Tale of the Mafia among the vineyards - in Australia

(Reuters)

The sleepy rural town of Griffith, in a wine and rice-growing area 350 miles west of Sydney, might seem an unlikely setting for gangland murders and drug-trafficking. But this fertile patch of New South Wales boasts not only orchards and vineyards, but also a cell of the Calabrian Mafia, the 'Ndrangheta.

In 1977 a Griffith businessman and outspoken anti-drugs crusader, Don Mackay, was shot dead outside a pub where he had been drinking with friends. A subsequent royal commission uncovered a thriving marijuana trade in the area, and established that Mackay had been killed by a hit man, on the orders of a local branch of the 'Ndrangheta.

Now those events are being revisited in a television mini-series that traces, with fictional licence, the evolution of the illegal drugs industry in Australia. The much-hyped Underbelly: A Tale of Two Cities chronicles the cannabis and heroin explosion in Melbourne and Sydney in the 1970s and 1980s, with early episodes focusing on Griffith's pivotal role, and on Mackay's murder, which shocked the nation.

In Griffith, where about 60 per cent of the 25,000 inhabitants claim Italian heritage, and where the broad main street is lined with Italian cafés and restaurants, locals are unhappy that their town is once again being cast in a poor light. However, as a few quietly acknowledge, that image cannot be blamed solely on the quest for television ratings. Last year – two months before filming began – police raided four Griffith properties in the wake of the world's largest ecstasy seizure: 15 million pills shipped from Calabria to Melbourne in tomato cans.

Among the four addresses was an Italianate mansion set amid orange groves and grapevines, the home of Pasquale "Pat" Barbaro, allegedly the Australian kingpin of an international drugs syndicate. Barbaro's father, Francesco, was one of a number of men named by the 1979 royal commission as members of the local 'Ndrangheta cell that ordered Mackay's murder.

The elder Barbaro was among a wave of Italian migrants, many from Calabria, who settled in Griffith from the 1930s onwards, attracted by a landscape that reminded them of home. Mainly peasants, they became fruit and vegetable farmers, and in the 1950s some of them began growing another crop on a modest scale, to supplement their income – marijuana. Within a

decade, demand for the drug had soared, and the small acreages turned into large-scale plantations. The next generation of farmers built themselves palatial houses, known locally as "grass castles", and sent their marijuana to Sydney and Melbourne – from which Griffith is roughly equidistant – in fruit trucks. They cultivated corrupt police officers too, and became involved in numerous aspects of organised crime, switching to heroin, cocaine and Ecstasy as fashions shifted.

Nowadays the drugs trade is centred on cities such as Melbourne, where a turf war between two rival clans claimed 27 lives between 1995 and 2004. That battle is largely over, because most of the protagonists are dead or in jail. The tit-for-tat shootings inspired a first Underbelly series, which aired last year, attracting massive audiences and bagging a haul of awards. A court injunction prevented it from being broadcast in Victoria, in case it prejudiced forthcoming trials.

The second series, billed as a "prequel" and containing lashings of sex and violence, is proving equally controversial. Among those glued to their sets has been Mackay's son, Paul, who runs the family furniture business in Griffith. He recently attended the unveiling of a statue of his father in the town's main street, Banna Avenue.

Don Mackay, a conservative Liberal Party candidate who was concerned about drug cultivation and trafficking in the area, tipped police off about a huge marijuana crop at Coleambally, near Griffith.

Four men of Italian descent were convicted at a trial where Mackay was named as the informant. Disgusted by their lenient sentences, Mackay launched a public campaign for reform of the law.

Not long afterwards, an apparent attempt was made to lure him to Jerilderie, 90 miles away, by an unidentified "customer" offering to place a substantial furniture order. Mackay, who was busy, sent an employee to meet the man, who never turned up.

In July 1977, Mackay disappeared from the car park of his local pub, the Hotel Griffith. His van was discovered seven hours later, with a bloodstained interior and three spent .22 calibre cartridges lying nearby. His body was never found, and while several men were convicted in 1986 of conspiracy to murder him, the alleged masterminds remained at large.

For Paul Mackay, last year's raids on Griffith homes – as well as properties across south-eastern Australia – demonstrate that little has changed. "I'm not sure whether the drug production is happening here so much now, but certainly the people organising it are from here," he said. "That problem has not gone away at all. It's only got worse."

In Griffith, a town of palpable wealth, others echo such views, but say people are afraid to speak out, given what happened to Mackay 30 years ago. They also note that the royal commission uncovered evidence of police involvement in the marijuana trade.

Mike Neville, the mayor of Griffith, said that most locals were resigned to the prospect of Underbelly reinforcing the negative image of their town. "You can't change history," he said. "Ninety-nine per cent of people in Griffith are extremely decent and law-abiding, and it won't be the last time this community has been held to ransom by the actions of a few."