The downfall of a drug racket: An underworld drama

There is much to recommend the following story as it involves a secret police operation, sex toys (batteries not included) and Tony Mokbel (his batteries are included for his bail-required ankle bracelet).

Act One, Scene One: Pumping iron and pumping for information

At a small, dimly lit gym in Melbourne’s west, a small group of men meets, ostensibly to ride exercise bikes and lift weights, but their real plan is to plot an underworld hit.

Not a murder, but an incursion into a group trafficking heroin and speed.

The men are not part of a gang; they are suburban cops, who want to quietly gather evidence against a group they suspect are big fish in their local pond.

Divisional investigators run from job to job, and if they want to pitch for a taskforce-like operation, it needs to be in tune.

Darren Hafner: Claimed he made an honest mistake.Credit: Wayne Taylor

The meetings, held at the Fawkner police station gym, are where they worked out, while working out a strategy on how to target a local team of crooks.

It began with a routine drug raid by the Fawkner divisional response unit on a house in Gladstone Park in March 2022. The target was Darren Hafner, who was considered a medium-sized fish in the drug pool, the sort of chancer that police find in every suburb, every day of the week.

One of the cops saw a bitcoin wallet, which made the crew think: why would an older man on the fringes of the drug world be dealing in anything but cash? They also found weapons and about two kilograms of an arthritis powder that could also be used to cut drugs.

Soon it was obvious that Hafner was a bigger fish than first thought.

Hafner had form, not so much in his criminal records but in his associates, including the notorious Mokbel.

Act One, Scene Two: A bizarre claim in the County Court

In 2007, Hafner went to the County Court to argue that a house in Bulleen that had been seized as part of Mokbel’s impressive real estate portfolio was, in fact, his.

He explained that the house had been given to him by his generous grandmother and had somehow been scooped up as part of Mokbel’s $55 million asset portfolio.

An honest (well dishonest) mistake, he told the County Court.

Hafner, you see, was going through a difficult divorce, and he wanted to make sure his partner could not get her hands on half the title.

Tony Mokbel leaves court in 2006.Credit: Andrew De La Rue.

“My words were that basically I was having domestics with my missus and, basically, I don’t know what to do with my grandmother’s house, and we ... came to the conclusion that I’d sign it over to him,” Hafner said.

The ever-helpful Mokbel was happy to oblige.

Of course, Mokbel was not in a position to corroborate his mate because at that time he was sitting in a Greek cell having sailed away from Australia on the yacht, Edwena.

Unfortunately, an argumentative lawyer for the prosecution suggested Hafner had handed over the house because he owed Mokbel $360,000 and the property was a square-off.

The house was valued about $500,000 at the time, and on June 15, 2001, National Australia Bank records show the house was transferred to Mokbel, who forgave a $320,000 debt and in return transferred $50,000 to Hafner. Mokbel even paid the $17,000 stamp duty to make it all above board.

A detective who worked on the Mokbel case said: “Tony was the biggest dealer in town, and Darren owed him money from a drug debt. When he couldn’t pay, Tony said, ‘What have you got?’ and that’s why he signed over his grandmother’s house.”

But every cloud has a silver lining, and when the seized house was sold on July 12, 2008, it fetched $625,000, which went to the State Revenue Office.

Hafner’s story, unlike the Edwena, sank without trace. County Court judge Michael McInerney dismissed the case, adding: “I do not accept [Hafner] as a credible or reliable witness.”

Mokbel could afford to be generous because the Hafner debt was chump change.

Tony Mokbel fled overseas on the Edwena.

Mokbel, the suburban pizza shop owner, who police described on his file as “lacking financial acumen”, was now flying.

By 2000, he was planning to build an $18 million, 10-storey “winged keel” apartment tower over Sydney Road. The plan was to build 120 apartments and townhouses, offices, restaurants, a gym with pool and a four-storey car park on the old Whelan the Wrecker site. No one seemed to wonder how he could generate that sort of money.

He was also developing 10 units in Templestowe, which he planned to sell for $300,000 each. In 2000, he owned the Brunswick market site and claimed to make $500,000 a year in rent money.

His business portfolio was admirably diverse, including investments in shops, cafes, fashion houses, fragrances, restaurants, hotels, nightclubs and land in regional Victoria. He and his companies owned two white vans, two Commodores, a red Audi, a 2000 silver Mercedes, a Nissan Skyline and a red Ferrari Roadster, which he bought in September 1999. He even managed to give his wife a Kilmore pub as part of the family businesses. One of his fashion houses was appropriately named LSD – apparently an abbreviation for Love of Style and Design.

His social network was also varied. It included an MP, a tame bank manager, a bent accountant, a newsagent who gratefully accepted $20,000 a week that Mokbel invested in Tattslotto, seven jockeys and trainers, and a handful of bookies.

One jockey, who was in Mokbel’s car when the drug dealer had a fender-bender with a tradie near the State Library, showed his athletic prowess, opening the door and making a dash for the shadows while a contrite Mokbel apologised and exchanged details with the second driver.

One bookie opened a ghost betting account allowing Mokbel to punt under another name. In one week during the 2002 spring racing carnival, the account turned over $445,000. To Mokbel, it was just pocket money. The bets were made just weeks after he was finally granted $1 million bail on the serious drugs charges.

When one bookie came to collect $80,000 at Mokbel’s Port Melbourne apartment, they walked to his car, where he opened the glove box. While forward-thinking motorists might have a roll of coins for parking meters, the bookie estimated the wad of stashed cash was “at least $300,000”.

You might think that having lost a house to Mokbel, Hafner would have sought an alternative income stream. But he was nothing if not persistent.

He did branch out, receiving workers’ compensation for several years, doing cash jobs on the side (despite a bad back), then going on the dole for 10 years while selling drugs and using stolen credit cards in a fraud ring.

In 10 court hearings, he collected 36 convictions.

Act Two, Scene One: The Fawkner cops get the green light

The Fawkner detectives built up a case and went to their bosses, and it was at that point Operation Manic was established.

Sarah Baines.Credit: Facebook

Hafner was followed around the state, and soon a case was built that he was the middleman in an international syndicate. Federal police tracked three shipments of pure pseudoephedrine, the key ingredient in speed, flown into Australia from Malaysia, India and Dubai, and identified two other key members, Sarah Baines and Abdul Diallo.

At one point, police tracked the crew to a Thomastown service station, where they were to buy a kilogram of speed for $165,000. But, in a familiar story in a drug business that is riddled with rip-offs and no-shows, after the initial meeting, the deal fell through.

By September, police had enough to move in and arrest the three.

The finale: Courtroom justice

If everyone has 15 minutes of fame, Baines, 33, must be truly annoyed at how she used hers. When she appeared in court as part of Hafner’s syndicate, the Herald Sun wrote: “A Melbourne party girl who peddled dildos for a living is down on her luck after she was accused of running a high-end drug-trafficking racket.”

In court, it was found she had worked in a retail sex shop and ran a cleaning service, and in prison had become an unofficial carer for a disabled inmate.

She had been using drugs from her early 20s, and when police raided her Southbank apartment, they found evidence of drug transactions, and of the drug, 1,4-butanedoil.

Diallo, the court was told, was an African leader in the community, having arrived in Australia as a young refugee from Sierra Leone after his father was murdered.

Hafner had been examined in prison. Quoting the psychological report, the judge said: “You looked and sounded despondent and depressed. You presented as being at least moderately depressed and mildly anxious.”

Little wonder when you are looking at a long stretch and could well die in jail

When it came to sentencing, no one was spared.

County Court judge Richard Maidment gave Diallo 12 years with a minimum of eight years and eight months, while Hafner was sentenced to 12 years with a minimum of eight years and four months.

Baines received 11 years with a minimum of seven.

One investigator said: “She was devastated. She was by no means a hardened criminal, and the consequences for her running around with the wrong crowd were shattering.”

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