The Gangland War Read online

  9

  ALAS MAD RICHARD

  About two weeks before

  Mad Richard was killed

  he squared off against another

  drug dealer on the make

  Carl Williams.

  THE Esquire Motel had about 40 rooms and most nights almost all were occupied by people wanting cheap accommodation close to Fitzroy Street in the busy heart of St Kilda.

  The fashionable suburb, where millionaires and professionals now rub shoulders with street people, still has a few hangovers of its seedier past — and the Esquire is one of them. The 1970s building in Acland Street has packed a lot of low life into its three decades.

  Drifters, backpackers, runaways, prostitutes and drug dealers could all get rooms. Some just stayed the night; others stayed for as long as they could afford the tariff, not having what it takes to look for something more permanent.

  Late in 1999 a man moved in to room 18 and made himself at home. He showed no sign of wanting anything better. For him the location was perfect — and at $50 a night the price was right.

  And it was positively roomy compared with the prison cell he had vacated only a month earlier. He was a drug dealer and he turned the room into a 24-hour-a-day business address. There was no need to advertise. Word-of-mouth in the street is all a pusher needs.

  Local police say that for six months he worked ‘red-hot’ and built a strong customer base. The dealer had visitors at all times of day and night. One of them was Richard Mladenich, standover man and serial pest. The fact that it was 3.30am, that one man was asleep on the floor, a woman was asleep in a bed and a third person was also in bed, would not have fazed the man, who loved nothing better than an early morning chat.

  When the door of room 18 swung open a little later to reveal an armed man, it was one of the few times in his life that Mladenich was caught short for words.

  The assassin didn’t need to break down the door — underworld murders are seldom that dramatic. The door was unlocked and all he had to do was turn the handle slowly enough not to forewarn the victim. Before he walked in, he yelled the name of the resident drug dealer — almost as a greeting — to show that he was no threat.

  By the time Mladenich realised he was in danger, it was too late. When he stood to face the young man in the dark glasses and hood, he saw a small-calibre handgun pointing directly at him.

  His experience of more than twenty years of violence would have told him that only luck could save him. It didn’t. Before he could speak, the gun barked and the man holding it was gone, leaving Mladenich fighting a losing battle for life.

  MLADENICH was a drug dealer, a standover man and a loudmouth. He was also funny, outrageous, a showman and a jailhouse poet with a sense of theatre. When the 37-year-old was hunted down by a hit man that night, on 16 May 2000, detectives had a big problem. It was not to find suspects who wanted him dead, but to eliminate potential enemies from a long list of possibilities.

  If the killer had been trailing Mladenich then he did a professional job, as his quarry had visited several other rooms at the Esquire before he reached room 18 just before 3am.

  But after an extensive investigation, police believed the killer knew Mladenich’s movements because he was close to him. He was either someone who made money in the same business as Mladenich and decided to eliminate him or, more likely, he was working for somebody who wanted him out of the way. In the underworld it is almost always associates, rather than strangers, who finally pull the trigger. The rivals just provide the bullets.

  There was more than one reason why Mladenich’s days were numbered. As well as being a prolific drug dealer, he had another gig. The big man with the bigger mouth was a minder for drug dealer Mark Moran. Moran was murdered outside his luxury home in June 2000 — a month after Mad Richard.

  About two weeks before Mad Richard was killed he squared off against another drug dealer on the make — Carl Williams. The two crooks with dreams of being major players had argued heatedly in the underworld’s then nightclub of choice, Heat, at Crown Casino.

  No guns were drawn but lines were crossed.

  When the two had been in jail, the bigger and stronger Mladenich was an inmate to be feared and respected. Williams told him that when they were released he wanted them to work together — he planned to recruit Mad Richard as a bodyguard and possible hit man.

  But on his release Mladenich sided with the Morans, dreaming of becoming a key figure in their established network. He told Williams he didn’t need him and abused his former prison mate in the process.

  Mad Richard could not have known that Williams was already committed to destroying the Morans, starting with Mark. The confrontation convinced Williams he had to get rid of Mladenich before he moved on Mark Moran. Police believe Williams recruited a hit man from a small violent western suburbs crew that included Dino Dibra, also killed later that year.

  One of Dibra’s best mates was fellow gunman Rocco Arico. Police have been told that Arico accepted the contract to kill Mad Richard and Williams acted as the getaway driver.

  Arico was later jailed for seven years after he shot a driver five times during a road rage attack in Taylors Lakes in 2000. The victim survived and gave evidence in court despite an attempt to buy him off.

  Arico was with Dibra (who was driving the car at the time of the shooting) and when Arico was later arrested at Melbourne Airport he was with Williams. The car involved in the road rage shooting was later found at Carl’s house.

  Homicide detectives later failed in an application for a court order to remove Arico from jail to interview him over Mladenich’s murder. But he won’t be in jail forever.

  It would seem that Mad Richard’s short, brutal and wasted life ended simply because he backed the wrong side.

  According to former standover man Mark ‘Chopper’ Read, Mladenich was ‘a total comedy of errors’ and ‘without a doubt the loudest and most troublesome inmate in any jail in Australia’.

  In 1988 Read and a then young Mladenich were both inmates in the maximum security H Division of Pentridge Prison during the so-called ‘Overcoat War’ between prisoner factions.

  ‘Poor Richard fell over and hit his head on a garden spade, but he told the police nothing and dismissed as foul gossip and rumour suggestions that I had hit him with it.’ Read was never charged with the attack, but Mladenich carried permanent reminders of it in the form of scars on his forehead.

  Rumours that prison officers, who were tired of Mladenich’s dangerous ways, stood by when Read allegedly attacked him were never substantiated.

  But there is no doubt that he made enemies wherever he went. One night in jail Mladenich grabbed his plastic chair and banged it against his cell bars from 8.30pm until 4.20am — not as part of a jail protest, but simply because he thought it was funny.

  ‘He was never short of a word,’ Read explains. ‘Once, he went to Joe the Boss’s place and stood outside yelling threats. This was not wise and a short time later he was shot in the leg in what was an obvious misunderstanding. He kept yelling abuse before he limped off. He could be flogged to the ground and then he would say, “Now let that be a lesson to you”.’

  Mladenich was 14 when he was charged with stealing a car in Footscray. He was to end with a criminal record of more than nine pages and 24 aliases, including Richard Mantello and John Mancini.

  But while he considered himself a smart criminal, his arrest record is filled with offences involving street violence. He was no master gangster.

  His lengthy police file included a large number of warnings, including one that he had ‘violent rages that can be triggered off at any time … he will attempt to kill a (police) member or members’.

  One entry read: ‘According to prison officers with years of experience they stated (Mladenich) was one of the craziest and most violent offenders they have seen. (He) is a mountain of a man who has a very violent and unpredictable nature. He must be approached with caution and extreme care. A tough cook
ie.’

  Read said Mladenich had a fierce heroin habit from the mid-1980s. ‘He would come into jail looking like a wet greyhound and then he would pump iron and build up while inside.’

  Read always predicted that Mladenich would die young. ‘The drugs will kill Richard and it’s sad to see.’

  Read, now a best-selling author and artist, says many of his old friends and enemies were being murdered because they refused to accept they were too old to dominate the underworld.

  ‘The barman has called last drinks, but these people won’t go home and they just hang around to be killed. I have found that the writing of books is a far better way for your middle-aged crim to spend his winter nights, well away from excitable types with firearms.’

  Former drug squad and St Kilda detective, Lachlan McCulloch, said Mladenich was one of the more bizarre criminal identities he had investigated in his years in the job.

  McCulloch said that during a drug raid in Albert Park armed police were searching a house when there was an amazing scream. ‘Mladenich jumped out into the lounge room pointing a gun at everyone and going, “Pow! Pow!”. He had this toy laser gun and was running around shooting all of us with the flashing red light. The trouble was we all had real guns with real bullets. We could have blown his head off.’

  McCulloch said that while Mladenich was eccentric and violent (‘He was as crazy as they came’) he lacked the planning skills to be successful in the underworld.

  The former detective said Mladenich, who liked to be known as ‘King Richard’ but was also known by others as ‘Spade Brain’ and ‘Mad Richard’, had ambitions to run a protection racket. He stood over prostitutes and drug dealers, but wanted to broaden his horizons. ‘He wore this black gangster’s coat and a black hat and walked into a pub in South Melbourne. He said he wanted $1000 a week for protection money and he would be back the next day.’

  When he came back 24 hours later he didn’t seem to notice a group of detectives sitting at a nearby table, sipping beers. He was arrested at his first attempt at a shakedown.

  Read said one detective tired of dealing with Mladenich through the courts. He said the detective walked him at gunpoint to the end of the St Kilda Pier, made him jump in and swim back. ‘Would have done him good, too,’ Read said.

  As a criminal he was a good poet, reciting his own verse to a judge who was about to jail him. He once was waiting in a Chinese restaurant for a takeaway meal when he started a friendly conversation with the man next to him, complimenting him on a ring he was wearing.

  When the man left the restaurant, Mladenich was waiting outside to rob him of the ring. ‘He nearly pulled the finger off with it,’ a detective said.

  He had a long and volatile relationship with many Melbourne barristers and judges. He was known to have stalked a prosecutor, Carolyn Douglas (later appointed a County Court Judge), to disrupt Supreme Court trials and to abuse lawyers who had appeared against him.

  He once chested a respected barrister, Raymond Lopez, in the foyer of Owen Dixon Chambers. ‘It is the only time I have felt under physical pressure in that way. I thought he was as high as a kite,’ Lopez recalled. ‘He calmed down but he struck me as the type who could turn quickly.’

  He walked into the office of one of his former lawyers, locked the door and asked for money. At the same time he noticed the barrister’s overcoat on the back of the door and started to go through the pockets. This was an outrageous breach of protocol — it is acknowledged in the legal fraternity that it is the barrister’s job to fleece his clients, not the other way around.

  One member of the underworld said many people would be happy that Mladenich was dead. ‘He was a hoon, a pimp and lived off everyone else. He never did one good job, but he would come around looking for a chop out.’

  But the death notices in the week after his death included some from many well-known criminals, including career armed robbers and an underworld financier dying of cancer.

  It is believed that Mladenich had run up drug debts with at least two major dealers who were prepared to write off the money. Neither was likely to order his murder.

  Richard’s mother, Odinea, said society should take some responsibility for the criminal her son became. She said he was bullied by his step-father and was eventually sent to a state institution.

  ‘They took my little boy and they gave me back a zombie. He was a victim of this rotten society.’

  She said he was the second youngest inmate sent to the notorious top security Jika Jika section in Pentridge (later closed on humanitarian grounds). ‘He had to become like he was to survive,’ she said.

  Mrs Mladenich said many children who went to boys’ homes had their lives destroyed — and there is evidence to support her claim. Many of the worst names in crime can trace their criminal beginnings to what happened in boys’ homes, some of which were deservedly notorious.

  Mrs Mladenich said that the same families she saw at boys’ homes ‘I would see later at Pentridge.’

  Elder brother Mark said: ‘He was 16 when he was in the hardest division in an adult jail. He wasn’t allowed to be soft. He had to be hard to survive.

  ‘I know about his record, but when he was with his family he was different. He was good-hearted.’

  Mladenich was released from prison only a month before his death and told friends and relatives he was determined to keep out of trouble. But as usual, Richard wasn’t telling the whole truth.

  Within weeks of his release he was trying to establish a protection racket by standing over restaurants in Fitzroy Street.

  In May 2003, three years after the murder, Coroner Lewis Byrne concluded: ‘Richard Mladenich lived at the margin. He had friends and acquaintances who lived outside the law. He had quite an extensive criminal history and had only shortly before his death been released from prison. I only include this aspect of Mr Mladenich’s personality to make the point that some of his friends, associates and indeed enemies are part of a subculture where violence and death are not unknown. Although comprehensive investigation undertaken by the homicide squad has been unable to identify the killer of Mr Mladenich, the file remains open and should it be warranted, if further information comes to light, this inquest can be reopened.’

  Don’t hold your breath. Carl Williams and Rocco Arico aren’t talking because they don’t want to and Dino Dibra isn’t because he can’t.

  10

  BLACK MARK

  Carl Williams was to be involved

  in at least eight murders and

  have knowledge of another four

  but this would be the only time

  he pulled the trigger.

  THREE generations of Morans have knocked around in Melbourne criminal circles and their reputation was not built on pacifism.

  But Mark Moran, 36, had seemed to be the white sheep of the family, the one who stayed in the background and kept a low profile. However, as stock breeders will tell you, blood in the end will tell. Mark Moran was bred for trouble and it was only a matter of time before it found him.

  His mother, Judith Moran, was attracted to gunmen all her life. Mark’s natural father was one of them. His name was Leslie John Cole and he was ambushed and shot dead outside his Sydney home on 10 November 1982.

  History repeats itself. Mark went the same way as his dad when he was shot dead outside his million-dollar home in the Melbourne suburb of Aberfeldie on 15 June 2000. He was the latest victim in the underworld war that had then claimed up to nine lives in less than three years — and would rack up a death toll of more than 30.

  Within 24 hours of the murder, the homicide squad’s Detective Inspector Brian Rix said police were receiving little help from the Morans. The family might not have known then that they had been targeted and were to be hunted down by other crooks as if they were feral animals. They had built a reputation as criminal hard men but were to find out what it was like to be the intimidated.

  But that was in the future. Back in June 2000 Rix would state t
he obvious when he said the Mark Moran murder had ‘all the hallmarks of an underworld slaying’.

  ‘The indications are that he was out of his car at the time of the shooting, which means that perhaps his killers laid in wait,’ Rix said.

  Sometimes you can guess more from what police don’t say.

  What Rix didn’t mention was the reason why Moran had left his house for less than half an hour on the night he was killed.

  He had gone to meet someone, but who?

  Did the killer know Moran would go out and then come back that night?

  It is fair to conclude that a killer would not sit outside a luxury house in an affluent street all night on the off chance the target would venture out. He had to have some inside knowledge.

  In fact the killer only had to wait ten minutes for his target. That killer was Carl Williams — then a little-known drug dealer who would become one of the biggest names in the underworld. Williams would be involved in at least eight murders and have knowledge of another four — but this would be the only time he pulled the trigger.

  Williams would also have known that his target was at his most vulnerable. Mark’s half-brother, Jason, was behind bars and his minder, ‘Mad Richard’ Mladenich, had been shot dead in a seedy St Kilda hotel a month earlier. Carl had been close by during Mad Richard’s shooting, but on that occasion a henchman had fired the gun.

  So the real question became, who set up Mark Moran?

  As Rix said, ‘Mark fancied himself as a bit of a heavy. I would think the underworld will talk about this to somebody, and I’m sure that will get back to us in some way.’

  He was right, they did talk but the talk remained a long way short of admissible evidence. No-one knew then that Mark Moran’s death would be just one in the most savage underworld war in decades.

  For Moran that day had been like many others. As a self-employed drug dealer he would mix daily chores with lucrative drug sales.