Harry Hindenberg: Not The Life For Me

The latest column from Papakura solicitor Harry Hindenberg

It looks as if it’s been a big news day, but I’ve really struggled to keep track of all the developments, due to my work commitments. Nobody really understands how difficult it is to dispose of a body until they have to do it themselves.

Harry Hindenberg: A Regrettable Misunderstanding

The latest column from acclaimed Papakura lawyer Harry Hindenberg

Readers, you may be wondering why I haven't written for a few weeks. My absence from these pages is the result of a mishap I suffered last month. Let me explain what happened.

I was sitting at my desk pondering a problem. I don't remember exactly what the problem was, but I do recall that the one thing vexing me above all others at the time was the money question. The question was this: where was I to put all those wads of cash in my possession? I have so much money stuffed in the ceiling cavity that if my landlord ever gets the air-conditioning serviced he's going to have some very happy contractors.

You may be wondering why on Earth a suburban solicitor should be stuffing bundles of money in the ceiling cavity of his law offices. But let me assure you that I'm a respectable businessman, and I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for what may to you seem like strange behaviour.

You see, I provide a range of services for my valued clients. Sometimes they get themselves into difficulty and need to call on the services of a trusted legal adviser to handle their affairs. My clients are often being persecuted by the police, who more often than not take an unreasonably tough line on these people. Even if I were to accept that not all of my clients are saints, I cannot accept that their being charged with minor drug offences (e.g. possession of barely five kilograms of cocaine for the purposes of supply) should lead police to assume that all their assets are ill-gotten gains. There could be any number of legitimate reasons why paper bags filled with hundred dollar notes are stuffed under various mattresses, along with firearms and fake passports.

I tell my clients that the police, being naturally suspicious types, will never believe them when they try to explain how they came into their money. So I insist they leave their cash with me. It's not dishonest, because I have no way of knowing where the money came from. And a good lawyer never asks.

I take only a modest fee for my troubles. Twenty percent really isn't a lot, considering the specialised services I offer. To the best of my knowledge, nobody else in the legal profession in this country is doing anything similar.

Oh, sure, other lawyers will claim they're doing wonderful things for their clients. They will try to convince prospective clients that being a great lawyer is all about knowing the law and being able to find legal solutions to difficult problems. However, the narrow framework of the law is so limiting for creative problem solvers like myself.

I've always believed that petty regulation shouldn't get in the way of doing business. I don't mean to argue that we should be able to do exactly as we please, without any kind of laws to constrain our behaviour, because I can see how in some limited circumstances it might be useful to impose criminal sanctions on things like homicide.

But the humourless bureaucrats who run the Law Society don't see it that way. Their petty rules concerning professional conduct are in my opinion stifling the creativity of the legal profession and preventing innovation. For example, if I decide to withdraw fifty thousand dollars of client funds from my firm's trust account and blow it on an overseas holiday, soaking in all the fleshy delights of Bangkok, shouldn't that be a matter between me and my clients? "Theft" is such an emotionally-loaded term.

All this is to say that I've had my share of run-ins with the Law Society, almost always over trivial transgressions.  Like the day I threatened to kill one of my clients after she asked why I had billed her thirty thousand dollars for a routine property transaction. Naturally, I had no intention of killing the poor woman:  I was just trying to frighten her into paying me. It's ridiculous that the Law Society would poke their long noses  into such an insignificant matter. When the IRD are on your case they'll threaten you with all manner of legal consequences if you don't pay up on time. But the moment I threaten to attack one little old wheelchair-bound grandmother if she doesn't cough up I'm treated like a common criminal. It's political correctness gone mad.

I'm still angry that the incident almost cost me my career. I'm just grateful that the building where all the Law Society's files were held mysteriously burned down the day before my misconduct hearing.

So the Law Society is no friend to me. Whenever I receive one of their letters I feel a moment of anxiety. And whenever I hear that the organisation's resources are going to be tied up for a while on another misconduct investigation, naturally I breathe a sigh of relief.

Anyway, back to my story. I remember picking up the newspaper on the day in question, only to read that Barry Hart, the high-flying criminal barrister, had become the subject of a disciplinary hearing. You can imagine my joy at learning that the Law Society had their eyes off me for once, and so I downed an entire bottle of vodka (a gift from a Russian client) on the spot in celebration.

When I awoke, four hours later, I was covered in my own vomit and had soiled my pants. It was a near thing, as my 4:00 pm appointment was waiting at reception for me. The woman's husband had just died and she wanted to see me about his will. What a delightful woman! If she was at all concerned about the state of my dress or the odour coming from my clothing she was kind enough to say nothing. The lady was not unattractive to look at, so I immediately offered her my standard alternative billing arrangement, but she declined my offer and told me to put my trousers back on.

I don't recall exactly what we discussed, though she was surprised to discover that her late and beloved husband had changed his will on his deathbed, excluding her entirely and leaving everything to his trusted family solicitor. She was especially surprised because she claimed he'd been in an induced coma on the day he was meant to have signed the document.

I do recall something being mentioned about getting the police involved, and I managed to finally calm the poor grieving woman by threatening her family. Sometimes you just need to be firm when someone's being hysterical and making all sorts of wild allegations.  But I'm a fair and honourable man, so I said I'd give her two weeks to sign over her share of the house to me.

I had just enough time to get to the TAB before my next meeting, but that's when it all went wrong. I knew something was up the moment I stepped out the front door and saw the police car outside my office, but I didn't have time to get back inside and start burning papers. The next thing I knew I was being jammed into the back of a police car and taken down the road. It turns out that the ungrateful widow went straight to the cops.

Naturally, this was all a huge misunderstanding, but it took me a few weeks to sort things out. The poor woman just went missing. She's not been seen for a couple of weeks now, and without her evidence they don't have enough to make the charges stick. I of course know nothing about any of this.

But it's been a useful reminder to me to be more careful in the future, because this law business is a dangerous one to be in, and one must stay constantly on one's toes. For example, I didn't know until I'd became a lawyer that they have an entire Crimes Act!

Even thinking about some of the things described in that legislation as criminal brings me out in a sweat. Or is that because of the three pies and half-bottle of scotch I had for lunch?

Harry Hindenberg: A Minor Legal Problem

The latest column from acclaimed Papakura lawyer Harry Hindenberg

As a successful and experienced lawyer, I’m always pleased to see a fellow practitioner get the acclaim he deserves for doing a good job. I don’t know Greg King personally, but he cast quite a spell over the jury during the Macdonald trial, and if I was in the dock for something serious I’d be on the phone to him straight away.

Except that he hasn’t answered any of my calls. It’s probably better that way, because I know how much lawyers like him charge and I’m probably better off defending myself.

No, my readers, do not concern yourselves over my affairs. It’s a trivial matter concerning some complicated financial transactions that one of my close friends from Kyrgyzstan got me involved in. Who knew that the Serious Fraud Office had so much time on their hands? Don’t they have more serious crimes to investigate? Perhaps it’s better that they don’t, because if they ever find out where I invested the money from the Davidson Estate I will be in serious shit. I use the word “invest” advisedly, though I personally think the two million dollars spent over three years on high class prostitutes, cocaine and fast cars will prove to have been a valuable investment in my well-being.

Anyway, it’s only money. They’re always printing more of the stuff.

This business with the SFO should straighten itself out soon enough, as soon as my mate from Kyrgyzstan turns up to the hearing. It’s all over nothing anyway. All I did was help him set up about 500 shell companies, a service for which he remunerated me handsomely using suitcases full of cash left underneath park benches at agreed times and locations. I put half the money into various investments (no, real ones!), and kept half for myself.

The SFO tell me that they think the money is dirty, but I’ve tried to explain to them that most of my biggest clients pay their bills that way. These good folk don’t want the complication of dealing with banks and other financial institutions. A man who pays his bills in wads of hundred dollar notes is bound to be judged harshly by his peers, who will jump to the most ridiculous conclusions about where the money came from. What I offer is complete privacy and a helpful non-judgemental service. It’s not my role to determine the rights or wrongs of my clients; I’m here to represent them to the best of my abilities. If it turns out that the money I’m handling is dirty cash obtained through drug deals, gun-running, child slavery and international crime then I’ll pretend to be as surprised as everyone else when it comes time to explain myself.

I reckon I’ll beat this rap, just like the last three, even though I’m starting to wonder whether my mate from Kyrgyzstan will bother to show up. I’ve never actually met the guy, but his emails to me assured me he was legit. So why hasn't he shown up at my offices like I asked him to?

The SFO are now telling me there’s this law that says I have to verify the identity of people if they pay me large amounts in cash. Who knew? Do these people think I have time in my busy day job to read the law? Anyway, it’s a minor technicality, and the whole thing’s a joke. I’m a lawyer who believes that a man’s word is his bond. If someone emails me from out of the blue promising me huge amounts of cash if only I will just help him to get money out of his dodgy third world country in a hurry, then why shouldn’t I take him at his word? Has it come to the point where we can’t even trust the word of a total stranger in a foreign country notorious for various scams? Sometimes I wonder what our society has come to.

The last time they tried to take me down they failed, so for the SFO this might be getting personal. The first time they tried me they were laughed out of court, mainly because I hid the most crucial evidence in a shoebox in my ceiling cavity, and because the star witness for the prosecution recanted just before going into the witness box. Of course, I wouldn’t know anything about that, although I may have need to call on the people who helped me out of that tight spot if this current matter continues to escalate.

So don’t concern yourself over my fate, because I expect to be around for a while yet. Despite numerous attempts by the authorities and the Law Society to sully my good name I remain in practice. If there’s any little thing I can do for you or your business associates please don’t forget to call me. Confidentiality is assured, and my prices are very reasonable, at first, until you get in so deep with me that you’re hopelessly trapped. I’m also very good at solving the little legal problems that my clients experience from time to time, because unlike most other lawyers I don’t get bogged down in the little stuff, like the law and ethics. But remember my motto: cash is king. My terms are strictly money up-front, in hard currency. And while you’re there, ask me about my latest business venture. I may just have the perfect car for you!

Harry Hindenberg: Breach Of Contract

The latest column from acclaimed Papakura lawyer Harry Hindenberg 

I'm always saddened when people don't comply with their contractual obligations.

I know how disappointing it can be when someone lets you down after you've paid good money for their services, because my clients are always telling me so. "An incompetent disgusting pervert" was how one client described me, though if you ask me her judgement was a little on the harsh side. I may not be a saint, and raiding someone's trust fund without their knowledge in order to pay for prostitutes may even be a crime (technically, anyway), but there are far worse sins committed by others every day.  "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone", is my standard defence whenever I am called before the Law Society to explain myself.

So I can understand the hurt Kim Dotcom must be feeling right now. He paid good money for his politician, but his politician has turned out to be a bit of a let-down.

But what can Mr Dotcom do about his disappointment? Might he have a legal remedy?

As a streetwise lawyer who focuses on results rather than details, I seldom bother with the black-letter law. When a client comes to me with a problem they don't care that there might be an Act of Parliament that deals with the very situation and provides a clear remedy. No, when my clients come to me what they really want is vengeance, even if they don't know it yet. I give them that vengeance by making sure their cases are dragged through the court system to the bitter end, and by persuading them not to foolishly settle.

"Don't be swayed by the weasel-words of the other party's lawyer" I tell my clients, "and don't listen to the judge when he says your claim for emotional distress is flimsy and is in any case almost certainly statute-barred. How can he know the pain you are feeling right now after running out of Marmite? I know Sanitarium will cave in soon, I just know it! By the way, here is my latest invoice. Wait, are you okay? You look pale. Shall I get you a glass of water? Let me just add that to the bill under 'miscellaneous disbursements'. Yes, I know it's a lot of money, but I'm seriously indebted to my dealer, and if he breaks my legs I'm not going to be able to stand up and give my big closing address. And could you pay the bill now? Right now? Cash would be preferable, because we don't want to leave a trail for those IRD boys, do we? No, that's all-right, I can wait a few minutes to see if your chest pains subside, and then we'll go off to the bank together, although I might just wait outside if you don't mind. The bank manager wants to talk to me about my overdrawn trust account, and I don't want to face him until after the 3:20 at Addington."

But it's not all about winning, as I tell every client after their case is thrown out of court and they end up facing an astronomical costs claim from the defence.

Anyway, as I was saying, black-letter law does not interest me. If you want a lawyer who has a handle on all the relevant legislation and cases, then be my guest. If you prefer the services of someone who finished high school and didn't have to purchase his law degree over the internet, then good luck to you I say.

But if you want someone who gets results then you should call me.

Having purchased a good number of public officials over the years, I strongly believe that you should get what you paid for. Mr Dotcom paid a lot of money for his politician, and what does he have to show for it? Not a lot. He should sue Mr Banks for breach of contract, and I will laugh in the face of any lawyer who claims no such contract exists, or that any such contract is illegal and unenforceable.

But if Mr Banks should be reading this, let me make it clear that my earlier offer to represent you still stands. I don't see any ethical dilemma in representing two parties to the same dispute, although the reason why I don't see one is because I keep closing my eyes and saying "la la la la la la!" every time someone even mentions the term "conflict of interest". There will be time to deal with the Law Society and its technicalities another day, and hopefully when that day comes I'll be in the south of Spain living it up.

So call me, Kim Dotcom. We will make glorious litigation together.

Harry Hindenberg: Fixing The Banks Problem

Acclaimed Papakura lawyer Harry Hindenberg proposes a defence for John Banks

If there was ever a time when John Banks needed a good lawyer, now is the time.

I have to feel sorry for Mr Banks, because he’s really done nothing wrong. Electoral laws serve no genuinely useful purpose, and are designed solely to keep bureaucrats in work. And who can even understand what those laws are? I tried to read the opinion piece of a few lawyers and a law professor on the internet regarding the Banks matter, but I kept falling asleep. After a heavy liquid lunch, preceded by an even heavier liquid breakfast, I like to snooze the afternoon away, before whiling away a few hours at the pokies. It doesn’t leave much time for the practice of law, but in my experience preparation is the enemy of the effective lawyer.

I have my own theories on how Mr Banks should handle the mess he’s found himself in, but you won’t find this defence in any fancy law books. I know a bit about how the legal system works, but not because of all the mumbo-jumbo I learned at law school. What a waste of time that period of my life was. I have appeared on numerous occasions before the courts, so I know how to impress a judge and jury, and I know what they like to hear. Perhaps the highlight of my legal career was appearing before the Chief Justice in a high profile fraud case. Thankfully, I was acquitted, though it was a near thing. Just as well they didn't find the shoebox of documents hidden in the ceiling cavity above my office.

The secret of good advocacy is not to get bogged down in detail. I'm an effective advocate for my clients because I don't let all the minutiae of a case overwhelm me. Like legislation. And cases. Law professors (or, as I like to call them, "failed lawyers") sitting in their ivory towers may like to think that the views of stuffy nineteenth century English law-lords are of critical importance to the practice of law, but those of us at the coalface know better. I never read cases, and a cursory glance at the legislation in question in any case is usually enough to give me a feel for the issues at hand. I always just follow my gut (which, if I am honest, is hard to miss, thanks to a steady diet of pies and whisky) rather than what the letter of the law says, and I am rarely let down. Sure, I lose an incredible number of cases, and I have had so many appearances before Law Society disciplinary tribunals that they all know me by my first name, but I always make sure I get paid. That's the mark of a good lawyer in my books.

So let's take the John Banks case. My advice to Mr Banks would be to disregard all that legal hocus-pocus his highly paid Queen Street lawyers are feeding him, because fighting the law with the law is just what his opponents would expect. Why would you play the enemy’s game?

I always like to surprise my enemies, in order to put them off-guard. The traditional way these matters work is for a police investigation to be launched, followed perhaps by a criminal prosecution if the evidence appears to show a breach of the law. But the one thing every lawyer knows is you can’t prosecute without evidence.

So if ever there was an occasion where the intimidation and disposal of witnesses was called for, this must be it. Without witnesses Mr Banks’ enemies have no case. It’s simple, really. John Banks, you really should call me.

Luckily for Mr Banks, I happen to know the right people to handle this particular complication. I like to think of myself as a creative problem-solver and a fixer, rather than your traditional sort of lawyer. If that means ethical lines (as well as the Crimes Act) are occasionally blurred or trampled on, then so be it.

Some of the ethical rules we lawyers are held to are ridiculous anyway, like all the rules around what we can do with our trust accounts. When a client gives me a wad of cash for some transaction, like the purchase of a house, I tell them it's going into my firm's trust account. When later on they ask where the money went and why their purchase didn't go through, I have to tell them a few home truths. "It's called a trust account, dammit, so trust me!"

When that approach doesn't work I usually tell them they'll get their money back, but often it requires a bit of juggling with client funds and a few punts. I can't tell you how many scrapes I've narrowly avoided thanks to a good result on the Trentham track.

The trouble with some clients, though, is that you just can't do anything for them. No matter how much effort you put into their legal affairs, they'll still complain. I have an example of this for you happening right now, if you will allow me to breach client confidentiality and explain.

So the Singhs seemed like a nice family. They were new to this country and they came to me to help with the purchase of their first home. If only I had know they would try to destroy my legal career!

These folk had the temerity to complain loudly when I failed to register the title of the property in their names, and I instead registered it in the name of a finance company that a mate of mine owns. This mate does good deals, and he and I always look after each other. On this occasion he gave me a good price for the house, which was bloody handy when it came to paying off some very scary people.

Somehow the Singhs have found out about this minor title defect, and they're now threatening to go to the Law Society if I don't fix the matter. I tried telling them they're overreacting and that we have a certain way of doing business in New Zealand, but they won't listen.

"Look, you know and I know that you own the house," I said. "What difference does a bit of paper make?"

Mr Singh told me I was an unethical, dishonest scumbag who preyed on the disadvantaged. Me! I tried to put him straight by mentioning all the pro bono legal work I do for the community, but it seems he wasn't impressed by my efforts on behalf of the Society for the Welfare of Bridgecorp Directors.

It's lucky that in this particular transaction I acted for seller, buyer and lender, and that I'm pretty good at copying signatures, so I should be able to put things right. My finance company mate will be pissed off, but I have a lot of dirt on him, and if he wants his next P supply he'll stay silent.

Like Alan Martin used to say, it is the putting right that counts, and if it's not put right ask for me. I stand behind the results I promise (very far behind, and usually with a number of offshore trusts and nominee companies in between), which is why, Mr Banks, you need to call me. But I’ll require a healthy retainer and sufficient funds to cover miscellaneous expenses. The people I will be hiring don’t generally invoice for their services, so when you come to see me bring cash, lots of it, in unmarked bills, and don’t tell anyone who you’re meeting.