Keith Banks - Drugs, Guns & Lies: My life as an undercover cop

Certain names and details have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty alike.

First published in 2020

Copyright Keith Banks and Ben Smith 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

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ISBN 978 1 76087 795 8

eISBN 978 1 76087 454 4

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Cover design: Luke Causby/Blue Cork

Front cover photo: Krakenimages.com/Adobe Stock [man]

For Larry Philip McGregor, my brother by choice.

Rest easy mate; now you know the secret.

CONTENTS

I sometimes wondered whether our real lives were our actual cover: acting as normal people with the attendant facades that life required. We spent that time waiting for the next job so we could become the person who didnt obey the rules or conventions. That was the problem: the fear and the rush were too fucking addictive

It is commonly said in police forces around the world that being a police officer is like having a front row seat to the greatest show on earth.

I joined the Queensland Police Force in 1975 and resigned from the Queensland Police Service in 1995. The change of name from Force to Service speaks volumes. In that time, I worked with and met some of the finest people I have ever known. The overwhelming majority of police were honest, hardworking and dedicated. It is important for me to say this from the beginning. However, I was also exposed to the corrupt activities of some police who used their position for their own gain and without regard to the damage their actions caused to a noble profession.

I have written this book from my perspective of those days, and I am well aware that not everyone will share my view of that era. Most people prefer to remember good times, not bad. Sadly, many of us experienced the bad and were changed irrevocably as a result.

Undercover work is a world that is not well understood by many, including police. To befriend others and to then betray them is challenging and most undercovers I have spoken with have found this to be the most damaging part of the Job. Add to this the fact that we were young; most of us were under twenty-four years of age.

However, once we experienced the rush of masquerading as criminals and drug dealers, it became an addictive lifestyle. It is said that many police are isolationist, and this is often true. The nature of the Job means police see and experience things that normal people do not. Undercovers experience things that other police do not. This is not meant as bravado, but as fact.

I have mentioned the Fitzgerald Inquiry in some places in this book. For perspective, it is beneficial to provide an overview of that inquiry.

In May 1987, after a media report of possible police corruption involving prostitution and illegal gambling, Acting Queensland Premier Bill Gunn ordered a commission of inquiry. Tony Fitzgerald QC was appointed to lead the Commission of Inquiry into Possible Illegal Activities and Associated Police Misconduct, known as the Fitzgerald Inquiry.

The Inquiry was expected to last about six weeks, but instead spent almost two years conducting a comprehensive investigation of police and political corruption in Queensland. It changed the face of policing and the political landscape in Queensland forever. I am not going to comment on the prosecutions arising from the Inquiry, but there were many unintended consequences for honest and dedicated police.

After the Inquiry, new recruits at the Academy were told that anyone above the rank of Senior Constable could not be trusted as they were either corrupt or accepted a culture of corruption. Some police who had little operational experience were promoted to positions they were not equipped for. Some honest police were adversely named by offenders they had arrested as a payback. Even when these allegations were proven not to be correct, once they had been named, their careers were ruined.

During their service, many active and operational police were subject of complaints against them by offenders, a common tactic to delay court proceedings. In the brave new world of policing after Fitzgerald, this meant that police who had complaints on their records were often overlooked for promotion.

I am not for a moment suggesting the Inquiry should not have happened, but I saw the aftermath adversely affect the way police operated. It seemed to me that some sections of the Service were more concerned in creating a corporate hologram than focusing on protecting decent people from the predators and criminals.

I still bleed blue, as the saying goes. I have nothing but absolute respect for police and the Job. This is not a happy story, but one that needs to be told. The days I have written of no longer exist, thankfully, and policing is now not only more professional, but definitely more challenging than it was.

My hope is that this book may go a little way to helping readers look at police officers and the work they do through a different lens. They dont just write traffic tickets.

To all my brothers and sisters in blue, thank you for your service and your friendship over the journey. I am sorry your contributions to the safety of Queensland were tarnished by the actions of the few who didnt deserve to carry the badge. You will always be part of me and my life.

By 1993, Harry Shehab was on the run.

He left Brisbane one summers night, headed south along the coast with nothing more than his Harley-Davidson and a few thousand dollars stuffed in his saddlebag. Once a straight young cop, he now looked more like one of Queenslands many bikies with hair around his shoulders and a scraggly beard. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled up by policeor worse, recognised by thembut running was Harrys only choice.

The last time Id seen Harry, the real Harry, was a decade earlier, in late 1982. He had just finished an operation and I met him in the Brisbane CBD for a beer. Harry had always been a devout Muslim, and him drinking was the first in a series of drastic changes. I didnt think anything of it at the timeit was 1980s Queensland, and practically every cop in the Job drank. He was the same guy hed always been: smart, idealistic, honest. He was about to leave for a job in Cairns, so we didnt see each other for a while. And up there he changed.

A decade later, riding through the dark in mid-summer, Harrys blood was full of heroin. It had been there almost every day since he returned from Cairns, and the cash in his bag came from banks around Brisbane. Over the next week Harry rode his motorbike down the Queensland coast, through New South Wales and on to Adelaide.

Ten years earlier hed never had a drink in his life. In 1982 hed been a constable in the Queensland Police Force, working deep undercover operations targeting drug rings.