Drug lines of inquiry

Josh Kronfeld (left) and Brent Todd, pictured at a function last year, were heard discussing drugs in a police-intercepted conversation. Geoff Dale / Getty Images

He's a smallish fellow who looks more like an accountant, or an insurance man. Not a drug dealer, or someone who would hang out at Auckland's swanky Viaduct Basin on the fringe of the celebrity circle.

This is John Francis Waterworth and if it wasn't for the "celebrity drug case", you could be forgiven for saying "John who?"

In court on Wednesday as he stood in the dock next to one of his accomplices, Waterworth made a nondescript figure.

He wore a stripey tie and black jacket and the only significant change from previous court appearances was the removal of a tidy beard. He looked much nearer his 56 years without the whiskers.

He wore glasses with a lot of frame which, from a short distance looked expensive, but as someone pointed out, fancy glasses can't make a person look taller.

Waterworth would probably not like to be called nondescript. The former horse trainer and art dealer is described variously by police and others who know him as a "wannabe".

He likes to impress, some say, by flashing money around or driving fast in his flash car. Or selling drugs to high-profilers from his central Auckland apartment.

Wednesday was a day when strands of the celebrity drug case came together. As Waterworth and Adamu Shazizi Awahdi, a refugee from Burundi, stood together but slightly apart in the dock, and gave surprise guilty pleas, the large courtroom at the High Court in Auckland was all but empty.

A few reporters, a photographer, a television camera and the lawyers were there, but a lot of the media buzz was across town at the district court.

Fallen rugby league star Brent Todd had stolen Waterworth's thunder with his sudden arrival back in New Zealand from Australia, and as Waterworth was pleading guilty to a host of drug charges, Todd was admitting trying to procure drugs from him.

There were no family and no friends in sight in Waterworth's courtroom - or in one next door where yet another case with connections was winding up.

In here was Jumaa Omar Mbawala, a stowaway from Tanzania who had been on the run when he was arrested.

A murmur of Swahili could be heard from the back of this courtroom as an interpreter relayed the closing arguments on 28 charges involving mainly the importation of cocaine from Tanzania by courier.

When Mbawala's jury went out later on Wednesday, interesting parts of his case had been kept from them. They did not know that he had links to Waterworth and Awahdi.

The jury deliberated late into the night and when they returned the next day they found Mbawala guilty of 20 of the charges anyway.

Mbawala led the police on to Waterworth. His telephone number had cropped up when they analysed phone calls.

Mbawala and Awahdi also know each other. Police say they are like brothers-in-law, linked to two sisters.

For all the excitement generated by the case, police say it was a middling sized drug bust.

When media adopted the tag "drug kingpin" for Waterworth they were a little bemused. He is no kingpin, just a link in the chain, they say. The Africans were higher in the chain.

The officer in charge of the file, Geoff Baber, said Waterworth was dealing regularly.

"I mean, in the scheme of things he's not a big operator but he's a consistent supplier of drugs."

What made the case different was the involvement of celebrities, or "so-called celebrities" as Baber calls them.

After police arrested Mbawala they launched an investigation into Waterworth. Their sting involved surveillance, bugging his apartment and analysing his telephone calls.

What they overheard were inquiries from people about cocaine. During the sting Waterworth was temporarily out of cocaine and customers were buying Ecstasy, apparently supplied by Awahdi.

In one intercept police listened to a stoned-sounding conversation between Waterworth, Brent Todd and former All Black Josh Kronfeld, who was never charged.

The talk was about drugs. Waterworth is heard saying, "Hey, that last little bit I gave ya, [expletive] that was mean skunk, wasn't it?"

Kronfeld replies, "Aw, man, it was hellish ..."

Todd implicated a television personality in the conversation and talked about how she had come up to him and started "talking about coke and blah, blah, blah and everything ..."

She wanted to know where he could get it. "I said ... um aw, well, I know someone who could probably look after you who is, who is pretty discreet ..."

The woman's name was suppressed but later Lana Coc-Kroft put out a statement saying: "This upsetting affair has come about because a group of guys under the influence started throwing my name around ... I wasn't part of the conversation, because I wasn't there."

Police never identified everyone involved with Waterworth. Others they knew about but did not charge. It is said there are a lot of relieved people out there - very relieved.

You have to realise, a source in the know said, that taking drugs is acceptable among many in this scene. Snorting cocaine is like having a beer for some who hang out in places like the Viaduct Basin on Auckland's waterfront, where the rich and famous play.

Baber reckons some of those involved have not changed their spots. He won't give names but says, "from what I've heard a number of people that were arrested in relation to this operation have just gone straight back to what they were doing before the operation. You know, they're still taking the drugs ..."

Waterworth was often seen at the Viaduct, hanging out at bars and restaurants such as Euro Bar or the Green Room.

The Africans, too, are said to have drunk here.

After spending months in prison, Waterworth was bailed back here, to live on a rich friend's yacht moored near the Hilton Hotel.

A lot of people had stuck by him, the source said. He is back in prison now, though, with Awahdi and Mbawala, awaiting sentencing.

A source - most people spoken to about the case did not want to be identified - said Fridays and Saturdays at the Viaduct were for tourists and out-of-towners.

On Wednesdays and Thursdays the locals come out to play. On these nights you may spot a tell-tale red nose, or someone sniffing a lot.

"They all mix in the same circle by mere virtue of the fact they're located in the same geographical area, you know, a lot of those people live or work down on Princes Wharf ..."

Among the very wealthy circles party drugs are acceptable, especially cocaine.

"You go along to places where you go into the bathroom and there's a couple of lines of powder."

People would go into a bathroom together and come out wired. All sorts of people, the person said, people you would never pick.

"Just look for people with very red, bloated faces, oh totally. I've only learned that through observation. First of all, they're always rubbing their nose and sniffing and the face goes, like, really bloated and red. I suppose it increases your circulation or something."

Maybe the attraction for people like Waterworth was the wealth.

People who hang out here have a lot of disposable income; lawyers and financiers, property developers. There is big money and big boats, big egos and pretty women.

"It's like a little world in itself you'll see all the gold diggers, all the blonde girls."

Waterworth liked the girls ...

He grew up near Christchurch and became interested in horses, going on to train them. His best horse was Hytest, which won the B&H Gold Cup, the source said.

He always loved being on the edge of the inner circle, loved the big occasion.

Eventually, he moved to Auckland and hung out at Ellerslie and with the polo set.

Five or so years ago he lived in a flat in Parnell. It was not flash but was in a good location.

Another source who knew him then said he had a big hat collection and a big art collection.

He had a company too, Logomania, but never seemed to do much work.

"He liked to go to events and be seen around pretty girls. He did have genuine good friends. He also had a big expensive car which he liked to drive fast. He seemed like a nice guy."

The person did not know if he was using drugs back then.

In the early days after the case broke, rumours were flying about who he was. An Auckland Racing Club forum announced he was a member.

"He doesn't act 55 or look 55 but has been sighted at the Whips and Spurs functions chasing young girls," said one entry.

He had "caught" younger girls on occasion, said another, "so he's still fast for his age".

Police think Waterworth probably graduated from using drugs to dealing drugs. This is what usually happens, says Baber. Besides, Waterworth already had a conviction from a few years ago for possession of implements to make methamphetamine.

Police were not surprised when his name cropped up.

A friend who stuck by him, a wealthy businessman who visited him in Mt Eden Prison after he was arrested, said he thought Waterworth knew he had done wrong and had gone on a drug rehabilitation course.

Baber is not impressed. A lot of people do the rehab simply to tick a box and make themselves look good. Then they come out and get hammered and high.

The African connection in the case bothers police, who say they are increasingly dealing with refugees from a range of countries who import drugs.

An African man who knows Awahdi and Mbawala says he was surprised to hear of their involvement in the drug scene. Then a few things fell into place.

The men's "financial patterns" had changed over the past year, he said. They were driving bombs but Mbawala started getting expensive fittings for his car, and Awahdi bought a nice new Ford model.

Mbawala had a Tanzanian girlfriend at one stage but she left him, the man said.

"That was when Jumaa's lifestyle changed ... Jumaa started going out with the best Kiwi girls."

He went to a lot of parties and bought expensive drinks. He would always have bottles of Chivas Regal in his car and would hand them out.

They were both nice people, the man said.

Awahdi was connected to Waterworth through the police sting.

They believe he is a man on intercepted telephone calls known as "Joe." He vehemently denies this.

When Awahdi and Waterworth appeared in the Auckland District Court in February for depositions, Awahdi was sitting on a seat outside the room before proceedings began.

Baber, who is a big cop, walked by, grinned at Awahdi and casually called him Joe. It infuriated Awahdi.

"He calls me Joe, I'm not Joe," he muttered.

He told me how he was from Burundi in central Africa and had come to New Zealand as a refugee in 1999. He was a Hutu, he said, and his family had been caught up in the Rwandan massacre.

He accused the police of being racist. "Just because I am a black man they want to lock me up."

This happened all over the world, he said. He was simply a mechanic who happened to work on Waterworth's car and the whole thing was a mistake.

He worked hard to support his family, and pulled out his wallet showing off a photo of two cute boys and a striking African woman who he said was his wife.

When police played audio of chatty telephone conversations between Waterworth and "Joe" organising drug deals, Awahdi smiled.

Afterwards he told me, "That's a Jamaican accent ... this is bullshit."

In the end, though, he stood in the dock, head down throughout, and admitted two charges of supplying Ecstasy and a charge of conspiring to supply.

He and Waterworth did not appear to acknowledge each other, even when they were led away.

Baber says police knew exactly who Joe was and that Awahdi had been the most arrogant. "We'd seen him, we'd watched him complete these deals with Waterworth, we knew his voice, we had his phones, we had a number of things which linked him back to Waterworth, and he still denied, he denied, denied."

They also knew of his connection with Mbawala. At one stage they had watched them meet at a storage unit to collect some cars.

Baber says he never found Waterworth to have much of a sense of humour but police were amused when they were listening in and Waterworth told Joe, "there's no detectives following me".

It is hard to say how many white- collar drug dealers like Waterworth are out there, but police say as one goes down, another pops up.

When it comes to Waterworth's type of social circle, where there are users there will be dealers.

But who they get the drugs from has changed over the past four or five years.

John Sowter from the Auckland drug squad says police probably did not target Waterworth and his like as much as they should because they are busy hunting down those importing drugs. And there are a growing number of refugees and immigrants getting into importation.

"We're dealing with ex-refugees and Asian students here on temporary visas, that type of thing.

"A lot of them we've been dealing with lately are foreign nationals, Iranians and West Africans. Yeah, heaps."

Previous interception jobs were more simple because conversations were in English.

"But a lot of these ones now are Farsi or West African or Cantonese or Mandarin, so it's quite difficult."

People have connections in other countries and it's easy for them to ring up their mates and say "look, can you send some of this in a package as opposed to local gangs who used to have to try to make contacts overseas".

Waterworth's bust may have dented reputations but probably has not made that big a dent in the drug business.

There was a big bash at the Viaduct this week. It was a Thursday.

As the night wore on there were what could have been some of those tell-tale signs on the faces of a few people. The rubbing of a nose, the sniffing.

It's over for Waterworth, for now, who faces a substantial jail sentence.

But the party will go on without him.