PART 8 – CALABRIANS IN CANBERRA

CALABRIANS IN CANBERRA

Although perhaps not as popular a choice as Melbourne, Sydney or the Riverina, the post-war migration boom saw Italian settlers arriving in the Australian Capital Territory and its city centre of Canberra. And just as was observed in the other Australian states and capitals, a small percentage of the Calabrian migrants who settled lived their lives by a particular code, and were part of the fraternity named L’Honorata, translated as the Honoured Society. A handful of familiar surnames would soon be noted. An ‘ndrine was established in the ACT, as part of the locale’ that stretched its tentacles out from Griffith. They operated as part of the so-called Plati’ Group, named for the Calabrian town from which they spread.

Illicit drug-trafficking is the engine around which the ‘ndrangheta revolve. Australian Calabrese would go on to mirror the modus operandi of their kin in the Old Country, who left their kidnapping and extortion behind to move into massive-scale trafficking of cocaine, ecstasy, heroin, and methamphetamine. The events that led to the Calabrian mafiosi stepping into the vacuum left by the Sicilians will be detailed in a later article, but in the decades leading up to the change, the Calabrian contingent in Australia had already established themselves in the marijuana trade, to the point of monopolising operations in their part of Australia.

From the late sixties to the nineties, Calabrian ‘ndranghetisti controlled a massive system of king-crop marijuana plantations. The system they established stretched all along the East Coast of Australia, with crops grown in every Eastern and Central state, including both the Australian Capital Territory and the Northern Territory. The Siderno Group that was based in Western Australia also had their own crops growing, and at times were known to work with the contingent rooted in Plati’.

Of course, the Calabrian leaders couldn’t be expected to work in the dirt anymore; a system was developed to streamline their endeavours. When one considers the international juggernaut of drug trafficking that the ‘ndrangheta would become, its humble beginnings in Australia bear notice.

SETTLING THE NEW COUNTRY

In the 1950’s, the growing population of Italians in Canberra formed their first informal social group. By 1960, a collection of local Italian labourers donated their skills, time, and efforts towards the construction of Canberra’s Italo-Australian Club. Its doors opened in 1963, with photos from the time showing groups of dapper, smiling men proud of their efforts. Elected as the first president of the club was Pasquale Damiano, a thirty-year-old barber who owned two salons and was considered a pillar of the community.

Unfortunately, his role at the club would come to cause some detriment to his health in the subsequent years. Six years after the club had opened, Damiano would die in a car accident when his car ran off the Monaro Highway and struck a tree. At the Coroner’s Inquest into his death in 1969, his physician revealed that Damiano had recently been diagnosed with depression and agita relating to him “…worrying too much, and not sleeping well for the preceding two months”.

There’s no suggestion that his death was the result of foul play, but it’s of interest to note that his beloved club had started to attract a specific demographic and clientele. There would soon be several new contenders running for the presidency of the club.

Amongst the families that had settled the farmland in the area was the eldest son of a branch of the notorious Barbaro family. Pasquale Barbaro, who would come to be nick-named Peter, was born on November 28^{th, 1931}, in Plati’, Reggio Calabria.

Claiming to be the eldest son of a poor family of shepherds, he boarded a ship called the Toscana, and he arrived in Fremantle, Australia during the post-war boom in 1957.

Pasquale was the eldest of four brothers who would soon join him in Australia. All originally born in Plati’, the family would maintain links to Canberra for decades to come. His brother Francesco, born on January 22^nd, 1942, would settle in Griffith, eventually earning the nickname “Yoogali”, named after the area in which he bought property and farmland.

The second brother Antonio was born March 25^th, 1944. After some time between Canberra and Griffith, he would later settle in Ascot Vale, Victoria. While he was living in Canberra, “Tony” would become active in local politics, and had become a member of the Australian Labor Party in Canberra. The fourth and youngest brother Rocco, born December 23^rd, 1949, would in later years move to Hillston, NSW.

Pasquale and his brothers were cousins to Francesco Barbaro of Griffith, who would come to be known by his nickname of “Little Trees.” A cousin of the infamous Francesco “u castanu” Barbaro who was the long-time boss of the Calabrian-based Barbaro clan, “Little Trees” would become a leading figure in the Australian branch of the clan for decades. In the late 1970’s, Francesco would be named as one of the main suspects in the murder of Donald Mackay.

In Calabria there is a long tradition of strategic marriages, which bind clans together in blood. This was replicated in Australia. By marrying “Little Trees”’ sister, Anna, Pasquale united these two branches of the Barbaro family in Australia.

In fact, the brothers had all married well, and it was these relationships that afforded them a higher pedigree than they could have achieved on the merit of their own surname alone. Francesco and Rocco married daughters of Giuseppe Sergi, a brother of Giovanni “Old Joe” Sergi, considered by some to be one of highest ranking ‘ndranghetisti in Australia. In the process they had gained as a kind of brother-in-law Antonio Sergi, also known as Winery Tony from the multi-million-dollar winery he ran with the help of the family. Rocco’s marriage to Caterina Sergi would later cost him his left leg in the future when he cheated on her with another of the Sergi daughters, named Jenny, but their story would unfold some years later. Domenico Nirta would court Pasquale’s sister Maria, and she would eventually marry into the powerful Nirta clan which served to further connect this branch of the Barbaro family into the national structure of the ‘ndrangheta.

Much like his brother Rocco decision to stray from the side of his well-connected wife, Pasquale’s future decisions, compounded by other sins, would have dire consequences, but in his case much more dire than a shotgun blast to the knee.

Pasquale worked a council job as a gardener before a back injury forced him into an early retirement, and a government pension. In 1965 he was charged for carrying an unlicenced .45 calibre Remington Rand automatic pistol. By 1969, he was known to police as being a player in the local chapter of the Honoured Society, and by the 1980s was recognised as the head of the Canberra ‘ndrine that operated under the auspiciousness of the Plati’ Group Griffith locale’.

While living in Canberra, Antonio Barbaro would become close friends with Luigi Pochi, another man who would eventually be recognised as a member of the Honoured Society, or ‘ndrangheta, which by this time was coming to be understood as operating in Australia. Pochi, based in New South Wales, would later go into “business” with the brothers. Luigi Pochi was born on January 7^th, 1939, in Calabria. He had also arrived in Australia in 1959 and would marry one of Tony Sergi’s sisters, which made him a brother-in-law to Tony Barbaro. On July 22, 1976, Flash Al himself officially opened Vignali Wines in Fyshwick, Canberra. This winery was owned by Pochi and Tony Sergi and was also named in the Woodward Commission as having been started up with funds accrued from the illicit drug trade, chiefly the numerous crops of cannabis that linked so many Calabrian families together.

With the Italo-Australian Club being the premier social point for Italians in Canberra to gather, it was inevitable that it would attract local members of the Society. These members would sit together at their own table and quietly discuss business, which in keeping with the modus operandi of the Barbaro/Sergi locale’ under which most of them operated at the time, was the business of growing massive crops of marijuana. With Rocco and Antonio’s links to the Sergi family of Griffith, they were positioned well as the point men in the cultivation and subsequent wholesale of cannabis. Approaching the period up to the late 1980’s that this piece aims to cover, the Barbaro brothers operated as the main conduit for operations between the Riverina and the ACT.

Other members of the crew that frequented the club at this time included the following men, each alleged to be members of the local ‘ndrine closely affiliated with Pasquale were Bruno Morabito and Giuseppe Monteleone.

This nucleus of the Barbaro brothers and their affiliates would form a contingent of Australian ‘ndranghetisti that would be involved in yet another of Australia’s most baffling murder investigations.

THE MURDER

It had been a long day for Colin Stanley Winchester when he arrived home later than usual on the night of January 10^th, 1989. It was around a quarter past nine o’clock when he pulled into his home at 42 Lawley Street, in the solidly middle-class suburb of Deakin, Canberra. After earlier finishing his workday, he had returned to the house earlier that evening before heading out again around 7pm to visit with his brother, with whom he was close. Ken Winchester later told police his brother had arrived with ammunition to give to him, and that they had spoken about an upcoming hunting trip the brothers were planning for March. Ken said his brother had spoken of “having a lot on his plate” before taking his leave around 9pm.

At around 9.15pm, Winchester pulled into his driveway. He parked but didn’t have time to get out of the driver’s seat before he was shot twice in the head. The ballistic evidence shows that the first shot hit him in the back of the head, with the gunman then stepping to the driver’s side window and putting another bullet in Winchesters head. It appears the gunman then calmly left the scene, leaving behind two cartridges that were later ascertained to have been fired from a .22 calibre Ruger 10/22, a semi-automatic rifle made by the US arms manufacturer Sturm, Roger and Co.

Speaking later to police, Winchester’s wife Gwen described first hearing her husband’s car pull in, then hearing what she assumed to be someone throwing small stones at the house, saying “…at the time, I didn’t even realise they were shots.”

After a few minutes, she grew curious as to why her husband was yet to enter the house. She went to check on what he was doing and was confronted by the murder scene.

Seeing her husband slumped in the driver’s seat with the door wide-open and a leg hanging out of the car, she panicked and ran inside to call an ambulance at 9.20pm. With the ambulance on its way, she rushed back to her husband, assuming he had suffered a heart-attack, stroke, or similar malady. Deciding to give him mouth to mouth, it was not until she reached for his head that she discovered the blood seeping from his head wounds. Upon this discovery, she ran back into the house to dial emergency services, and this time asked for the police. Upon connection, she stated that her husband, Assistant Commissioner to the AFP Colin Winchester, had been shot. Soon she heard the sirens of emergency response vehicles arriving on Lawley Street.

What would later prove to be a messy start to the investigation into the murder would inadvertently help the escaped killer. As paramedics began their work, responding officers from ACT Policing, as well as AFP officers, began swarming the car and the house surroundings. This contaminated the scene so much that later, forensic experts found it impossible to gather any meaningful evidence. The only clues of any real note were found by Sergeant Peter Nelipa, who would later become the lead forensic officer in the impending investigation. This evidence was two bullet cartridges, later established to be cheap Korean-made PMC .22 bullets. When they canvassed the area for information, several neighbours described hearing a vehicle with a V8 engine around the time of the murder.

It was a poor start towards establishing the identity of the killer, who was responsible for the death of the highest-ranking police officer in Australian history.

As the Assistant Commissioner of the Australian Federal Police, Winchester had enjoyed a lofty position and had been held in high regard by the rank-and-file officers. This is not to say that Winchester had been loved by all his men. His manner was known to be brusque at times, and it was also known that a number of individuals held grudges against him for varying reasons. As AFP Detective Commander Ric Ninness would say in a statement to media; “[as a high-profile officer] It is reasonable to assume he would have made enemies during his twenty-seven years police service.” Ninness claimed it possible that current and former AFP officers may have motive for the murder, before also continuing to suggest that “It was a reasonable possibility to assume that a member of the criminal element had arranged his murder or perpetrated the crime.” He certainly covered all the bases with that media statement.

It was therefore of note that one of the first suspects was a former AFP officer that Winchester had forced into departure. Winchester had also allegedly attempted to interfere in the officer’s subsequent attempts to find work and housing. It was telling that Detective Constable Karl Pattenden, who as one of the first officers on the scene that night had taped it off and set up a roadblock, later checked AFP rosters for the night, to check for any unexplained absence. It was obvious that in the earliest stages of the investigation, AFP officers believed it was possible that Winchester had been murdered by one of their own. This was exacerbated by the belief held by some that Winchester was corrupt, and perhaps in the pocket of a particular segment of Canberra’s Italian population. This had to do with a controversial police operation some years ago that Winchester had spearheaded. Ninness would later admit, “…our first thought was the mafia.”

For the time being, however, nothing could be proven beyond doubt. Soon, the investigation into the Winchester murder, codenamed Operation Peat, was established, headed by Detective Commander Ninness. The investigation stalled as various leads led to nothing, and the messier parts of Winchester’s past became widely scrutinised. It was five years later that police focus settled on a disgruntled public service officer named David Eastman as a suspect in the murder.

Eastman was a well-known nuisance, who was responsible for numerous barrages of death-threats, verbal abuse, letter-writing campaigns, and excessive phone-calls that were often directed at the AFP and at ACT Policing, the community wing of law-enforcement in Canberra. In 1977, Eastman had retired from his job in the State Treasury, and when he tried to apply for another position in the Bureau of Statistics, his application was rejected on the grounds that he had previously shared sensitive information with the press. This led to his ten-year campaign against the public service sector, and criminal matters that included an assault on a neighbour, hundreds of targeted abusive letters and phone-calls, and a skirmish with police in which he assaulted an officer.

On November 21^st, 1988, Assistant Commissioner Winchester had explained to Eastman that he would be facing assault charges following a protracted argument with a neighbour, who Eastman strenuously insisted had been the instigator. His court date for the matter was scheduled for January 12^th, 1989. Two days before Winchester would be murdered.

Shortly after, investigators discovered that around that time, he had come into possession of Korean-made PMC ammunition and had purchased a Ruger. In the period following his interaction with Winchester, Eastman had directed his vitriol towards the Assistant Commissioner in the form of death-threats. After investigators detected gunshot residue in his vehicle, Canberra police hastily arrested Eastman and charged him with the murder. Following appeals and strenuously denying the charge all the way, Eastman was remanded into custody.

On November 3^rd, 1995, the court heard of his frequent tendencies towards abusing authorities and of his several instances of assault against the public and police. They produced evidence that also included alleged confessions picked up on bugs planted in his home, along with the mound of circumstantial evidence that pointed to his guilt. Damning for his case was the critical gunshot residue test. A unanimous jury convicted him, and he was sentenced to life in prison.

On the 22nd of August 2014, Eastman’s conviction was quashed by the Supreme Court of Australia, which ruled his conviction a miscarriage of justice. While it was true that he had made threats, and the circumstantial evidence was noted, the crucial finding was the discreditation of the gunshot residue. Eastman was released from custody pending a retrial, which he unsuccessfully appealed. In November of 2018, a retrial was held in the Supreme Court. The Courts found him not guilty of the murder and Eastman would eventually receive over $7million in compensation for his nineteen years spent in custody.

Eastman’s conviction smacked of an easy target for law enforcement to peg the Winchester murder on. The clearly disturbed man was a well-known public nuisance and had a steady history of making threats. Considering the mountain of circumstantial evidence against him, he strikes as a very compelling suspect. Especially when one considers an alternate version of events, which suggest a very different array of suspects. This version of events would require much more scrutiny and suggests much messier possibilities; that one of Canberra’s leading police officials was working with criminals, and perhaps even corrupt. The root of this line of investigation came in the form of a Calabrese individual who approached police in 1980.

THE COOPERATOR

In October of 1980, a forty-three-year-old Calabrian man named Giuseppe Verduci approached Detective Sergeant Brian Lockwood in a Canberra Courthouse with an offer the Lockwood could not refuse. In a subsequent meeting at the police station in Belconnen, a small town outside of Canberra, the officer learned that Verduci claimed to have information on drug crops, structure of the local ‘ndrangheta and, most tantalizingly, the murder of Donald Mackay. Lockwood would go on to share this potentially explosive information with his supervisor, Superintendent Gary Griffiths, who in turn, recommended bringing Winchester, at the time Superintendent of the AFPs Criminal Investigation Division, into the conversation. Later noting that he didn’t have to necessarily believe all of Verduci’s claims to make use of him, Winchester sanctioned the liaison, and the AFP took Verduci up on his offer. They began having regular meetings with him.

At this point in his life, Verduci had no criminal history. He claimed that he was choosing to inform about ‘ndrangheta drug operations over a moral obligation, believing illicit mafia supply-chains were responsible for the drug-related death of his brother.

It is unclear whether he was referring to any harder substances, since it’s hard to believe that marijuana killed his brother. These were parochial times, however, and cannabis was seen as the “gateway” drug that led almost directly to harder drugs like heroin.

A more altruistic reason Verduci gave was that mafia figures were giving hard-working Italians a bad name. Once again, when put under scrutiny, this claim falls down. Verduci would later admit that he and a friend had considered growing illicit crops to garner massive returns at some point in the recent past. Indeed, a diary he kept; intriguingly titled Diary of a Clan used language that implied he was very much informed as to the methods of cultivation the ‘ndrangheta employed.

Emerging as a very intriguing figure in the following debacle, Giuseppe Verduci, known as Joe, was born in Motticella, Reggio Calabria in 1937. He arrived in Melbourne in 1954 and resided there for 18 years before moving to Canberra in 1972, whereupon he joined the Italo-Australian Club.

He worked in various occupations and at one time owned a supermarket, which he sold in 1980. He was active in local politics as a member of the Australian Labour Party. As a member of Canberra’s Italo-Australian Club, he was also active in election campaigns for choosing the president of the club.

He would tell his police handlers about his affiliation with a close friend named Mario Cannistra.

Cannistra brought him into contact with figures such as Antonio Barbaro and Luigi Pochi, both who were known to be involved with the cultivation of cannabis, the latter being one of the people arrested in 1977, following the tip-off from Donald Mackay about the Coleambally crops.

Through his interactions at the club, he also came to befriend Vincenzo Morabito Snr.

Verduci broke down the structure of the Calabrian Mafia in the ACT, and claimed the state held at least 160 members and named Vincenzo Morabito Sr as sotto-capo of Canberra. In other accounts, Morabito was also named as the contabile, or accountant of the Canberra ‘ndrine.

The name Morabito is well known in Calabria, and Vincenzo Senior was known to police as an advisor type. Interestingly, Verduci did not name Morabito’s younger relative Bruno, who worked as an enforcer for the clan. Nor did he name Pasquale, who was recognised as the leader of the Canberra ‘ndrine. Verduci did, however, name the other Barbaro brothers, Antonio, and Rocco, as members of the Society.

He also named Luigi Pochi as a member. At the time, Pochi was known as one of the Society’s leading figures in Canberra, as well as maintain strong links to Griffith. Vignali Wines, the venture he ran with Tony Sergi and Bob Trimbole, was founded in, and based in Canberra for a time.

When viewed through a different lens, perhaps the omissions and inclusions do make sense. The Barbaro brothers and Pochi had already been named as mafia figures in the Woodward Royal Commission; Pasquale and Bruno’s names had not come up.

Furthermore, Vincenzo Morabito Senior was by this stage seen more as a retired godfather, in the style of a padrino, removed from day-to-day operations.

An interesting twist that came out during the Woodward Commission was that Pochi’s sister and her husband ran a company that was responsible for the cleaning of several AFP properties. So, there were some dubious links to the AFP, and while Verduci gave some names up, at that stage he was yet to actually offer any real new information.

In any case, the events to follow would lead to a murky web of allegations and accusations linked to what has been described as one of the most baffling murder trials ever seen in Australia.

It started when Verduci offered to operate as the point man in a scheme to grow a crop of marijuana. The backing theory was that this would create a trail of valuable intelligence on the local mafia.

By May of 1981, the police in Canberra were ready to enact the plan to lure in known local ‘ndrangetisti and other affiliates of the Honoured Society that operated along the Eastern Coast of Australia.

Winchester would bring the Verduci issue to Superintendent Bob Blisset, the head of the Bureau of Crime Intelligence (BCI). Despite Verduci’s claims, Winchester believed it was likely that Verduci was, in fact, a member of the ‘ndrangheta. He also harboured suspicions that Verduci’s approach may be some elaborate plan concocted by the Society.

Ultimately, despite some communicated misgivings, Winchester, on behalf of the AFP, gave the green light for what is known in police parlance as a “controlled operation.” Verduci was given the authority to organise a cannabis crop in order to ensnare conspirators and their distribution networks.

Verduci recruited his friend Mario Cannistra to act as his helper and offsider. Another Calabrian born associate; Cannistra supposedly remained unaware of the arrangement Verduci had formed with the AFP. To add to the confusion that was to follow, the single operation garnered different names from the agencies involved; for the AFP it was Operation Harpoon.

For the NSW Police, it was known as Operation Seville, which became the best-known title of the following debacle. With Verduci simply claiming that they had the protection of corrupt police, the operation was put into action.

OPERATION SEVILLE

The main targets were Antonio Barbaro and his business partner Luigi Pochi. Verduci had identified them as major players in the industrial level trafficking of marijuana, and they both maintained extensive networks of contacts that included such figures as the Griffith based Sergi family and the notorious “Aussie Bob” Trimbole himself.

They would be responsible for the principal financing of the crop, and Verduci got busy recruiting others to the project.

As well as Cannistra, he brought in another colleague named Frank Gaspari, a resident of Hawker who lived in one of the ubiquitous “grass-castles.” Gaspari was later alleged to be a member of the Society in court documents. Gaspari and Cannistra would provide further financing and oversight with the former named as the project’s treasurer, and the latter as Verduci’s assistant overseer. Verduci also brought in two more men; their job was to provide the actual labour.

Giustino Gambacorta and Mario Ciccarello, associates of the Society members, would be the crop-sitters.

Antonio Barbaro provided the seeds on the condition that he would have first option to buy the crop. After supplying the first $3000, he declared that he would function as an advisor on day-to-day operations, experienced as he was in the illicit industry.

Verduci elected land close to his home, a property outside of Bungendore he had named Montebello. This would be the site of the crop. Bungendore was located in country New South Wales, only a thirty-minute drive from Canberra.

In August of 1981 2000 seeds were planted. By October, another 2000 germination pots had been supplied, along with the requisite irrigation equipment. The crop that would be named in police files as Bungendore 1 was underway.

Unfortunately for Verduci, he would encounter several challenges as the crop matured.

First, nosey neighbours had become suspicious of the fluster of activity suddenly underway at Montebello and had contacted NSW police. Detective Sergeant Bill Cullen ordered officers to attend the site and inspect the complaint made by Verduci’s neighbours. The attending officers would take a series of photographs of the operation, which caused the first of many headaches for Winchester. As a result of the due diligence on the part of Cullen, Winchester informed him of the operation, and in a meeting between the officers it was agreed that the operation would continue on a “need-to-know basis.” This left a number of officers in the dark and they were uneasy with the obviously illegal crop being grown in the area.

Secondly, there were issues with the process of germination. Some seeds apparently refused to sprout. Soon, the plants that had grown would be battered by a massive hailstorm that struck the area in November. In December, torrential downpours flooded the site.

Soon, the project would descend into what could be described as a comedy of errors.

With an eye to protecting the site from further intrusion, Verduci obtained two guard dogs that would prowl the site at night and hopefully keep nosey neighbours and other unwelcome intruders at bay. Shortly after having obtained them, the dogs would escape the site. They were picked up as strays and ended up at the local dog pound. Verduci decided they could stay there.

Another complaint to emerge was the group’s dissatisfaction at their expense accounts. Labouring under the belief that Tony Barbaro would be reimbursing them for the funds they had outlaid, a meeting was arranged to sort the matter out.

Unfortunately for the grow team, this resulted in an annoyed Tony Barbaro rebuking the group with several curse words. Eventually, Barbaro somewhat relented, but only agreed to “…go and borrow the money and give it to Frank,” referring to Gaspari, whom Barbaro seemed to trust more than Verduci.

Eventually, Ciccarello and Gambacorta began to complain about their lot. As the lowest tier in the project, the crop sitters received only minimal income for their work. Bringing their complaints to Verduci, they asked to have time-off. While Verduci agreed and allowed the pair to return to Canberra to celebrate New Year’s Eve with their families, the very next day an angry Gaspari ordered them back to their posts.

Fortunately for the group, after so many problems and issues over the last months, by January 1982, the crop was finally established. Most of the plants were around two metres tall, with some towering at four metres high.

By February, Tony Barbaro had started organising the sale of the crop. This is where the first major fault would arise in the police operation. Detective Sergeant George Slade, a reputed expert on the local ‘ndrangheta, was brought into the operation. Slade would meet directly with Verduci and was chosen to oversee the New South Wales end of Operation Seville.

After the crop was cultivated and dried, Tony Barbaro rented a two-tonne truck and ordered Verduci and Cannistra to load it with the bagged plants. After a short squabble over when they would be getting paid by Barbaro, they eventually did as they were told. Ordered to drive the truck to Sydney, to the suburb of Rooty Hill, they were to meet up there with Barbaro and Bruno Morabito, incidentally at the home belonging to the latter.

They drove the load to its destination, where Barbaro and Morabito took the truck loaded with marijuana and drove off with it. Verduci and Cannistra were apparently left to find their own way home.

There was no police surveillance of this transaction. Later, the police overseeing Operation Seville would take a statement from Verduci, where he claimed that the delivery had consisted of 50kg of “good quality” buds, and about 100kg of lesser quality plants. The police would have to take Verduci’s word on the matter. In any case, 150kg of marijuana was strikingly larger than the “small sample” that police had authorised Verduci to “sell”. A later BCI report claimed that aerial surveillance of the crop indicated only a small amount of the crop had been harvested.

A week later, Verduci and Gaspari met with Barbaro and Morabito again in Sydney. Apparently there had been complaints about the quality of the harvest, and therefore a lesser amount of money would be changing hands. Verduci claimed he received an advance of “ten to twenty” thousand dollars, and later would receive a payment of $90k.

Dividing the profits into eight shares, Verduci handed over a share to Detective Sergeant Lockwood. This supposedly happened several times over the next few months. Verduci would later state that he couldn’t remember how often this happened, or how much he’d handed over to Lockwood. Officially, $23,500 was registered as being passed to Winchester by Lockwood.

The estimated worth of the sales, however, ranged to nearly $200,000.

A few months later, Gambacorta and Ciccarello started raising complaints. They were yet to be paid a single dollar for the work they had provided. Understandably perturbed by the course of events, they angrily laid claim to a stake in the crop. Eventually they were allowed to arrange some sales of their own. After shopping around offers to local figures however, they were unsuccessful in their bid. Several figures they approached declined to purchase their wares, claiming they could attain better quality cannabis for cheaper amounts than what Gambacorta and Ciccarello were offering.

It is unknown if the unlucky duo ever received a share of the profits, as the following events would bring the first part of Operation Seville and Bungendore 1 to a close.

In March of 1982, Barbaro contacted Verduci to tell him that he had arranged a further sale of 150kg. Once again, Verduci, Cannistra and Gaspari were ordered by Tony Barbaro to load a vehicle with the product and transport it again to Sydney.

This time, NSW police followed the vehicle. They took photographs of the men involved but declined to make any arrests. Their intentions were to follow the load to its destination.

On the day that Verduci was to drive to Sydney for the sale, he surreptitiously drove his Landcruiser into Canberra to meet with Lockwood at the Lakeside Hotel. The police placed a bug in the vehicle, and Verduci left for Sydney, after meeting up with Gaspari, who was to accompany Verduci in his yellow Volvo.

After meeting up with Barbaro somewhere along the hour and a half drive between Goulbourn and Campbelltown, the convoy made its way into Sydney. As they approached their destination however, the suspicious Antonio Barbaro, used to police surveillance and well-versed in their methods, made one of the surveillance teams vehicles. The convoy began circling backstreets in an effort to lose the tail that the canny Barbaro had noticed was following them.

He pulled into a carport and ordered Verduci and Gaspari to wait at a nearby train station. After spending four hours waiting for Barbaro to comeback with the money, they returned to the house that Barbaro had parked at. He was gone, and there was no sign of him.

They decided to return to Canberra. On the way out of Sydney, Verduci picked up Mario Cannistra and the men began driving home. Despite Verduci’s regular commentary in the vehicle, Cannistra hardly spoke a word at all.

Over the next week and a half, Verduci moved the bulk of the harvest to his house, and further arguments about payment arose between him and Barbaro.

Barbaro would claim that the payment Verduci was to have received had needed to be diverted. The funds were required to bail someone out of custody.

Eventually, Tony Barbaro would pay Verduci a visit in person. He arrived with two men, only one of whom Verduci recognised. Introduced as “Compari Joe” (direct translation being “Buddy Joe”) was Giuseppe Monteleone, a figure known to be close to Pasquale Barbaro.

Reports indicated that Monteleone had been inducted into the Society somewhere around this time. Declaring that they had come to “…see how ripe the tomatoes were” the visitors were satisfied with the product, and Monteleone would take a “sample” of about twelve kilos. The actual sale had been arranged and was planned for March 31^st, 1982.

ALL ROADS LEAD TO GRIFFITH

On the day of the sale, Barbaro contacted Verduci to arrange the delivery of another “sample.” This time, Verduci drove to a strip of shops north of Canberra where two men in a Mercedes took possession of the “sample.” Content with the quality, Barbaro ordered Verduci to leave his car and take another vehicle back to collect the rest of the product. Verduci replied that it would take him a few hours, and Barbaro agreed. Verduci left in the provided vehicle.

Apparently thinking on his feet, Verduci had lied to Barbaro in order to get the vehicle to Lockwood so it too could be bugged. With the car wired for sound, Verduci drove to his house and loaded it with 100kg of cannabis. He phoned Cannistra so he could accompany Verduci back to the point of sale. This was supposedly in case he had trouble restarting his own vehicle, which had been left at the strip of shops. They made the drive, again with Verduci running a verbal commentary, while Cannistra kept mostly silent.

Arriving at the shops, Verduci parked the bugged car and walked away. One of the men who had come with Tony Barbaro was identified as Robert Enterkin Lawson, a known associate of Barbaro and a key member of the distribution network maintained by Barbaro and Pochi.

Lawson would enter the vehicle, and promptly drove away with the car containing the load of 100kgs of grass.

In a telling example of the links between the Canberra based ‘ndrine and the Griffith based Sergi/Barbaro ‘ndrine, Tony Barbaro then got in his car, and left with none other than Gianfranco Tizzoni as a passenger.

Tizzoni, the ‘ndrangheta associate that would later go on to turn supergrass, would provide information to the Woodward Royal Commission. His statements to the Commission would expose how members of the Griffith syndicate conspired in the wholesale dealing of cannabis and the murder of Donald Mackay.

In what would cause a fluster of confusion, there was a departure from the original plan.

Instead of driving to Sydney, Tony Barbaro and Tizzoni would follow Enterkin. They began driving towards Melbourne instead of Sydney. This led to a few quick phone-calls between the Canberra and Melbourne branches of the BCI. In what would later become known as a major coup in the battle against the ‘ndrangheta, Melbourne police would intercept the convoy on the morning of March 31^st, 1981.

Caught red-handed with the 100kg load, this was the incident that led to Tizzoni flipping, eventually attempting to buy his way out of the charges by providing extensive information on the Griffith based Sergi/Barbaro ‘ndrine and the Griffith locale’. He provided information about several murders, including Don Mackay and Douglas and Isobel Wilson, drug mules employed by “Aussie Bob” Trimbole and Terry Clark, the head of the “Mr Asia” heroin syndicate.

(Having been arrested in Queensland, the Wilson’s had provided information on the syndicate, and Trimbole and Clark had hired James Bazley to take them out. Bazley was later convicted for the murders, and for conspiring to murder Donald Mackay. He served fifteen years in prison and died a free man in 2018.)

What came next was a flurry of phone calls between members of the Canberra based Barbaro’s and Verduci.

The following conversation is recorded in a book by Campbell, Toohey and Pinwill called The Winchester Scandal, which is the most informative publication ever released on the events in question. After the arrests, Rocco Barbaro, Tony’s brother, made a phone call to Verduci. It was recorded, and the transcript is as follows:

Barbaro: The engine of the car has blown up (a veiled reference to the arrests). Have you heard anything? They have got arrested. This should not have happened.

Verduci: Why do you ask me those questions? What should I know? As far as I knew, the stuff had to go to Sydney, not Melbourne. If the stuff had gone to Sydney, I’m sure it would not have ended this way. If your people create the problems, don’t go to others to solve it for you.

Barbaro: You’ll have to see what you can do because my brother has to come out.

The conversation unnerved Verduci. At this stage, the Canberra based Barbaro syndicate was unaware that Tizzoni was informing, and supposedly also unaware that Verduci was in contact with police.

Detective Sergeant Lockwood advised Verduci against going to Melbourne. In a later statement however, Verduci explained his precarious position. Following the arrests, he believed that he had come under suspicion from Antonio and Rocco Barbaro. As Verduci saw it, he had no choice but to fly to Melbourne and hopefully be seen as attempting to assist the brothers.

After Tony was granted bail, he and Verduci met for coffee in the storied Melbourne suburb of Carlton, in a café on Lygon Street. Tony Barbaro was understandably agitated about the preceding events. Verduci would later describe the conversation with the dangerous ‘ndrangetisti.

At this stage, Barbaro described Tizzoni as “a finger on his hand,” explaining Tizzoni to be a reliable member of the crew. He blamed Verduci for the bust, saying “…I made no mistakes. The mistakes started when we took the stuff. You are to blame, see who you have to see and get me out of this. I don’t have to discuss this matter any longer.”

Accordingly, this discussion put Verduci under pressure to make it look like he was working towards getting Barbaro out from under their problems. He had told the crew that he had corrupt police on side, and he began making it look like he was working at arranging a bribe that would get Barbaro off the charges.

However, with Tizzoni starting to provide information on his associates, Barabro and Lawson would eventually escape charges anyway. After initial statements on the Griffith/Canberra axis, Tizzoni would later withdraw claims that implicated Tony Sergi of Griffith and Tony Barbaro of Canberra in the murder of Donald Mackay.

The fact that Barbaro and Lawson were released is controversial, considering the wealth of evidence that would appear to implicate the men in the conspiracy to traffic marijuana.

However, it helped to make Verduci appear to be able to influence the investigators looking into the affairs of the Canberra ‘ndrina.

With Verduci cleared of suspicion for the time being, once back in Canberra, Tony Barbaro would even pass on another payment from the marijuana sales in Sydney to him. Although there had been glaring issues with Operation Seville so far, police across the various agencies, including Winchester, were buoyed by the wealth of intelligence that the operation had garnered. Despite the obvious questions surrounding Verduci’s motives and the fact that parts of the crop had reached the streets, the AFP decided that the controlled grow would continue. Bungendore 2 was soon under way.

BUNGENDORE 2 & THE RAIDERS

Verduci remained in a point position between Winchester and the local ‘ndrine. As far as Tony Barbaro seemed to be concerned, Verduci had Winchester in his pocket. As they believed, police were offering them another green light to continue in their business dealings.

The organisers decided that this second crop would be grown on a much larger scale than the first. The seeds were sewn across a parcel of rough scrub that stretched across two sections of the property. The land provided aerial cover and made it a difficult place to keep under surveillance. While these reasons made it an ideal spot for the Calabrians, it would also prove to be a location that was even difficult for them to manage.

Subsequent reports provided by the AFP would name the men involved in Bungendore 2; the first section would be managed by Verduci’s friend, Mario Cannistra, who answered to Tony Barbaro and Luigi Pochi, who were believed to be the owners of that part of the crop.

The other section would be managed by Verduci himself, this time acting on behalf of Stefano Pelle (born April 24^th, 1935) and Domenico Nirta (born November 27^th, 1934), two Canberra-based men with links to an Adelaide-based ‘ndrine and a Fairfield, NSW man with links to the same, Salvatore Alvaro (born March 8^th, 1934).

In any case, the size of the crop made it difficult to manage and keep guarded. It would fall victim to a series of raids and thefts.

The first offender would be a horse trainer and former jockey named Rodney Desmet, an associate of Cannistra. Desmet felt that he was being cheated out of his thousand-dollar investment in the crop, on which he had been promised returns. Desmet was a colourful local who was known for the large bets he would place at the horse-tracks he frequented. He had trained horses for Cannistra in the past, as well as for Cannistra’s brother-in-law, John Commisso.

Angry at being consistently snubbed every time he had brought up the matter of his money, he decided to confide in someone. Amazingly, Desmet would approach a childhood friend that just happened to be Detective Sergeant Cullen of the nearby Goulburn Police Station, which led to an unusual affair where two informants would come to be involved in the same case, answering to different departments. In a series of recorded phone-calls to Cullen that were later played in court, Desmet described the operation as he saw it.

After learning about the way his friends at the track made their money, Desmet had offered up the thousand dollars to Verduci, who of course received it graciously, promising large returns on it.

Over the next few months, Desmet would bring up the matter of the money several times with Verduci and Cannistra, who both fobbed him off. However, after a period of ignoring him, Verduci had casually asked Desmet if he wanted to invest more money in the crop. Desmet became livid and demanded that he be allowed to view the plantation. Verduci of course refused.

Furious at what was seeming a blatant rip-off, he decided to take matters into his own hands. After surreptitiously following Verduci a few times, he figured out where the crop lay. He organised a raiding party that included some heavy hitters from Sydney, and on the night of the January 7^th, 1983, he and his friends stole about two-hundred plants.

Later explaining to Cullen that the plants were too early to harvest, he and his associates none-the-less decided to make another raid. Organised for the night of January 15^th, Desmet and company attempted a repeat of the previous raid. However, they would discover that this time the Calabrians were waiting for them.

What followed was a small shoot-out between Desmet’s crew and Verduci and his crop sitters.

Following a shot to the leg, Verduci relented and allowed Desment and his friends to load their vehicle with what Desmet later claimed on tape to be an amount of about nine pounds of cannabis, for which they could sell at $500 a pound.

In his taped conversations with Cullen, Desmet claimed that the weed had been sold in Sydney. He had promptly blown his share on the horses.

Desmet had brought in two major underworld figures from Sydney, who now viewed the crop as easy pickings. The men were David Kelleher and Malcolm Shephard, who were known by the sobriquets of Bluey and Snowy, respectively. Both men were known to police and had a history of violent offences and drug-trafficking, chiefly heroin.

Apparently deciding to take it on himself to recover Desmet’s thousand dollars, they organised their own raid on the crop. On February 2^nd, Shepard made his way to the location with a crew of armed toughs. Following another small shoot-out, the men would force four of the crop labourers to harvest the cannabis. They would make their way home in a van loaded with about 5000 plants, which was of course taken to Sydney and sold. The “controlled crop” was getting out of control, with increasingly more of the drugs hitting the streets.

Finally, the angry Calabrese responded, still labouring under the delusion that police were “protecting” the crop. The Calabrian men made contact with Desmet, who had been recognised by Verduci during the first raid (later, a bullet fragment from a gun fired by Snowy Shepard was found in Verduci’s leg).

Mario Cannistra reached out to Desmet and accused him of the theft. Desmet refuted the accusation, and eventually they arranged a meeting between Cannistra and Bluey Kelleher at a local restaurant. The meeting viewed even in context could almost be considered comedic.

Cannistra demanded that Kelleher, Shepard, Desmet and their friends leave the crops alone. Kelleher supposedly made a counteroffer, saying that he could be trusted to protect the crop from further theft if the Calabrians were willing to pay him in at least $100,000 of dope. After the men finished their meal, it was decided that they would all load into their cars and drive out to the crops to view what remained of it. This, at least, was the account that Desmet passed on to Cullen. For his part, Cullen suspected that the convoy intended more than a simple inspection.

As the convoy arrived at the site of the crops at 5am on February 6^th, 1983, the men were accosted by a group of police officers from the NSW Organised Crime Taskforce. Shouting for the group to surrender, the men instead scattered into the scrub.

It was decided by the officers in charge that the controlled grow operation would now be terminated. What followed was a series of events that sobered any thoughts in relation to the purview of the ‘ndrangheta.

First, Cullen arranged for Desmet to engage Verduci in a taped conversation. This was conducted in an effort to uproot corrupt police officers. After all, Verduci had spent the greater part of nearly three years claiming that he enjoyed police protection, and when Desmet began passing on information, he was unaware of Verduci’s relationship to the AFP.

In the transcript, it is obvious that Desmet is attempting to get Verduci to talk about his police cohorts. However, an annoyed Verduci was more focussed on recovering some measure of the crop.

On February 13^th, 1983, Mario Cannistra was caught with 250kg of cannabis following a raid on his Canley Vale house that also discovered several firearms on the property. Also present was John Commisso, Mario’s two brothers and several other men. With the crop having been ripped up only a week earlier, this arrest would lend credence to the suggestion that Cannistra and his backers had arranged the crop raids in an effort to muscle out Verduci and the other factions involved in the crop. Indeed, later evidence would suggest that a dispute had arisen between the two main factions involved in Bungendore 2.

Still, Verduci would make efforts to arrange for Al Grassby to intervene in the matter. Grassby was well-known as a “fixer” for the Plati’ locale’ but nothing came of the interventions. Cannistra and his brother-in-law, John Commisso, would arrange a sit-down with a former AFP sergeant named John Franklin, who recorded their conversation. Cannistra and Commisso spoke freely, inquiring about how much it would cost to get them off the charges, essentially implying that they were willing to pay Franklin bribes if he could help their situation. Still, nothing came of the conversations.

By 1984, Verduci and Cannistra were implicated in another crop, this time found on a property in Guyra, rural NSW. In The Winchester Scandal, Campbell, Toohey and Pinwill implied that Verduci was pressured into helping raise funds for a bribe by assisting in the grow.

Mario Cannistra emerges as yet another interesting figure in the line of events. Born on 16^th June 1938 in Calabria, during the time that Operation Seville was running he was living in Canberra. While Verduci named him as his original entry into the world of the ‘ndrangheta, it seems that they were not as close as Verduci had made out to his handlers. Cannistra was well-connected though and was known as a frequent visitor to Pine Lodge, an illegal casino in Canberra that came up during the first coronial inquest into Winchester’s murder. Also, Cannistra had married into the Commisso family, which is a well-known and powerful ‘ndrangheta clan in Calabria, known to have links to the so-called Siderno Group, which oversees a locale’ in Perth. Mario and his older brother Antonio (born June 16^th, 1935) were both charged as conspirators in the Bungendore and Guyra crops.

(In 2004, another brother, Vincenzo, born in 1942, was arrested for overseeing a cannabis plantation worth $60 million. Independent investigators would establish that the brothers ran illegal casinos and high-stakes card games in Canley Vale and Canley Heights for years after moving to Sydney.)

More suggestions of conflict during this time came up years later during the coronial inquest into Winchester’s murder, which began on August 21^st, 1989, and ended on November 8^th, 1991. Over multiple sittings, the coroner heard evidence from over two-hundred witnesses.

In 1990, Bluey Kelleher had spoken with Detective Sergeant John Best of the AFP, who had taken over from Detective Sergeant Lockwood as Verduci’s main police contact. In an interview conducted by Best, Kelleher had made claims that there were multiple police on the payroll generated from the Bungendore crops. Indeed, the crops were grown during the era of such men as Roger Rogerson, the famously corrupt Sydney police officer now serving life for murder.

Kelleher had claimed to Best that Verduci had implied a net of corruption that reached as high as Parliament, but Kelleher stated that he had not really believed Verduci, believing it was empty boasting.

Best also submitted evidence that two crop-sitters, Pasquale “Pat” Carbone, and Antonio Calabria, had secretly arranged the first meeting between Desmet and Verduci. This was done so that Desmet could be led to the crop, in order to arrange for the raids.

Again, it implies that during the operation, a dispute arose between the two factions involved. In any case the majority of the claims relating to the crops are built on the hearsay and the dubious activities of Joe Verduci. Even after having been picked up for the subsequent plantations, Verduci still had the temerity to call Best and demand that he be released from facing any charges relating to the Guyra crop, insisting that Cannistra had been working with the assistance of a corrupt NSW police officer.

THE COOPERATOR REFUSES TO COOPERATE

On March 4^th, 1987, the NSW Attorney-General, Terry Sheahan, would grant Verduci

immunity from state prosecution, with the Federal Attorney-General, Lionel Bowen, granting him the same in regard to Federal matters. 

Eventually, the following year eleven men would be charged in relation to the Bungendore and Guyra crops, leading to the trial of the men the media would refer to as the Bungendore Eleven. The men arraigned for committal were Tony and Rocco Barbaro, Luigi Pochi, Mario and Antonio Cannistra, Stefano Pelle, Salvatore Alvaro, Domenico Nirta, Nazzareno Conte, Guistino Gambacorta and a Greek by the name of Leonidas Karaboulas, who had worked as a crop-sitter alongside Conte and Gambacorta.

About a month after Winchester had been murdered, proceedings began on the February 6^th, 1989, and ran for less than a month, closing on the March 1^st. To the chagrin of the multiple agencies that had worked with Verduci, he refused to give evidence on the grounds that he may incriminate himself. Despite the fact that he had been granted immunity. At a loss, Magistrate Michael Price would find that the defendants had no case to answer.

Part of what had led to this complete nothing of an outcome stemmed from the bizarre stonewalling Colin Winchester had engaged in during an interview with the NCA in July of 1987. During the course of the interview, conducted by an AFP officer on secondment to the NCA, Winchester claimed that he could not recall or was unaware of pertinent aspects of the Bungendore controlled grow no less than thirty-three times; these included procedures for recording evidence and for recording statements from Verduci.

He claimed would make the claim that Operation Seville had been mostly an affair that had been organised and led by NSW Police, with very little input from him. He claimed ignorance regarding payments made to, or received by, Verduci. He claimed to have no idea to who in the AFP the information Verduci generated was passed to, or recorded by, or which agency had planted the bugs in Verduci’s vehicles.

Ultimately, he came across as either extremely incompetent, or extremely evasive, depending on which viewpoint one would come to on Colin Winchester. With the benefit of hindsight, it seems almost clear that Winchester was in league with on some criminal level with the cannabis growers. With the “Italian angle” effectively closed, subsequent inquests and investigations ignored a multitude of factors to instead zero in on David Eastman, who’s obstinate countenance would lead the ready belief that he could have been involved.

In August of 1989, the first coronial inquest into the Winchester murder began, and evidence began to be presented that implicated the Calabrian element in a major way. However, after some investigative blunders, and the reticence on behalf of Verduci to inform on his accomplices, and the fact that they had all effectively been no billed, it would lead the inquest foundering. It left police with only a single other line of enquiry, which would also present as a single-minded obsession towards eventually fingering Eastman in the matter. And further along, another inquest and subsequent trial would eventually end with an open result.

The police “controlled” operation had essentially allowed a contingent of ‘ndrina to fund, grow and sell a crop, and absolutely nothing came of it. But if he had at previously been evasive about his role in the Bungendore crops, why was Winchester murdered? And what about the other murders of Calabrian men tangentially linked to the case and other Griffith ‘ndrina? And what would come of Pasquale Barbaro, the local leader who emerged unscathed?

MORE MURDERS, MORE QUESTIONS

Besides the murder of Winchester, there were others committed during the timeline leading up to it that are believed to have been committed by actors on behalf of the Canberra/Griffith ‘ndrine. In 1990, veteran crime reporter John Silvester wrote in the Melbourne Age about a dispute had arisen between several factions involved in the cannabis trade during this time. Since at least the 1960s, the Australian ‘ndrangheta has been known to hold regular annual meetings in Mildura, country Victoria. During the 1981 meeting there are reports that state that this growing tension was a lead agenda.

Bruno Morabito, born in 1948, was a resident of the Western Sydney suburb of Rooty Hill. A member of the Plati’ locale’ with a reputation for extreme violence, he is known to be involved in several of these murders.

In their seminal work Evil Life, Small and Gilling report the murder of Salvatore Zappavigna while he was visiting Sardinia with Morabito, described as his brother-in-law. According to their entry on his murder, Zappavigna had spent time in Australia between late 1979 and early 1978, during which he in known to have met with members of the local ‘ndrangheta, including Barbaro associate Giuseppe Monteleone. On June 6^th, 1982, Zappavigna was killed via shotgun in company with Morabito, who would leave Adore, Sardinia the same day.

Giuseppe Monteleone was identified as an associate of the Barbaros by the time Operation Seville was underway, the “Cumpari Joe” Frank had brought when he’d attended Verduci’s residence. Arriving from Calabria in 1952 aged twenty, by the 1960’s he had been observed attending meetings with other ‘ndranghetisti. Monteleone had been involved in the trafficking of cannabis since the 1970’s and engaged in early deals involving Bungendore 1.

On the 12th of July 1982, Giuseppe Monteleone was murdered at his property at Narrabri, rural NSW. In his company at the time were his uncle, Pasquale Monteleone, who was visiting from Calabria, and Bruno Morabito, a younger relative of the man Verduci had named as second in command in Canberra.

During a subsequent statement given to police, Morabito described his version of events. This included a fanciful tale of them both being tied up by two gun-toting masked men who spoke unaccented English. These men, according to Morabito, had argued with Monteleone out of sight. Shortly after, Morabito claimed to have heard gunshots and watched the supposed gunmen drive off in Morabito’s car. It supposedly took he and Monteleone’s uncle half an hour to free themselves so they could get a neighbouring property and contact police.

In 1990, for the Melbourne Age, John Silvester would report that the murder was connected to the factional dispute.

Agazio Daniele had been aged only twenty-three when he was charged with the 1975 murder of Giuseppe Canuto in Petersham, Sydney’s inner-west. The trial heard some disquieting facts aired, such as Canuto’s own brother concealing the murder weapon and witnesses refusing to identify Daniele. Sentenced to twelve years for manslaughter, he would serve only five before release, and narrowly avoided a deportation order. Upon release, Small and Gilling report in Evil Life that Daniele had gone into the cannabis trade associated with Monteleone and Morabito, before returning to Calabria in 1984. Wanted over a crop in Byrock, NSW that linked him with Morabito, he was murdered in Guardavalle, in the Catanzaro region of Calabria on March 19^th of the same year he’d arrived. The authors link the murder to a trip taken by an unnamed Australian ‘ndranghetisti known as an associate of Morabito.

On January 7^th, 1986, Nunzio Greco was observed by neighbours talking to two men who had arrived outside his house in Windsor, a north-western Sydney suburb. One of these men was later identified to have been Bruno Morabito. Greco left with them shortly after, and it was a month before his wife reported him missing. As a figure named in the Woodward Royal Commission as an associate of the Griffith ‘ndrine, Greco had been known as a chief architect of several of the famous “grass castles” that housed the senior members who’d grown rich from their involvement in the cannabis trade. Woodward had also named him as a money-launderer for the group, who was able to clean money through his construction firm. Greco’s body was never found and is presumed murdered.

Each of these murders were linked to Bruno Morabito, who in July of 1987 would be sentenced to eight years for his role in yet another cannabis crop, the one discovered in Byrock, a remote town in north-western New South Wales, mentioned above in relation to Agazio Daniele.

Two years into his sentence, and still awaiting sentencing in yet another crop, Morabito was himself found murdered on a street in the Western Sydney suburb of Silverwater. What emerged the discovery was a scandalous affair involving Morabito’s wife Maria and her young lover, Manuel Duque. In the subsequent murder trial, Maria Morabito would air claims that she lived in fear of her violent husband, describing years of abuse at his hands and claiming he had indecently assaulted a ten-year-old girl. Whether the worse of these allegations was true or not, it is certainly evident that Morabito was a trusted member of the Plati’ locale’ who would readily commit violent acts on behalf of the organization. His former wife and her lover were found guilty of his premeditated murder and sentenced accordingly.

THE CARABINIERI LEADS

One of the most bizarre twists in the investigation into Winchester’s murder would come in the form of two men identified by Italian investigators as having heavy links to ‘ndrangheta families in Italy, Canada, and Australia.

In late January of 1989, approximately two weeks after Winchester was murdered, the AFP had received information from the Carabinieri, the military police in Italy. Italian investigators passed on a tip that two men with substantial links to the ‘ndrangheta had travelled to Australia in October of 1988. These two men were named at the time as Giuseppe Ielasi and Bruno Musitano.

In later years, these men would come to be known by media wary of litigation as “the shepherds,” named after what they claimed as their occupations back in Calabria. Ielasi would return to Italy by 1990, following a series of interviews with police, but subsequent reports state that Musitano, at least, still resides in Australia.

The information that was passed on by the Carabinieri claimed that Musitano, aged twenty-two at the time of his arrival, had recently lost two brothers to murder and had been sent to Australia in an effort to “redeem his families honour”. During police interviews, Musitano himself disagreed, stating that he had only been sent to Australia by his family for his own protection, as Calabria was known as a dangerous place for young men. He was unclear in interviews as to why it was so particularly dangerous for members of his immediate family.

The Musitano ‘ndrina is recognised as a criminal clan with extensive networks between continents. It has been established that the Musitano family’s branch in Canada was at the time engaged in a dispute with the once subordinate Papalia clan, and between 1987 and 1990, at least three members of the Papalia family were murdered in Australia.

The Plati-born Ielasi was named as a nephew of the Barbaro brothers of Canberra and Griffith. The implication was that Musitano had been sent to Australia to kill Winchester as a favour to the local bosses, and that he would then go on to marry an Australian resident, Caterina Pollifrone, and take up permanent residence in the country. With the killings involving his family in Italy and Canada, it is suggested that Musitano would be safer in Australia under the protection of the Plati’ locale’.

Musitano and Ielasi would arrive in Melbourne in 1988; the former would go on to Adelaide, the latter would remain in Melbourne.

At the time, this information was considered a massive break for the AFP officers investigating the murder of Colin Winchester. It directly led to the electronic bugging of Musitano’s residence in Adelaide, an operation that ran from August 1989 to February 1990.

Originally, information gathered from the eavesdropping device was deemed highly damning and incriminating. Recordings consisting of over 500 hours of deep conversation in Calabrian dialect were painstakingly translated and had supposedly yielded such deeply incriminating phrases as “…I had to shoot him in the head…” and “…I even have the gun right here. I had to hide the pistol in the hole with all the bullets…” with alleged references to murdering someone who was “against Omerta.” 

Perhaps hoping to bolster what at first glance would seem to be a major break in the case, the AFP had the recordings enhanced with better equipment, and brought in two new interpreters who were better acquainted with the Calabrian dialect picked up in the recordings.

This second translation of events was therefore considered to be a far more accurate representation of the conversations, and they definitely took a turn for the more bizarre.

During the inquest, the AFP was forced to explain that the original transcripts had been taken out of context, and rather than taking place during a single conversation, had been stitched together from over an hour and a half of activity. This was at odds with how the transcript had originally been presented.

Furthermore, the new translation of the recordings would indicate that rather than discussing a sensitive murder plot with his young bride, the couple had in reality been engaging in sex, and that the original translations had severely muddled several phrases. When the coroner’s assistants questioned the AFP about it further, the Detective Sergeant speaking on their behalf had to explain all this with a straight face.

Musitano was forced to give evidence at the inquest. He had first been interviewed by investigators on March 2^nd, 1989, shortly after the information from the Carabinieri had been passed on to the AFP.

Musitano disagreed with the assertion that he and Ielasi were close, naming him as a mere acquaintance who he’d had only minimal contact with since arriving in Australia. At the time of this first interview, he had been staying with his Aunt Caterina Trimboli, who was of course a relative of the Griffith based Trimboli family, which produced the famous scion who would change the spelling of his surname, Aussie Bob Trimbole. The Trimboli clan is also recognised as one of the major cells to operate in Adelaide and have extensive links the Griffith ‘ndrine.

Ielasi would seem to have some more serious links to some major players in the Winchester saga.

Firstly, during his interview, he told police that he was in the country visiting his uncles in the Barbaro family, Antonio, Rocco, Francesco, and Pasquale. Tony and Rocco had met him in Melbourne with Rocco’s son Dominic, his cousin. He had travelled with them to Griffith where he had spent two months visiting with his Uncle Frank, before then travelling on to Canberra where he would stay with his Uncle Tony. According to the statement he gave, the following parts of it would, on the surface, seem incredibly incriminating.

On the 10th of January, the very night of the Winchester murder, Ielasi admitted that he had in fact been in Canberra, where he had been staying with another uncle, this time Domenico Nirta. He described having been at the Nirta residence until about 8pm that night, having then left with his cousin Giuseppe (Nirta, Dominic’s son) to pay a visit to yet another cousin, this time Pasquale’s son Frank. They had spent a few hours together before returning to Domenico’s house at around 11pm.

When Domenico Nirta was fist interviewed by police eight days after the murder, he initially neglected to mention his nephew’s presence at the house that night. He then made a point of contacting them the next day and telling them he had forgotten to mention it. This would indicate that there was an effort to corroborate the, albeit weak, alibi that Ielasi had given in his own interviews. Of particular interest was the fact that Pasquale’s son Frank owned a vehicle that was described as being powered by a V8 engine. Recall that the sound of a V8 had been heard in the area around the time of the murder.

In the police report of these interviews, an incident was recounted that related to Ielasi having his watch stolen in an altercation that happened at a Canberra night club in early February. It is described by the authors in The Winchester Scandal.

Apparently, the suspected thief had been ordered to attend a meeting with local ‘ndrangheta, where he was ordered to either return the watch or pay Ielasi $2000. The alleged thief was informed that Ielasi had powerful friends, and that if the incident had occurred in Italy, Ielasi would have murdered him on the spot. It is unclear how this snippet of information made its way into the police report, or how the supposed thief rectified the situation. It does, however, speak to Ielasi’s reputation amongst his brethren if it is true.

Commander Bob McDonald of the AFP, described as an expert on the Australian ‘ndrangheta, was tapped to prepare a report for the 1989 coroner’s inquest into the murder. He examined various theories relating to Winchester’s alleged corruption and internal machinations of the local ‘ndrangheta that Winchester may have been “protecting”.

In his report, he almost completely ignores Ielasi as a possible suspect for the murder, claiming that the only reason he was on the radar at all was because of his arrival with Musitano. As Campbell, Toohey and Pinwill point out in The Winchester Scandal, however, this report focusses on the vague notion that somehow, the murders of Musitano’s family members gave him possible motive to want to kill Winchester and ignores the fact that Ielasi had several family members that were directly involved with the Bungendore crops.

For his part, Detective Commander Ric Ninness would state that he did not believe Ielasi was involved on the basis that if he had committed the murder, Ielasi would not have been allowed to stay in Canberra where police could readily interview him.

However, the tip-off from the Carabinieri came some months after the murder, and therefore ‘ndrangheta leaders would not be aware that Ielasi was on police radar at all. The only reason he was known by this time was because someone important was passing on information to police.

In all, there were twenty-one people connected with the ‘ndrangheta interviewed in relation to the Winchester murder. These included the eleven charged over the Bungendore crops, and five others arrested over the Guyra crop.

Within forty-eight hours of the murder, police conducted interviews with Joe Verduci, Luigi Pochi, Stefano Pelle, Antonio Cannistra (whose role was much smaller than his brother Mario’s in the plot) and Domenico Nirta, who all gave alibis that one must assume would have been thoroughly checked.

An interesting tangent emerges in regard to Nirta. When Domenico had been arrested over the Bungendore crops in 1988, police described an incident that involved them seizing some documents that Nirta had been trying to destroy. These documents, similar to ones seized in other raids on suspected ‘ndrangheta members, involved references to Saint Micheal and the Honoured Society, and described initiation ceremonies. Later questioned about these documents, Nirta denied being in possession of them, and did not recall being caught trying to destroy them.

In 1995, Acting Justice Brian Martin released a report on his findings into the conviction of David Eastman for the murder of Winchester, a conviction he recommended was quashed. The parts of his report that refer to the so-called “Italian Investigation” remain sealed.

THE INFORMANT

As stated earlier in this piece, from 1969 to the mid 1980’s, Pasquale Barbaro was recognised as the highest ranking ‘ndranghetisti in Canberra. In this capacity, he would have overseen much of the cannabis cultivation on behalf of the Sergi/Barbaro locale’. He had been described as one of the six leading figures of the so called “Plati’ Group” in Australia.

However, Pasquale had begun to come under some severe suspicions in the early 1980’s. He had been married to a cousin, a common enough occurrence during these early years of power brokering within the Crimine Australino, the body of the ‘ndrangheta responsible for overseeing Australia.

Specifically, he had married the sister of Francesco, aka “Little Trees” Barbaro.

While it is still unclear exactly where the power laid, “Little Trees” Barbaro was a “man of honour” with extensive links to the nebula of the Riverina ‘ndrina and the Old Country. “Little Trees” had come under fire during the Woodward Commission and was exposed as a leading figure of the Griffith mafia, its industry of cannabis cultivation and the murder of Donald Mackay.

In 1984, as a refuge from apparent marriage troubles, Pasquale had left his wife and travelled to the Philippines, where he would meet his second wife, a twenty-year-old named Felina. Considered one of the ultimate sins in the Society, “Little Trees” Barbaro became enraged at Pasquale’s blatant insult. The information available implies that Pasquale “Il Principal” Barbaro was stripped of his standing in the locale’.

Seemingly accepting of the compete change of lifestyle, Pasquale and his wife decided to move back to Australia; they first settled in Brisbane in 1986. However, there remains some question regarding his actual standing. There is some information that suggests Barbaro was still working with certain members of the ‘ndrina and receiving funds from them.  In any case, by 1989, Pasquale was living in fear.

Their first address in Brisbane was In Daisy Hill. Going by the name “Peter”, Barbaro was a fifty-eight-year-old pensioner, still receiving the disability benefit from the accident he had suffered as a gardener that had apparently ruined his back.

In April of 1989, he and his wife, who was by now aged 27, would later tell police of an attack on his person. They recounted how he and his wife had been lying in bed, watching television, when a shotgun blasted through the window of their bedroom. He had been shot twice in the shoulder, and in his panic, he reached for his own shotgun, but his attacker had already left the scene.

The lupara, the Italian word for a sawn-off shotgun, is usually associated with mafia murders, especially regarding “dishonoured” associates. The idea is by killing the target with a weapon traditionally used to shoot livestock and animals, the target is killed dishonourably and sends a message that the target deserved a dishonourable death. By divorcing his well-connected wife and starting anew, he supposedly enraged his former associates. With a fearful demeanour, Pasquale, his wife Felina, and their five-year-old daughter would move to a house on Condamine Street, Runcorn, a southern suburb of Brisbane.

But there was more to the attack than his alleged infidelities. The sticking point came with the revelation that Pasquale had been passing information to the National Crime Authority, the federal agency established in 1984. Having been interviewed by Queensland police following the first attack, he had given up information that involved murders, bombings and the structure of the Honoured Society across Australia. The Queensland officers decided that Barbaro might become a valuable asset to a federal crime agency, and in 1990, he helped the NCA begin Operation Cerberus, an effort to map out the ‘ndrangheta families operating in Australia.

Following the attack on him, veteran crime journalist John Silvester reported that he first offered to roll on his former associates for a $50,000 payment. Eventually, the one-off payment to spill the tea dropped to $10,000. And with everything being eventual, Pasquale “Il Principal” Barbaro began to secretly meet with the officers of the NCA.

According to the reports by Silvester, Pasquale would make up little lies to Felina to cover his meeting with the NCA officers. The information he gave up proved that he had lived a life deeply entrenched in the ‘ndrangheta.

By July of 1988, Barbaro began to attend regular meetings with the NCA officers.

Barbaro described a lifetime of living by the rules of the so-called Honoured Society. By virtue of his pedigree, by marrying the sister of “Little Trees”, he had united disparate branches of the Barbaro family, and was recognised as the leader of the Canberra based ‘ndrine.

He described several murders, which helped to close a handful of cases. He himself had ordered several murders during the decade and a half of his rule.

The information he supplied established that Barbaro had been living near the highest echelon of the ‘ndrangheta in Australia. He named numerous leaders that led ‘ndrina across the nation, in the city centres and rural spaces. He named the bosses of cells in Shepparton, Mildura and Melbourne, allegedly naming Rosario Gangemi, better known as Ross, as the boss of the Victorian locale’ formerly ruled by Liborio Benvenuto.

With this wealth of information pouring out of the frightened former boss, the NCA began recording Barbaro in a series of interviews. He spoke about the troubles Liborio Benvenuto had faced before dying of cancer and establishing Gangemi as the new boss, a move supported by the most members of the Melbourne-based ‘ndrine.  He described how the bombing of Benvenuto’s car on May 10th of 1983 had directly led to the grisly murders the members of a renegade faction.

Its members included Rocco Medici, who was a Mildura based ‘ndranghetisti who had been bucking the trend in Victoria. He was lured to a meeting with Benvenuto associates Joe Rossi and another ‘ndranghetisti who is still recognised as one of the leading figures in the Melbourne ‘ndrine. 

Barbaro described how Medici, who had brought along his brother-in-law Giuseppe Furina, was lured to the meeting to discuss their problems with the Melbourne ‘ndrine. Medici belonged to the renegade faction originally started by Vincenzo Angilletta in the 1960s.

Benvenuto had ordered his men to ensure Medici would die a painful death for attempting to challenge the order of the locale’ they all belonged to. According to a death-bed confession from Joe Rossi, Medici was tortured before being shot twice in the head. The killers then ensured Medici’s ears were hacked off before being thrown into the Murrumbidgee River.

As for Furina, simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time ensured he was shot in the head and also thrown in the river. Barbaro identified Benvenuto as the architect of the murders and detailed how their ears being cut-off was meant to send a message, implying that Medici “wouldn’t listen”. In any case, he described it as a method of dealing with the dishonoured.

In the series of interviews, he also helped provide the pieces of the puzzle that helped investigators solve the murder of Angelo Licastro, a former resident of Griffith that had been murdered while on holiday with his family visiting Plati’. Angelo, married to one of Winery Tony Sergi’s sisters, was involved in some kind of dispute identities in Griffith, at least one of who whom was Luigi Pochi, one of the leading figures named in the Woodward Commission who would go on to play a significant role in the Bungendore crops.

The way that Barbaro described it, Licastro had begun demanding money from Tony Sergi and other senior figures in Griffith, likely including Luigi Pochi. Approaching “Little Trees” Barbaro to help sort the matter out, the group arranged funds to finance Licastro’s trip to the homeland. He was there killed by members of the extended family of Francesco “Little Trees” Barbaro, who belonged to the branch of the family that ruled the clan from Calabria.

Rocco Pochi, Luigi’s cousin, was convicted as an accessory after the fact, serving two years of a four-year sentence before being released on parole. After obtaining a visitors permit to enter Australia for a funeral, Rocco Pochi would attempt to seek an extension of his visa in order to marry a naturalised citizen, but the application was refused, and he returned to Calabria before being deported.

During the series of secretly taped interviews, Barbaro would boast of his luck with young Filipinas. With time, he would become almost friendly with the officers, and continued to speak freely. In his book, Mugshots 2, expert mafia reporter and journalist Keith Moor includes transcripts of the conversations. At one point, Barbaro claims that there were 3000 active ‘ndranghetisti in the country. He goes on to suggest that if the top forty bosses had been rounded up and either jailed or deported, they could have destroyed the whole structure of the Calabrian mafia in Australia.

By the time he gave his last recorded interview on January 23^rd, 1990, NCA officers had considered acquiescing to a one-off payment of $100,000 and helping Barbaro take steps to establish a new identity (in Australia, there is no formal witness protection program, and each of the States have their own protocols in place to protect confidential informants). While in earlier interviews Barbaro had expressed the possibility that he may be able to continue to gather valuable high tier information, he would later express concerns that it had become known that he was cooperating with law enforcement. Less than two months after his last interview, he would be murdered.

At 6.20am on the Sunday morning of March 18^th, 1990, Pasquale’s wife Felina would later describe Pasquale walking outside to retrieve the newspaper. Hearing her husband arguing with another person in Italian, she looked out the window to see him engaged in a struggle with a heavily bearded man, with Pasquale bleeding from the arm. Before she could get outside, Barbaro had been stabbed and shot. Neighbours later reported hearing the men argue. The gunshot to his chest had severed an artery and Pasquale died on the footpath outside his home on Condamine Street in Runcorn. The killer is believed to have been driving a white Ford Falcon sedan, which was later found dumped at Merrol Street in Woodridge, a fifteen-minute drive away. His death marked the demise of the only publicly known Australian pentito to date.

…AND QUESTIONS REMAIN

So, what, then, was the Calabrian mafia’s role in the murder of Colin Winchester, if any? With recent interest in the case, it is a possibility that some of the remaining questions have an answer. But what links them remains unclear, as does whether such answers exist.

Of note, while he denied being a member of the Society at the time, Verduci remained very much alive long after the revelations of his supposed informing came to light. Winchester is recorded as having believed Verduci to have been a possible member of the ‘ndrangheta. Was Verduci part of some Machiavelliean plan to grow cannabis crops under the nose of police and get away with it? A review of Winchester’s finances conducted after his death revealed only modest investments, and yet his reluctance to speak on the matters he supposedly oversaw lend credence to the suggestion that his involvement was suspect. While any relation, if any, is unclear, Carmine Verduci was a Canadian mobster murdered in 2014 that was at the time of his death one of the highest ranking ‘ndranghetisti in that country. The Verduci name is known in ‘ndrangheta circles.

How was the involvement of Musitano and Ielasi not investigated further? The Carabinieri put forward some very serious information that warranted investigation, but this line of inquiry was hastily abandoned following the courtroom humiliation over the bungled translation of dirty talk. The media’s refusal to identify persons preciously named as people of interest speak to Australia’s delicate relationship with perceived libel.

A theory posited by some sources close to the author leads to the then-upcoming trial of the so-called Bungendore Eleven. With Luigi Pochi having narrowly just avoided deportation, fresh charges would have possibly opened him up to further deportation orders. Described as a “Mr Big” of Griffith, was there lurking fears that Winchester would decide to open up about his role in the Bungendore operation?  Only a few years before his death, he seemed very much inclined towards denying any real knowledge of or involvement in the operation.

More answers surely lie in Justice Martin’s sealed briefings. With more media becoming interested in the unsolved murder of Colin Winchester, please watch this space for developments.