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When the news broke that Appleby had apparently been subject to a major unauthorised release of data, sharply suited business leaders across the world anxiously bit their nails as the heavy shadow of the impending 1.4TB of information – 13.4million documents in all – began to descend.
What would the papers reveal? On November 6, the headlines hit.
First, they came for Lewis Hamilton and the cast of Mrs Brown’s Boys, “THE TAX DODGE PARASITES.” The Queen was next in the firing line, for the millions her estate had invested in the Cayman Islands: “ONE’S CASH IS ORF-SHORE.” And it wasn’t long before they came for Charles too: “PRINCE CHARLES’S ESTATE PUMPS MILLIONS OFFSHORE.” Then the biggie: “APPLE’S SECRET TAX BOLTHOLE REVEALED.”
But peppered throughout the coverage were continual nods to the fact that none of the apparent ‘scandal’ was actually illegal. As Jersey came under the international microscope, it turned out that it was a compliant jurisdiction… and when that emerged, those shiny stories started losing their shimmer, and readers, one by one, began to show signs of ‘revelation’ fatigue.
So, where’s the real juice? The States Police’s Financial Crimes Unit receives more than 2,000 Suspicious Activity Reports (SARs) per year. Is it really just tax, tax, tax, and allegations about the perfectly legal activities of high-profile people and companies? Not at all. Delve into the police files and an intriguing cast of characters emerges. Career conmen, political officials, gold diggers, and dial-a-scams have all tried their hand at swindling the island.
#ParadisePapers - 13.4 million documents, 94 media partners, more than 120 politicians and world leaders. https://t.co/lHHyt9eLTS pic.twitter.com/mecTosLSxD
— ICIJ (@ICIJorg) November 5, 2017
Connect Magazine explored 11 potential financial crimes…were it not for some savvy account scrutinisers. Details, such as names, in the stories, have all been changed...
£200,000 was paid into a local bank, and then immediately into an investment bond. Years went by, and the funds were left untouched – even though the bond was marketed as being accessible at any time. That £200k was very well-travelled – it had come from Prague, then was transferred to Dusseldorf before landing in Jersey. So why the transfers?
The funds belonged to Mr Vrazda – a convicted murderer serving time behind bars abroad. He killed an elderly man, before forging details on insurance documents, which is where the money came from. Mr Vrazda remains in jail, and the money is subject to confiscation by the overseas jurisdiction.
When a trust company did a little Googling about a company they administered, they came across some shocking revelations about its beneficial owners. On the outside, they were respectable through their business interests in Russia, but both had been implicated in crimes. One had been arrested for smuggling high-value yachts into Russia via the UK. Another was awaiting a UK trial for alleged involvement into the trafficking of teenage girls, who had been brought to the UK to be sexually exploited.
Concerned that their client’s wealth could be the result of criminality, the trust company submitted a SAR. That information was passed onto the Russian authorities, who commenced further investigations into the potentially dangerous duo.
Mr Harrod and Mr Richmond swanned into Jersey on the premise that they were high-net-worth individuals. “We’ll invest millions,” they said. “Don’t you worry.” But the authorities did start to worry. When they applied to open an account in a local bank, they suddenly became reluctant to share where their millions came from. UK bank statements showed they did have an account, but it was opened very recently.
They indicated that they were ready to invest four million pounds – or was it six or seven million? In conversations with the institution, they couldn’t seem to decide. All they wanted were cheque books, credit cards and guarantee cards – they showed interest in little else, including interest rates. They weren’t even interested when the institution accidentally sent their application forms to the wrong address and their confidential information was released. This was their undoing.
The company declined their business - and lucky they did. They’d been targeting each of the island’s institutions, with a different story every time. After their behaviour was shared with the UK authorities, it emerged that the pair were career conmen and already subject to a large-scale fraud investigation.
A trust company bank was checking over its accounts for ‘politically exposed people’ (PEPs) – that is, those in a prominent public role, at high risk of bribery and corruption. Their checks turned up Mr Nevinnyy, a Russian PEP who was apparently wanted by the Russian authorities. Lucky for Mr Nevinnyy, lengthy enquiries by the Financial Crimes Unit proved that those charges had been dropped – he was the likely subject of a politically-fuelled attack.
When you cash a cheque, banks operate on the good faith that the depositors aren’t up to funny business. The money becomes immediately available before the cheque has even cleared and money has left the account from which it’s drawn. Fraudsters love this loophole, which is known as ‘cheque kiting’; it means they can hide behind a never-ending line of transfers - never-ending, that is, until someone finds out.
Mr Maqamir tried to ‘fly the kite’ in Jersey. He forged a cheque to dump £350k from a Saudi Arabian bank to a local one. There was little suspicion because he already held £5,000 legitimate money in that account. But before the fakery was spotted, he used online banking to send £150,000 to a London casino to pay off his gambling debts.
But with no face-to-face business conducted, authorities are now faced with an issue: how can they prove the elusive Mr Maqamir was really behind the deals and not someone using his name…when they’ve never met?
Frank seemed like your average student - he’d just got his first part-time job, and had opened an account to keep his modest savings of around £50 per week. But the bank submitted an SAR when they started to sense a stink: higher cash deposits than expected were flowing in thick and fast - one in excess of £7,000.
Frank was clearly irritated when questioned, but failed to properly account for his growing cash stash. That SAR later became a puzzle piece in a drugs trafficking investigation.
When Mr Valentîn opened his emails one day, he didn’t expect them to lead to the woman of his dreams. They soon developed a relationship, and plans were made for her to leave her native Africa - but first, she’d need a helping pound (or several). Authorities became suspicious after spotting Mr Valentîn’s increasing outgoings and loan application. Those transfers even continued long after his balance entered negative figures. Investigations revealed that two individuals had visited the island to place pressure on him to continue paying until the Police stepped in. A costly conclusion for the loan-ly heart.
Mr Brown had tried to transfer thousands to his childhood friend from the same village, Mr Humble. Mr Humble wasn’t so sure why, but he wanted to help his friend, who he believed to be suffering with illness in the US.
But the banks questioned the transaction when they couldn’t reach Mr Brown to verify it. They couldn’t get to his two daughters either - one was apparently working in the UAE, while another was tending to her terminally ill boyfriend. Attempts to reach Mr Brown’s former close work associate, Boris, were equally fruitless. Desperate to help, Mr Humble asked the bank if there were any other ways to help his childhood pal.
The bank’s subsequent suspicions led to a complex set of revelations: Mr Brown, who had lived both in Estonia and the US, had been recently convicted on drugs charges, as had his ‘colleague’.
He’d been offered a seductive sum if he could shift $200m of radioactive material ready for use in dirty bombs on behalf of Estonian sellers. He attempted to sell in the US, and was made an offer of payment in cash and cocaine, but he refused because the sellers only wanted cash. His colleague thought it was an offer not to be missed, however, and arranged a buyer for the £8m of cocaine in the UK. This led to a complex sting, and Mr Brown was extradited. Before Boris was extradited too, he wanted to ensure that the US authorities wouldn’t learn about the pair’s Jersey-held funds. He tried to appoint Mr Brown’s two daughters as ‘authorised agents’, but fudged the identity paperwork.
Mr Humble remained none the wiser.
They say a Jerseyman and his money are not easily parted, but what if just £3,000 got you a share of £2million? Such was the case for 80-year-old Mr Mullard. He’d been invited to enter a ‘no win no fee’ lottery, and couldn’t believe his luck when he found out he won. There was the little matter that he hadn’t seen his ticket, but the jovial Canadian on the end of the line ensured that all was in order, and he promptly sent off two payments of £1,500. But the truth of his maple nation lottery success wasn’t so sweet. Canada is, in fact, a global centre for lottery scams - and Mr Mullard was one of its many victims.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt, having previously lost £10,000 in similar circumstances - and it certainly wouldn’t be his last. Just months later, he sent £28,000 to Taiwan. This time, his bank tried to recall the funds, but the pensioner threatened to sue if they didn’t approve the transfer. Little did he realise that, once again, he’d been ensnared by a lotto scam. Well, fool him once…
What appeared to be a respectable foundation dedicated to lending money to ailing African states to be later paid back in oil, began to arouse suspicions of slippery dealings.
The foundation received $33million from a London oil trader - an expected payment from a government for humanitarian work the charity had undertaken. One month later, however, the foundation asked the local institution holding the money to transfer $18million to an oil supplier in the country. The reason, they said, was that the government had put their work on hold and needed the money back.
But the person requesting the funds, it emerged, was top dog of the marketing arm of the state oil company. Moreover, he was the President’s son.
The pair have been frequently alleged to engage in corruption and abuse of power and, in this instance, were suspected of planning to divert the cash into their own accounts.
Criminals who leave prison with hopes of a fresh start are to be commended, but there’s little point in wiping the slate clean if it’s going to be muddied again in a new jurisdiction. The (not so talented) Mr Ripley, a former fraudster, didn’t seem to get that message. He and his significant other got in contact with a local estate agent purporting to be high-net-worth residents hunting for a home - and only the best would do.
Their mission to find the perfect (£15million plus) home began with emails to the estate agents in which Mr Ripley detailed his business background and alleged source of wealth. A quick Google later, however, and staff soon realised that they’d been tricked. Up popped a picture of Mr Ripley after having served a prison sentence for fraud offences. Then a further search unveiled the couple’s small UK house.
When challenged, he simply said he was being impersonated. The company decided not to take their chances.
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