Former gang head urges kids to shun the lifestyle

The ex-leader of a Winnipeg street gang is spending his days telling horror stories about his former lifestyle in hopes of persuading young aboriginal kids to steer clear.

"There's no protection in the gangs — your own member will do you in," said Brian Contois, who was president of the Manitoba Warriors, one of the most dangerous gangs in the city in the early 1990s.

"I tell [kids] there is no such thing as a buddy system with the gangs. I tell them every gang member goes to jail. I talk about jail, I talk about if you join a gang… you get a beating before you become one of them. You might as well get used to it because you're going to get that for the rest of your life from either your own members or other members," he said Thursday.

"You have to look over your shoulder when you join a gang 'cause you make so many enemies."

'There's no protection in the gangs — your own member will do you in.' —Brian Contois

In 1997, Contois accepted an offer from the Assembly of Manitoba Chiefs to help them figure out a way to stop gang activity.

He was still dealing with his own gang activities at the time, however, and landed back in prison the same year. He served just over two years, but once he got out, he went straight and has never been back behind bars.

There are about 40 gangs in Manitoba, including the recently emerged MS-13, which has ties to a gang that started in Los Angeles and spread to Central America and then to Canada, Contois said.

"They start recruiting [kids] at eight or nine years old," he said. "I don't know if you want to hear this: They use them to break into houses, carry drugs… be a watch-out for police or any other intruders. What do these eight- or nine-year-olds get in return? A pat on the back, $5."

Gangs have become 'chaotic'

Contois said gangs are more dangerous now than in his day. Then, a person had to have something that could benefit the gang — a vehicle or money, he said. Now, gangs take in anyone in an effort to swell their numbers.

"They're uncontrolled. They're not controlled by their leaders, [so it is] a lot chaotic," Contois said. "I don't think they understand the concept on where they're going the way they're attracting the law to themselves. Nothing matters, not even their parents. They don't even care about their parents, yet [they are] the first ones they cry to when they're locked up."

New members are lured in by the promise of money, a mythology they glean from music videos and movies, Contois said.

"It's like a priority because they see what it buys. It gets them things they don't have," he said. "But in reality, a majority do drugs [and] drink alcohol. Eventually they'll make [the kids] do the drugs they're doing."

Girls who hook up with the gangs are initially fawned over and treated well, but are soon forced into prostitution "because there is no such thing as a free drug," Contois said. "You'll always hear girls say, 'Oh, he gives it to me for free. I don't even have to pay for it.' But you know in the end you have to pay something."

Contois spreads his message in speeches to schools and kids meetings on aboriginal reserves. He said the response from the children to whom he speaks has been positive, but he worries the message fades with time. He wants to do follow-up sessions, but getting around to all of the reserves in Manitoba takes a great deal of time.

He has travelled to about half of them so far.