The story is wrote in the eyes of Samuel Klepper.
Sammy Klepper – Story of a Dutch drug lord.
CHAPTER 1 – THE BEGINNING.
The 1990s, the decade that involved some of the most historic news to hit the world, the Gulf war, Diana’s death and the Soviet union falling. But for me, it was the decade where I set my stance in Amsterdam and then met my downfall, spreading drugs to every back alley to every drug dealer and to every gang. I distributed drugs on such a scale that the politicians even ignored my moves. But for every boom a downfall is followed. Here is the story on how my business was built and then crumbled to what it is today.
I started my life in a small drab house, the walls were painted a grimy grey colour and the stench of cow dung filled the putrid air, this is what I called the outskirts of Amsterdam. Born into a family of five, I was intentionally bullied by my older brothers, made to clean the cow dung and all the dirty jobs that the scumbags couldn’t fulfil with their own hands. Though, going with the economic downturn at the time, my father’s job in our farm didn’t pay off very well and our crops either didn’t sell or were stained an oven red colour by the sun. I was on the farm for the majority of my youth, learning the ways of the agriculture business took large tolls on my health as well as my education, turned out that my attendance rating went so bad I was eventually kicked out of the school. No education meant I couldn’t have a goal in life, so my mother reluctantly decided to home school me, the only problem was the fact that she herself had a bad education but every little helped my learning because finding a good school on the outskirts of Amsterdam was like finding a needle in a hay stack, you just couldn’t find one.
Things went on like this until I hit sixteen, my father died of prostate cancer and our family was left without means of earning money and my mother could not provide for us due to the home schooling I was still being provided with. Though my dad didn’t just die, his memory lived in within us but also in the Government’s book. That’s when we found out that my father hadn’t been paying the taxes and we were due a government visit in the next few weeks, we had no money, no crops, and no nothing. Food was scarce in my household, now only with three mouths to feed but still we were living on a tight rope. My mother had no more options and I’d hear the cries from her room as she’d fall asleep on a pillow of tears left by the evidential debt and the death of my father, left with no options my mother went to the only group that could provide that amount of money in less than a week… they was call Stockman’s crew. These men were vicious creatures, their hands had been in more blood then that of what went around my body, they had no remorse for human life, and their grotesque appearance scared the life out of the district they operated in. I had felt reason to be scared, Aaron Stockman was the boss. This man… this monster so I thought at the time, he was an arrogant, powerful man bent on destruction; he must have had every politician in his back pocket. I had seen him many a time in the creased, ripped newspapers I found on the floor. They either praised him or slated him and it seemed every time he was slated, another body was found at the news agents.
He was a “drug lord” so they dubbed him, a guy who supplied drugs to every person around and inside his famous district. Even the police didn’t mind, some of the drugs even went to them and not only did he supply them he created them; he had a man for each job. From cooking to cutting to supplying to dealing, you name it, he had it.
In my opinion, my mother was pretty damn stupid to have taken a loan from a guy like Stockman. Stockman would have no problem taking her into his slimy hands to use for prostitution or worse, sell her to other organisations possibly across the border or across Holland. I had actually asked my mother a lot of times up until the day she was laid to rest, why she took out a loan from him. I was every day passed on with the same quote; she was like a broken recorder announcing the same thing over and over again. “I did it for you and your brothers “. I will take that sentence to my grave. Our family encountered problems after problems nonetheless I expected it, without any means of earning money we couldn’t pay back Stockman no matter what. So when the time come, I walked over to the District, the rain sharply ran down my back as I walked but it was a minor set-back, this had to be done. My mother had informed Stockman of my visit and as I walked up to the coffee shop, still soaking wet from the now hail stones I was viciously pushed to the ground by two mammoth sized men, I immediately threw my guard up but it was nothing compared to the gigantic hands they possessed and that I simply didn’t, I thought this was going to be the end for me, I was trapped by two large men wielding gigantic fists of fury that were being unwound against my black and blue face. My face couldn’t withstand the flurry of punches that were unloaded and I consequently blacked-out.
I was soon to woken up with what seemed to be a potato bag over my head, the rope going around the neck of the potato bag was pressed tightly against my neck making breathing rare and short-lived, I reckoned it was about midnight but I was judging it by the amount of light I could see going through the bag. A large shadow moved around as I continued to fail at breathing normally, I thought this was the end but I was happily corrected, the large figure in the room was Aaron Stockman, the vicious monster I had talked about earlier. He untied the thick rope from around my neck; I immediately coughed frantically still being in a panic following the knockout I had received some hours or days ago. The amount of coughing created a painfully sore feeling in the back of my neck. Though Stockman just watched before pulling the potato bag from over my head, he gripped hold of my bruised jaw with his large hand and rotated my head left to right, scanning me and then nodding to a guy next to him. If I remembered correctly, it was the same person who had ambushed me outside the coffee shop. Once Stockman had released his grip my head dropped motionless to its former position of looking down at my feet which had been tied together by some sort of cable, whatever it was it was digging into my still damp ankles. I was in a world of pain, my hands were sore, I was freezing cold, my neck was painfully sore and my face throbbed due to the amount of punches I was hit with. Stockman and the alpha male whispered to each other while I sat dangling motionless on the chair. It must have been at least ten minutes before they moved towards me, untying my hands and feet, Stockman ordered the gigantic male to carry me into the living room where I would be talked to by Stockman.
The living room was one of luxury, the fireplace sat at the helm of the room and blew out a heat that no fire place could match; it seemed that the carpet was made of some sort of fur, possibly bear and having my feet upon it felt like standing on clouds. Once I was dropped on the sofa, I sank into it and let out a brief sigh of relief that I hadn’t been killed; my sigh was short-lived like most of the things that seemed to be inside the living room including the poor creature that was murdered for this carpet. Stockman stared at me and started to speak.
I didn’t catch much of what was said by him but what I caught was enough to know I wasn’t going to be killed today, catching a short glimpse at the Grandfather clock sitting in the corner of the room I had noticed I was highly off key and it wasn’t mid-night but it was nearing mid-day. But the clock was the least of my worries as back came the enormous man, Stockman seemed to have called him Jesus. I was trying to build up the courage to ask why such a violent, grotesque man like him was named Jesus, however his name didn’t bother me as much as the throbbing of my bruises caused me and I could hardly see out of my bruised and battered right eye. Jesus sat fell down onto the sofa next to me; his impact on the sofa nearly vaulted me off it. The pure power of the human body was defined with this man.
They both sat talking to each other like I wasn’t there, I could hear what they were talking about and it directly involved me attacking someone outside a school. Of course I knew of Stockman’s violent ways and with this past order I think he was trying to see what I was made of, but I was in no position to take up such a job. My eye was swollen up; I was, un-like Jesus the definition of f***ed up. To be fair if I was on my guard, I could of probably taken one of them but two on one is always a no-go in fights, nonetheless I was yet again man-handled by Jesus but not beaten up this time. I was this time dragged up the stairs by sheer force and dropped onto a bed where I was ordered to sleep so I could be ready for the job set by Stockman, the bed shouted comfy and it was amazing to lie upon it, the silky bed cover ran its way over my torso and I fell asleep almost instantly.
CHAPTER 2 – A NEW FACE.
I may have fell asleep pretty quick that day but I spent the whole day tossing and turning in my bed, attempting to relinquish the awful throbbing my face was still encountering. It was like a large battle that was going on in my face and I was losing.
I eventually couldn’t stand sleeping in this bed any longer, my face was just too painful to sleep with let alone look at. I marched down the wooden stairs, making a loud thud as I walked down each one of them. My arms felt broken and torn down, they were motionless just like my ankles. The cables had left a distinct mark which left a sore red colour stained on ankle, it was painful to walk, talk and even look around. It seemed that I felt more of a pain today then I did when I was beaten to a pulp by Jesus. The house was filled with much more people than that was there yesterday, I counted seven but you can’t trust my eyes. One is half shut and the other is recovering, however what I didn’t notice was Stockman standing behind me, I was so distracted that I couldn’t hear the footsteps leading in from the kitchen area. He placed his large palm onto my right shoulder, patting it gently. I attempted to shrug it off, still feeling pains all over my aching body but he held a firm grip on my shoulder blade and ordered me to follow him into the kitchen. I did so and I immediately smelt a vague scent as I walked into the kitchen. I looked around sharply around the kitchen, examining the surroundings before taking slow steps towards the fine grained table situated in the middle of the kitchen. Stockman seemed to have his eyes on me the whole time and once I had sat down he strode towards the table, launching his fist onto it. I jolted back sharply and widened my eyes at his ultimate presence next to me.
He shouted out to the seven or more men inside the living room and ordered them into the kitchen. The grouchy men all walked into the kitchen separately, all of them looked the same in some way. They were fat, ugly or stunk of tobacco. Their grotesque appearance and disgusting whiff of tobacco smell caused me to shift my focus onto Stockman’s mysterious eyes. He continued to stare me out, I was not entirely sure about why he had such a random outburst of rage against me, maybe he was trying to strike fear into me. He couldn’t do that… I was already scared s***less. The men talked upon themselves and Stockman walked back, adding himself to the formed pack of men circling and talking near the sink. I just sat there, twiddling my thumbs and looking up from the table every minute or so trying to catch a glimpse of what they were discussing. Soon two large men left after being seemingly pushed away by Stockman’s palm, the five men left turned around to me and circled around the table with Stockman sitting directly in front of me. The two men that had left a short while ago swiftly returned wielding two metal baseball bats, they placed both of them onto the table in front of me and Stockman, he nodded to the men while I just sat there darting my eyes at the baseball bat.
Five of the men exited the room following the bats arrivals, I wasn’t sure why they were all here but the remaining two men sat down and they started to ask me a number of random questions. They spat them out like they already knew the answer and the fact of the matter was that they did know the answer so I carried on answering the questions, it was frank waste of time.
Stockman abruptly held his palm out to the men quizzing me and they shut up almost immediately, like a school child being told to be quiet by his teacher. It was amazing to see. He uses the first bat to push the one closest to me closer to my chest.
“Take it.” Stockman announced with a bold tone in his deep voice.
I moved my hand over the handle of the bat and pretended to swing for a ball, much to the man to my right’s unhappiness as I nearly clipped his head. While I was doing this Stockman pushed his bat to the right and pulled out his Magnum.357. He jolted the Magnum to the side, this caused the chamber to eliminate itself from the Magnum’s structure and he sat their counting the bullets before slamming it back into its foundations. I still wasn’t told what we were doing, but it was clear that Stockman was coming with us on this job, he named the two other guys as Klaas and Verhoek, I seemingly nodded. To be honest I couldn’t have cared less what their names were, they had a dominant pistol and metal bats, I was not in no mood or situation to argue or go against anything they said.
Stockman soon ordered me, Klaas and Verhoek into the elegant 1974 Land Rover, it was painted a mid-night black and the tire located on the front of the car was there in case a spare was needed. Overall this vehicle was a very pleasant ride that I wouldn’t mind driving, unfortunately Stockman wasn’t in a position to ruin an expensive four-door like this Land Rover.
It was around 4:03 and the school we was staking out was about to finish, I was told by Stockman that a local dealer walks around the borders of the school in search for customers. The only problem was that this dealer wasn’t being supplied by Stockman and he was dealing in the crew’s territory, the order was to put him in the trunk. We needed him alive.
The sound of the watches arms moving was the only thing heard as everyone in the car sat silently with their eyes peeled on the school’s gates, the bell shortly rang out for a brief one minute and the students started to move out of the school. Stockman was the only guy who knew what he looked like so the attack was on his go, a word from anyone else would have probably meant they would be in the trunk with the guy. Time was still slowly going by and the dealer still didn’t go to the gates, maybe he had got the idea and decided to get off Stockman turf. I highly doubted it and soon I was correct, the dealer looked like he was in his mid-twenties. He wore grey baggy tracksuit bottoms with a brightly coloured nylon jacket on; he bowled it down the street with his hands in his pockets when Stockman ordered the go.
The Land Rover’s exhaust let off a large scream as we drove towards the dealer, Stockman quickly parked up behind the dealer and told me to go and ambush him, I casted Stockman a nervous nod and jumped out of the car, I held the baseball bat in a firm grip at the bottom and walked up behind the dealer sending a large thud onto his right shoulder. The dealer went down instantly, crying in pain and I was shortly helped with dragging him into the car. Half the school was still exiting the building when I struck the blow and my face would definitely be casting over whoever the dealer was supplying.
Nonetheless I dropped the bat into the car and continued to drag the dealer along with Verhoek, the dealer wasn’t one to go quietly so a few swift punches to the nose applied by Verhoek shut him up. I hadn’t seen the guys face, he had it hooded but I reckon he was an ugly f***er who has deserved what came to him.
After what I had done I felt I like I was high on marijuana or something, the adrenaline rush I had gained from the attack made me content, for once I wasn’t on the receiving end from a royal beat down. I was thanked for my work by Stockman, though the bruising on my face would possibly eliminate anyone recognising me. That’s probably one of the reasons behind me doing the job, the appearance of my face was like an invisible balaclava, but it still hurt like a b****.
While I was literally jumping out of the car with the rush that I was given, Stockman had already been driving for about five minutes. We passed a few signs ‘Forest -3 miles’, ‘Forest – 2 miles. Though in my rush I had not noticed until about twenty minutes had passed and we reached the destination, we were in the middle of a gigantic forest. It wouldn’t surprise me if Jesus had lived here; he was big enough to live in the forest.
The cries of the man in the back were heard throughout the journey to the forest and I was ordered to open up the trunk. I launched myself out of the Land Rover and instantly fell down into a bog of mud; I trudged out of the mud slowly and got myself to the trunk.
It was my brother…
CHAPTER 3 – AT A BROTHER’S COST.
The sky grew dark and the roiling storm clouds blotted out what was the last bit of Dutch daylight but I stood there staring down at what seemed to be my brother, Daniel. My heart was pounding still bewildered by the sight that I had in front of my eyes. He laid there, his hair cropped short, and his face screamed out a cry of desperation at the sight of a taut and bony face. I felt sorry for him, though I had to remember the days where he would bully me into submission, trip me up into a face full of decaying cow dung. I had to remember that this brother of mine treated me like no brother and as the sharp rain touched the sides of my rocky cheeks I looked down at the defenceless skeleton and threw my hands onto his neck. I dragged him out and threw him onto the clammy cold mud where I started my assault on him, he shuddered in fear. He knew what he had done, in a sense I couldn’t care less what Stockman wanted from him. I wanted my revenge. I unleashed an outbreak of jabs and hooks into Daniel’s boned structured face, he threw up his guard to protect his face. I stopped and darted my eyes onto Stockman, he was dressed in a boiler suit that had a strong stain blood stain running down the leg. Though the visible stain on his leg was not as much of a fright as the sharp machete his was wielding in his right hand.
I abandoned myself from Daniel and trudged backwards to the trunk of the car, I kept my eyes fixed onto Daniel’s bleeding face. My breathing had rapidly increased and it felt like I had been staring at my brother for over an hour.
Stockman threw a quick glance over to me and bobbed he head to the open door in the Land Rover; I got the message and entered it. I shook my head remembering what my brother had done well for me, he didn’t deserve what Stockman was about to do. He was stupid. I wedged my head through the window and looks to the left. Daniel was now on his feet, muttering, faltering as he spoke. His legs trembled underneath him like a building that was being demolished. I felt a sense of guilt as I saw him being backhanded with force by Stockman. I saw the machete go up and Daniel started to run, he ran and ran and ran, I jumped out of the car and watched the scene unfold. Stockman’s head was now holding his Magnum.357 and his machete lay on the boggy mud.
It took one shot to take him down, Daniel’s right shoulder was ripped apart by the force of the Magnum, the shoulder blade braking was heard from where we were standing and Daniel’s jacket was soon being flooded with a mix of blood and rain. He simply laid there, attempting to crawl with his free hand away from Stockman but it was no use, Stockman caught up with him and placed the Magnum.357 next to Daniel’s skull, and he shot. The bullet ripped through his cranium, exiting out of his left eye. The blood rippled onto the boiler suit while Daniel’s body lay there, motionless, defenceless, and dead. The amount of guilt I felt overthrew my natural emotions of sadness and I just felt numb, I observed the body which was about twenty yards away taking in every part of the brother I had not seen for over two years. Stockman felt nothing, he was a vicious monster. He ordered us into the car and just left it lying on the boggy mud… but I could not do anything, he had power, money, weapons and a large crew. I had nothing except my bruises, four brothers who abandoned me and my baseball bat.
The ride home was unpleasant, Stockman boasted his kill to Verhoek and Klaas while I sat there, staring outside the window as the rain violently fell onto the earth. The worst part of the ride home was when Stockman told me that he knew I was his brother and that how much of a man I was now, how he could trust me with anything. I guessed that meant I wouldn’t wake up with a gorilla in my face or a potato bag strangulating me anymore. Stockman seemed to me to be too much of a hands-on criminal, he wasn’t that smart either. Kidnapping someone outside a school? Leaving a dead body in a forest? Carrying around a boiler suit covered in blood? I reckon Jesus was the brains and the bron, the way he was treated by Stockman wasn’t nice either and it appeared to me that Stockman treated everyone like s***, even Jesus the biggest guy I’d seen in my life.
Though I felt like I could thank my brother, you see what he done for me was sacrificing his life. It might not seem it to you but to me he opened my eyes to how stupid Stockman was, he was an amateur whereas I felt like a professional. I had noticed Jesus didn’t take kindly to Stockman that much and I reckoned his days were numbered.
The ultimate appearance of an Italian crew in the district meant for more problems in Stockman’s busy bubble of his and the meeting they had demanded with Stockman and Jesus meant something was going down and I was soon to know, Stockman made me wait in the living room but it was not time to go yet and we still had a good hour and a half to set up for the worse. Stockman and Jesus went upstairs for half of it but reappeared, they were certainly dressed for the part. Well Jesus was. Jesus went for the black overcoat and a white granddad shirt underneath with grey trousers and brown loafers whereas Stockman went for a more casual look, sporting a black woolly jacket zipped to the top, brown leather gloves and Nike trainers.
There were nine people in the room. Out of the nine I had only known four of them, Klaas, Verhoek, Stockman and Jesus. The rest stood relatively unknown to my eyes. They were seated in a semi-circle, and in front of the group was a small table. On this stood a jug of water, a glass and a remote control. On the other side was a vacant chair in which Stockman filled. He glanced from man to man as he went round the table and the people he nodded at where shown Glock 17’s, these where the guns the SWAT used and were highly dangerous. I was nodded at and wrapped my sweaty palms around the handle of the pistol. Out of the nine men, seven were armed and the other two were to drive there while the seven armed men were told to enter the restaurant with them.
The grandfather clocked rang out its bell and Stockman ordered the men to load up into the cars, it was about twenty past eight when we got to the restaurant. We parked outside it and we were greeted by two men, the first one was Vincenzo Palmieri, he headed the Palmieri crew. He was about six-foot-two and weighed more than 250 pounds, his narrow eyebrows led the way for his menacing eyes that shon the colour of burnt ash. He was an intimidating man and so was his partner, unlike Vincenzo this man was nicknamed Porky. His plump bodily structure appeared to show that and his chin was followed by more. He stood at about five-foot-nine and didn’t have as much an unapproachable look as his friend so I was more obliged to shake his colossal hand then Vincenzo’s.
We were shown into the backroom of the restaurant however only Stockman, Jesus and a guard would be allowed in. I undoubtedly wasn’t the biggest of the bunch but I held a sense of aggression to my characteristics and I was brought in by Stockman while the other men stood outside drinking the gargantuan amount of drinks on offer behind the counter.
The backroom was a drab, morbid room that needed decorating. It held a few plants that were hanging over their roots but apart from that the two lights in the room and the Bauhaus designed table in the middle was the only means of decorative furniture to hit the room. Stockman and Jesus were both told to sit by Vincenzo, Porky had already sat on the chair and was lighting up one of his forty a day cigarettes. The four men all exchanged looks for about a minute before Stockman began talking.
“What brings you imbeciles to my district?” Stockman lent forward, shifting his full weight onto the table. He certainly didn’t mind getting straight to the point and in such an irrespective way.
Vincenzo chuckled briefly “Well, I was looking to expand my business opportunities into the drug capital; It seemed that my boys tell me most of the dealing goes on over here so I set up shop.”
Stockman shook his head in disbelief and replied “If you lot want to deal here you’re going to have to pay up a fee to me because what you’re doin’ is takin’ my business away from me!” At this stage I took the opportunity to move forward, it would have given me an advantage if things went sour.
Carmine blew some smoke out into Jesus’s pathway and announced “What makes you think we’re gonna’ pay your f***in’ ass?” Jesus launched himself from the seat and stretched his arm to Carmine’s neck in which he held it and yelled “You’ll listen to me and do it right! This is our district and if you DARE f*** up anything you will pay!” Jesus launched Carmine’s body away from the table. He fell onto the floor, removing his Beretta 92 and proceeded to aiming it at Jesus.
I quickly pounced into action and removed the Glock 17 I was given; I took up a position behind Vincenzo and pointed the top of the Glock 17 into his temple. My heart was racing, I had a pistol to a boss, Stockman had his pistol aimed at Carmine and Jesus stood there staring at Carmine who was still situated on the floor and shaking with his Beretta 92 firmly in his grip.
“You pay me or my boy slams a clip into your bosses head! “ Stockman exclaimed, nearly shattering my eardrum in the process.
CHAPTER 4 – THE DEPALMA’S.
Carmine sat there, trembling while looking down at the various gun barrels that were pointing towards him and Vincenzo. They were in a sticky situation and by now the rest of the men ditched their drinks and headed into the drab backroom to see what the fuss was all about. The Italians were heavily outnumbered and It didn’t take a genius to see what would happen if they failed to accept Stockman’s generous offer, but as Italians were arrogant scumbags who only cared about rare their steaks are they tried to play it out.
Vincenzo was the main talker now, even with my gun still firmly planted next to his skull he seemed calm, almost like he saw it was going to happen. And I don’t blame him for thinking so, Stockman was a trigger-happy f***er who wouldn’t have given a s*** if the Italians died, though it was on Jesus’s orders that they were being kept alive. If they died we could enter the full-scale war that would disrupt business and Stockman’s connections in politics and the police would be shot down seeing as no one wants to be involved in the dirty business which was war.
“Stockman… Stockman, you gotta’ calm down. Think bout’ it, with you and us in the district no one can f***in’ challenge us“
Stockman glanced around at his men and threw his arms up “No one ‘cept you motherf***in’ arse challenges me! You’re only alive right now cos’ Jesus wants you to be!”
The shouting continued and Stockman’s men still had their iron sights firmly on Carmine’s head which meant a single wrong move would have caused a catastrophe. However Jesus intervened with an ingenious plan that suited all sides. Well us more than them, we were to take Carmine until they paid us up two months of taxes and every day they don’t pay it after the dead line Carmine gets a finger chopped. Hearing this as it came out made me crack a grin, for once I had agreed with a very sadistic plan that would force them into paying up to us, something that would be to our virtue. Vincenzo wasn’t too happy about it, but what could he do with all the men around him? F*** all that’s what. He released a short sigh of distress and unhappily accepted the offer; Carmine was coming back with us.
While we walked out of the room into the gigantic bar area, Stockman ordered the boys to smash everything. This included the barmen, much to my distress as I watched on. They pounded him with the bottles every hit more painful than the next, he was being slashed, cut and brutally bruised by the men nonetheless I had to just watch on as his dignity was viciously smashed by the iron fist of Stockman’s ferocious reign of terror. I was becoming more opposed to Stockman’s ways of business, every day that passed threw more doubt into my mind of why I actually begun working for this man, why was I carrying on with this while an innocent male was being inhumanely attacked by what looked to me like a bunch of hungry lions out hunting for their prey. They walked out covered in blood to the screams of the customers inside the bar and to the cries of Porky whose fate lied gloomy; surely Stockman would not go ahead with the deal.
He was dumped into the trunk and Vincenzo looked on from the café, shaking his head in disbelief. Or so we thought, what we hadn’t encountered on was the pure fact that Vincenzo’s crew was a branch of one of the largest criminal organisations in Europe, based in Naples the DePalma family, headed by the DePalma brothers led a high reign on how the Italians worked. He had sent them over to Holland to extend his business line into narcotics. Stockman’s crew wasn’t a match for the DePalma’s, of which we were soon to find out.
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