Chopper Unchopped (218 page)

BALDING, slight, with a sharp wit and an engaging personality, Alistair Farquhar MacRae hardly fits the image of a cold-blooded, multiple murderer. But, according to police, he is probably Australia’s most prolific killer, having been implicated in at least 20 suspicious deaths and disappearances and convicted of four murders in two states.

He was convicted in the Victorian Supreme Court of the murder of Albert Edwin Gerald O’Hara, whom he shot during a drug sting in Mildura. Police are convinced MacRae has killed nine people, and suspect that he could have been involved in up to 15 more deaths.

‘I would have to say that he would be Australia’s worst known multiple murderer and perhaps we will never know how many people he has killed,’ says Paul Hollowood, who as a senior homicide squad detective, spent many months investigating MacRae’s crimes.

Alistair ‘Sandy’ MacRae made his name as a massage parlour standover man, a briber of police, an informer and, last of all, a killer who thought of murder as a legitimate tool of his chosen trade.

Police still don’t know how many bodies are buried at his 10-hectare property at Merbein, near Mildura, but he joked with friends that the small vineyard would never need fertiliser ‘because there’s plenty of blood and bone out there’.

Detectives have exhumed two bodies, and believe at least one other is buried there. They found the body of Domenic Marafiote buried under the chicken coop in 1987. Police allege MacRae shot and killed Marafiote on July 18, 1985. He lured the victim to the property on the promise of a marijuana deal but there would be no sale that day. Marafiote was a dead man when he accepted the bait. When he arrived at the property his grave had already been dug. Literally.

A Supreme Court jury was told that MacRae then drove to Adelaide where he killed Marafiote’s parents, Carmelo, 69, and Rosa, 70. He was desperate to find the money that Marafiote was to use for the marijuana deal and believed the elderly couple controlled the purse strings. It is believed a large amount of cash was found sewn into Rosa’s clothing.

Detectives say MacRae was so cold-blooded that before he buried Domenic Marafiote he repeatedly stabbed the body ‘just for practice’.

MacRae was sentenced to a minimum of 18 years for the killing, and pleaded guilty to the Adelaide double murder.

He once told friends he had killed a woman, buried her on the property only to later exhume the remains, pulverise the bones in a concrete mixer and then pour the mix into a concrete garden roller, which has never been found.

MacRae moved to Mildura from Melbourne in 1983. He had been the second in charge to the massage parlour boss Geoffrey Lamb, who allegedly controlled a large slice of the illegal vice industry with the help of a group of corrupt police.

But MacRae moved on after Lamb became addicted to heroin and began to lose control. Police say MacRae later chained the hopelessly addicted Lamb to a bungalow on the Mildura property in a bid to help his former boss beat the heroin problem.

In 1984 MacRae failed in a bid to establish a massage parlour in Mildura. He then met and befriended Albert O’Hara, who was planning to buy a houseboat building business in the area. MacRae convinced the 59-year-old man that he could make a quick profit from buying and selling marijuana. On 21 December 1984, O’Hara travelled to MacRae’s property with $10,000 to buy drugs.

Police said MacRae shot him in the back of the head and buried him on the property. He then used oxy welding gear to cut up the dead man’s car so it could be dropped, piece by piece, at the Merbein tip.

Flushed with his success after the O’Hara killing, he invited a massage parlour contact, Johnny Selim, to visit him at the property in early 1985. He put forward a proposition they form a local version of Murder Inc, luring people to the vineyard on the promise of buying marijuana, killing them and keeping the money.

Selim declined the offer and returned to Melbourne.

Police believe MacRae killed a rival underworld standover man, Michael Ebert, who was gunned down outside a Carlton brothel in April 1980.

Ebert had bashed MacRae two weeks earlier and the beaten man had vowed revenge. The murder remains unsolved.

Police also suspect he killed his drug-addicted girlfriend, Deborah Joy Faher, 22, who was found dead of a drug overdose in a St Kilda motel in August 1981. Police believe MacRae may have given her near-pure heroin.

In July, 1990, police found the remains of a woman buried in the backyard of a Kensington home that had once been owned by the mother of an underworld figure. Police believe the woman may have been an unidentified South Australian prostitute killed by MacRae.

In the early 1980s police became concerned at the number of unexplained deaths of drug-addicted prostitutes who died from overdoses.

A homicide taskforce investigated about 15 of the cases. The common denominator was that they all knew MacRae.

He was extradited to Adelaide to stand trial on the Marafiote double murder. Faced with overwhelming evidence, he pleaded guilty.

The prosecutor said he should die in jail and said he should have a non-parole period of 40 to 50 years.

‘This case comes into the worst category for several reasons,’ Mr Paul Rofe, QC, said.

‘On each occasion he has come before sentencing court, the words cold blooded, planned and execution have been used. At the end of the day the public are certainly entitled to think this man should die in prison.’

When he was about to be sentenced MacRae addressed the judge asking to be allowed to die in jail. ‘To allow me leniency is a luxury I did not extend to my victims. The only way to show my remorse is to ask the court to show the same leniency that I showed my victims – absolutely none.

‘I would ask the court to give me no possible chance of release before my death in custody.’

South Australian Supreme Court Judge, Justice Williams gave him two life sentences and extended his non-parole period to 36 years.

He could be released in 2023, aged 74.

The standover man made a career from identifying victims who were powerless. Like a jackal, he dwelled on the weak or the isolated. He tried to keep away from any criminals who had their own power base.

But when he targeted the Marafiotes he showed had not done his homework. The family was connected to a strong South Australian based Mafia group who decided to reach out to MacRae before he was extradited to Adelaide. They knew he would be expecting a payback when he arrived in South Australia so they planned their move while he was still in his Melbourne prison.

MacRae was often protected in jail because he was to give evidence on police corruption. But Mark Brandon Read was known for his ability to find enemies inside – whether protected or not.

Read was prepared to help organise the payback attack on MacRae for the crime family. His motive was hardly to right a wrong but rather to establish a debt of honour with the crime family.

Now in retirement, Read is still well connected with the Mafia in South Australia and can call in favours for more than home made lasagna if he wishes.

‘You can never have too many friends,’ he says.

SANDY MacRae was a one-time prostitution and drug boss and, like others of his ilk, he was a dangerous man with a needle full of heroin or when attacking the unsuspecting but, around real hard men, he had the backbone of a squid. He smelt a little like one as well.

He ran a multi-million dollar empire in Melbourne throughout the 1970s and 1980s and ended up with nothing he couldn’t fit in a prison cell.

His claim to fame was that he murdered Rosa and Carmelo Marafiote in the 1980s. He liked to inflict pain but wasn’t so keen on getting the favour returned. He was stabbed to near death in a self defence attack by Joe ‘The Boss’ Ditoria. Sometimes attack is the best form of defence, you know. Just ask George Bush.

This attack elevated Joe ‘The Boss’ to the rank of under boss, bodyguard and right hand man to South Australian Mafia Don, Pauly A. I won’t mention his last name. I’m sure he won’t either.

The stabbing of MacRae was widely believed to be the direct result of tactical and strategic advice given to Ditoria by my goodself.

In a bizarre coincidence, I was the main witness for the defence that resulted in Ditoria’s acquittal on the attempted murder charge relating to the MacRae attack.

My recollection was that crazy Sandy attacked poor Joe for no good reason and The Boss, a pacifist at heart, was forced to defend himself by stabbing MacRae until Sandy looked like a Vlado’s steak, which is possibly an insult to the most excellent meat purveyed by a fine restaurant. Sorry, Mr Vlado.

Anyway, as a person of good repute, naturally enough my version of events was accepted without hesitation and Joe’s name was not tarnished by any scallywag suggestions that he attacked Sandy on the instructions of others.

Thank God for our justice system.

This is a footnote to a larger yarn and the lifelong debt that Joe ‘The Boss’ owes me. Via some members of the South Australian Italian clans, my source of Mafia information within Australia is second to none. I have been known to learn of a hit or a proposed hit six to twelve months before it happens. Good men remember how to repay a debt. I have a better forecast rate than the weather bureau. They get it wrong when they predict hail but I get it right when I say to don protective gear because a hail of bullets is on the way.

Enter Mister Jack Rennie, a boxing trainer of some note to those who have a memory, of 28 Marco Polo Street, Essendon. It came to my attention that a cousin of my old and dear friend Charlie M. had been sent from Italy to carry out a pre-paid contract to kill Rennie. In 1991, Big Al Gangitano scuttled to Italy for a long holiday. Cynical scallywags suggested he scuttled off because I had got out of jail and he didn’t want to run into me over a latte in Lygon Street.

I would never suggest he ran away, but it was obvious he needed a holiday for his health and his nerves.

Any rate, Alphonse lost his temper in Italy and had arranged to have an Italian boxer trained by Rennie killed. Problem was that the Italian boxer was related to the Marafiote family and was the son-in-law of Pauly A. Alphonse was told that any hit on the young Italian would mean he would be hit right back, and would also die, so Alphonse threw a hissy fit and decided to have Jack Rennie whacked out instead.

That’s the way some of them in the underworld work. Al wanted to kill a boxer for some stupid reason and when he was frightened out of that he decided to kill the trainer. It is a matter of power and ego – and unbelievable stupidity. It’s not who you kill, it’s the fact that there must be a death to show one and all in the boxing world that when you ask for a favour you expect it to happen.

Alphonse was a sore loser, particularly when deals were supposed to be done. He didn’t like being ignored and when he paid $25,000 for the fight to be fixed he expected the right result.

Alphonse bet at 15 to 1 and lost the lot. He was not happy.

In short, Alphonse was out $25,000 and, more importantly, had lost face. Then he was told he couldn’t kill who he wanted to kill, losing more face. He had paid $10,000 (US) to Charlie M’s cousin, whose real name I now forget (and I certainly will not remember if any police are inclined to ask me), to come to Australia and kill Jack Rennie.

It would take years for the deal to be done. As it happened, the hitman arrived some months after Alphonse Gangitano himself was shot to death. I was then asked for moral and ethical advice. Should the hit on Rennie be carried out?

Cash had been taken, a solemn oath had been given. Even though Alphonse was dead and, according to many, had even changed his mind and no longer wanted Rennie to die.

The deal had been done, it couldn’t be undone. Rennie was a dead man walking even though no-one wanted it to happen. The hit was in place, the hitman was in Australia and a good friend of mine – that I had once given evidence for – had provided him with a gun. It was all very complicated. The thinking, if you can call it that, was that a promise had been made and the late Gangitano had not formerly withdrawn the contract – as to do so would cost him another $10,000 American to compensate the hitman and his family for general inconvenience. It was all very Italian and highly complex. I was called.

‘What do we do, Chopper?’

‘Simple,’ I said. ‘Hit the hitman.’

‘I can’t,’ came the reply. ‘He is a guest in my home; the whole thing is insanity.’

‘Well, what if he is put off by a non-Italian?’

There was a long silence.

‘I don’t know anything, we haven’t spoken,’ came the reply.

‘Tell your Italian visitor to meet Dave the Jew at the Tower Hotel in Collingwood. Tell him Dave will drive him to Jack Rennie’s gym, okay?’

‘Yeah,’ came the reply. ‘After that don’t tell me no more,’ he added.

To cut a long story short, the young Italian hitman arrived and was never seen again. The Jew never went to the Tower hotel but, to appease Charlie M. for the death of his young cousin, I ordered the Jew to hit the guy who whacked the cousin. Everything had been paid off and out. This is all very Italian: honour and betrayal all rolled into one.

Friends called on to kill friends, relatives called on to kill relatives. Do you think it’s true? I’m not saying. I’ve gotten myself into too much hot legal water for swearing to the truth in stories, so believe it or not. Don’t ask me to swear to anything, okay, because I don’t want to end up giving evidence about obscure disappearing Italians and others. I will say, however, that this saga re the hit on Jack Rennie went from 1991 to early 1999 and all because Gangitano was too cheap to pay the $10,000 American consolation fee.