Deporting a gangster

should be  easier it seems. After what I had to say yesterday one of my readers left me an email and asked me to comment on the possible deportation of a "career criminal bikie". 
He's apparently survived five assassination attempts by rivals here and still hasn't managed to learn how to behave himself. I don't know whether that is extreme good luck, exaggeration, or something else.
I have met some "bikie" types in my time. The first three I met were headed for the magistrate's court. They were familiar with the children's court and, this time around, it looked like time inside. I was asked to go along because the magistrate wanted to try something different. Perhaps he sensed something different about those three. I don't know. They scared me a bit. They were big. They had long hair, tattoos, and "attitude". They ignored me. I was a mere kitten, not worth noticing. 
But the magistrate knew that I knew people who needed help - in a country far away. In court he gave the three a choice. They could go inside or they could have the adventure of a life time but it would be a tough adventure and, if they failed, they would be inside for the maximum time allowed. I think everyone was startled. Certainly the magistrate's court was quiet, very quiet.
They went off on the "adventure" which involved going to the far away country and building a small hospital under the most difficult of conditions. Since then they have been away three times - each time to do a specific task in a complex humanitarian emergency or disaster situation. They go with their own kit, their own tools, their own food, and their own shelter. They have some idea what to expect now. 
But the first "adventure" turned boys who might have been career criminals into useful citizens.
It wouldn't work for everyone but the magistrate must have known something.
I have met other bikies as well. There's the one in the wheelchair because he had broken his back coming off his bike at speed. His mates still take him out. They tell me I'll be "all right" around them because I did a lot of paperwork for him.There's the one who cried and hugged me when his profoundly disabled daughter told him via her new communication board,  "Daddy I love you." 
And there are the two who turned up to help an elderly man move into a nursing home. I eyed them with great suspicion but they told me, "Just returning a favour."  I never found out what the favour was but they were reluctant to even accept a cup of tea. 
Not so long ago one of the roughest looking individuals I have ever seen rode up on a Harley Davidson and asked me if I knew where a certain business was. I told him it had recently closed. He swore and then said, "Sorry, shouldn't swear in front of a lady."
They have their own code of conduct. I wouldn't trust most of them because I am, thankfully, not part of their community. But, they look after their families and each other in their own way. Given the chance some of them will care for the rest of the community too. I don't know about the one they want to deport - perhaps they should have tried sooner.