On behalf of One Network Wellington Live, we unravel a chilling tale from Stokes Valley, where a 50th birthday bash erupted into a deadly shooting, claiming one life and leaving another hanging by a thread. This story of gang rivalries, a heart-pounding face-to-face clash, and a frantic escape has rocked Wellington’s tight-knit community, raising fears about safety. We dive into court hearings and local whispers to paint a vivid picture of a night in December 2023 that turned celebration into catastrophe.

The night kicked off with joy at a George Street home in Stokes Valley. Friends and family rallied to surprise Robert Huaki Snr, a well-liked local, for his 50th birthday. Rawiri Zane Wharerau and his brother Hemi hosted the party at their place. Tables brimmed with salads, a barbecue smoked, and a haka greeted Huaki Snr. Yet, among the laughter, patched Mangu Kaha gang members, tied to Black Power, lurked. Their presence cast a faint shadow, though the mood stayed light at first.

As drinks flowed, the vibe shifted. Kids went home, and adults grew louder. A man and woman, their names kept secret, arrived late. Both linked to Mangu Kaha, they also had family ties to the Mongrel Mob, a rival gang. This sparked tension. Around midnight, Huaki Snr, loosened by alcohol, flung a nasty jab at them. “You’re nothing but dog s***s,” he sneered, mocking their Mongrel Mob roots. The man’s eyes narrowed. He hated anyone insulting his partner. Still, he bit his tongue—for the moment.

Trouble brewed fast. Huaki Snr allegedly rallied other Mangu Kaha members against the man. To his shock, his own gang mates turned on him. Shoves and shouts broke out. Humiliated, the man decided to bolt. “You’ll hear from the bros,” he growled, promising payback. He and his partner stormed to their car, Rawiri tagging along to cool things down. “He’s just jealous, bro,” Rawiri said, sitting beside him. They drove to the couple’s nearby home, but the night’s fuse was lit.

At their house, the man seethed. Rawiri, sensing danger, asked for a Ruger rifle the man had grabbed from Rawiri’s place earlier. Used for hunting, it belonged to the gang, the man said. He handed it over, his mind racing. The couple planned a holiday up north, but something dragged them back to George Street. They returned, rifle in tow. As they pulled up, a group, including Huaki family members, swarmed their car. The air crackled with menace.

The man jumped out, clutching the gun. Voices yelled, daring him to drop it and fight fair. Outnumbered, he passed the rifle to his partner. Then, chaos exploded. Fists flew, and the man took blows, his teeth chipping. His partner, now armed, leapt in. Amid the scuffle, she allegedly smashed Hemi Wharerau with the rifle’s butt, sending him sprawling, blood pooling. Screams pierced the night. The couple broke free, racing to their car and speeding off, leaving Hemi dazed and Rawiri stunned.

Back home, the man stood in his kitchen, clad in a singlet and underwear, his anger unquelled. His partner crashed into bed. Then, he remembered—a bag with $2000 was still at the party. Fury surged. Rawiri called, urging him to return and “sort it out.” The man saw red. He snatched the rifle again, his partner joining him. They roared back to George Street, ready for war.

This time, the scene turned deadly. As their car screeched to a halt, the man leapt out, gun raised. His partner followed, both wired with rage. They marched up the driveway, where a gazebo sheltered partygoers. The man locked eyes with Huaki Snr under the dim light. It was the moment everything boiled over. “You think you can disrespect me?” the man roared, stepping closer, their faces inches apart. Huaki Snr stood his ground, unflinching. “You’re nothing here,” he spat back. The crowd froze, breath held, as the two men stared each other down, eyes blazing with hate.

The standoff shattered. Someone lunged, and shouts erupted. The man swung the rifle up, accusing the group of stealing his cash. Suddenly, gunshots tore through the night. Bullets sprayed towards the gazebo, where Rawiri and Hemi stood. Rawiri crumpled, a shot ripping through him. Hemi, already hurt, fell too, pain searing his body. Guests screamed, diving for cover. The couple fled, their car vanishing into the dark.

Rawiri lay dead on the ground. Hemi, gasping, felt paralysed but dialled for help. Police flooded George Street after 2 a.m., finding one man gone and another clinging to life. Rawiri, just 39, was lost forever. Hemi, 41, reached hospital for urgent surgery. Stokes Valley reeled. Mayor Campbell Barry called it “deeply unsettling,” vowing extra police patrols. Locals, usually so close, felt shaken to their core.

The couple kept running. Texts later revealed a terrifying truth—a hit was out on the man’s life. He claimed he only learned of Rawiri’s death through those messages. They grabbed their child days later, but freedom slipped away. In January, police nabbed them outside Wellington. Now, they face trial in the High Court, charged with murder and attempted murder. The woman also denies assaulting Hemi.

In court, the man told his side. He admitted firing the gun but swore he never meant to kill Rawiri, a mate and gang brother. “They were coming for me,” he said, recalling the group’s advance during that eye-to-eye clash. His lawyer argued recklessness, not murder. The woman’s lawyer insisted she didn’t shoot or egg him on. Both plead not guilty, their futures uncertain as Justice Dale La Hood hears the case.

Witnesses brought the night alive. A sober driver described the couple’s fury, the man waving a “long, skinny” gun. Hemi, testifying, spoke of being shot and struck, denying gang beef sparked the fight. A young woman’s account faced scrutiny, with lawyers hinting she stretched the truth. Rawiri and Hemi’s families watched, hearts heavy, as the courtroom buzzed with raw emotion.

Stokes Valley still hurts. Neighbours recall the blue police tent and cordoned path that grim morning. Some clung to each other, seeking solace. MP Chris Bishop labelled it “awful” for the Hutt Valley, a place weary of violence. Doors now lock tighter, with gang shadows looming larger. Yet, hope flickers, as locals lean on community strength to mend.

The trial rolls on, with more voices to come. Did the man shoot to kill in that fiery face-off, or was it chaos gone wrong? Did his partner fuel the violence, or was she swept up? Rawiri’s loved ones grieve a vibrant soul. Hemi battles scars, haunted by a night meant for joy. Wellington waits, praying justice soothes a shattered suburb.

This tragedy screams a stark lesson—gang loyalties and grudges can torch happiness in seconds. As Stokes Valley heals, its spirit endures, fighting to restore peace. One Network Wellington Live stands by them, sharing their pain to honour the fallen and remind us life’s fragility.