Looking for a place to call home, Ralph found a very private twelve-acre parcel of land a short distance north of Kathy’s property on Rosalie Road. He moved a small trailer onto it as a temporary shelter while he built a new home.
The design was based on a Cape Cod style with 3,174 square feet on two levels, four bedrooms and three baths, offering far more creature comforts than the one he had shared with Kathy all those years.
“Unlike the log home I shared with Kathy, this one was well insulated.”
Of special interest are the findings of the current owner. Early during their time on the property the new owner found a early model Remington rifle buried near the lab / barn. More recently he has located a Sea-can buried half way between the house and the road.
Fearing the possibility of it be rigged, it is yet to be opened so the intent or contents are yet to be discovered. I will keep you posted.
Images of Ralph’s new home.
“Dispatching the Pres. – Part 2”
On April 30, 1993, the Nanaimo RCMP received word that 56-year-old Edward “Zeke” Mickle, president of the Nanaimo Hells Angels, had returned from a trip to Vancouver where he had picked up a couple of the club’s ceremonial death head rings and then he vanished. An initiation event was planned for the evening where two prospects were to receive their full colours along with the club ring. Such events are important to all club members.
All anyone knew was that Zeke’s truck was found parked on the east side of the Harewood Arms Pub in Nanaimo, locked, with no keys to be found.
Within hours, the cops’ wire taps were humming as members of the local chapter exchanged threats of war against any man or group responsible for his disappearance. There was so much phone chatter that it was clear they had no idea who may have offed their leader. With more zeal than the authorities, they were scrambling for clues, anything that would put a face to the act.
In reality, the word on the streets suggested Zeke owed the club a ton of money from a cocaine deal that went off the rails.
The bikers had so many theories to run with, ranging from a personal debt long overdue, to inter-club ill feelings, to a jilted lover. Taking Zeke out was something almost anyone could do if they got the drop on him, but making him disappear is something else altogether.
Whether the cops made a sincere effort to locate Zeke’s whereabouts three decades ago will never be revealed but it’s general knowledge the RCMP won’t invest a whole lot of time trying to locate one of the boys or one of their puppet members when they go missing. As long as it’s a situation not involving an innocent bystander, the cops view it as resolution by attrition. Until now, only a handful of Ralph Harris’ close confidants have known the truth behind what really happened that night.
Image Zeke and the east side of Harwood Arms Pub
“Dispatching the Pres. – Part 1”
During the evening of Monday April 26, 1993, Michael Edward Mickle, aka Zeke, then President of the Nanaimo Chapter of the Hells Angles, paid Ralph Harris a surprise visit at his home on Rosalie Rd. in Ladysmith.
The visit was not so uncommon, but the reason was totally unexpected by Ralph.
Ralph had always insured he was in good standing with the bikers as to do otherwise would have led to less than pleasant results.
As Zeke forced his way in the front door, he proceeded to threaten Ralph with a fabricated indebtedness of $20,000, a debt Ralph knew he didn’t owe. As Ralph refused to pay up, Zeke and his buddy began to lay their fists into Ralph otherwise perfect facial complexion. With this having no result in changing Ralph’s position on the matter, they turned and left.
As the door closed behind them, Ralph uttered the words “You are a dead man.” Normally these words would have lingered in the air only for Ralph to hear but on this particular night he had been entertaining a rather lovely lady, the same of which hid behind the bedroom door to witnessed Zeke’s rage.
Ralph was never a man to make idol threats. Three days later Zeke vanished and has never been heard from again.
While the RCMP and the bikers know of Ralph’s involvement in the event, thanks to an informant who plays for both teams. Neither made any effort to approach Ralph on the matter and to date, the authority’s state it is an unsolved and open case.
Image of Ralph’s Rosalie home.
Source “Nobody’s Boy: Ralph Harris – the Northern Connection”
While Art Williams was a decorated war veteran, he wouldn’t tolerate violence within his criminal enterprise, in fact when those in his distribution network stiffed him for what they owed, he would yell and howler, wave his arms like he meant business, possibly kick the odd garbage can, but in the end walk off and tax it up to a business expense.
This is where the similarity between Art Williams and Ralph Harris ends.
Ralph was prone to violence and was more likely to administer lethal violence than a cautionary beating.
He once had a friend named Richie who boarded with him in his new home on Rosalie Rd in Ladysmith and while Ralph would often leave a quarter million lying about on the kitchen counter, the day came when he felt Richie had stolen $150 from him.
He never bothered asking Richie whether he had taken it or not, but rather planned his retaliation for the presumed offence.
Now keep in mind, Richie was no saint for he had boasted about binding some guy’s hands behind his back on Island View Beach just outside Victoria, then fitting a car tire over his torso before dousing him with lighter fluid and lighting him ablaze.
Just the same Ralph asked him to lend a hand digging a hole in preparation to dispatching one more of Ralph’s victims. Gullible as the day is long, Richie jumped in along side Ralph digging a hole deep enough to bury a man for all eternity.
As the final shovel fulls were tossed to the surface, Ralph pulled his favourite revolver out of his pocket and popped poor Richie in the back of the head. Ralph climbed out without much of a sense of conscience and started filling the hole.
He told a mutual friend of ours, “I stopped when I noticed the blood spurting up like a fountain out of the hole in his head as his heart beat its last and stood mesmerized by it.”
Image of Ralph and his revolver.
Source is Ralph’s life story “Nobody’s Boy: Ralph Harris – the Northern Connection”
“Achilles Heel” If Ralph Harris ever had a weakness or Achilles heel as they call it, it is his inability to keep his pants zipped up when he’s away from home. I’ve found no report that Ralph was unfaithful during his first marriage to Yvonne, but when it came to his second marriage something within him changed. Having met his second wife and their mutual family I can see no reason why that relationship would have spurned him to change his ways, but something definitely triggered an ongoing lust for anyone in a short skirt. I asked one of his ladies what it was that caused her to hook up with Ralph and she replied, “I met him at a party and he seemed like a nice guy after which he approached me without making it clear what he wanted, so I blurted it out ‘What do you want Ralph’. His reply was pretty straight forward ‘I want you’. I knew he was married but that didn’t seem to matter in his eyes and everything evolved from there. “He was a real charmer, generous and his manly feature was incredibly large which made for some interesting times together. I’m just pleased he didn’t have sufficient blood flow to render it firm as it would have caused me some serious damage.” Ralph wasn’t happy with a single side affair at any given time but rather kept three women busy by juggling his Rolodex like a seasoned Wall Street broker. The lady I spoke with offered, “While one of the three women refused to accept the fact that she wasn’t his one and only flame, truth is we all knew of the others but it just didn’t matter. He was worth sharing.” His wife knew of his affairs but by some divine power she chose to ignore it in favour of keeping the family structure together for the sake of their girls. On one occasion their eldest daughter, who was about fifteen at the time, came home early from school only to find her father entertaining one of his girls in the master bed. Three feet behind her entered her mother, saddened that her daughter had to witness her father’s indiscretions. As one of her friends suggested, “She should be canonized by the church as a saint as she just forgave him on his promise not to do it again. She knew Ralph would again transgress, it was like in his DNA or something.” While his eldest daughter to this day loves her father dearly, she finds herself unable to forgive him for shaming her mother the way he did. Image of Ralph with a couple of his girlfriends.
“Where is your stash Ralph?” Constable Wakely asks
“I don’t have a stash, because there’s no coke around. There’s been no keys coming north at all. It’s too hot down there. You know that. I know all about the dope, who’s got it and who hasn’t. The whole works. There is the odd flap out there, but that’s all there is. It just hasn’t been coming in since last July and you know that to be true.”Ralph replied.
Wakely: “What we do know is that Nanaimo is the first port it comes to and when it hits the rock it comes to you, then it filters down through God knows how many hands before it reaches the street. We know you have a stash and unless you tell us where it is, we are going to charge your wife with conspiracy to traffick based on the two flaps we found in your living room.”
“Leave my wife out of this, she has nothing to do with it.”
“Tell us what we want to know or her career will be finished.”
“If I show you where I hide my stuff will you leave her alone?|”
At this point Ralph led Wakely out behind his shed onto the adjoining property where he moved a large rock to uncover a hidden canister, The canister was empty.
The matter proceeded to court with Ken Westlake defending Ralph and another fellow representing his wife.
Ken Westlake is still a high profile criminal defence lawyer from Vancouver who had made a name for himself defending the Hells Angles individually and as a club, plus the likes of serial killer Clifford Olson. He was not the type of fellow an unseasoned prosecutor wanted to go up against.
As the matter was presented to the judge, he quickly dismissed all charges again Ralph’s wife so he could focus on Ralph. Westlake wasted no time in pointing out that while the cops had stated they had no warrant at the time of the search and seizure, none was ever produced even then at the time of the trial.
The judge dismissed all the charges against Ralph, even though his fingerprints were all over the evidence. Once again Ralph was a free man with his electronic scales, score sheets, and bankroll returned in full. The unregistered pistol that was found in his bedroom however was not returned.
Images of Ralph’s buried canister, his pistol and other evidence
Source: An abbreviated narrative from “Nobody’s Boy: Ralph Harris – the Northern Connection”
“Life Sucks – Part 2”
In the hour preceding Ralph being brought back to his Yellowpoint Rd property, his wife responded to a knock at her door only to discover a half dozen RCMP pushing their way in. When she asked what this was about, she received only ‘A warrant is on its way and should be here shortly’.
While witnessing the ordeal up close and personal, she already had her hands full tending to her two infant daughters of which one was in dire need of a fresh diaper.
As Ralph remained in the driveway imprisoned in the backseat of the patrol car, he could only imagine the situation his wife was facing.
Inside the home she stayed riveted to the same spot in the living room until she could no longer deny her youngest a change in diaper. She excused herself and took care of the matter in the bathroom merely ten feet down the hall that led to the bedrooms.
On her return the lead officer stood in front of their fireplace holding a silver serving tray that had previously been sitting on the fireplace mantle. “What are these” he asked, while pointing to a couple of cardboard wrappers on the tray. “The look like wrappers from industrial razor blades” she replied.
Cop, “No, they are flaps of cocaine”
Wife, “Well you must have put them there as they are not ours. Neither Ralph or I use cocaine.”
Cop, “This is your house is it not, registered in your name”
Cop, “Then they must be yours”
How convenient she thought; nothing is found until I leave the room and then all the evidence they need suddenly appears on a silver tray which had been sitting at eye height the entire time, yet unseen until now.
Just then one of the officers searching the master bedroom returned and told the cop in charge they had located a secretive hiding place in the master dresser, which it seems was empty.
Cop, “We are going to have to take you to the station and book you on conspiracy to traffic unless you could tell us where your husband hides his stash. If not, this could end in a twenty-five year stint and the end of your career.”
Wife, “I wouldn’t know where his stash is. I wasn’t even aware he was dealing in coke.”
The cops remained in the home for an additional six hours finding nothing further.
Three days passed before her attendance was requested at the Ladysmith station where formal charges would be laid, she would be finger printed and a mug shot taken.
Image of cocaine flaps, Ralph’s living room and bedroom dresser hiding place.
Source: An abbreviated narrative from “Nobody’s Boy: Ralph Harris – the Northern Connection”