WHAT REALLY BECAME OF CAPTAIN KIDD’S BURIED TREASURE?

Treasure. The very word is intriguing, invigorating, and—to some—even intoxifying. There’s something magical about lost treasure whether sunken, hidden, or buried beneath the earth in a clandestine location. Such is the lure of Captain Kidd, the infamous pirate, whose hoard of richness may still be out there, stashed in some secret site and silently awaiting discovery.

There’s no doubt Captain William Kidd buried some treasure. That’s an indisputable fact, as his chests containing gold, silver, and a few emeralds were dug up on Gardiners Island in now-New York State in 1699. Kidd’s treasure was inventoried, forfeited to the British Crown, and entered as evidence during his trial for murder and piracy. Captain Kidd was convicted and hung in 1701. Then, his body was garroted and suspended in public display as a warning to other pirates.

By all accounts, William Kidd was not your typical pirate. Kidd wasn’t a swashbuckling Johnny Depp—Jack Sparrow character, nor was he a homicidal psychopath like Blackbeard or Black Bart. No, Captain Kidd was a gentleman of high status who got sucked into the job by the British King and got screwed in the end. You could say Kidd got royally shafted.

Captain Kidd is long dead. But the legend of his remaining treasure lives on, and there may be some real truth to folklore that the bulk of Kidd’s bounty was never seized by authorities. Are Kidd’s real valuables—precious gems, coins, ivory, opium, and ornaments—buried somewhere and lost in time? Let’s look at who Captain Kidd truly was and the highly-suspicious circumstances that led to his easily-convertible, common commodities of gold and silver being found for the Crown while priceless pieces somehow disappeared.

——

William Kidd was a Scotsman. He was born in 1655 to a seafaring family. From the time Kidd was a kid and could put on boots and a slicker, he was onboard sailing ships that crossed the Atlantic. William Kidd received a Captain position within the British merchant marine. He was not a Navy man, but he was well-skilled with navigation and vessel armaments. This was the historical period when piracy ruled the Seven Seas, and civilian vessels needed all the protection they could get.

Captain Kidd relocated to New York City around 1690. He had given service to England’s King George III as a “privateer” commissioned to hunt down “buccaneers” and “pirates”. Kidd did an admirable job. He seemed to be in the King’s favor when he returned to normal life and married a wealthy American socialite.

Kidd temporarily boxed-up his sexton and settled into land-based businesses. However, King George III had different designs for William Kidd’s seagoing talents. Several events were going on where the King needed civilian help in the naval department. England was at war with France and Spain. As well, the age of piracy was at its peak, and the King wanted to take advantage of the situation.

Here’s where William Kidd came in. The British Lords decreed (with the King’s royal assent) that all goods aboard French, Spanish, and pirate vessels could be commandeered for the financial benefit of the Crown. It was a strategic way of paying for war costs and subduing the enemy at the same time.

One of the British Admiralty’s tactics was to commission or charter civilians like Kidd to “privateer” and profit-share spoils with the uppers. A privateer, by definition, is  “a private person or ship that engages in maritime warfare under a commission of war”. Buccaneers are basically unsanctioned privateers, while pirates are common thieves on the water.

Through the King, a group of nobles enlisted Captain Kidd’s privateer services in a way he couldn’t say no. As a man with Kidd’s social status, it would appear disloyal to refuse a royal request. Kidd acquiesced his commander and returned to England in 1696 where he received a Letter of Marque authorizing him to set forth and prey on French, Spanish, and pirate property.

The deal was sealed. Kidd’s role was to collect and share spoils with his financiers—noble Whig Lords, Earls, and Knights before which 10 percent was skimmed by the King. The arrangement was still profitable for Kidd and his crew, provided they could locate plunderable targets. That proved problematic.

Things started bad and went worse for Captain Kidd. He weighed anchor in September 1696 in the Adventure Galley, a 284-ton hybrid ship equipped with sails and oars as well as 34 cannons. Kidd had hand-selected his crew of 150 and felt confident as he headed down the Thames for the Cape of Good Hope and hunting off the coast of Madagascar.

Still on the Thames, Kidd’s Adventure Galley passed a British Naval frigate whose commander knew not of Kidd’s mission. Kidd failed to offer a courtesy salute which offended the Naval Commander who heaved-to the Adventure Galley and summarily pressed one-third of Kidd’s men into naval service. Kidd changed course for America where, in New York, he hired replacements.

Kidd’s replacement crew was not from the cut-above. Rather, the available stock were criminals and societal rejects who the Governor of New York was glad to see go. Other fine sailors abandoned ship in New York because the Adventure Galley was a poorly and hastily-built piece of shit that leaked like a sieve and steered like a stone.

“Many flocked to Kidd from all parts. Men of desperate fortunes and necessities, in expectation of getting vast treasure. It is generally believed here that if he (Kidd) misses the design named in his commission, he will not be able to govern such a villainous herd.”  ~ Governor Fletcher of New York Colony.

But Captain Kidd was no quitter. He accepted a bag of rag tags and set forth on his chartered commission. Before Kidd reached the Cape, a cholera outbreak plagued the ship and another third of his compliment perished. Now Captain Kidd was at a distinct disadvantage at controlling the crew and murmurs of mutiny floated about.

Kidd had no luck at all. Not only was his crew a band of devious deviants, much like the cutthroats of lore, Kidd’s officers were also disloyal. William Kidd commanded his ship according to the rules of maritime law and legal engagement. Pirate hunting was poor in the Indian Ocean as was locating valid targets sailing under French and Spanish flags. Kidd refused to engage ships under Dutch registration or anything that resembled a British subject.

A year passed. Kidd’s charge had no income and little left to pay or outfit his men. Open revolt was on deck and led to violence on October 30, 1697, when Captain Kidd and gunner William Moore got into a fight. Kidd hit Moore on the head with an iron-strapped bucket, and Moore died the next day of a brain injury.

Word of Kidd’s poor performance got back to the Whig backers. They were displeased and began undermining Kidd’s credibility. Rumors that Kidd may have gone rogue and turned from privateer to pirate circulated through dispatches distributed through the British colonies and far-reaching colonial interests.

Kidd, however, knew or did anything of the sort. He was simply a victim of changing times when France and Spain were tiring of war and their interests in the Indian Ocean dried up. The pirates, once finding less and less loot, left the area and returned to plunder the Caribbean.

On January 30, 1698, Captain Kidd and the Adventure Galley finally found a victim. It was the 400-ton Quedagh Merchant which was Armenian registered and French flagged. The ship was bound from Bengal to Surat in India, and Kidd engaged it near Kochi on the southwest tip of the subcontinent.

The engagement was peaceful. The Quedagh Merchant’s captain was an Englishman employed by a Dutch firm and crew operating for India’s Grand Mughal. The ship had a written pass from the French East India Company and all was in good order. The Quedagh Merchant was also loaded with highly-prized valuables—silk bales, opium chests, satin fabrics, muslins, sugar, tobacco, and tea. In its hold was a mass of gold, silver, and gemstones along with jeweled and ornate artifacts fit for the Mughal.

Captain Kidd was in a quandary, for sure. On one hand, Kidd viewed the Quedagh Merchant as a non-viable engagement. It was not a pirate ship by any standards and belonged to an entity not in conflict with British rule. On the other hand, this was the first chance Kidd’s crew had at getting paid, and they threatened to cut Kidd adrift if he didn’t seize the ship and its contents.

Kidd succumbed to his crew. He justified that the Quedagh Merchant was French authorized under the pass and set forth to commandeer the vessel with a privateer claim for the British Crown. This pissed off the Indian Grand Mughal to no end. His goods were now gone, and he loudly complained to the British High Commission that, in turn, reported back to the King.

Captain Kidd was a practical man as well as a competent sailor. Rather than transfer goods to the leaky Adventure Galley, he made port in Kochi, dismissed the Dutch crew, and made off with their Quedagh Merchant. Kidd renamed it the Adventure Prize and set sail for the Caribbean’s West Indies.

Kidd and his converted merchant vessel stopped in Madagascar in April 1698. Here, more of Kidd’s crew jumped ship and joined a pirate venture captained by Robert Culliford who was a notorious man and a long foe of Captain Kidd. Port tensions rand high, so Kidd slipped away on the newly-named and treasure-laden Adventure Prize.

He arrived at Catalina Island off the south side of the Dominican Republic in late 1698. Here, Kidd anchored in a secluded lagoon and made arrangements for a smaller vessel, a sloop, to take him with a select small crew to New York to bargain with the British Crown. Captain Kidd was now well aware of the piracy accusations levied against him.

Massachusetts Governor Bellomont was Kidd’s long-time acquaintance who Kidd thought he could trust. T’wasn’t so. Kidd was a wary sort, so he took treasures from the Quedagh Merchant’s cargo that could be easily converted into negotiable currency—gold, silver, gems, and elaborate jewelry and ornaments. This was Kidd’s insurance policy—his bargaining chips—that he held for safekeeping.

Kidd cautiously approached the American Atlantic coast in June 1699. He was well-familiar with the region and many New York area inhabitants. That included the Lion Gardiner family and their private 3,318-acre island rightfully called Gardiners Island situated at the northeast tip of Long Island.

Here, Captain William Kidd arranged with the Gardiners to offload treasure and bury it on Gardiners Island. Exactly what was buried or how many burial spots Kidd used remain unknown. This is where the legend of Captain Kidd’s lost treasure began.

Captain Kidd sent a lawyer-delivered letter to Governor Bellomont in Boston stating he was back and ready to negotiate a pardon for piracy accusations against him. Throughout Kidd’s time on this three-year privateer voyage, he firmly believed he was acting according to his royal Commission and his noble backers would soundly support him.

Kidd was wrong. Politics changed during his absence, and the new Torrie powerbrokers in England planned to use Kidd as a pawn to help impeach his Whig patrons. Even the King turned on William Kidd. Governor Bellomont replied with a letter to Kidd stating:

“I have advised with His Majesty’s Council and showed them your letter, and they are of the opinion that, if you can be so clear as you said, then you may safely come hither. And I make no manner of doubt but to obtain the King’s pardon for you and those few men you have left who, I understand, have been faithful to you and have refused as well as you to dishonor the commission you have from England. I assure you on my word and honour, I will perform nicely what I have promised.”

It was a trap. Captain William Kidd fell for it, and he was arrested on July 6, 1699, as soon as he set foot on Massachusetts land. He was transported to London where he went to trial and lost. Captain Kidd was convicted in a sham of a trial where he was not allowed to testify on his own behalf nor cross-examine witnesses. On May 23, 1701, Kidd was hung by his neck and strung out to rot in a body cage for privateer and pirate viewing.

——

So what became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure? Some of this is well documented. Other portions—possibly the majority of his take—is not. Part of Kidd’s defense strategy was to offset his predicament by buying his way out. Somehow, through someone, the Gardiner family produced treasure from Captain Kidd and turned it over to Governor Bellomont.

This is perfectly documented, and the recorded inventory shows a tally of 1,111 ounces of gold, 2,549 ounces of silver, and a small bag of emeralds weighing 66 ounces. The value at that time, in July of 1699, put Kidd’s treasure at 5,453.6 British pounds. In today’s USD, his gold, silver, and emeralds would be worth about 2.1 million dollars.

Most people at the time, and most historians today, feel Captain Kidd’s total treasure taken from the Quedagh Merchant was far more than that. Far, far more. It’s somewhat safe to say that Kidd left the bulky treasure—silk and satin bales, barrels of tea, crates of coffee, and sacks of sugar—on the hidden ship in the Caribbean. Once Kidd was doomed, the remaining crew disbursed what was left and burned the ship. Salvagers discovered the wreckage in 2007 exactly where Kidd was suspected to have anchored it.

But what became of other valuables known to be on board the Quedagh Merchant when Kidd took it under full authority of the British Monarch? Riches like precious gems of sapphire, rubies, diamonds, topaz, and opals? What about jewelry such as pearl strings, tiaras, and clusters in brooches? Chalices? Porringers? Candlesticks? Crucifixes? And religious figurines? What became of the other stuff that was really worth something?

You probably don’t need to look further than those privy to Kidd’s treasure on Gardiners Island—the Lion Gardiner family.

This circles back to the central question—what really became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure. It’s obvious what the Gardiners turned over to the British Crown was mainly gold and silver. These commodities were not proportionately worth in 1699 what they are in 2020. Gold and silver were strictly regulated in price, and there would be no disputing their market value by weight. That made gold and silver predictable in price and easy to exchange.

The same couldn’t be said for precious stones or man-made artifacts embedding their beauty in artwork. Some of the Kidd treasure, assuming it was there, would be most challenging to price. Rightfully, some of the pieces would be priceless, and it’s these treasured works that are gone.

Let’s look at who the Gardiner family was and where they are today. Lion Gardiner was a British immigrant to Connecticut. In 1639, he bought the island from the chief of the Montaukett tribe for (reportedly) “a large black dog, some powder and shot, and a few Dutch blankets”. Lion Gardiner moved his wife, children, and a few workers to the island and began subsistence farming.

It was fertile land, and Lion Gardiner was an enterprising farmer. He was also a shrewd operator. Gardiner senior sought a royal patent with the clause that he and his family had the “right to possess the land forever”. This “in-perpetuity” clause remains in effect and today Gardiners Island is the oldest single landholding in the United States. Old Gardiner even got the King to sign-off on foreshore rights with the interesting measure of owning all sea shore out from land “as far as a large ox can wade before his belly gets wet”.

The Gardiner family is one of the wealthiest groups of generational folks in America. “Old money” that is, and not quite to current standards of Gates, Buffet, Bezos, and Zuckerberg. No, the Gardiners are more in line with the names Forbes, Rockefeller, Astor, and DuPont. It’s clear how Gardiner counterparts got their dry-land start, but there’s murkiness in Gardiners Island waters.

Shortly after Captain Kidd died, the Gardiner family showed signs of unusual income. They spent more than could logically be earned by marketing apples and corn and eggs and milk in New York markets. Successive Gardiners got progressively richer. They acquired large land tracts and secured lucrative lending arrangements.

Robert Lion Gardiner, 16th Lord of the Manor, with a ring and artefact from the “Kidd Collection”.

Over the years, the heads of the Gardiner dynasty (who got a royal peerage “Lord of the Manor”) held lavish parties on Gardiners Island. The who’s who of society, old money and nouveau riche included, attended by invitation and hobnobbed in lavishly catered exclusivity. A Gardiner became an American First Lady and First Ladies like Jacqueline Kennedy were part of the Gardiners Island scene.

Robert David Lion Gardiner was the last Lord of the Manor at Gardiners Island. He was a colorful character, albeit eccentric, and all but confirmed where the family fortune arose. Robert Gardiner, the 16th Lord, showed many people artifacts from the “Kidd Collection” that remained in his family’s possession. He died in 2004 with no biological heirs.

Today, Gardiners Island (that once held colony status) is solely owned by a reclusive Gardiner relative, a removed niece named Alexandria Goelet. Estimators say the island property is worth several billion dollars, and no one publically knows the Gardiner family fortune’s mass. Maybe this wealth is what really became of Captain Kidd’s buried treasure.

BETWEEN THE BIKERS — NEW BASED-ON-TRUE-CRIME BOOK RELEASE

Between The Bikers is the new release in my based-on-true-crime series. It’s Book #6 in a 12-part project that takes real cases and brings you, the reader, right inside actual criminal investigations with real cops and real crooks. I start each story with a warning about graphic content including gory scenes, sensitive techniques, and profane language. But that’s the real world of true crime. Here’s the online book description followed by the first two chapters of Between The Bikers.

Who had the most to gain by murdering a bad-ass biker—especially the powerful president of a Hells Angels Motorcycle Club chapter? The answer lies in Between The Bikers—Book 6 in the Based-On-True-Crime-Series by retired homicide detective and coroner, Garry Rodgers.

Mark Mitchell, aka Zeke, disappears on a Saturday afternoon just before a full-patch ceremony held between the bikers at a Hells Angels clubhouse on Vancouver Island in British Columbia at Canada’s west coast. The bikers are furious and the police are frantic to control an escalating mess that could lead to an all-out war within the Angels’ criminal organization. All fear a deadly underworld rift is about to explode.

While the bikers witch-hunt within their ranks and outside the law to ferret Zeke’s killers, the police urgently use every tactic and technique to solve the crime and contain the volatile gangsters. Wiretaps, surreptitious surveillance, clandestine operations, and highly-placed secret informants work through an unheard-of alliance between the bikers and their sworn enemies—the cops.

What happened to Zeke, and why, shocks both sides. The truth behind Mark Mitchell’s murder is something unmatched between the bikers who show the feared death head logo on their backs below the red-on-white words “Hells Angels”. It’s a truth known only by those with the most to gain—a truth that lies between the bikers.

——

Between The Bikers comes with a warning: This book is based on a true crime story. Explicit descriptions of crime scenes, factual dialogue, real forensic procedures, highly-sensitive sources and actual police investigation, interview, and interrogation techniques are portrayed. Some names, times, and locations have been changed for privacy concerns and commercial purposes.

This is the sixth story in the Based-On-True-Crime Series by Garry Rodgers. Other titles include In The Attic, Under The Ground, From The Shadows, Beside The Road, and On The Floor. Reviewers describe Rodgers’ story-telling style as a 21st century Joseph Wambaugh using Elmore Leonard dialogue with plot, pacing, and characterization in the flare of Fiona Barton and Paula Hawkins.

*   *   *

BETWEEN THE BIKERS

Chapter One — Monday, April 27th – 8:20 a.m.

“Zeke’s missing.” Harry clomped into our Serious Crimes Section. She plopped herself down in her desk chair. “Word is he’s been done in.”
“Well, if he’s been whacked…” I rolled back from my cubicle and smiled at my detective partner, Harry. “It’ll be between the bikers.”
“Yup.” Harry took a slurp from her stainless Starbucks mug. “I took a spin by the Hells Angels clubhouse. They’re swarming like ants on a fucking hill.”
“Your word… how good is it?” Harry had my full attention.
“Like, my word?” She smiled back. “Impeccable. Obviously, you know that.”
“No, shithead. Not your word. I meant, who’d you hear this from?”
Harry took another pull from her cup. She subconsciously looked from side to side. “Don Ransom at Drug Squad. His wiretaps and cameras are lit up like Times Square.”
“Okay.” I nodded and leaned in. “Something’s going on. Someone’s stuck a honey-coated stick in the ant pile.”
“I stopped by Drugs this morning about something else.” Harry lowered her voice. “The guys are working flat-out, interpreting audio intercepts and video surveillance. Looks like the HAs are preparing for all-out war with whoever hit Zeke. Don’s pretty sure Zeke’s dead and you know what that means.”
“Yeah.” I moved back. “We’re going to inherit Zeke’s fuckin’ mess.”
By “we”, I meant the detectives at Nanaimo Serious Crimes Section. And by “Zeke”, I meant Mark Mitchell, who was the president of the Nanaimo Hells Angels Motorcycle Club chapter. Zeke was Mark Mitchell’s nickname, and he was well known—very well known—to our police department.

Nanaimo is a small seaside city of a hundred thousand, set on the southeast side of Vancouver Island. It’s right across from the City of Vancouver in British Columbia, Canada which is one of the most exotic, erotic, and expensive places in the world.
Although Nanaimo is cut off by water from the B.C. mainland, it takes on the same crime characteristics as a large metropolis. Nanaimo has its share of serious stuff like murders, rapes, robberies, extortions, arsons, loansharking, and money laundering. There are homeless and junkies begging on the street, and well-paid prostitutes doing their thing with high-profile clients behind closed doors.
Nanaimo has graft in the civic circles and grief at the street scene. Most grief is caused by addicts and mental cases that have no hope for treatment, never mind a chance at recovery. There are losers on welfare and gambling fanatics, thieves and tag-artists, as well as pot-growers and meth-cookers. And there’s a subculture that profits from bottom-feeders and contributes to nothing but trouble and tragedy—the bikers.

The Nanaimo Hells Angels chapter, or charter as the outlaw motorcycle club is sometimes called, had a regular complement of about thirteen guys. That was give or take a few that may have quit, got fired, been jailed, or suddenly disappeared, like what had happened to Zeke. And what happened to Zeke was unlike anything anyone in our Serious Crimes Section ever experienced.
Serious Crimes in Nanaimo was part of the police department’s support services that assisted the rank-and-file General Duty or Patrol division. Harry and I were a team of two assigned to investigate complicated and time-consuming files that patrol officers couldn’t stick with. There were other two-person teams as well as an overall detective boss, Staff Sergeant Leaky Lewis. Leaky also supervised Drug Squad, Forensics, Property Crimes, Street Crew, Sex Crimes, Commercial Crimes, and one poor prick plagued with mitigating frauds and bad plastic.
Harry, by the way, was not my partner’s real name. She was Sheryl Henderson, a large lady with large hair and an even larger personality. We called Sheryl “Harry” after the bigfoot or sasquatch in the movie Harry and The Hendersons.

“So what else did you find out at Drug Squad?” I’d stopped smiling. It quickly sunk in that, although Zeke’s loss would be the community’s gain, there would be hell to pay in fallout. Intrinsically, I knew—or thought I knew—that whatever happened to Mark Mitchell, aka Zeke, would be an issue between the bikers, and I knew that the biker mentality would not take this lying down.
Harry took another sip from her Starbucks cup, which was as tarnished and dented as a few parts of her career. “So, what Don Ransom tells me is that Zeke was last seen on Saturday afternoon. He’d been over to Vancouver to pick up some rings for a patch-over ceremony that was supposed to happen on Saturday night. He fell off the radar and hasn’t flown since.”
“Rings?”
“Yeah.” Harry examined her cup and picked at something caked on it. “Biker rings. You know those gold death head things that full-patches wear?”
“Oh, yeah. Biker rings.”
“They’re clunky and gaudy if you want my opinion.” Harry kept picking. “Anyway, they’re an initiation gift for someone who is accepted full-time into the club. So Zeke got the rings but hasn’t been heard from since.”
“Hey. Wait a minute.” I smiled again. “You mean he was last seen in Vancouver? He disappeared in Vancouver? Then it’s not our problem.”
Harry did the time-out sign. “No. Not so lucky there, Louie. Zeke made it back from Vancouver. His truck was found abandoned here. Beside the Harewood Arms pub. Locked. Keys gone. Zeke gone.”
“Fuuuck—”
Harry waved her finger. “You know the last-seen rule. He was last seen here in Nanaimo so that does make it our fucking problem. Wish it weren’t so, but it is so. We’re stuck with finding out what’s happened to Zeke.”
I wished it weren’t so, too. The last thing I needed as an old cop ready to retire was refereeing a ferocious fight between the bikers.

Chapter Two — Monday, April 27th – 8:50 a.m.

Leaky Lewis called Harry and me into his office. He closed the door and nudged us towards two wooden chairs in front of his solid oak desk. His blinds were shut tight, but his lights were on bright, giving the room sort of an unnerving feel.
That was far from the case when dealing with Leaky. As a boss, it was hard to find anyone fairer and, as a person, you couldn’t find anyone more approachable. I’d known Leaky since he was a new-hire in the Nanaimo police department. He’d quickly climbed the ladder and was now officially ranked as a Detective Staff Sergeant, making him my direct supervisor.
Almost all cops get nicknames. They’re usually earned from a play-on-words, or some career-haunting mishap. Leaky was Jim Lewis. He got the moniker because he suffered a chronic case of post-urinary drip.

“So something’s happened to Zeke, I hear.” Leaky looked at Harry and me with a neutral expression. “Where are we going to go with this?”
Harry and I hesitated to answer.
“This isn’t a trick question.” Leaky grinned. “Seriously. I want some input on how we’re going to handle this, ah, situation.”
“I’d like to say we do fuck-all.” I grinned back. “But… we all know that if someone’s offed Zeke, then someone’s going to pay for it and someone else is going to pay for that and we’re going to be into a full-on biker war. And I don’t want no part of that at this stage of my game.”
Leaky nodded and looked at Harry. “Your take?”
One thing about Harry, she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.
“We got to get on this right away. I have no doubt he’s right.” Harry thumbed at me. “This could be a fucking blood bath if we don’t go right out and get in their faces.”
“Don Ransom told me he’s never heard the Angels talk so openly on their phones.” Leaky shuffled in his chair. “Don’s had them wired up for a long time… off and on… and he knows their pattern. He says they sound rattled. Confused. Trying to make sense of what’s going on. Don thinks the Nanaimo chapter really doesn’t know what’s happened. They’re scrambling for clues.”
Harry continued. “From what Don told me an hour ago, and what I saw when I drove past the clubhouse, I think the HA full-patches are going to start grabbing people here, there, and all over and muscle them for information. This thing will escalate real fast unless we show a lot of force, and right away. They have to know we’re not going to let them run the fucking show around here.”
Leaky nodded again. “Show of force? How do you see doing that?”
Harry already had a plan in her mind. “A big drive-by back and forth at the clubhouse. Setting up the command center mobile at the edge of their property. Leaving the cameras on twenty-four seven. Even hovering Air One on top of their fucking room. Let them know we’re not going to let a biker war start or we’ll bug-squash them.”
Leaky didn’t nod. “I’m not so sure… It might just agitate them even more. I think we should watch all right. But, I think we should rely on intel with sources already in place. Some intel is just starting to come in. Don called me just before you guys sat down and says he’s going to come here and talk in person. Let’s wait for what he has. What about the basics… like opening a file and deciding who’s going to coordinate this. After all, we don’t even have an official complaint.”
Harry shrugged. “The paperwork can wait. I say we get right out there and fly the flag before they decide to run away with biker law.”
Leaky stood up. It wasn’t like he was mad or upset, but more like he was starting to feel uncomfortable. “I’m also thinking of opening a communication channel. Like going right to the leader and simply asking him what’s going on.”
“Their leader is missing.” Harry made a good point. “Zeke is, was, whatever, the president. He has, or had, been for a long time.”
Leaky nodded again. “Fred Wallacott is the past-president. He’s been with the club since they were the 101 Knights and the Satan’s Angels. I’ve known Fred since college. Not that we were ever friends or buddies or anything. But I think I can talk to him.”
I spoke up. “I have a reasonable rapport with Fred Wallacott. Big Wally as they call him. It might be best if I talk to him in private… away from the club scene.”
Harry gave me a quizzical eye. “I didn’t know that. What’s your connection to Fred Wallacott?”
“I don’t go around advertising it, but we’ve gotten to know each other semi-socially over the years.”
Harry laughed. “You? Partying with the fucking Hells Angels?”
“No. Not partying. Our kids traveled in the same circles. Fred’s daughter and my daughter went to Highland dance classes and gymnastic classes together. Fred’s son and my son went to kickboxing lessons together. So I’d regularly run into Fred—two dads dropping off and picking up kids—and then I’d see him at events like graduations, competitions, and demonstrations.”
Harry stopped laughing. “You think you can actually talk to a fucking biker like one-on-one?”
“I know I can.”
“You’re serious about this?”
“Yeah. I know he’s big and intimidating and has this tough-guy biker persona. Deep down, Fred’s a reasonable guy. Actually—very well-read and informed. Tell you a funny story about Fred. He has a bunch of rental properties around town. Once, he had to serve an eviction notice and didn’t want to get into a violent situation where the guy could press charges against him. So, Fred came into the police station and asked for a plainclothes officer to stand by to keep the peace while he hangs paper on the tenant. We go over to Fred’s block. He knocks on the door. Guy opens it and refuses to take the notice so Fred takes out his Buck knife and jams it into the door, face-pinning the paper, and says, ‘Here. You’re fucking served’. Then we just left.”
Leaky and Harry laughed.
Leaky brought us back to the business at hand. “I know you’re rammy, Harry, and you want to show them our colors. And, you might be right about that. We can use that as plan B, but first I want to get as much info on this as possible. Looking at this objectively, we don’t even know if Zeke is dead. He might be abducted and held for some biker reason. For that matter, he might have even fucked off and faked his own disappearance.”
I agreed with Leaky. “Let’s take this a step at a time. Like, we don’t even have an official missing person complaint to start sticking our noses into. Let’s get our source intel and then do a back-channel move. After that, we can show all the muscle we want.”

There was a rap at the door. It opened. In came Don Ransom with breaking biker news.

Get the Between The Bikers eBook at:

 

NXIVM — THE CRAZY SEX CULT OF KEITH RANIERE

It sounds like something in a bizarre novel plot that struggles to suspend disbelief, but it’s true crime at is weirdest. NXIVM (pronounced nex-eee-ehm) was a real-life “wellness” organization run by Keith Raniere, a Svengali leader who conned thousands of people in a self-help pyramid scheme. At its heart, NXIVM held a secret society that manipulated intelligent women into being sex-slaves with Keith Raniere’s initials branded into their flesh.

This week, a New York court sentenced Keith Raniere to 120 years imprisonment for sex offenses, human trafficking, forced labor, racketeering, and other felony convictions. Clare Bronfman, the billionaire heiress to the Seagrams liquor fortune, got 6 ½ years for bankrolling the operation to a tune of over $140 million. Co-conspirators Sara Bronfman, Alison Mack, Kathy Russell, Nancy Salzman, and her daughter Lauren Salzman have pleaded guilty to related sex and conspiracy charges. They’re awaiting sentences and they, too, face length penitentiary terms for ruining the lives of many innocent young women who only wanted wellness in their world.

How can this happen? How can women like billionaires, Hollywood actresses, Ph.D. holders, and even Mexican President Vincente Fox’s daughter get sucked into such a crazy cult? How could they allow themselves to be turned into submissive sex slaves and willingly be branded at the pubic line with a cauterizing gun after turning over millions of dollars to a perverted conman?

The answer isn’t easy. And, it didn’t happen overnight. It seems the root of this madness lies in a lack of personal esteem and the possible profound psychological effects of neuro-linguistic programming compounded with hypnosis. In other words, brainwashing by preying on female insecurities. Here’s a look at how NXIVM was structured and who Keith Raniere really is.

NXIVM Structure

It’s best to let NXIVM explain what they purported to be… on the surface. Keith Raniere and Nancy Salzman formed the organization in 1998 as a mostly women-to-women group of high achievers who wanted to take their entrepreneurial performance to the next level. Fraud implications started in 2003 when Forbes Magazine did an expose on Raniere and  NXIVM.

NXIVM crashed in 2018 when Raniere and his hold-out supporters fled to Mexico and were arrested on U.S. warrants. At the time, the NXIVM website was still up and I quickly copied their propaganda. This is what they offered:

WHAT IS NXIVM? — NXIVM is a community guided by humanitarian principles that seek to empower people and answer important questions about what it means to be human. The NXIVM philosophy is expressed through a series of companies and initiatives, all of which were designed to broaden the way we currently think about problems, and to help create solutions for a kinder, more sustainable, ethical world. With unique tools that facilitate success, both internally and externally, NXIVM helps people realize the potential that exists within them.

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.”  ~ Helen Keller

Society, government, religion, family—all human systems are made up of people. Large-scale change must therefore find its root in the individual. If we are to create a noble civilization, this transformation must begin by looking inward.

NXIVM is a new ethical understanding that allows you to create an internal framework that reflects your best self, and offers the resources to manifest that vision into a reality. It allows you to explore your most fundamental nature and begin to redirect your power of creation, a power that we all possess in a very human sense. The NXIVM philosophy is expressed through its various companies, their contributions, and, most importantly, the individuals who work together to create a better world.

By the time NXIVM was rolling in the early 2000s, it had attracted thousands of acolytes who spent millions of dollars on the promise of life-transforming exposure. Executive Success Programs (ESP) formed NXIVM’s shell with specialized, invite-only, sub-groups available for the chosen ones. One spin-off was JNESS, and this is what they presented:

WHO WE ARE — Our JNESS is our highly personal version of being a woman; it is an affirmation of our independent life-journey with its lessons, tragedies, and magnificence. No two women are the same. Each of us has a unique, powerful, secret-self, formed from our experiences in life. No one set of words can quite quantify us, and no collection of rules can categorize us. JNESS in general, is the personal work of empowered women in this world.

Organized JNESS is the journey to find more depth and meaning in our lives connecting us with our personal wisdom through bonded groups of friends, inspired by essential questions, and the sharing of many. Through the workings of Jness, we find more of ourselves and reunite with parts lost to fear or social ignorance.

OUR STORY — Have you ever been with a closest friend, or friends, and desired to create something meaningful? Maybe even something bigger than just a simple project, or some self-serving goal? Possibly a group effort addressing a personal concern about the world where you see meaningful work needs to be done.

Take a minute to think about some of the most meaningful needs of society from your perspective: Is one of these needs world hunger? Or possibly more pressing is the issue of abuse of power in government?

Or maybe even more important is a war in a foreign country? Or you might focus upon difficulties closer to home, such as the lack of community in your community, or possibly some type of social prejudice? Or for some, just the simple lack of caring amongst friends and neighbors, is most disturbing. There are many, many other equally important challenges in the world but what is of primary concern is which issues are most important to you directly, personally.

On a spring day in 2006, in a car, driving down the highway, this was the topic of discussion amongst 3 dearest friends; Pam, Marianna, and Keith.

Keith offered an expertise in educational methodology along with a body of knowledge relating to the human dynamic. The most essential thing for both Pam and Marianna was their struggles as women in a world where woman’s values are distorted. Over the next few days, the initial codification for a new method of gender transformation, JNESS, was born, from the loving intent of 3 people, who desired to create something meaningful together, to make the world a better place.

Today, just 10 years later, JNESS has spread to over 17 locations and has touched women (and men) from all walks of life. With over 1000 hours of ever-expanding curriculum and methods of gender empowerment, JNESS is one of the most advanced and detailed paths of gender discovery in the world. It is, more importantly, a home community for many, many, compassionate, humanity-minded women of this era.

OUR FRIENDSHIPS — JNESS is an organization by-invitation, only.

Imagine having a group of women with whom you meet each week that you knew you could rely on because they show up for one another, no matter what. What might it be like to have friends committed to their growth and supporting the growth of those around them?  That is the intention of a JNESS friendship.

Friendships offer the opportunity for women to build a bond with one another as we journey through our unique curriculum.

*   *   *

Sounds enticing, doesn’t it? Well, JNESS was a grooming ground for something seriously sinister. There was a nucleus operating inside NXIVM—a secret sex sisterhood—called Dominus Obsequious Sororium (DOS) which is a Latin translation for “lord over the obedient female companions”. It was inside DOS where things really got nuts.

Alison Mack was Raniere’s chief recruiter for DOS. Raniere delegated Mack to identify women of influence within JNESS and bring them inside the inner DOS circle. In Mack’s words, “DOS is a bad-ass, if slightly unorthodox, feminist group meant to help women build discipline and overcome their intimacy issues”.

Alison Mack

Unorthodox is an understatement. DOS was specifically designed to provide sex slaves for Keith Raniere. The initiation required “collateral” to prove the woman’s conviction. This would be sexually-compromising pictures, videos of sex act performance, or something as sleazy as a letter on file that falsely accused the woman’s father of sexually molesting her.

Once indoctrinated inside DOS, the woman vowed to be completely subservient to Raniere. This included group-sex participation, pubic hair grooming requirements, and responding to text demands within sixty seconds or face corporal punishment by being strapped with a leather belt.

Complete DOS initiation required branding. In this procedure the indoctrinated was stripped naked and forcibly held on her back on a table. She was required to say, “Master, please brand me. It would be an honor.” Then, the submissive woman would sufferer excruciating pain while the initials “KR” were seared on her pubis.

Sarah Edmondson shows the brand she received as part of a secret sorority ritual while part of the self-help group Nxivm, in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, July 27, 2017. Edmondson, who has left the group, and other former followers of Keith Raniere, the leader of the group, said they were focusing on recovering. “There is no playbook for leaving a cult,” Edmondson said. (Ruth Fremson/The New York Times)

Note: Officially, thirteen women have come forward and showed their brands. There could be many more.

Who is Keith Raniere?

To somewhat understand the hard-to-believe story of NXIVM, JNESS and DOS, it’s necessary to look at who Keith Raniere really is. Again, it’s best to read how NXIVM portrayed him through their website propaganda. This is what they posted:

KEITH RANIERE — Keith Raniere has devoted his life to studying the complex issues that face our modern world, and to developing tools to enhance the human experience through community, social action, science, technology, and education.

Raniere has founded multiple companies focusing on increasing joy and ethics in the world. Under the NXIVM umbrella, he has developed a series of educational models that offer integrative solutions to complex subjects such as gender, relationships, childhood development, mind-body complex, compassionate ethics, and creative expression. These initiatives range from an award-winning performing arts company to an early childhood education that promotes cultural, linguistic, emotional, physical, and problem-solving potential.

He founded Executive Success Programs, Inc. (ESP) in 1998 with Nancy Salzman, one of the world’s top trainers in personal and professional development, seeking to advance ethics, humanity, and critical thinking on an individual and global scale. One of the cornerstones of ESP is Rational Inquiry®, Raniere’s patent-pending technology that provides a scientific process for achieving peak human performance. Most recently, these tools successfully have been applied to treating neurobiological disorders with unprecedented results. In partnership with the Ethical Science Foundation, several people have been helped to overcome severe cases of Tourettes Syndrome, with plans to study the potential on other conditions.

Some of his most passionate and purposeful work can be seen in the peace movement he founded in Mexico, where gang violence, corruption, and poverty are at crisis levels. InLaK’ech (an expression that translates to “you are the other me”) has been credited with initiatives that promote community, inspire leadership within small villages, and provide systems to disable violence and stop perpetrators. He sees the struggles faced by the Mexican people as a metaphor for the world and hopes to inspire the possibility for peace.

The Truth About Keith Raniere

That’s an appealing spiel the NXIVM website spelled out. The truth, however, is much different. Keith Raniere is a deviate conman if there ever was one. Here’s a factual profile on what this guy is all about.

Keith Allen Raniere was born in 1960 to an ad-salesman father and an alcoholic mother who was a ballroom dancing instructor. They separated when Raniere was eight, and he was mostly raised by his father who boasted to everyone who would listen that his son was a genius. It seems Raniere believed this and took on a lifetime with that persona.

Raniere was no scholar with a 200+ IQ like he porported to desciples. He achieved a 2.26 GPA (C- equivalent) college diploma majoring in physics and had a fascination with science fiction. He was heavily influenced by Isaac Asimov’s Second Foundation that centered on mind control. He also dabbled in Amway and a few other network marketing ventures before starting his own multi-level company called Consumers’ Buyline Inc.. It achieved a large following before federal regulators shut it down as an illegal pyramid scheme. Ranier was fined $40,000 of which he paid $6,000.

Raniere reinvented himself in the MLM culture with a vitamin company called National Health Network. Through this, he met Nancy Salzman who was a registered nurse and a certified hypnotherapist. They turned their combined focus on the emerging personal wellness field and lucrative business coaching opportunities. Together, they were like fire and gasoline—or two volatile chemicals mixed up in a mad scientist’s lab—and NXIVM was conceived.

Keith Raniere was shaped by a lot of factors. Many are the usual suspects when it comes to mind control—Hubbard (Scientology), Rand (Objectivism), Blavatsky (Theosophy), Freud (Psychoanalysis), Steiner (Anthrosophy), Crowley (OTO), Korzybski (General Semantics), Erhard (EST), Erickson (Eriksonian Hypnosis), Bandler & Grinder (Neuro-Linguistic Programming) as well as Tony Robbins, Rosicrucianism, and Freemasonry. Raniere also took acting and judo lessons.

Ranier was no genius as he held out to be. He was basically a shiftless slacker who slept most of the day, didn’t own a car or have a driver’s license, mooched off friends for meals, and couch-surfed according to who would have him. Even when the NXIVM cash started rolling in, he didn’t purchase material goods. Keith Raniere was in it for two things—power and sex.

I’m not going to go into the sexual details. There’s plenty online if you’re curious, and some of it sheds light about how crazy Ranier’s sex cult was. What’s baffling about this case is the mind-frame these duped women were in when they submitted to Kieth Raniere’s brand.

Rolling Stone Magazine took on the story in late 2019 after Raniere’s convictions but before his sentencing. In How NXIVM Was the Ultimate Wellness Scam, the writer quotes one of Raniere’s former girlfriends, Barbara Bouchey, who said, “The women who were willing to sacrifice so much for Raniere, only to get so little in return, had one trait in common. They were what I would call weak-willed women. They were smart, they were sensitive, they were caring. But were they confident? No. Raniere went out of his way to surround himself with women who were successful by societal standards—privileged, attractive, well-educated—but who did not have the financial independence nor street smarts to assert themselves and their own autonomy.”

Toni Natalie, another ex-girlfriend, said, “While the women in Raniere’s inner circle were all extremely bright, they tended to lack substantive family ties, and all were insecure and damaged in some fundamental way, making them easier to control. He convinces you that your successes are not your own. Your successes are only because he exists.”

Wellness industry expert and author, Jessica Knoll, wrote an op-ed for the New York Times just before the judge gave Raniere his 120 years. It went internet-viral and probably offended some when Knoll stated, “The wellness industry is a function of the patriarchal beauty standard under which women either punish themselves to become smaller or are punished for failing to comply. When you have to deprive, punish, and isolate yourself to look ‘good,’ it is impossible to feel good.”

Knoll notes, “Wellness isn’t about being freer or stronger. It isn’t about loosening the shackles of oppression and throwing them to the wind. It’s about slipping them onto our wrists and letting someone else tighten the screws. It’s about powerlessness. It’s about surrender. It’s about love, and pain, and letting people tell us we don’t know the difference. That’s the stark truth of the wellness industry and the brutal truth about the condition of womanhood in general, which is that so many of us hate ourselves so intensely and so often that there is no limit to the amount of pain we are willing to endure to change that.”

The Rolling Stone closed their story with this summation that you may or may not agree with:

Keith Raniere was wrong about a lot of things. He was right about one, though. Many women are raised to believe that their ability to solve all of their problems is directly correlated with their proximity to a man. And when you are raised to believe that men carry with them the solutions to all of your problems, it isn’t so much of a stretch to conclude that this could mean any man—that one with the ring, or that one with the job offer, or that one with the soft patient voice and the floppy hair and a seemingly endless supply of crewneck sweaters, who looks at you like you are his breakfast and tells you, in a soft, patient voice, that breaking you down is the only way for you to become stronger.