Miguel Lesandro

Name: Miguel Lesandro

Birthplace: Los Santos

DOB: 20 Dec 1963

My family is originally from Havana Cuba. After the Cuba Missile crises, they were extradited to the United States to flee persecution from Fidel Castro’s evil empire because of the information given to the U.S government. 1963 Miguel was Born in Los Santos the only family I knew was my parents and one Uncle who also resided in the U.S.  I always thought my uncle was the coolest dude ever. He rode a Harley and did whatever he wanted to do when he wanted to do it. Except when it came to his Motorcycle friends. He would always drop whatever he was doing to run off and help what he called his brothers.

Fast forward to my 18th Birthday, I joined the Army and became an Armor crewman on a M60A3 main battle tank.  I learned what it meant to trust your battle buddy and what it meant to have each other's 6.  I spent 23 years in the army working my way up the NCO ranks and learning how to fight the M1A1 – A2 main battle tank, deployed to the Southwest Aisa longer than I cared for. Growing up I never had any siblings to look after me other than Bobby, my uncle looked after me and kept my ass out of hot water.  Having been in an armor unit most of my adult life and counting on my Platoon to work as a well-honed fighting force I begin to understand how Bobby felt with his Motorcycle club and all his old Marine buddies.

After I retired from the military I fell into a deep depression. I missed tanking and being with my brothers who I knew I could depend on through thick or thin.  I missed the good times and those times that made you stronger. You know the FUBAR times. I was hanging out in a local tavern known as the Yellow Jack trying to drown my sorrows when a fellow with a Leather vest came walking in. I watched him and noted the same confident swagger that my uncle had. It was that day that I wanted to learn more about this fellow with a patch on his back. I wanted to know if the Brotherhood was the same and if maybe that would fill the void after retirement from the army.

Having been back home for some time, and the brief encounter with the fellow in yellow jack I found a group I thought might fit that bill, Sinister sons. I made it to through the hang around and prospect phase to become a Patched Brother and later on the High table. I am not going to lie it really felt good for a while. Then I started to notice somethings that didn’t set well with me. There was a definite lack of leadership, and this could not have clearer during our encounter with a Gang in the city that called themselves BD. The President would tuck tail and hide during the war that enraged between clubs and that left a bad taste in my mouth.  I never could stomach piss poor leadership or even the lack of. As my uncle use to tell me Lead, Follow, or get the fuck out of the way. He would also say that if all you do is bitch and not come to the table with options or solutions you were part of the problem. So, during a Club Church and having made my way up the ranks to Sgt at Arms I felt it was my duty to bring some of the issues I saw and with me a way ahead, but the President didn’t want to take any personal responsibility, he simply points fingers at everyone but himself. Little did I know many felt the same way I did and when the dust settled ten Brothers hung up their cuts and walked out.

When bad news hits it comes in buckets. My Mother told me that she hadn’t heard from Bobby in some time and was worried. She said she really didn’t know what was going on but knew Bobby had said there was some issues with a group, and he felt there was a nark imbedded, her words I think Puta in the ranks. I went back and read Bobby’s Letters to my mom and found out he was with the group up in Paleto Bay called “The lost MC” he spoke highly of them so I figured that would be a good place to start my search and see if they had seen or heard anything about or from Bobby. To this day No one has heard anything and has shown up. Months have turned to years and nothing.

During this time the ten brothers that had left Sinister sons was called together by John McCree and wanted to know if we wanted to form our own club. It was that day that the wheels of what is now known as Condemned MC begin, and to make a long story short was but the beginning of the story for me. Now president of the Condemned and having left the original chapter with a group of seven and once again starting our adventure and writing our stories, here we are.