Alright my trusty readers ! It’s time to buckle up! If you’re ready for a narrative that’s both deeply compelling and truly surprising, you’ve come to the right place. Today, I’m sharing a True Story from my own life. I hope you find it as impactful to read as it was for me to live.

A Family’s Truth: The Two Lives of Terry Watts

Disclaimer: This narrative is a deeply personal family account, reflecting our recollections, memories, and the emotional impact of events that unfolded. While it intertwines with publicly known facts, it represents our family’s truth and reconciliation with a complex and tragic history. Setting the record straight.

Please note: While most names in this story are part of public record, the names of Terry’s wife and son have been changed to Elara and Emilio Jr. to protect their privacy.

It was the early 70s, and I was skiing at Silver Star Resort in Vernon, B.C., buzzing with the energy of a big competition that had just wrapped up. Lost in my own world, I inadvertently crossed paths with a blur of speed – a skier rocketed down the mountainside. We almost had a serious collision, but luckily, only the tip of my skis snagged his, sending him careening out of control into a massive wall of powder. For those who aren’t avid skiers, “powder” is that perfect cloud of white, fluffy, deep snow, the ultimate oasis after a fresh snowfall. It’s the heavens, it’s just, “Sweet!”

I remember calling out, “Sorry man! You okay?” Back in the 70s, we all looked and talked like modern versions of hippies, so that was standard. Terry dug himself out, snapped his boots back into his skis, and with a casual grin, said, “Yeah man, everything’s cool! I got it.” And with that, he was off down the hill.

Terry was something else. Any girl would have called him handsome; with his fair complexion, full, curling reddish-blond hair, striking blue eyes, and standing around six feet tall, he could easily have been a candidate for today’s “Thunder from Down Under.” He was a definite hit with the ladies. I thought that would be the last I’d ever see of him. Little did I know, my stepmom, Betty, who came into my life after my own mom died when I was 12 years old, would eventually marry his dad, Peter Watts, also from Vernon, B.C.

Peter Watts worked for BC Hydro across British Columbia, and before settling in Vernon, they’d lived in Rossland, B.C., home to Olympic Gold medalist Nancy Greene. Living deep in ski country, Terry, a true daredevil, took to racing. It wasn’t long before he became an accomplished downhill skier, getting his first big break during races on Red Mountain in Rossland. His talent quickly caught the eye of the Canadian Ski Team after he placed second, even matching professional skier Miller that same year in Cervinia, Italy. His dad, Peter, was his avid supporter, a constant presence at his multiple races.

By 1973, Terry’s skill was undeniable, and he became a member of the National Ski Team. Everything was looking up, a bright future stretching before him. Until one day, the team found a stash of marijuana on him. Just like that, his time with the National Ski Team came to an abrupt halt.

But this didn’t deter Terry Watts.

He decided to move to Vancouver, wanting to be closer to the vibrant skiing circuit in Whistler. It wasn’t long before he became a professional speed skier, competing on the circuit from Whistler to Colorado, starting in 1977. In 1980, his friend and fellow professional skier, Kent Wills, helped Terry organize a recreational speed-skiing tour, the “Canada Cooler Dash” series.

From April 19-25, 1982, he competed in the Camel International Speed Skiing Championships on San Juan Mountains, in Silverton, Colorado, an event aptly named “Velocity Peaks.” The goal was to break the world speed record of 125.77 mph, held by Steve McKinney of the United States. Before the competition, Terry, ever confident, would boast, “We’ll go to 135 easy, but it’ll be tough after that…” In the end, it was Franz Webber who won, breaking Steve McKinney’s seven-year world record streak. Even though Terry Watts had previously tied Franz Webber at a speed of 125.954 mph, Franz ultimately secured the victory at 126.238 mph.

Then, in 1985, headlines across the world celebrated his triumph: “Terry Watts won the World Cup title, with his personal best 202.7 km/h, placing four fastest worldwide!” Terry famously boasted, “All the craziness of everyday life is worth it for the one pure moment when everything is perfect…” His resume looked impeccable:

• Terry Watts

• Professional skier, started his career in Rossland, BC

• Speed Skier since 1977

• One of the founding members of ISSCA

• A member of the National Ski Team 1973

• President of ISSA Competitors Association

• World Cup Title

Back home, we were all ecstatic, convinced Terry was on top of the world. But then, quietly, insidiously, came a darker side no one in the family even suspected.

The Dark Side

Somehow, during his time in Vancouver, it was rumoured that Terry got involved with the mafia – specifically, the Gentile family. He allegedly operated as a stockbroker, but secretly, he was deeply entrenched in the international drug cartel business. His alleged partners in crime included stock-fraudster-turned-drug-dealer David Ward, Ray Ginnetti, and Assa Manhas. It was also hinted that Martin Chambers, a prestigious lawyer, dominated the top of this criminal food chain; RCMP officers even referred to Martin as the “Lex Luthor of crime” in B.C.

Whatever dark dealings were unfolding, Terry’s family had absolutely no clue. As far as his dad, Peter Watts, knew, his son was simply a successful stockbroker, earning the wealth that fed his love for downhill speed skiing. This was Terry’s only explanation for his sudden riches and flashy new cars, which always came with a steady stream of new girlfriends at his side.

Every time he visited his dad in Vernon, B.C., Betty and Peter were married and living on Mission Hill, he’d arrive with another flashy sports car and a new girlfriend under his arm. I’d show up a couple of times, admiring his BMW and his “sexy” girlfriend, thinking, “Geez, Terry is one lucky guy…” Little did I realize the true implications of his riches.

On one visit, Terry even mentioned a “really good investment” in a gold mine somewhere in British Columbia, claiming it was so profitable that he convinced his dad to invest. But looking back, it’s more probable Peter simply wanted to help his son.

A few years later, the incredible news broke: Terry Watts was busted by the RCMP for possible money laundering during a drug sting. He was allegedly caught at the airport with over $125,000 cash in a couple of suitcases. At the time, it wasn’t really verified; my stepmom dismissed it as “a complete fairytale!” Believing her, I didn’t think much of it, assuming it was nothing more than a misunderstanding. But a year later, I heard Terry was living in Venezuela.

Shocked, I asked my stepmom, “What’s up with Terry in Venezuela?”

Betty told me he’d found a gold mine opportunity he just couldn’t pass up.

Confused, I reiterated, “He’s living in Venezuela then?”

Yes, it was true. Not only was he living there, he’d gotten married! His new wife’s name was Elara (not her real name). Soon after, Betty and Peter were invited to visit the new bride and see the gold mine somewhere in Venezuela. Little did we know at the time, Terry’s real reason for fleeing to South America was to escape mounting drug debts.

Just before this, my stepmom had retired. Both Peter and Betty had become typical snowbirds, heading to sunny Arizona to escape the Canadian winters. Seizing the opportunity to visit Terry, Peter and Betty drove to Venezuela to meet Elara. During their visit, Betty mentioned something about the gold mine being heavily guarded by soldiers, rifles at hand. Apparently, there was even a confrontation between a guard and Terry’s wife, Elara. Not speaking any Spanish, my stepmom asked what the problem was, feeling uneasy with so many armed guards. According to her, Elara said the guards were being disrespectful in the presence of her new family.

Year after year, for the next eight or so, Betty and Peter settled in Arizona during the winter months, soaking up their retirement years.

In the 1990s, I decided to take my family on a vacation, mainly to see Betty and Peter in Phoenix, Arizona. Our plane arrived just as fireworks lit up the sky to mark the New Year—perfect timing! After meeting us at the airport, Betty and Peter drove us to our reserved destination, the Phoenix Marriott Tempe at The Buttes. It was a perfect setting, nestled on the hillside with breathtaking panoramic views, just minutes from Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. It was glorious!

All types of cacti, from majestic Saguaros decorated with stylish white Christmas lights to fun-looking Senitas and colorful Beavertail Prickly Pear flowers, adorned the landscape. The resort was an oasis in the middle of the desert, featuring a beautiful waterfall cascading into adjoining pools and outdoor facilities like tennis courts. The room was so inviting, it was truly hard to leave. And the meals were definitely gourmet! Our week with the kids was so relaxing, even if the locals thought we were crazy Canucks swimming in the pool on New Year’s Day, watched by pool staff wearing mitts and coats.

The following week, we stayed at Peter and Betty’s cute little mobile unit in a gated community, perfectly suited for snowbirds. Peter treated us like royalty, taking us across Arizona to scenic hiking spots like Superstition and Camelback Mountain. We also visited a cool restaurant/post called Tortilla Flat and the fun Goldfield Ghost Town. Apparently, Terry was supposed to show up for a visit, but for some reason, he canceled. Our two weeks in Arizona zipped by, just like that. Man! Vacations sure fly when you’re having fun. Going back to the cold winters of the Canadian Great White North was inevitable. Back to the grind, working 14-hour days, six days a week, was a hard pill to swallow. All I thought back then was, “If only I had a promising rich life like Terry.”

But of course, reality quickly set in, tending to my family.

A couple more years passed, and it was now 1996. We heard that Terry and Elara were proud parents of a baby boy, perfectly named Liam Jr. (not his real name). Peter was so proud of being a grandad, adding the new addition to the long family line. On top of this wonderful news, Terry announced he was finally coming back home with Elara and his new son.

I’d never seen Peter and Betty so happy.

So, it was set. They would fly down and stop in Vernon, but first, Terry had some sort of business in Vancouver. This would be the last time we heard from Terry. Apparently, he had a dinner meeting at one of The Keg Restaurants, possibly in West Vancouver, but the exact location isn’t clear. It was during the August long weekend. Towards the evening, Betty received a frantic call from Elara, saying that Terry hadn’t showed up and she was terrified. All alone with a baby in a strange city was more than she could bear. She felt unsafe, so Peter quickly paid for plane tickets to Kelowna. They met Elara and took her to Vernon.

We were all stunned by the news, not really understanding the dreadful implications of the next 48 hours. Elara, Peter, and Betty were talking to the police, filing a “missing persons” report. Every hour was agonizing, the unknown a horrific feeling.

Soon, special forces of the RCMP contacted Elara with the gruesome news: Terry Watts had been found murdered. He was discovered in the trunk of his rented car in Vancouver’s Chinatown district on August 9, 1996. Apparently, he had been shot once, in the back of the head, gangster-style. During this harrowing time, we also became aware that the RCMP was tapping our phone conversations. Honestly, it was almost comical how obvious it was – their technology didn’t seem very high-tech. With all due respect, the RCMP had a job to do; it was part of their investigation to rule our family out. But it’s a stark reminder: never think the police are your friend.

The headlines across the country screamed: “World-class Skier Terry Watts found murdered!” We were all in complete shock, to say the least. His death affected so many family members; it was a very bad year. Media flashed his life story throughout Canada, often saying “bad things” about Terry, but to us, he would always be the fun-loving Terry we personally knew.

Ten years went by, and more reports came in about what happened. The RCMP, FBI, and various other agencies had uncovered an international drug cartel ring, with Vancouver Mafia and Hells Angels also being involved. Soon, Maclean’s March 31st cover story laid it all out: “The origins of the mass murder in Abbotsford, like a spree of other crimes across Canada, lie in a Cali, Colombia-based cocaine trafficking conspiracy…”The article specifically stated, “In fact, Maclean’s has learned, the organization is responsible for more than a dozen, possibly as many as two dozen, murders in Canada, including the August, 1996, shooting of former speed-skiing champion Terry Watts in Vancouver…”

Later, the Metro News, in an article published on February 17, 2015, detailed an investigation codenamed “Bermuda Short,” which involved a bag containing $700,000 handed over to Martin Chambers on a luxury yacht. This resulted in Chambers being sentenced in Florida in 2003 to 15 years and eight months in prison for four counts of money laundering. Apparently, it was alleged by an RCMP officer in a bail hearing in Miami that Martin Chambers, then 75, was suspected of being “associated” with four murders in the Vancouver area, including the murder of former Hells Angels Haney chapter president Ernie Ozolins, former stockbroker-turned-drug-dealer David Ward, former money launderer and stockbroker Terry Watts, and former stockbroker Ray Ginnetti.

Allegations and half-truths, continue to spread like wildfire across the Internet, but it’s always best to pay close attention to those known criminals who will say basically anything if it will get them out of trouble, or just for bragging rights. The real truth, the full conviction of the murderer themselves, is yet to be seen or heard.

What I believe is true: Terry became involved with some truly hardcore criminals, and unfortunately, once in, he couldn’t find a way out. Any mafia or cartel lifestyle is extremely dangerous and totally unpredictable.

A Legacy of Love and Enduring Memories

Public Record

Terry Watts was a loving brother and husband to his family. After Terry died, Peter was never the same; it truly tears anyone apart to see your child taken from you. Peter Watts passed away ten years after Terry, on February 26, 2006.

In Vernon, BC, as a lasting tribute to Terry Watts, Peter and Betty planted a memorial tree, a heartfelt gesture funded by Peter.

My stepmom, Betty Watts (née Coley), born on December 19th, 1931, in Ft. Assiniboine, Alberta, also passed away, to the great sadness of her family, on June 6th, 2015, in Vernon, B.C. She was preceded in death by her beloved husband, Peter, and her stepsons, Terry and Bari. Betty leaves behind a cherished legacy through her daughter, Brenda; stepdaughters Carolyn, Shirley, and Sabrina; as well as many nieces, nephews, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and numerous dear friends. She was so loved and will be missed very much.

Decades have now passed since those pivotal events, and we are now in 2025. The world has changed, and while some of the figures involved have faced justice, the full truth of certain aspects remains with those who lived it.

For our family, the shadows of the past continue to remind us of the immense risks and ultimate costs of that hidden world. Yet, what truly endures are the cherished memories of Terry’s vibrant spirit, Peter’s unwavering support, and Betty’s loving presence. Their stories, held close in our hearts, continue to shape us, serving as a powerful testament to the enduring strength of family bonds against the backdrop of an unpredictable world, right up to this very day.

Bari Marcus Anthony

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