Tuesday 27 September 2022 05:41 PM New podcast details the dark practices of LA's most ruthless and violent biker ... trends now

Darrin Kozlowski immediately knew something was wrong when 'Lars,' the menacing leader of a local biker gang showed up at the front door of his North Hollywood apartment demanding answers.

Kozlowski (also known as 'Koz') had spent the last seven months of his life slowly infiltrating and earning the trust of LA's most ruthless motorcycle club— the Vagos. He knew his cover had been blown. 

It was his first long-term undercover case as a rookie cop, and as far as the Vagos go, they 'were as bad as outlaw motorcycle gangs got.' 

'We're talking about drug running, illegal weapons sales, and any other moneymaking schemes,' he said.

For almost three decades, Kozlowski, 57, worked as an undercover agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF). His expertise in covert operations resulted in 157 federal arrests over the course of his decorated career before he retired in 2017. 

Now his story is the focus of a new scripted Audible Original podcast titled, KOZ, starring Taylor Kitsch and Kate Mara as the lead voiceover actors, combined with interviews with the real-life Darrin 'Koz' Kozlowski.

For the safety of his own and those who are still active in the field, Kozlowski is not at liberty to speak freely about his time spent working undercover for the ATF. But he is candid about his experience with the Los Angeles Vagos — a case that he says nearly 'got him killed.'

The Vagos 'were a tight knit brotherhood known for their wild parties, drinking, prostitution, counterfeiting, drugs, you name an illegal activity and they're probably doing it,' he told LA Magazine in 2018.

It was 1997 and Kozlowski had recently transferred to Los Angeles from ATF's Milwaukee office with a wife, a child, and another baby on the way. He grew up in Chicago's tough South Side and attended Western Illinois University where he got his bachelor's degree in Law Enforcement. 

By the time he was reassigned to the west coast, Kozlowski had taken an interest in biker gangs and proposed to his bosses that he investigate the groups running the greater Los Angeles region. 

Working undercover in that field was still a fledgling program at the ATF, and there wasn't a lot of official protocol or precedent when it came to infiltrating motorcycle clubs.

He had no cover team, and his only support would be a few contacts at the LA Sheriff's Department.

As part of the job, Kozlowski looked and acted the part: 'I learned to ride on a friend's Honda, then managed to get a Harley that ATF had seized, a Fat Boy with straight handlebars, no windshield, no saddlebags,' he told Los Angeles Magazine in 2018.

'I rode to biker bars and events. I let my hair grow, dressed the part, tried to understand the scene.'

Vagos is Spanish slang for 'vagrant' or 'vagabond' — someone who does nothing all day. The group originally started in 1965 out of the Inland Empire and today boasts 200 chapters across the United States and is over 4,000 members strong.

They're unabashedly sexist, misogynist, homophobic and virulently racist. Though technically Hispanics are allowed in the club, blacks are persona non grata. Women are considered property and aim to please. Those assigned are marked by a patch that says 'property of' followed by the biker's name who owns them. 

When Kozlowski started following the Vagos in the late 1990s, he had suspected they were behind a slew of unresolved murders, but he soon discovered that they were involved in racketeering, distributing meth from Mexico, buying and selling illegal weapons, money laundering, and counterfeiting.

And they were growing fast. 'That's the outlaw motorcycle gang way,' says Kozlowski. 'Recruit, grow, and take over more territory by any means necessary.'

The biker uniform is always a denim or leather vest. The Vagos logo on the back of their riding vests — an unmistakable totem in the insular, hierarchical world of motorcycle clubs— is 'Loki' the demonic looking Norse god of mischief. 

They also proudly wear a green diamond shape patch that reads '1%' which is to advertise 'that they don't live like the other 99% of all motorcycle enthusiasts,' Kozlowski says in the podcast.

'They're telling everyone that they don't follow the rules of society and that's why they embrace the term outlaw. They do that for a reason, they want everyone to know that they don't give a f*** about what you think.' 

Only full-fledged Vagos members are entitled to wear the Loki logo, and you don't get patched in without a lot of vetting. 

Kozlowski had his work cut out for him. 

He introduced himself to the Hollywood chapter of Vagos using his real nickname, Koz. 'I figured if anyone asked, I could say that it was short for 'Kamikaze' because of how I rode my Harley or some b******t like that,' he told LA Magazine. 'I wanted a name that I responded to instinctively.'

The clubhouse was located in the heart of Hollywood on a side street called Kenmore Avenue. The white cinder block building with no windows was built like a fortress with a heavily fortified steel door and chain link fence with razor wire looping around the top. 

Inside — where they threw a regular party called 'Green Hell' that went from 2am till 6am — was a fully kitted-out bar with tables, chairs, stripper poles and a sound system. 

The first step is to be admitted as a 'hang around' which means you're allowed to 'hang around' the clubhouse doing chores, working the door at parties and restocking the bar. 'If they liked you, you could ride with them sometimes,' said Kozlowski in the podcast.

Once someone earns their keep, they are promoted to 'prospect' which essentially means 'they own you.' As an official prospect, you get the 'bottom rocker,' which is the first of three patches worn on the Vagos vest.

'If you survive that, they take a vote and if you measured up, you get promoted to full patch,' he explains in the podcast. 'That's when you're allowed to attend 'church' and you're finally privy to all the inner workings of the club.'  

'Church' is what outlaw motorcycle gangs call weekly chapter meetings.

Kozlowski's first setback on the job happened when an informant he had been cultivating by the name of 'Junior' died in a brutal hit and run accident on Sunset Boulevard. 

'Junior wasn't an official hang-around, but I was playing the long game: I wanted him to get his patch, and he'd be able to vouch for me so I could try to get my patch, too.'

Later, it would be Kozlowski's affiliation to Junior that would eventuate his downfall and cover being blown within Vagos.

After four months as a 'hang around,' Kozlowski remembers the first time he was invited to an officer's meeting in Las Vegas. 

'They ride in tight formation, wheel to wheel and basically shoulder to shoulder—ranking members up front, rank-and-file in the middle, followed by prospects, and finally the hang-arounds in the back, choking on exhaust and dust,' he recalled. 

It was there, in a rented VFW hall that he was invited to apply as an official prospect. 'Are you willing to kill for the club?' they asked.

As part of the process, they do background checks, ask for Social Security numbers, a driver's license and a fee which goes toward a private investigator. 'Outlaw biker gangs make the path to membership pretty d*** official,' he said.

After a few 'head games,' Kozlowski was finally given the bottom rocker of the patch that says 'SoCal' on it. They told him he had 30 minutes to get it sewn on his vest. 

It wasn’t some fake souvenir skull that you could buy in a shop—it was fresh. There was still material on it, some bits of maybe hair and flesh.

Later, he said, while embedded with the Warlocks, he was ordered to carry around a sewing kit. 'I think one-percenters are the only outlaws on the planet who keep a needle and thread handy.'

'Once you earn prospect status, you're actually taking a step backwards because now you belong to them,' he told Audible. 'They don't even call you by your name anymore, you are just "prospect."' 

And thus began Koz's intense hazing process, where he was expected to be at the beck and call of higher ups. 'They're gonna push you to the limit of you what you could and would not do.'

'They called me a lot,' he told LA Magazine. 'It could be anything from, "Hey, prospect, cut my grass," or "Hey, prospect, take this package over to Big Rick's place." 

'Saying "no" wasn't an option.'

One of Kozlowski's first rookie mistakes was that he forgot to make up a real job as part of his phony backstory, 'They figured I had loads of free time when, really, I had a family at home.'

Balancing family life with work proved to be one of the most challenging aspects of going undercover.

'You actually have three lives: your undercover persona, your family persona, and the persona as a law enforcement officer, doing the paperwork and acting like a respectable civil servant.'