When “Lars,” the threatening head of a neighborhood motorcycle gang, appeared at the door of his North Hollywood apartment demanding answers, Darrin Kozlowski realized right once that something was amiss.
The final seven months of Kozlowski’s life were spent steadily entering and gaining the confidence of the Vagos, LA’s most vicious motorcycle gang (also known as “Koz”). He realized his secret had been out.
As a rookie officer, it was his first prolonged undercover investigation, and as far as motorcycle gangs went, the Vagos “were as terrible as outlaw motorcycle gangs get.”
He said, “We’re talking about drug trafficking, the selling of illicit firearms, and any other money-making enterprises.”
Kozlowski, 57, was an undercover operative with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives for over three decades (ATF). 157 federal arrests were made as a consequence of his knowledge of covert operations throughout the course of his distinguished career until he resigned in 2017.
His narrative is now the subject of a brand-new written Audible Original podcast called KOZ, including interviews with the actual Darrin “Koz” Kozlowski in addition to voiced performances by Taylor Kitsch and Kate Mara.
Kozlowski is not free to talk openly about his time spent working undercover with the ATF due to his personal safety and the protection of others who are currently operating in the field. However, he is open about his encounter with the Los Angeles Vagos, which he claims almost resulted in his death.
He said to LA Magazine in 2018 that the Vagos “were a tight-knit fraternity renowned for their crazy parties, drinking, prostitution, counterfeiting, narcotics, you name an illicit activity and they’re definitely doing it.”
In 1997, Kozlowski had just relocated from the ATF office in Milwaukee to Los Angeles together with his wife, kid, and unborn child. He was up on the rough South Side of Chicago and graduated from Western Illinois University with a bachelor’s degree in law enforcement.
By the time he was sent to the west coast, Kozlowski had developed a fascination with motorcycle gangs and suggested to his superiors that he look into the organizations in charge of the larger Los Angeles area.
Since the ATF’s undercover operations in that area were still in their infancy, there wasn’t any formal policy or precedent about how to infiltrate motorcycle groups.
He lacked a cover crew, and the LA Sheriff’s Department’s limited connections would be his main source of assistance.
Kozlowski dressed the part and carried himself accordingly while doing the job: “I learned to ride on a friend’s Honda, then managed to obtain a Harley that ATF had confiscated, a Fat Boy with straight handlebars, no windscreen, and no saddlebags,” he recalled to Los Angeles Magazine in 2018.
I rode to motorcycle bars and gatherings. I attempted to comprehend the scenario, let my hair grow, and dressed the part.
Spanish slang for a person who does nothing all day is “vagos,” also known as a vagabond or vagrant.
The organization was founded in 1965 in the Inland Empire and now has 200 branches nationwide and more than 4,000 members.
They are blatantly misogynistic, homophobic, racist, and sexist. Black people are not welcome at the club, despite the fact that Hispanics are officially permitted. Women are treated as possessions and want to satisfy men. Those designated are identified by a patch with the words “property of” and the name of the biker who owns them.
In the late 1990s, Kozlowski began investigating the Vago family because he thought they were responsible for a number of unsolved murders. However, he soon learned that they were also involved in racketeering, the distribution of meth from Mexico, the purchase and sale of illegal weapons, money laundering, and counterfeiting.
And they were expanding quickly. Kozlowski explains, “That’s the outlaw motorcycle gang way.” “Recruit, increase, and expand into new territory by any means necessary.”
A denim or leather vest is a staple of the biker look. The demonic-looking Norse god of mischief Loki is represented by the Vagos logo on the back of their riding vests, making them an instantly recognizable totem in the closed-off, hierarchical world of motorcycle clubs.
According to Kozlowski in the podcast, they also proudly display a green diamond-shaped patch that reads “1%” to show that they “don’t live like the other 99% of all motorcycle enthusiasts.”
They are propagating the idea that they disregard social norms and therefore identify as outlaws. They do that deliberately to let everyone know that they couldn’t care less what they think.
The Loki logo can only be worn by full-fledged Vagos members, and getting patched in requires extensive screening.
Kozlowski faced a challenging task.
He identified himself as Koz, his true name, to the Vagos branch in Hollywood. He said to LA Magazine, “I felt that if someone questioned, I could claim that it was short for “Kamikaze” because of how I rode my Harley or some b******t like that.” “I wanted a name that made me feel something,” she said.
The clubhouse was situated on a side street named Kenmore Avenue in the center of Hollywood. The fortress-style white cinder block structure had no windows, a massively reinforced steel door, and a chain link fence with a loop of razor wire around the top.
Inside, there was a fully equipped bar with tables, seats, stripper poles, and a music system where they often hosted a party named “Green Hell” that lasted from 2am until 6am.
The first stage is to be accepted as a “hang around,” which enables you to “hang about” the clubhouse doing duties such as stocking the bar and staffing the door during events. Kozlowski remarked on the podcast, “If they liked you, you could ride with them sometimes.”
A person is promoted to “prospect” after they have proven themselves, which effectively implies “they own you.” The first of three patches worn on the Vagos vest is the “bottom rocker,” which you receive as an official prospect.
He says on the podcast that if you make it through that, “they take a vote and if you measured up, you are promoted to full patch.” You are ultimately given access to the club’s inner workings at that point, when you are permitted to attend “church.”
Outlaw motorcycle gangs refer to their regular chapter gatherings as “church.”
When an informant he had been courting by the name of “Junior” perished in a terrible hit-and-run accident on Sunset Boulevard, Kozlowski suffered his first professional setback.
Although Junior wasn’t an official hang-around, she said, “I was playing the long game because I wanted him to get his patch and he’d be able to vouch for me so I could attempt to get mine.”
Later, Kozlowski’s connection to Junior would lead to his demise and the blowing of his cover inside Vagos.
Kozlowski recalls the first time he was asked to an officer’s meeting in Las Vegas after spending four months as a “hang about.”
According to his recollection, “They ride in close order, wheel to wheel and essentially shoulder to shoulder—ranking members up front, rank-and-file in the center, followed by prospects, and then the hang-arounds at the rear, choking on fumes and dust.”
He was given the opportunity to submit an official potential application there, in a leased VFW hall.
They questioned, “Are you prepared to murder for the club?”
They do background checks as part of the procedure, request Social Security numbers, driver’s licenses, and payment for a private investigator.
Outlaw motorcycle gangs make the process of joining quite formal, the man stated.
Kozlowski eventually received the bottom rocker of the patch with the words “SoCal” on it after some “head games.” He had 30 minutes to have it stitched into his vest, they informed him.
It was a genuine skull, not a false memento that you might get from a store. There was still some debris on it, including maybe hair and tissue fragments.
He said that later, when enmeshed with the Warlocks, he was told to always have a sewing kit with him. I believe that the only criminals on Earth who have a needle and thread on hand are one percenters.
Since you are now a part of them, he said, achieving prospect rank is essentially a step backward. They just refer to you as “prospect” and never longer use your name.
Koz was then subjected to a rigorous hazing procedure in which he was taught to be completely dependent on his superiors. They will push you to the extent of what you are capable of and what you are not.
He told LA Magazine, “They phoned me a lot.” Anything from “Hey, prospect, mow my lawn” to “Hey, prospect, deliver this item to Big Rick’s residence” may be spoken.
Saying “no” was out of the question.
As part of his fabricated biography, Kozlowski omitted to include a genuine job; “They believed I had tons of spare time when, in reality, I had a family at home.” This was one of his first beginner blunders.
The hardest part of being undercover proved to be juggling job and family obligations.
“You really have three lives: your undercover persona, your family persona, and the persona as a law enforcement officer, performing the paperwork and behaving like a respectable civil servant,” a persona as a law enforcement officer might say.
At the time, Kozlowski’s family—which consisted of his wife, a toddler, and a newborn on the way—dwelt in the Simi Valley suburbs while he spent six nights a week living out of a rented Hollywood apartment.
He told DailyMail.com, “My wife and family knew, but they didn’t always receive all the exact facts.” His neighbors believed he put in a lot of time at LAX working in baggage services.
At the same time, he was missing crucial turning points in his children’s life because of the Vagos.
Adopting a particular look that deviates from the norm has always been difficult, he told DailyMail.com. When they didn’t know me, some people would speculate about the kind of person I was and pass judgment.
He did not fit in with the suburban crowd because of his long, shaggy hair, beard, dirty clothing, steel-toed boots, and complete sleeve of tattoos.
Being among criminals who have the potential to kill at any time is stressful, especially when you are always concerned that your cover may be discovered, according to the speaker.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve attended events at my children’s schools only to see parents and teachers avoid eye contact with me. He told LA Magazine, “If I wanted to blend in, I’d dress a little better, but I was barely clean-cut.
Fortunately, my wife was a sweetie, so when they trusted her, it gradually filtered into me.
It wasn’t easy dealing with management either. They demanded results more quickly than I was able to provide them, and they were unaware—at least not in a meaningful way—that each time I was with the Vagos, I might have perished.
When he was working the front door at a Green Hell party, he almost lost his life when a member of the rival Armenian Power gang fought them after they tried to kick him out.
Koz led the thug to the street with a few Vagos bikers to “smash” his head into a parked car, saying, “I knew I had to put hands on him to avoid blowing my cover.”
A drive-by shooting occurred a few days later when Koz was attending church. He was standing outside the gate when the bullets began flying over his head.
He admitted to DailyMail.com that there were too many horrific incidents to count, but that being almost shot was among the most terrifying. Despite feeling helpless at the time, all I could think was how lucky I was to be alive after the shooting.
It’s really stressful, he said, “just continuously being among criminals who you know have the power to commit murder at any given time.” “Your cover might be blown at any moment,” he continued.
Kozlowski’maybe 60%’ of the time had an ATF cover crew in place.
However, he continues, “a cover team can’t actually help you in this sort of duty; it only sometimes keeps an eye out and cleans up if things go wrong.”
He spent the most of his time with the Vagos transporting goods, often illicit weapons and narcotics, from one location to another.
He mentally recorded each action, word said, address, license plate, and name of the top brass.
According to him in LA Mag, the only reason it didn’t make him crazy was because he was too busy trying to balance everything, keep it all straight, and survive.
Kozlowski also remembers the day he was operating undercover with the Vagos when the LAPD detained him for stirring disturbance at a rival gang’s neighborhood hangout.
“I had to make it look legitimate because I was the only guy who got arrested.”
He was handcuffed because he was in possession of a gun—his service weapon—that was concealed in his waistband.
Once he was in his detention cell, he told the authorities who he really was, but only that turned out to be the easy part. Koz was aware that “Tiny Dan,” a prominent Vagos member who also served as a juvenile probation officer, had a connection at the police station’s front desk.
According to him, a fingerprint check would have revealed his true identity because it is cross-referenced with an FBI database. “If she had known my true identity, she could have revealed it.”
Fortunately, Tiny Dan was unaware and helped him out the following morning.
The ATF coordinated behind the scenes with the court to support the hoax and “make everything seem by the numbers.” Koz was found guilty of carrying a concealed firearm in court and given a two-year probationary period. He said that the whole incident “earned me more street cred.”
Veterans of World War II who had just returned home founded the first motorcycle clubs. According to Koz on the podcast, “That explains the military-like structure, the rules and bylaws, and the hierarchy of ranks in the clubs.”
A line of command that comprises a president, vice president, secretary, and sergeant of arms governs local chapters.
The only really American-made criminal organization is an outlaw motorcycle gang.
The Italian mafia, the Japanese yakuza, and the Chinese Triad are just a few of the criminal organizations that have been introduced into the United States. Biker gangs originated in the United States and have now spread all over the globe.
Kozlowski was ultimately properly “patched-in” to the Vagos gang during a ceremony that took place on a large property close to San Bernardino seven months into the investigation.
While Koz manned the entrance gate of a huge gravel driveway, hundreds of Vagos from neighboring chapters ransacked the area.
Finally, Kozlowski remembers someone shouting, “Prospect, come back here,” during the gathering. Bring your bike, too.
A threatening cabinet of senior Vagos officials was positioned in a horseshoe arrangement at the end of the lengthy driveway. They attacked Kozlowski by pushing, shoving, and assaulting him just as he was about to lower the kickstand. Their steel-toed boots were all he could focus on.
“Did I make a mistake? Do they know I’m a police officer undercover? I was relieved to not be wearing a wire. The pounding abruptly ceased after a few minutes, which, in his words, “felt like hours,” and Lars, the chapter president, gave him his whole patch.
Kozlowski reported seeing his cover team keeping an eye on him as the Vagos proceeded to the highway in close formation after departing the weekend events. They anticipated that he would be riding further back, as he always did. He was positioned in the middle of the rank-and-file this time.
They started high-fiving one another when they saw me for the first time. He received a patch! Koz recalled, “He’s in!
He does recall having a peculiar sense of pride in having won the respect and acceptance of this band of ruffians.
As Koz rose through the ranks of the Vagos, he came into contact with a man by the name of “Big Rick,” a frightening-looking man in his late thirties with a long ponytail, a Fu Manchu mustache, and an air of authority that said, “Nobody f***s with me.” He was a sergeant at arms for the international forces.
Koz said, “We’d go out and play darts and drink beer.” Like Al Pacino in Donnie Brasco, Rick started to act as a kind of “sponsor” for him.
Kozlowski said, “Absolutely,” when asked whether he ever felt guilty about misleading these men. Without having some sort of human-personal connection to other members of the gang, you cannot conduct long-term infiltration undercover work.
“No robot can activate or deactivate an emotional switch.” You must establish connections and ingratiate yourself.
After becoming a fully patched member, he claimed, “The six or seven months of work—the burden on myself and my family—all of it was paying off.”
Then everything collapsed.
Lars (the club president) arrived at his front door two weeks later and demanded explanations.
Koz was instructed to come back wearing his patch and vest “until further notice.”
Koz rang his cover team right away to request that they get him out of the flat. The procedure was complete.
He spent the next two months assembling all the information he had gathered, which finally resulted in over a dozen arrests, back at the ATF headquarters.
Federal agents discovered a human skill wrapped in plastic after one of the searches. The skull was genuine human bone. He mentioned in the podcast that the skull was fresh and not some false memento that could be purchased from a store. There was still debris on it, maybe including hair and body fragments.
He told LA Magazine, “Looking back, I was fortunate.”
As it turned out, Kozlowski’s cover was completely blown by an event when Junior’s girlfriend ran into several Vagos members. She handed them a business card with Agent Kozlowski’s contact information and said that Junior had been employed by ATF before he passed away.
Back in Washington, D.C., he received formal recognition for his efforts with the Vagos.
He told Audible: ‘When this case was done in LA, my first inclination was I wasn’t going to be doing anymore of these type of cases.’
Instead, Kozlowski assisted in the development of the ATF’s improved undercover program.
Later, while operating undercover, he would infiltrate three more motorcycle gangs, leading to more arrests and convictions.
Although there are drawbacks to the work, he told DailyMail.com that his “favorite aspect” was “knowing you are able to have an effect by going into a known criminal group that no one else has been able to accomplish as an overt law enforcement officer.”