"Monster" and "Monk," members of the Mongols motorcycle gang, were at Chuck E. Cheese's family-friendly pizza restaurant in San Diego last year when they ran into a rival -- a member of the Hells Angels.
This offense of proximity prompted the Mongols to attack their enemy and, more important, according to the criminal indictment, snatch his gang attire -- the jacket with the bad-boy patches and logos that separates outlaw bikers from your average dad choking down cheese pizza in a black leather vest.
This scene, violent and ridiculous, sums up the politics of patches in outlaw motorcycle gangs. It shows the symbolic weight the emblems carry for outlaw bikers, and why the federal government's new ploy to strip the Mongols of their trademarked insignia will hit the bikers where it hurts -- if it works, if it is not ultimately found to be a violation of free speech protections.
Sixty-one Mongols in seven states were arrested Tuesday in connection with a federal racketeering indictment that alleges the motorcycle club is involved in crimes from drug trafficking to murder. The most compelling detail to emerge from "Operation Black Rain" is this: Prosecutors won the right Wednesday to bar the indicted Mongols from owning anything bearing their trademarked logo.
The goal, according to Thomas O'Brien, U.S. attorney for the Central District of California, where the Black Rain indictment was filed, is to empower police who spot anyone wearing a Mongols patch to "stop that gang member and literally take the jacket right off his back." It's an unprecedented approach that has civil liberties advocates nervous, and trademark experts skeptical.
And yes, the Mongols' trademark is real: "Mongols" in arching sans serif type is Trademark No. 2916965. The name appears on the back of their biker vests with a cartoon image of a grimacing rider sporting sunglasses and a topknot. The image is worn as a center patch, one of three that make up the gang's entire insignia: the cartoon rider, the word "MONGOLS" above, and the member's geographic chapter below.
These patches are a kind of criminal currency -- a fallen Boy Scouts badge of honor, awarded to Mongols who commit crimes, authorities allege. One gang member named in the Black Rain indictment, for example, was granted permission from the group's president to have the gang's trademark insignia tattooed on his head as a reward. He allegedly shot two members of a rival gang.
Whenever Mongols squared off with rival gangs, they would "threaten to beat or kill them if they do not surrender" their colors, according to the indictment.
Also according to the indictment: Mongols are encouraged and expected to engage in sex acts at Mongols functions or when prearranged "wing parties" are held. They then are rewarded with wing patches with colors that identify the sex acts performed by the member in front of the organization.
No matter how unsavory the patches, however, the question remains: Can the government seize a logo just because it belongs to a criminal gang?
The legal logic goes something like this: The Mongols brand is a registered asset. Much as the government may seize a drug dealer's mansion, or a gang member's Mercedes, the U.S. attorney's office can take over the Mongols trademark, according to O'Brien's spokesman, Thom Mrozek.
The logo, they realize, is the symbol of all things Mongol -- taking the trademark is like capturing the other team's flag.
Law enforcement officers are now being given a "protocol for how to react to displays of the Mongol trademark," Mrozek said. Its unclear just what that protocol will be.
All of this makes civil rights advocates furious.
"It's a total outrage. It violates the First Amendment and it's the most preposterous thing to happen to trademark law I've ever seen," said Maggie McLetchie, staff attorney for the American Civil Liberties Union of Nevada.
"There is no authority for the government to get rid of trademarks. It's more than a twisting of the First Amendment and trademark law. People have a right to express themselves, to say 'I am a member of the Mongols,' to wear symbols they feel they identify with. What this judge did is an outrage."
Take it one step further: If the government gets fed up with the Crips and Bloods gangs, can it ban the colors blue and red, which they use to identify themselves?
The Mongols have registered both their name and the image of the cartoon Ghengis motorcyclist as trademarks. The order U.S. Attorney O'Brien won restraining the sale or display of the gang's logo, however, makes note of only the registered name, not the cartoon. Put simply, they were awarded ownership of the word "Mongols," but not the man on the bike, seemingly because they didn't ask -- or just forgot to.
Still, as long as the word "Mongols," no matter what the typeface, appears somewhere on the club's logo merchandise, the government can still seize it, according to Ryan Gile, a Las Vegas lawyer specializing in trademark and intellectual property law.
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)