The Gangland War Read Online Free Page B

shattered by the death of his stepson, Mark, and his natural son, Jason. But it was the death of his best friend, Kinniburgh, that destroyed his will to live.
    Lewis, a former skilled pickpocket, tried carrying a gun after Mark and Jason were murdered, but arthritis meant he couldn’t handle it properly. Moran had little formal education but, as an experienced SP bookmaker, he could calculate odds in a flash. After Kinniburgh was killed he knew his own survival was a long shot.
    Williams denied the existence of a death list and told the author: ‘I’ve only met Lewis once. I haven’t got a problem with Lewis. If he thinks he has a problem with me I can say he can sleep peacefully.’ Not only was Williams a murderer but he was also, it would seem, a terrible fibber.
    Police knew Moran was a sitting duck and they successfully applied to have a court-ordered bail curfew altered so his movements would not be easily anticipated by would-be hit men.
    Detective Senior Sergeant Swindells gave evidence at the bail hearing in the forlorn hope he could save Moran’s life.
    He said Moran’s ‘vulnerability relates to a perception by thetaskforce that if the curfew remains between 8pm and 8am … it is possible for any person to be lying in wait for Mr Moran to return to his home address’.
    But Lewis no longer cared. He knew that if he stuck to a routine he was more vulnerable but he continued to drink at the Brunswick Club — where he was shot dead by two contract killers on 31 March 2004. The killers were allegedly paid $140,000 cash. They were supposed to be paid $150,000 but were short-changed.
    As a friend said, ‘Lewis died because he loved cheap beer.’
    POLICE knew they needed a circuit breaker and that the best way to do it would be to jail Williams. It was the self-styled ‘Premier’ himself, always so cautious about phones, who handed them the damning evidence. He told his wife in one call that if Purana Detective Sergeant Stuart Bateson raided their house she should ‘grab the gun from under the mattress and shoot them in the head’.
    In a prison phone call The Runner complained of his treatment and Williams talked about chopping up Sergeant Bateson’s girlfriend.
    Bateson was not one to be intimidated. He received the Valour Award in 1991 after wrestling a gunman to the ground and disarming him after the offender had forced another policeman to his knees at gunpoint.
    The tape of Williams’ threats was the break police needed. On 17 November 2003, the Special Operations Group grabbed Williams in Beaconsfield Parade, Port Melbourne.
    The arrest was captured brilliantly by ace
Age
photographer Angela Wylie, who snapped an image of the man who thought he was beyond the law lying helplessly on the ground with detectives standing over him. It was a sign that times were changing.
    Purana police believed they had enough to hold Williams, but he was bailed for a third time. It meant he was able to organise at least another three murders, police suspect.
    In the two weeks before he was bailed, Williams befriended another would-be tough guy who was keen to be fast-tracked when he got out of prison. He was an alleged heroin trafficker and amateur boxer with a big mouth and he would finally bring the big man down.
    ONE of the most boring jobs in a long investigation is to monitor police bugging devices. The Purana taskforce virtually dominated the technical capacity of the entire crime department with many detectives in other areas quietly grumbling that their investigations were put on hold because Simon Overland had ordered that the gangland detectives get first priority.
    During the investigation Purana would log half a million telephone conversations — most consisting of the inarticulate ramblings of would-be gangsters. They used listening devices to bug suspects for 53,000 hours and conducted 22,000 hours of physical surveillance.
    Police on the case