The Wolfpack: The Millennial Mobsters Who Brought Chaos and the Cartels to the Canadian Underworld by Peter Edwards & Luis Najera

Author:Peter Edwards & Luis Najera [Edwards, Peter & Najera, Luis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography & Autobiography, Criminals & Outlaws, Social Science, Criminology, True Crime, organized crime
ISBN: 9780735275393
Google: -fJEEAAAQBAJ
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2021-10-26T00:16:05.439528+00:00

CHAPTER 23

THE CHAIR

“my fuckin’ chair was moved—drastically moved”

—JOHN EDWARD OLIVER

Police officers involved in Project Roadmaster, a massive investigation involving eight law enforcement agencies, slipped into the Nugent Road warehouse in Port Colborne during the wee hours of Friday, April 18, 2014. On a table in the office area, they found a telephone list that included contact information for Vito Buffone.

Officers swabbed the warehouse for trace amounts of cocaine. Positive traces were found on the floor near a large saw and on its controls and blade, as well as on the intake valve of a wet vac, a set of coveralls and a pair of work gloves. Their evidence gathered, they quietly left.

Police picked up on a conversation that Sunday between two men of recent interest to them—Dean Brennan and his friend, retired children’s charity worker John Edward Oliver—from a listening device planted in Oliver’s Nissan Versa. Before Project Roadmaster began and the pair fell onto the police radar, neither had been connected in any way to organized crime. Police started watching the Nugent Road property and saw Oliver picking up a load from the warehouse. Soon, he had surveillance of his own.

Police overheard that Brennan was struggling to find a career and Oliver was having trouble with bills as a pensioner. Brennan thought it was time to talk about career development.

“Well, there’s one other thing,” Brennan said, stumbling over his words. “I was hoping you might be able to help me out with, or put into you fund or…to your benefit is a pilot licence.”

“What kind of pilot licence?” Oliver asked.

“An airplane pilot,” Brennan said.

“What in the fuck’s name would you want to do that for?” Oliver asked.

“All kinds of reasons why I’d want a pilot’s licence. The benefit to you would be you would have a pilot,” Brennan replied.

Oliver wasn’t in a nurturing mood, but there was a sad, trusting tone to Brennan’s words. Perhaps it reminded Oliver of his old days in the charity business, when he worked for the good guys.

“How expensive do you think that would be?” Oliver asked.

“About $10,000,” Brennan replied.

The conversation shifted to Brennan’s debts and his difficulties in choosing a career path. He was thirty-eight years old. There was still time to turn things around, but the clock was ticking.

“Pretty expensive hobby,” Oliver said. He coughed, and then softened a bit. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with having dreams…”

Brennan finally spat out what both men were thinking, and what made them of interest to police: “Yeah, but if you’re in the cocaine business, one of the first things you’re gonna need is a pilot.”

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