Well, look who finally decided to stop fighting the law. Steven Glenn Ryals, the 72-year-old president of the Lubbock chapter of the Bandidos Motorcycle Club—better known by his aggressively relaxing alias, “Hot Tub”—has officially entered a guilty plea for federal meth distribution. Because nothing screams “hardcore outlaw defiance” quite like sitting in a climate-controlled federal courtroom and meekly signing a stack of paperwork.
The plea deal confirms what we already knew: Hot Tub was running a high-grade narcotics operation with the administrative precision of a middle-school secretary. When authorities originally raided the “Bandidos Notorious Warehouse” (which doubles as Ryals’ house, because even outlaw bikers are feeling the housing crisis), they found a giant Ziplock bag stuffed with 1,420 grams of meth. Instead of utilizing a high-tech floor safe or a secret underground bunker, Hot Tub opted to store his stash in a locked drawer of a wooden filing cabinet, neatly organized right next to his biker club memorabilia. You have to admire the commitment to office management; if you’re going to traffic weight, you might as well keep it alphabetized.
But let’s give credit where credit is due: Lubbock might be a flat wasteland of chain restaurants and blowing dirt, but our senior citizen biker gangs apparently have immaculate quality control standards. Lab results revealed the meth was a whopping 98% pure. It turns out Hot Tub wasn’t just some casual dealer; he was the Martha Stewart of West Texas crank. Along with the pure stuff, agents found the classic dealer starter pack scattered around his office: digital scales and tiny plastic baggies. He even had a few extra grams stashed in his personal vehicle, presumably for when he needed a little extra pep in his step while running errands at the grocery store.
If the judge accepts the plea, our geriatric Heisenberg is looking at up to 40 years in federal prison. Since he’s already cruising past his prime at 72, a maximum sentence means he will be eligible for release right around his 112th birthday.
Look on the bright side, Hot Tub: at least in the feds, someone else does the cooking, and you won’t have to worry about paying the electric bill on a warehouse anymore. But do you think the Bureau of Prisons will let him keep his wooden filing cabinet in his cell, or is administrative furniture considered a luxury item?
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