetened the deal. Meanwhile over in Quebec, things were getting very bad with bombings, shootings and arson

attacks as the battle between the Hells Angels and the Quebec group The Rock Machine continued. Public spaces became battlegrounds and innocent bystanders were caught in the crossfire. By the year 2000, the Hells Angels had pulled well ahead and The Rock Machine was hurting. They needed an ally. Luckily for them, another large club based in the United States was looking to expand into Canada and across the world. The Bandidos Motorcycle Club was founded in 1966 and was closely tied to the Vietnam War. It's a familiar story. Returning veterans traumatized by war, struggling to reintegrate into society, find themselves craving the structure and brotherhood they experienced in the military,

but with a side of rebellion and freedom. For this reason, outlaw motorcycle clubs experienced a big surge in membership in the late 60s and 70s. But Donald Chambers, a veteran in his 30s, found existing clubs too tame and decided to start his own club in Texas. He founded the Bandidos, named after Mexican bandits who'd been portrayed in folklore as symbols of rebellion against authority.

The patchy design depicted a sombrero-wearing Mexican man, a bandito, holding a pistol in one hand and a machete in the other, with a red and gold color scheme inspired by the US Marine Corps. Over the next three decades, the banditos grew to a point where they were looking to expand and they saw an opportunity to take an embattled local club under their wing, The Rock Machine in Quebec. When the Hells Angels found out that The Rock Machine was in talks with the Bandidos, they launched a rapid expansion into Ontario to grow their own numbers. They had a rare offer for select smaller clubs. For a limited time, they could patch over as full members and skip the gruelling prospect

phase and initiation process. It was a big deal. The Hells Angels were the world's largest outlaw motorcycle club, and an offer like this was almost unheard of. By the end of the year 2000, more than 160 members from smaller clubs had patched over to the Hells Angels, particularly around the Greater Toronto area. This made Canada the country with the second largest Hells Angels membership, only after the US. But not everyone was on board.

When Wayne Callistine learned that the Hells Angels had approached a Toronto chapter of the Lone's, his new club, he was furious. He'd worked really hard to broker that deal. furious. He'd worked really hard to broker that deal. And even though the Hells Angels hadn't yet approached his specific chapter of the loaners, he knew that the club would never accept him as a member. And he was openly hostile about it. One weekend, Wayne was at his truck stopped at a local intersection when suddenly a car pulled up, shots rang out and then it sped away. His truck was hit, but Wayne himself was unharmed. He didn't call the police of course, but they suspected it was a failed Hells Angels hit. What they couldn't figure out was why Wayne Kalistein was being targeted. The next day, police showed up to his farm with a search warrant and found a cache of illegal weapons including semi-automatic rifles, shotguns, illegal knives and more. Wayne was charged with

more than 20 counts related to stolen property and firearms. He was released on bail under strict conditions not to associate with known criminals. That would go about as well as expected. A police spokesperson for the Ontario Biker Enforcement Unit would later tell the Globe and Mail, quote, For the Hells Angels, their priority is to absorb other gangs and gain territorial control. In order to do that, they either have to befriend or fight their rivals. Their Ontario expansion was kicking into the next stage, fight the rivals. The police suspected the Hells Angels of torching a clubhouse belonging to the Outlaws north

of Toronto. And then they began recruiting in south-western Ontario, which they knew was Wayne Calistine's turf. Feeling threatened, he opened talks with the Bandidos, who were on an expansion mission of their own. The Bandidos had just bolstered their numbers by bringing Quebec's The Rock Machine into the fold. They were all fully patched Bandidos now. But even with this new alliance, the Bandidos couldn't match the dominance of the Hells Angels, both in Quebec and across Canada.

But they sure were trying. And that's how they found themselves in talks with Wayne Wiener-Kalosteyn. The Bandidos weren't stupid. They knew his history. Wayne was notorious for being reckless, unpredictable and a massive risk, and he was also out on bail awaiting trial facing serious gun violation charges. But the Bandidos needed the numbers, especially in the Greater Toronto area, where the Hells Angels had established a nice foothold.

So with that, Wayne Calistine' loaners patched over to the Bandidos as the newest Toronto chapter. Within months they would be fast-tracked to full patch members. Of course the Hells Angels considered this new partnership to be a hostile move and retaliated against the Bandidos by attacking one of their members in a Toronto suburb, slashing his abdomen with a knife. He lived. In early 2002, a Hells Angels puppet club confronted their other main rival, the Outlaws, at their clubhouse in London, Ontario. It led to a shootout, but none of them were very good shots.

The only person injured was from the Hells Angels side. But now, the Angels had provoked both the Bandidos and the Outlaws in Ontario, and a bigger conflict was brewing. Several months later, it all spilled out in public at the 2002 London Ontario Motorcycle Show which at the time was organised by the Hells Angels, one of their community events. The Bandito showed up wearing bulletproof vests, itching for a fight. Wayne Callistine had to sit that one out because of his bail conditions.

He had to be very careful about who he was seen with. But the rest of the new Toronto chapter of the Bandidos were there, including his close friend and mentee, John Boxer-Muchedre. Soon they were joined by more Bandidos from across Canada and some from the United States. They walked around menacingly, staring down the Howls Angels. Then the outlaws showed up. Although they were technically also rivals of the bandidos, that day the two clubs bonded over their shared hatred of the Hells Angels. They made a big show of it in public

as a power move to rattle the larger club. But before long, the Bandidos and Outlaws found themselves surrounded and outnumbered by the Hells Angels and all of their various puppet clubs. This spectacle of more than a hundred outlaw bikers having a very public stare-off at the London Ontario motorcycle show had civilians running for the hills.

Many expected it to turn into an all-out brawl, and it certainly would have had the London police not been tipped off in advance and simmered things down. After that, the Mayor of London, Ontario, made sure that that was the last London motorcycle show organised by the Hells Angels. But that wasn't the last time tensions would flare up. A month after that 2002 motorcycle show, Ontario Provincial Police were patrolling near the city of Kingston, located about two hours' drive from the Ontario-Québec border. They pulled over a random speeding car and were caught off guard when one of the occupants opened fire. The police shot back, killing him. Inside the car with the other occupant, officers found four handguns,

a silencer, handcuffs, a balaclava, and photos of several Bandido members, including their national president who lived nearby in Kingston. It turned out that both occupants were members of a Hells Angels puppet club from Montreal and police believed they had unknowingly stopped a planned hit that day. The national banditoes president escaped harm but he was soon arrested as part of Operation Amigo, a police sting targeting the Bandidos during the final phase of the Quebec Biker War. Raids led to the seizure of drugs and weapons,

and over 65 Bandidos members in Quebec were arrested, along with some in Ontario. These arrests wiped out the Quebec Bandidos. This meant the Hells Angels had inadvertently won the Quebec Biker War. It had been eight bloody years and 160 deaths, including innocent bystanders. And it was over. But the Bandidos were in crisis mode. Their national president was denied bail,

which meant a replacement had to be nominated, and it was slim pickings. There were only about a dozen Bandidos members left, all of them in Ontario. The Toronto Bandidos were the only chapter in Canada now, which meant they were the Canadian Bandidos. And the most senior member who wasn't already in prison or facing serious charges like Wayne Callistine was, was the local biker club newbie that he took under his wing,

John Boxer-Muchedre. After only five years experience in an outlaw motorcycle club, Boxer was promoted to National President of the Bandidos in Canada. Hardened bikers raised their eyebrows. There were doubts that he had what it took to lead the Canadian presence of such a notorious organization or that he even wanted to. But he was the best they had at the time. And besides, John Boxer-Mouchedre was certainly a more popular leader

than Wayne Wiener-Kellestein had been. Shortly after that, in July of 2002, Wayne's gun violation charges saw him convicted and sentenced to two years in prison. He was also banned from owning firearms for the rest of his life. Boxer donated his own money to help Wayne pay his mortgage and farm expenses while he was in prison and passed the hat around to other members to contribute, even though he knew they didn't much like Wayne. And the Toronto Banditos didn't have much money to spare. The club was having problems of its own.

The Quebec Bike Awards had, of course, decimated the Banditos in Canada. The club struggled to find its feet again, facing leadership challenges, recruitment difficulties and continuing tensions with the Hells Angels. John Boxer Muschedre was by this point 44 years old, known to be a jovial and fiercely loyal man who genuinely tried to embody the old-school one-percenter ideal of bikes and brotherhood. The boxer wasn't very good at managing money or coming up with ways to make it.

He prioritized the social aspect of the club over everything else. So did many of the Toronto Banditos. Some of them had criminal records, but they generally weren't interested in illegal money-making ventures often associated with outlaw motorcycle clubs like drug trafficking, weapons smuggling and extortion and protection rackets. In fact, many of them didn't even own a motorcycle and didn't know how to ride one. Some had normal jobs and family lives. Some still lived at home with their parents. They

were a bunch of misfits who, for various reasons, had failed to launch properly into normal society. But what they really liked was the brotherhood, the parties and the sense of status that came from wearing the patch. Frank Salerno was one of them. The son of a successful Toronto car dealer, he reportedly became troubled after his parents divorced and clocked up dozens of convictions for fraud and theft. Frank ended up with the loners and was one of those Italian-Canadian members who thought Wayne Callistine was a hillbilly. Frank's nickname was Bam Bam and he soon became close friends with boxer Muschedre, who was also Italian.

When boxer was promoted to Bandido's national president, he put Frank Bam Bam Salerno in charge of the Toronto chapter. He put Frank Bam Bam Salerno in charge of the Toronto chapter. Bam Bam was happily married to his wife Stephanie, who owned a hair salon in Oakville, a well-to-do part of the Greater Toronto area. Stephanie's income allowed them to live a nice middle-class life, but Bam Bam was still trying to find his own calling. He did odd jobs and manual labor

to bring in some extra money. He also had a problem with hard drugs, including heroin and cocaine, and was trying really hard to recover. Then there was George Kriarakis, a Greek man in his mid-20s who went by the nickname Crash because he was a tow truck driver. Crash lived with his fiancee Diane in Toronto.

He strongly opposed violence and shied away from engaging in crime. He had no criminal record. The only reason George Crash Kriarakis joined the club was for the brotherhood. The Toronto Bandidos, who were by default also the Canadian Bandidos, were focused on expansion. They brought in experienced bikers to reinvigorate the club, hoping it would make it more attractive to smaller clubs who might consider patching over. One of those bikers was Frank Lenti, a tough veteran in his 50s who'd survived a pipe bomb attack and walked with a

limp. He was known for being measured and consistent, one of the toughest one-percenters out there. And Frank Lenti was not impressed when he learned that only a couple of his new club members actually owned working motorcycles. Bikers without bikes, he complained. The Toronto Banditos also had no clubhouse or steady income. They were basically couchsurfing, at one point meeting in the basement of a Greek restaurant and then in an empty storefront at an industrial complex. basically couch surfing, at one point meeting in the basement of a Greek restaurant and then in an empty storefront at an industrial complex. But national president Boxer Moushedre was hopeful that the club could expand west.

He started exploring opportunities in Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Alberta to bring on some new probationary members. Not long after that, one of those members, a former rebel named Joey Crazy Horse Moran, was shot dead in an Alberta strip club along with an associate. The case was never solved, but word was it stemmed from biker conflict.

It was a major blow to the Bandidos and their plans for Western expansion. The club remained financially unstable and still had no permanent clubhouse. And Wayne Callistine was about to be released from prison. I'm obsessed with stackable jewelry. Why pick just one piece when you can play, mix and stack them for a totally unique look? And that's where Majuri comes in. It's a fine jewelry brand known for its minimal yet playful aesthetic.

Majuri's gorgeous pieces are designed for stacking and perfect for everyday wear. Just get one piece that you're feeling today and start playing. There's no right or wrong answers. You can mix styles and metals. I love the duo beaded stacker ring in yellow gold. And when your stack is ready, repeat. Why not add an extra stacker ring or a gorgeous single stud to make your ear stack even more unique? Missouri pieces are designed in-house and handcrafted by world-renowned jewelers with a focus on high quality. They're also committed to ethical and sustainable production. So with Missouri you don't have to choose between fine jewelry and your values or the planet.

So play, mix and stack in store, in app or at majuri.com. That's M-E-J-U-R-I dot com. Majuri. If you like Canadian true crime and you're not listening to Casefile yet, stop what you're doing and subscribe. Casefile is an award-winning podcast hosted by an anonymous Australian narrator and it's the main show that inspired me to start this one. From infamous mysteries to lesser-known stories, Casefile is known for gripping storytelling and meticulous research. Find out why it's a global

phenomenon. Listen to Casefile True Crime, new episodes weekly on all major platforms. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at phys.ca. It was by this point 2004 and Wayne Kalistein told the parole board he was a changed man. He was finished with all that outlaw motorcycle club stuff. The parole board approved his release and ordered him to stay away from outlaw bikers. He said he absolutely would. Instead, Wayne hit the ground running. He was appointed the National Sergeant-at-Arms of the Bandidos Canada, a role often called the Enforcer. Wayne would be responsible for making sure the rules were followed, maintaining discipline and checking out potential new members.

Many Toronto Bandido members were not overly happy to see Wayne back. They thought he was both dangerous and unpredictable, but also embarrassing. And it wasn't because, like many of them, Wayne also didn't have a working motorcycle on the road. A core value of outlaw motorcycle clubs is that they see themselves as rebels operating in the underworld, living by their own rules. They encourage freedom and minding your own business. But Wayne Callistine was a man of contradictions and chaos, and loved nothing more than to be

hateful for the hell of it. He showed up at the London, Ontario Gay Pride Parade with a bunch of white supremacists to mock the people participating in the parade. If that wasn't bad enough, he drew public attention to himself by waving a Confederate flag and generally looking like a caricature of a crazy biker. Wayne was photographed by several press photographers who knew exactly who he was and was also overheard telling bystanders he'd rather it be a Nazi flag but he couldn't get away with that. He thought this public spectacle was a good use of his time but his Toronto Bandito club mates were mortified. Firstly they didn't need any more heat on the club and certainly not

for something so stupid that had no benefit. And second, many of them did not share Wayne's hateful views, especially national president Boxer Muxedre. He was heard saying quote, people are who they are, they all have a mother, they just have to be given respect. The Toronto Bandidos only tolerated Wayne Callistine because of his relationship with Boxer. But behind the scenes, Wayne greatly resented the fact that Boxer, once his mentee, was ranked higher than him on the hierarchy. Wayne was in his mid-50s, 10 years older than Boxer, and he liked to be the one in

charge, with others under him. Wayne's ego was bruised. While Boxer's ideas for Western expansion hadn't gone to plan, he had somehow in the middle of it managed to set up a new probationary chapter of the Bandidos in Winnipeg, Manitoba. It was made up of old members of another smaller club, the Los Montaneros MC. If they proved themselves, they would become full patch members of the Bandidos. The leader of the Los Montaneros was a balding ex-army man in his mid-30s called Michael Sandham, who was short and stocky and apparently a little socially awkward. He liked to go by the nickname Taz, after the Tasmanian devil, often depicted in pop

culture as fierce, noisy and voracious despite its small size. And his resume certainly suggested he lived up to that nickname. Michael Taz Sandham had served several years in the Canadian Army, with Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry. He'd also served with elite forces, including in the Bosnian War. He was a self-defense expert who held black belts in three martial arts and had trained with prominent martial arts experts. He won multiple competitions in Canada, ran his own martial arts studio and even founded

his own specialized martial art which he called Sando. He'd worked as a bodyguard to Prime Minister Brian Mulrooney and members of the British royal family. And now he stated that he wanted his club to patch over to the Bandidos and he was willing to be on probation for a while. Boxer Moushedre was sold. But Frank Lenti, the experienced biker the club had brought in, did not like it. He heard rumors that Michael Sandham used to be a cop, a huge no-no for an outlaw motorcycle club. And the man had completely bare arms with no tattoos tattoos which was not usual for a biker.

Frank Lenti took his concerns to Sergeant-at-Arms Wayne Callistine to investigate, but Wayne didn't seem to think there was anything to it. One item on Michael Taz Sandim's resume that would have been of particular interest to Wayne Kalisstein was his service with the Canadian Airborne Regiment, an elite force that became the centre of a serious military scandal in 1993. Members of the regiment had gone to Somalia on a supposed peacekeeping mission, but they were found to have tortured and murdered a local teenager and targeted a large number of other Somalian locals with abuse, derogatory comments and hazing

rituals. An investigation determined systemic racism was one of the key causes and the Canadian Airborne Regiment was disbanded in disgrace. Hearing that Michael Taz Sandham had been a member of this regiment would have been music to the ears of Wayne Callistine. He'd previously told many people he served in that exact same regiment to make himself seem more legit. It of course wasn't true, but he was happy to make the acquaintance of someone who had.

Wayne promised Frank Lenti he'd look into Michael Sandham some more, quote, I'll pick his brain. Wayne had boasted about owning a security company called Triple K Security, a nod to the Ku Klux Klan. Although no one really knew what the company did, it was assumed that as the club enforcer, Wayne would conduct an appropriately vigorous background check on a potential new member, especially one that was suspected of being a cop. But when Frank Lenti checked in later about him, Wayne casually said he'd looked into it and wasn't concerned about Michael Sandham.

Lenti couldn't believe it. This was the Bandidos, one of the most prominent and feared outlaw motorcycle clubs in the world, or it was supposed to be. The risk of taking on new members was enormous, and this particular member warranted a rigorous background check which clearly hadn't been done. This was the work of amateurs. Frank Lenti was already not impressed with how the club was being run, but this was taking it to a new level. and he wasn't the only one who thought so. The club national treasurer was a man named Glen Wrongway Atkinson.

He was responsible for making sure the Canadian Bandidos paid their dues to headquarters in the US. Wrongway was also a Toronto Bandidoito since that was the only proper chapter in Canada and he was getting sick of the shenanigans. Obviously the Banditos weren't making any money and had no strategy for the future, no irons in the fire. The Hells Angel still posed a big threat and Bandito's national president, Boxer Muschedre, didn't seem to be taking any of it seriously. While the members certainly appreciated Boxer's approach of prioritizing the brotherhood and

encouraging everyone to chill out and have a good time, that does not pay the bills. And there were other leadership issues. As Canadian national treasurer Glenn Wrongway Atkinson maintained a very good productive relationship with Bandido's USA headquarters in Texas. They actually preferred to deal with him and often left Boxer completely out of discussions. Instead of working on the relationship as national president or encouraging wrong way to continue it, boxer took it personally and was overtly jealous. It put wrong way in a weird position. In

addition, it was clear that boxer wasn't coping. He seemed to be stressed, he was lashing out and wasn't himself. He was also consuming cocaine at an escalating pace. So Wrongway invited tow truck driver George Crash Kriarakis to meet up. He gave him the news. He was leaving the Bandidos to join the Outlaws and Crash should come too. Crash was conflicted. They both agreed that Boxx's leadership wasn't great and as for Wayne Weiner-Calistine, the man with an ego larger than the size of the Harley Davidson he might have been riding if he was a serious biker, both men agreed that they didn't like or trust him. Then there was Michael Taz Sandham from Winnipeg who seemed to be of questionable character. At least the Winnipeg

chapter was only probationary. Crash's own fiance Diane wanted him to leave the club as well. She felt that Wayne Callistine was a loose cannon. The couple was planning their wedding and all Crash wanted to do was spend time with her, but he didn't want to let his bandito brothers down. Some of them owed him money and he worried that if he left the club, he'd never see that money again. George Crash Kriarakis was going to stay, but he wished Rongwei well. That October of 2004, Glen Rongwei Atkinson arrived at Wayne Calistine's farm for a mandatory church meeting. Rongwei brought a plastic bag containing his banditoes, patches, vest and other items and announced he was leaving the club.

As he got up and walked towards the door to leave, Boxer Moushedre, the national leader of the Canadian Banditoes, came up from behind and sucker punched him. Wayne Callistine joined in on the beating at one point stuffing a pistol in Wrongway's mouth. The former National Treasurer stumbled out with a bloody face and drove himself to hospital where he was treated for broken ribs and received stitches to his face. It was both the price he had to pay for leaving the club and proof that leaving was a good decision. Not long after that, Frank Lenti, the tough veteran biker brought in to invigorate the Toronto Bandidos, quit as well.

He'd officially had enough and because he was known to be a very tough biker and unrelenting fighter, he was permitted to leave unharmed. But the Toronto Bandidos had never been in worse shape. Now it was 2005 and the club received an email from Bandido's US headquarters in Texas requesting an update on membership. This made everyone in Toronto very nervous because they didn't have Glen Wrongway Atkinson to manage the relationship anymore. They were officially on their own and they also knew the club had broken a few rules. Their members weren't up to date on paying their dues. Many of them didn't even have a working motorcycle,

and they'd accepted new members without going through the proper approval process with Texas. One of those new members was Paul Sinopoli, a 29-year-old originally from Argentina who went by the nickname Big Paulie. He was having some struggles getting his life together. He didn't have a job and lived in his parents' basement, but he was trying to earn some coin as a small-time drug dealer. Big Paulie Sinopoli was also a big guy, weighing about 400 pounds or 180 kilograms. He had health problems, low self-esteem and didn't have many friends. Desperate to belong, he joined the Toronto Bandidos as a probationary member. Another

new member was Jamie Flans, known as Goldberg, a former minor hockey coach who ran a successful computer consulting business. And his reasons for getting into an outlaw motorcycle club were very similar to boxer Muxedres. Jamie Goldberg-Flans was 36 and had been married with two kids, but after his recent divorce, he felt disconnected socially and yearned for camaraderie. As a successful business owner, Goldberg had money that he often loaned to the club, and he also let more senior members use his townhouse for club business on occasion. Also brought on was Michael Trotter, a 30-year-old happily married man with a child, who was gainfully employed as a salesman at a trailer rental company in the Greater Toronto area.

He'd only joined the Bairditos as a probationary member a few months earlier, as a friend of Toronto President Frank Bam Bam Salerno. Michael Trotter was known as Little Mikey because he was reportedly small in stature. Within just a few months he was promoted to full patch. Then there was 52 year old George Jessam, another tow truck driver who had just been admitted as a prospect and went by the nickname Pony. He had terminal cancer and no close immediate family and like the others, he joined the Bandidos for the camaraderie and a support network as he approached the end of his life. George Pony Jessam soon became known for his dry sense of humour.

The majority of the Toronto Banditos were men seeking friendship and connection, and they needed a place to relax, chill and party. But the club still had no permanent clubhouse and no money to pay for one. And when US Bandito headquarters requested an update on membership and finances, they stalled on replying. It wasn't a good move. Wayne Callistine always wanted to be the leader of whatever group he was in. But because of his recent prison stint, he'd had to accept that he'd be answering to his former protege, Boxer Muxedre, for a while. He was getting sick of it, and with all the cracks appearing, now was the time for him to start making moves.

In the spring of 2005, Wayne made a secret trip to Winnipeg, Manitoba, more than 2000 kilometres to the other side of the Great Lakes to meet with the president of the Winnipeg chapter of the Bandidos, Michael Taz Sandham. The chapter was still on probation and Michael wanted full membership for them all. He didn't know why it was taking so long. He was also keen to start making some real money for the club and himself. Wayne Callistine said he'd help. He had good connections to methamphetamine producers in Ontario.

Together, they might be able to work something out. But months elapsed and nothing changed. So on June 25th of 2005, Michael Taz Sandham got his inner circle together and drove from Winnipeg to Ontario to visit Wayne at his farm at Iona Station. The trip took around 24 hours one way. As far as the Winnipeg crew knew, Michael Sandham was the only member that wasn't on probation. In fact, he boasted to them that he'd been patched in as full member in record time so he could lead the chapter.

Problem was, that wasn't actually true. While Michael Sandham considered himself the leader, it wasn't official or approved. And of course he hadn't been patched in, they were all on probation. But Michael didn't want his Winnipeg chapter to know that, so he'd impose strict rules that they must respect and follow the chain of command. All communication to any of the Toronto Bandidos or to the National President Boxer Moushedre needed to go through Michael Sandham. That way he could control the flow of information.

So with that, the four members of the Winnipeg crew rode to Wayne Calistine's farm in southwestern Ontario to complain that the Toronto Bandidos still hadn't patched them over. One of the Toronto crew happened to be there. 40-year-old Luis Reposo, known as Chopper, was another former loner who had patched over to the Bandidos. Chopper still lived with his parents in Toronto, but he was known to be a tough player. In most photos, he was seen giving the finger to the camera. It was his thing. As treasurer of the Toronto Bandidos, Luis Choppa Reposo collected the membership dues.

And when the Winnipeg crew rocked up to Wayne Callistine's farm asking for full patches, Chopra told them it wasn't happening. They hadn't paid their membership fees. But Michael Sandham insisted he'd sent the dues to Toronto. The Winnipeg chapter was paid up. They should all get their patches. It seemed it should have been an easy thing to get a clear answer for, but the two men proceeded to argue about it, accusing each other of embezzling the money. And from that point on, Michael Sandam

and Chopper Raposo were sworn enemies. The Winnipeg crew rode off in frustration. A few months later, they were back, pleading for their patches. Once again, they left bitterly disappointed. But Wayne Callistine was impressed by Michael Sandam. The man was clearly ambitious, definitely someone he could work with. Wayne knew the Toronto Bandidos were going downhill fast. The finances were still terrible. They all shared the same cell phone plan

now and were behind on those payments too. And now, the relationship with Bandido's US headquarters in Texas had broken down, which was a very serious situation. As Canadian national president, Boxer Mouchadre wasn't wielding his power very effectively. But Wayne Kallestine still resented that he had it in the first place. He wanted to be the national leader of the Bandidos. He was the one who was going to pull the club

out of the ditch and turn it into a success. And Michael Taz Sandham from Winnipeg might just be the right person to help. Wayne Calistine and Michael Sandham had a private conversation about where things stood. Wayne declared that he was on Winnipeg's side and suggested to Michael that he simply have his own Bandito's patches made up specifically for the Winnipeg crew. This was quite a suggestion. Patches are extremely important to outlaw motorcycle clubs as both a symbol of allegiance and an intimidation tactic. Members who leave a club must return their patch ASAP.

It's also considered highly offensive for someone to wear a patch that hasn't been bestowed on them with official sanctioning from their club's headquarters. Wayne acknowledged that his suggestion was technically against the rules, but told Michael it could be easily justified because the Toronto Bandidos were no longer in good standing with US headquarters. Together, Wayne Weener-Calistine and Michael Taz Sandham started talking about expanding the Bandidos again across Canada, opening new chapters that they would eventually control. It was now heading towards the end of 2005 and the Toronto Bandidos received a very seriously

worded email from US headquarters. They were officially being put on notice for not meeting the requirements of belonging to the Bandidos in the United States. They hadn't maintained monthly contact and they still hadn't provided an update on membership. The last part of the email read, quote, I believe this has been discussed over and over. And to my knowledge, nothing has been sent in a very long time. There's no time for noncompliance with this email. This must be remedied immediately.

Make plans to visit the USA very soon. We would like details within 48 hours." The email came through to treasurer Luis Chopra Reposo and he had no response for them. He just replied that the Canadian bandidos were trying to arrange a visit. It might buy them some time, but not much. It was now the end of 2005, and over in Winnipeg, Michael Sandham was getting extremely impatient. Toronto would still not give his chapter their Bandito's Patches. The Hells Angels now had around 40 chapters from coast to coast, including six just in the Greater Toronto area.

The Bandidos only had one chapter in the whole of Canada, and Michael had been working hard to build a viable Winnipeg chapter, but Toronto would not take them off probation. So it was time to go over their heads and ask Texas directly. Michael Sandham started emailing US headquarters, breaking the chain of command he lectured his own crew about. He complained about being on probation and about the Toronto chapter's insubordination towards headquarters. He criticized John Boxer-Muchedre's leadership

as national president and suggested that treasurer Luis Chopra Reposo was embezzling funds. This was all news to Texas. It turned out that US headquarters had no idea there even was a Winnipeg chapter, probationary or otherwise, boxer Muxedre forgot to let them know. The Toronto Banditos had officially gone too far. It was time to pull their patches.

That's where we'll leave it for part one. Thanks for listening. In part two, we meet the No Surrender crew as tensions between the Toronto Bandidos, the probationary Winnipeg chapter and US headquarters come to a head, leading to a final ultimatum and a devastating betrayal. Then in part three, a covert police investigation closes in on the perpetrators as they try to get away with it. Part two is available to all in a week, and if you're subscribed to our ad-free premium feeds on Apple podcasts, Amazon Music included with Prime, or Patreon, look out for early release.

This series has been pieced together from multiple court documents and the news archives, most notably the reporting of Jane Sims for the London Free Press and Peter Edwards for the Toronto Star, as well as his 2010 book The Bandito Massacre, a true story of bikers, brotherhood and betrayal. For the full list of resources and anything else you want to know about the podcast, visit CanadianTrueCrime.ca and follow us on the Canadian True Crime Facebook and Instagram

pages to see photos and clippings. Canadian True Crime donates monthly to those facing injustice. This month we have donated to the Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime, who offer support, research and education to survivors, victims and their families. You can learn more at crcvc.ca. Audio editing was by Crosby Audio and Eric Crosby voiced the disclaimer. Our senior producer is Lindsay Eldridge.

Carol Weinberg is our script consultant. Research, writing, narration and sound design was by me and the theme songs were composed by We Talk of Dreams. I'll be back soon with another Canadian True Crime episode. See you then. Hunger Games fans, get ready because the story's not over yet. Sunrise on the Reaping is the thrilling new prequel from Suzanne Collins and you can listen to it now at audible.ca. This is the untold story of Haymitch Abernathy before he was Katniss' mentor.

As the 50th Hunger Games begin, there's terror in the districts, twice as many tributes have been chosen, so the games will be double the size and double the danger. Haymitch is just another tribute ripped from his home and the girl he loves. And there's fierce new challenges, shocking twists and epic fantasy. But he feels a strong instinct to fight that could change everything.

Listen to Sunrise on the Reaping now at audible.ca slash sunrise. With the FIZ loyalty program, you get rewarded just for having a mobile plan. You know, for texting and stuff. And if you're not getting rewards like extra data and dollars off with your mobile plan, you're not with FIZ. Switch today. Conditions apply. Details at FIZ.ca.