In September 2024, police announced they had arrested nearly every single member of the Comancheros after a three-year investigation. Since arriving in New Zealand as deportees from Australia, the Comancheros have seen themselves as the top gang in the criminal underworld. In this special report, Herald journalist Jared Savage pieces
Comancheros mass arrests: Inside the three-year police investigation that busted the gang
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With Fakaosilea joining his fellow Comanchero leaders behind bars, someone else had to step up.
It was time for Plan C — and that opened a window of opportunity for the police.
The role of national commander was an important one for the Comancheros.
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Despite being incarcerated, it became clear that the gang’s leaders were still able to call the shots — literally — by using smartphones smuggled inside the wire.
But the national commander was the lynchpin: the most senior Comanchero outside prison and a crucial conduit to keep things running smoothly among the rank-and-file members.
Detectives believed following the new national commander would, with a little bit of luck, give the police a chance to expose the inner workings of a gang that had become a juggernaut since arriving here.
An Australian motorcycle club, the Comancheros established a chapter in New Zealand in 2018 after a small, but influential, group of senior members were deported as “501s” by Australian authorities.
They announced their arrival in a now infamous post to Instagram.
Law enforcement agencies were concerned about the gang’s connections to international organised crime groups, and their predictions soon came true.
Their arrival led to a radical shift within the criminal underworld, with far larger importations of methamphetamine and cocaine, as well as violent conflict between gangs, including tit-for-tat shootings and arson.
Even though the most senior members were in prison (or perhaps because of that), the Comancheros continued to grow in size and influence.
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Police decided to launch a new investigation, Operation Scuba, in early 2021 to target Fakaosilea’s replacement as the national commander.
Suppression orders currently prevent the publication of his name. But he called himself ‘Goldbrick’, according to messages sent on the encrypted phone app Wickr.
Encryption technology meant police were no longer able to intercept live phone conversations or messages.
However, it’s possible for encrypted messages to be digitally extracted later from any phones seized by police during search warrants.
One particular missive received by Goldbrick was a goldmine of intel.
A higher-ranking Comanchero (who also cannot be identified) sent a decree for Goldbrick to disseminate to all members of the club.
These new rules about the funding of the outlaw gang became known as ‘The Commission’.
The long and rambling Wickr message said: “The purpose for implementing these measures is to maintain number one [ranking] in the underworld and, most of all, to protect the club and our members.
“War is inevitable in the underworld. It’s about preparation, determination, perseverance, dedication, commitment and staying Comanchero till da end.”
Funds paid to the Commission would be used to support the families of “members doing time for the club”, pay legal bills for those in court, polytech fees for anyone wanting to study, patching ceremonies and the annual Christmas party.
The commission would also pay for an ‘intel team’ to build dossiers on the rival gangs “so if we ever go to war with anyone, da intel team will bring out their folder and we take them out”, while a separate ‘ghost team’ would carry out any hits.
The new rules meant members would pay a 10% cut of their criminal earnings to the club, or $5000 for every kilogram of drugs sold by the “big movers and shakers” among the Comancheros.
The funds would be paid to Goldbrick, according to the Wickr message, and anyone found not paying the fees would lose their patch and be fined $200,000.
“Trust is earned, respect is given and loyalty is demonstrated. You betray any of these and you will lose all three.”
Goldbrick took screenshots of the Commission message on his phone and shared the directive among the wider Comanchero network.
The new rules were also written down, in more detail, in documents found inside the maximum security Auckland Prison at Paremoremo in March 2022.
The Commission paperwork was an invaluable insight into how the Comancheros structured their affairs, almost a roadmap to how the gang allegedly worked together as an organised criminal group to make money.
Now the police had to prove it: Operation Scuba kept following Goldbrick for the next two years.
He wasn’t the only Comanchero the police were keeping an eye on.
To the eternal frustration of detectives in the National Organised Crime Group (NOCG), prison inmates seem to have no trouble getting their hands on cell phones.
Phones are banned in prison but are regularly smuggled through security, which then allows inmates to communicate with their associates on the outside.
That was obvious from the Commission message, but also from a number of phones seized outside prison during other covert drug investigations in 2022.
Downloaded on many of the confiscated devices was an encrypted messaging app called Threema, which is a popular method of communicating in the criminal underworld.
Threema does not require a phone number or email address for registration, which anonymises the user to a degree.
Instead, Threema users identify each other by nickname and effectively create a personal brand.
“This can be important… as over time a certain nickname may garner notoriety, or be a calling card that others remember you by,” according to court documents.
After seizing numerous phones in different NOCG investigations, and then cracking the encryption, detectives discovered multiple Threema conversations involving someone nicknamed ‘Plata o Plomo’.
Spanish for “silver or lead”, the phrase was made famous by the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar who would offer Government officials and law enforcement the choice of taking a bribe (silver) or a murder contract (lead).
It was apparent from the intercepted Threema conversations, police said, that Plata o Plomo was a significant organised crime figure in New Zealand and “revered in the criminal underworld”.
Although he cannot be named for legal reasons, Plata o Plomo is currently serving a long prison sentence for a significant importation of methamphetamine — and is a senior figure in the Comancheros.
It was apparent from the Threema messages that, despite being behind bars, ‘Plata o Plomo’, was still able to orchestrate the distribution of large amounts of drugs.
He became the target of a new investigation, Operation Brewer, which led to the discovery of 199kg of methamphetamine ingeniously concealed inside wheat thresher machines imported from Dubai in June 2023.
The shipment was delivered to a rural Auckland address where detectives raided the property as four men, aged 18 to 28, were caught allegedly dismantling the machinery to find the drugs.
They were acting on the orders of Plata o Plomo and another Comanchero inmate, whose Threema handle was ‘FastnFurious’, who were sending instructions on the encrypted app.
Plata o Plomo: “Hello brothers, big day tomorrow. Machines are set for delivery 10am. Make sure everyone is on time… all the equipment is there ready for the job. Make sure we don’t waste any of the goods as this will affect our payment. Any questions because this is the time to ask.”
Both ringleaders have since pleaded guilty to smuggling the 199kg meth shipment, while a third inmate will stand trial in July.
Regardless of the verdict, Operation Brewer — like the 613kg of meth seized in Operation Weirton in 2022 — has proven that the Comancheros have the nous and international connections to slip commercial quantities of drugs into the country.
At a wholesale price of anywhere between $100,000 to $160,000 for a kilogram of meth, there are millions of dollars to be made in the New Zealand drug market.
So where was all the dirty cash?
Follow the money is a popular catchphrase in law enforcement circles, but tracing dirty cash is not easy.
For nearly three years, Operation Scuba kept tabs on Goldbrick. Under the new Commission rules, it was Goldbrick who was supposed to collect payments from lower-ranked Comancheros and carry out the orders of the gang’s hierarchy.
Chief among those tasks was the laundering of criminal profits. Goldbrick allegedly engaged the services of a disgraced accountant to move large amounts of cash through the New Zealand and international banking systems.
The pair used yet another encrypted messaging app, Signal, to communicate with one another.
In one conversation, Goldbrick asks if the accountant can “handle” a $5 million transfer to Mexico?
“We have more than 3 million now sitting [in] Dubai,” the accountant replies.
The police allege the pair are discussing payment to the Sinaloa drug cartel.
Other Signal messages show funds being moved through multiple bank accounts around the world — China, Hong Kong, Zambia, Cambodia, Thailand — before being deposited into a Mexican account.
As well as moving alleged drug profits overseas, Operation Scuba alleges the accountant helped Goldbrick launder more cash by purchasing several businesses and properties.
The assets were for the benefit of senior Comancheros but purchased in the name of close associates, Operation Scuba alleges, in a bid to distance themselves from the transaction.
The most significant purchase was a three-storey home in the prestigious Auckland suburb of Half Moon Bay for $3.8 million in August 2023.
The five-bedroom, three-bathroom dwelling has a pool and panoramic views of the Hauraki Gulf stretching from the marina to Rangitoto Island.
Court documents show the property was registered in the name of a 36-year-old Auckland man who did not live at the address. Instead, the wife of a high-ranking Comanchero moved into the palatial home with their family.
Several months after the $3.8m purchase, the registered owner was arrested and charged with the attempted importation of 50kg of methamphetamine from Mexico.
When Operation Scuba ended last March with the arrests of 11 people, including Goldbrick and the accountant, the Half Moon Bay mansion was restrained under the Criminal Proceeds Recovery Act.
Under the law, police do not need to secure a conviction for frozen assets to be eventually forfeited.
They only have to show that someone profited from criminal offending to the lower standard of proof applied in civil cases — “on the balance of probabilities” — rather than surpassing the more difficult “beyond reasonable doubt” threshold for criminal cases.
Frozen assets are managed by the Official Assignee until a High Court judge rules on whether the assets should be permanently forfeited.
In this case, the Half Moon Bay mansion was sold at a mortgagee sale for $2,505,000 in July.
The mortgage was repaid in full and the balance of $50,172.97 held by the Official Assignee as restrained funds.
Given the original price tag of $3.8m, this means the Comancheros allegedly put nearly $1.35m in funds to buy the property.
Another property in Weymouth purchased for $1.25m, allegedly the gang’s pad for the “Southside” chapter, was also restrained under the criminal proceeds law.
In normal circumstances, the police would put out a press release trumpeting such a success. Seizing flashy properties from gang members amid allegations of laundering millions of dollars is always a popular headline.
Oddly, they kept quiet about Operation Scuba. The only public comment was to confirm the arrests: “As the wider matter remains under investigation, police are unable to comment further at this stage”.
With the arrest of Goldbrick, the Comancheros needed a new national commander to take the reins outside prison.
As luck would have it, one of their most experienced members had just been released from prison after serving not one, but two, sentences for money laundering.
He cannot be identified for legal reasons but his new status was confirmed by police when he visited Christchurch in April 2024 for the gang’s national gathering.
The Comancheros had established a presence in the South Island the previous year by “patching over” the entire Christchurch chapter of the Rebels MC, a rival international motorcycle gang.
As part of the takeover, the Comancheros also took control of the Rebels’ pad on Thacker Quay — rebranding the exterior in their black and gold colours — which would later become the venue for the gang’s meeting in 2024.
Addressing the room, the national commander was clearly not impressed with some of the behaviour he had witnessed among the new recruits.
In an emotional lecture, he berated the former Rebels for their lack of discipline.
“At the end of the day, you guys came knocking on our f***ing door… you’se f***ing came from the f***ing Rebels,” the national commander said.
“You already know what the difference is between us and other f***ing gangs; structure, the f***ing foundation… everything I’ve just been explaining the last two days.”
The exasperated national commander then asked one of the Christchurch chapter if he had ever seen “kids take over the underworld”?
Never, the lower-ranked member replied.
“Well, you know what I just saw? F***ing kids’ s***,” the national commander said. “Let’s not lower ourselves… because we’re different, we’re a different kettle of fish, and I don’t want to see you acting like that ever again.”
The national commander ended the epic spray with a warning: “Deal with it right now, otherwise I’ll f***ing kick youse out right now…I don’t f***ing need you”.
The entire episode was filmed by one of the gang’s prospects, whose phone was later seized by detectives working on Operation Avon. In August 2024, every single member of the Christchurch chapter, as well as the national commander who lived in Auckland, was arrested at the conclusion of the covert investigation.
About 5kg of drugs were seized, along with 11 firearms and ammunition, as well as $250,000.
Police also restrained $1.9m of assets, including 11 vehicles.
The gang moved about $15m of meth and cocaine from Auckland to Christchurch (where drugs fetch a higher price), the police allege. These drug supply trips took place every few weeks, according to the police, when Comancheros were caught on security cameras travelling from regional airports.
Screening of baggage is not routine at the smaller airports, so the prosecution case is the gang was taking advantage of the lax security measures.
“These groups have no hesitation in peddling drugs and accumulating vehicles and property, with no regard for the destruction they cause in everyday New Zealanders’ lives,” Detective Inspector Darrin Thompson said at the time.
“We have no doubt that this disruption of the Comanchero gang will have a positive impact on the drug supply chain across the country.”
The NOCG was not finished yet. A few weeks later, in September 2024, another 14 Comanchero members and associates across New Zealand were arrested.
The raids came in the final phase of Operation Embargo, which focused on an encrypted Wickr message sent nearly three years ago: The Commission instruction sent to Goldbrick.
The prosecution case is that anyone alleged to have followed the Commission structure, such as paying $5000 for every kilogram of drugs sold, has participated in an organised criminal group.
As a stand-alone offence, which carries a maximum penalty of 10 years in prison, the charge has only rarely led to convictions in New Zealand courts.
“This commission allegedly raised funds to purchase a gang pad, two businesses as well as purchasing of firearms,” said Police Commissioner Andrew Coster at a press conference.
“Police will also allege that these funds were being used to carry out military-styled training of 15 of its members by a trainer brought into the country for this purpose.”
A former United States Marine travelled to New Zealand in November 2023 to put the Comancheros through their paces with a comprehensive training schedule, which included physical fitness tests, as well as practical and classroom lessons.
These included “live fire” drills, combat patrols, ambushes, counter-surveillance and camouflage techniques, according to documents the police extracted from trainer’s electronic devices.
One of the Comancheros was photographed wearing sniper camouflage clothing known as a ghillie suit, and carrying a sledgehammer.
The training camps showed steps had been taken to establish a “Ghost Team” to carry out violent offences, Operation Embargo alleged, as detailed in the Commission message.
Across the four investigations, 137 criminal charges had been laid against nearly every single patched member of the Comancheros and a number of associates.
When all the evidence was pieced together, Coster alleged investigations showed the Comancheros were an organised criminal group that imported significant amounts of drugs, sold the drugs across the country, then used complex money laundering methods to wash the profits.
“From the moment the gang established a presence in this country, they made it very clear they saw themselves as the number one gang in this country,” Coster said.
“Police have dealt a blow right to the heart of this gang’s alleged activities. It is an exceptional outcome and shows the dedication of police investigators over the course of three years.”
There is no doubt these investigations will have impacted on the smooth running of the Comancheros. Yet despite the setbacks, no one should be naive enough to believe the gang is not already back in business.
Jared Savage is an award-winning journalist who covers crime and justice issues, with a particular interest in organised crime. He joined the Herald in 2006, and is the author of Gangland and Gangster’s Paradise.
