A Montreal raver has avoided paying for drugs for nearly three years by using magic tricks, pickpocketing skills and the generosity of intoxicated strangers. Twenty-nine-year-old Tristan "The Amazing Trizzini" Gagnon attends parties carrying nothing but an empty fanny pack and leaves with what friends describe as a complete pharmaceutical collection. "Other people spend hundreds of dollars partying," says Tristan. "I spend seven dollars on bus fare and let my hands do the shopping."

Tristan's routine begins when he asks someone for a small amount of whatever they are carrying. Witnesses say borrowed containers frequently return lighter, nearly empty or mysteriously different from when they left their owners' hands. "He borrowed my bag for five seconds, waved his fingers over it and gave it back," says raver Amanda Choquette. "Thirty minutes later, I realized everything inside had been replaced with a useless household powder. He didn't even yell 'abracadabra.' That felt unprofessional."

Other victims say personal dispensers, containers and entire collections have vanished after Tristan offered to perform what he calls "close-up rave magic." A former children's birthday magician, Tristan distracts partygoers with card tricks, disappearing coins, plastic wands and brightly coloured handkerchiefs. Nobody remembers seeing him take anything. They only remember him asking confusing questions, bumping into them and complimenting their outfits moments before their possessions disappeared. "He showed me a coin, asked which hand it was in and then both my pockets were empty," says 25-year-old techno enthusiast Simon Roy. "The coin was gone too. Honestly, the trick had too many endings."

Tristan denies being a thief and describes himself as an alternative-economy illusionist. "The drugs don't belong to anyone once the music starts," he says. "They enter a shared spiritual marketplace where ownership is determined by dexterity." He claims his fanny pack is merely a theatrical prop, despite witnesses seeing him empty it after one party and produce fourteen unidentified packets, six dispensers, three wallets, a cigarette case, someone's apartment keys and a small rubber duck he insists belongs to another magician.

Promoters have repeatedly tried to ban Tristan, but he keeps returning in different costumes and under new stage names, including Professor Ketamino, The Great Bumpini and DJ David Coppersniff. "We threw him out on Friday and he came back Saturday wearing a cape and fake moustache," says promoter Patrick Lemieux. "The disguise was terrible, but he performed a card trick for the door person and somehow ended up on the guest list." Harm-reduction workers warn that tampered or substituted substances can cause poisoning and recommend protecting personal belongings, avoiding unidentified substances and notifying event staff about suspected theft.

Tristan remains active in Montreal's party scene and is believed to be performing at warehouses, clubs and afterparties across the city. Every few weeks, another promoter announces that he has been permanently banned, only for him to reappear somewhere else with a new costume and an empty fanny pack. "People keep saying they're going to make me disappear," says Tristan. "Unfortunately for them, I'm the magician."