So I had coffee with Hells Angels president Paul “Sasquatch” Porter down at the Ottawa courthouse. He had orange juice. I had a coffee with some cream, no sugar. Whenever I think of the word orange, I immediately think of what rhymes with it. It was Eminem, one of the greatest talents of our time, who said something like: I took my four-inch, orange door hinge out of storage from George’s.
Eminem hasn’t been in court in awhile, but Hells Angels president Paul (Sasquatch) Porter was in court the other day.
He’s not hard to miss. He’s named Sasquatch for a reason. He’s charged with cocaine trafficking after a brief Ottawa Police investigation. It might just be that the cops will finally send Sasquatch — just Sas to friends and criminal associates — to federal prison.
His former associates, the ones who founded the violent Rock Machine with him, have told me one of the only things the Hells Angels boss fears is prison.
Porter has always been insulated and far removed from the biker sweeps that sometimes do send some of the outlaws to prison. The police say they pulled over his car after it left a suspected drug house in Ottawa’s east end. But he wasn’t alone in the car, and when they stopped him, he allegedy said the quarter kilo of blow in his girlfriend’s purse belonged to him. None of this has been proved in court and Sasquatch will go on trial for coke trafficking in the new year. For anyone who has been prosecuted in court, it’s not a fun way to ring in the new year.
We hadn’t seen each other in years. Not since the time he ran a used book shop on Wellington. It’s no longer a book shop. It was replaced by an upscale dog grooming business when they started to ‘gentrify’ Hintonburg.
It was around the time someone “stole” his pick-up truck. His notorious biker gang sent the newspaper a press release about the theft, saying clearly whoever stole it must have noticed the Hells Angels biker vest inside.
“It turned out to be the cops who stole it,” Sasquatch told me down at the courthouse.
I think the courthouse is one of the bestest places to hang, especially if you are the kind of person that doesn’t have cable. It’s got the only cafeteria in town where prostitutes, cops, violent offenders, punks, some ordinary decent criminals, and lawyers all eat under the same roof. It’s about the only spot in the courthouse where everyone is treated the same. It’s definitely much different than upstairs at the counters, where they require you to tell them if you are a lawyer or just some guy off the street. And I must ask if everyone is required to pay the 10 bucks to pull a public file. I do know that everyone down in the cafeteria is required to pay for their coffee and cheeseburgers.
I hope some of the money one day goes to cheering up the folks waiting to be served at the family and divorce counter. I’ve seen more smiles at a casino, where smiles are sometimes as rare as a window or a clock.
So yeah, the other day, Hells Angels president Paul Porter went through the motions. Said all the right things.
Honest job. That the press only gives the police side of crime stories. Then said if the ‘club’ decides to get their message out, they’d go through me. I’d rather they just bought an ad and spare me the high school lines that criminal enterprise is not a pre-requisite for membership, and that riding Harleys keeps one young at heart. In some cases, both are true statements but at least talk about some of the criminal enterprise that lands you in newspapers every single day the world over.
I once went as an invited guest on an outlaw biker run in New Mexico with the Bandidos, a rival gang of the notorious Hells Angels. It reminded me of spring break in Daytona, only I wasn’t 18.
I sat at a table in a pub with international Bandido leaders and listened as they told me their plans for the gang to go straight and use their drug money to finance businesses like motels and restaurants. Obviously I didn’t file a story but I did make some good contacts.
Three weeks later, some of the same guys who spoke about plans for a straight future were arrested on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. I filed a story on that and sprinkled some of their conversation and colour from the biker run.
Porter also told me he makes an honest living fixing motorcycles for 50 bucks an hour.
He didn’t mention the quarter kilo of cocaine the cops said they seized from girlfriend’s purse on September 12.
The only spark of life from the calm, measured Porter was when he leaned closed and told me: “If you write anything about this, keep my wife’s name out of the paper.” He wasn’t kidding around and it’s refreshing to see a man try to protect his wife.
Only problem is that Debbie Brennan is also charged with cocaine trafficking, so clearly, I couldn’t give her a pass.
It was around the time someone “stole” his pick-up truck. His notorious biker gang sent the newspaper a press release about the theft, saying clearly whoever stole it must have noticed the Hells Angels biker vest inside.
“It turned out to be the cops who stole it,” Sasquatch told me down at the courthouse.
I think the courthouse is one of the bestest places to hang, especially if you are the kind of person that doesn’t have cable. It’s got the only cafeteria in town where prostitutes, cops, violent offenders, punks, some ordinary decent criminals, and lawyers all eat under the same roof. It’s about the only spot in the courthouse where everyone is treated the same. It’s definitely much different than upstairs at the counters, where they require you to tell them if you are a lawyer or just some guy off the street. And I must ask if everyone is required to pay the 10 bucks to pull a public file. I do know that everyone down in the cafeteria is required to pay for their coffee and cheeseburgers.
I hope some of the money one day goes to cheering up the folks waiting to be served at the family and divorce counter. I’ve seen more smiles at a casino, where smiles are sometimes as rare as a window or a clock.
So yeah, the other day, Hells Angels president Paul Porter went through the motions. Said all the right things.
Honest job. That the press only gives the police side of crime stories. Then said if the ‘club’ decides to get their message out, they’d go through me. I’d rather they just bought an ad and spare me the high school lines that criminal enterprise is not a pre-requisite for membership, and that riding Harleys keeps one young at heart. In some cases, both are true statements but at least talk about some of the criminal enterprise that lands you in newspapers every single day the world over.
I once went as an invited guest on an outlaw biker run in New Mexico with the Bandidos, a rival gang of the notorious Hells Angels. It reminded me of spring break in Daytona, only I wasn’t 18.
I sat at a table in a pub with international Bandido leaders and listened as they told me their plans for the gang to go straight and use their drug money to finance businesses like motels and restaurants. Obviously I didn’t file a story but I did make some good contacts.
Three weeks later, some of the same guys who spoke about plans for a straight future were arrested on charges of conspiracy to commit murder. I filed a story on that and sprinkled some of their conversation and colour from the biker run.
Porter also told me he makes an honest living fixing motorcycles for 50 bucks an hour.
He didn’t mention the quarter kilo of cocaine the cops said they seized from girlfriend’s purse on September 12.
The only spark of life from the calm, measured Porter was when he leaned closed and told me: “If you write anything about this, keep my wife’s name out of the paper.” He wasn’t kidding around and it’s refreshing to see a man try to protect his wife.
Only problem is that Debbie Brennan is also charged with cocaine trafficking, so clearly, I couldn’t give her a pass.
If Sasquatch’s alleged statement to arresting officers is true, it could be argued that he was trying to own up to it in an attempt to protect her. Either way, it didn’t work because she is also facing trial for an offence that carries a maximum penalty of life in prison.
So her name went in the story just the same. Had she just been in court to support the monster-sized outlaw biker, I would have left her name out. She should be treated just like the 20-year-old kid from Vanier who doesn’t have enough money to hire well-dressed lawyers from out of town.
Treated the same way down in the cafeteria, where even the Hells Angels president pays in full for a tiny bottle of orange juice.
www.twitter.com/crimegarden
gdimmock©ottawacitizen.com
http://blogs.ottawacitizen.com/2011/12/28/the-ottawa-hells-angels-president-and-that-orange-juice/
So her name went in the story just the same. Had she just been in court to support the monster-sized outlaw biker, I would have left her name out. She should be treated just like the 20-year-old kid from Vanier who doesn’t have enough money to hire well-dressed lawyers from out of town.
Treated the same way down in the cafeteria, where even the Hells Angels president pays in full for a tiny bottle of orange juice.
www.twitter.com/crimegarden
gdimmock©ottawacitizen.com
http://blogs.ottawacitizen.com/2011/12/28/the-ottawa-hells-angels-president-and-that-orange-juice/