A Case in Question

by Herb Hamlet

  The leader looked down on him, his voice calm. “No, thanks, Mr. Rankin. This won’t take long.”

  He squirmed nervously on his chair. “Where’s Noel?”

  “He returned to his own business.” The female officer replied.

  “Oh,” Jim smiled uncertainly. “Everything’s all right then?”

  “On the contrary, Mr. Rankin.” The team leader’s face hardened. “During the audit, we’ve discovered a number of very serious anomalies in your documentation.”

  Jim leaped to his feet, a shiver running down his spine. “Wha... what are you talking about.?” He stammered in disbelief. “Noel assured me that everything was above board.”

  The leader of the team slowly shook his head. “I’m afraid to report that the opposite would appear to be the case, Mr. Rankin.” He placed his briefcase on the desk, opened it, and removed a ten page typed report. “Here is a copy of what we’ve discovered.” He paused briefly, his eyes locking onto Jim’s. “I must inform you we’ve uncovered taxation fraud on a serious scale. I’ll give you an example.” He began to read from the report. “Profit from a significant number of car sales has not been declared, and you have failed to also declare a large amount of income derived from the wholesaling of vehicles that have been traded in on new models. And there’s more.”

  “But Noel assured me.” It was almost a whimper as Jim slumped further into his chair.

  The leader was not fazed. “We warned you when the audit began, Mr. Rankin, it’s your signature that appears on Downs Toyota’s taxation returns. This means it’s you, and you alone, who has to take full responsibility where your records are concerned. We’ll be investigating your accountant, Mr. Johnson, on other matters, including taxation fraud. We’ll be auditing all the companies he presently services.”

  Jim’s blood went cold. “What happens now?” He felt like a participant in some awful dream.

  “That’s not up to us, Mr. Rankin.” He hesitated. “We’ll submit our report to the Taxation Department’s recovery section. After that, it’s left to them to decide on a course of action.”

  A realisation hit home. Shit! “I suppose I’ll have to pay back the taxes that are owed with fines and penalties as well as interest?”

  The leader gazed at his colleagues who nodded. “Look, Mr. Rankin, this is off the record.” A note of sympathy in his voice. “We can all appreciate what’s happened here. But as I said before, the buck stops with you as the principal of the company and there’s nothing anyone can do about that.” He sighed. “We don’t know what punishment will be meted out to you. However, I would be most surprised if you were not charged with attempting to defraud the taxation office.”

  “What!” Jim was starting to feel overwhelmed. “You mean I’ll have to go to court and defend myself?”

  “Exactly. There are plenty of precedents, I can assure you.”

  “Bloody hell.” Jim’s mind was in turmoil. He felt unable to come to terms with what was being said.

  He watched the taxation team leave his office, then reached for the phone and dialed. “Put me on to Noel Johnson.” He exploded with anger and frustration.

  “Who’s calling please?” a timid girlish voice asked.

  “Jim Rankin,” he snapped.

  After a short pause, the young voice was back. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rankin, Mr. Johnson is not available at the moment.”

  “Then make sure you tell him to phone me when he is bloody-well available,” he growled. “It’s urgent that I speak with him.” He slammed the receiver down, knowing full well Noel Johnson would not be returning his call. Judy, I’ll have to tell Judy.

  ***

  He watched the worry-lines appear on her normally smooth forehead. “Oh, Jim, it all sounds so serious.” She lifted a hand to her mouth. “And just when we thought our money worries were over. I can’t believe it.” Jim rose and moved from behind his desk, taking both her hands in his. He drew her gently to her feet, wrapped his arms around her, holding her in a protective embrace. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll bounce back.”

  “I can’t help thinking about the fines and interest, Jim.” Her voice showed her despair. “It’ll drain all our reserves.”

  “We’ll overcome it, no matter how long it takes.” He forced a smile as he tried to reassure her. “Don’t you fret now.”

  “What about Noel?” Her soft features grew surprisingly stern.

  “He wasn’t available when I called him earlier. I suppose I’ll just have to go over and see him - personally.”

  Later that afternoon, Jim Rankin called at his accountant’s office to discover the premises stripped of furniture and the front door locked. It was blatantly obvious Johnson had done a runner. Jim returned to his car and sat for several minutes, running the day’s events through his mind, trying to consider his next step. This is way beyond me. I need help. He gunned the engine and drove two blocks to the offices of his solicitor, Jerry Adams, grateful he was free to see him.

  The middle-aged man nodded gravely as Jim related events to him. “Bloody hell, Jim.” His rough voice shot out from his thick lips. “This sounds damn serious.”

  “Yeah, I agree, Jerry. The more I think about it, the more worried I’m becoming.” He shifted anxiously in his chair. “Surely there must be some way of making Noel Johnson account for his actions. I mean, I never thought for a moment he wasn’t declaring everything he should on our taxation returns. Right from the start, when I first engaged his services, I emphasised that everything had to be above board.”

  Jerry Adams’ piercing blue eyes riveted on his. “Jim, by your own admission, your financial position improved quickly and markedly after engaging Johnson as your accountant.” He raised a thick eyebrow. “Didn’t you ever wonder why?”

  Jim became defensive. He rose from the straight backed chair. “Why the bloody hell should I?” He exploded. “During this period, the turnover of our company also grew by a record twenty per cent. I thought the overall improvement was a direct result of that and the general belt tightening which has occurred within the firm.” He watched his solicitor shake his head, a look passed between them sharp as a razor. Jim capitulated. “All right! all right!” he snapped. “I also attributed some of our good fortune to Noel’s accountancy expertise. Unfortunately, I didn’t look into the nitty gritty aspects of the taxation returns he completed. I trusted him. I swear I didn’t know that he was not making a full declaration.”

  “I believe you. However, you’re not alone. The truth is, the majority of business people don’t scrutinise their taxation returns to the extent they should, and that, my friend, is a huge mistake,” Adams said seriously. “The fact they don’t means little to the Taxation Department.” He moved forward in his chair, his eyes resting on Jim’s. “I’m sorry, Jim. There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll be charged, and you’ll have to appear in the Brisbane District Court.”

  “What a load of bloody bullshit.” He scowled. “I don’t know whether I am coming or going with all this legal crap.”

  Adams rushed to explain. “Even though this is deemed a Federal offense, you’ll still be tried in the court system administered by the Queensland Department of Justice. Since it’s not considered a serious offense, your hearing will be convened in a District Court.” He hesitated. “I’ll have to arrange for a barrister to represent you.”

  “Bloody hell, this is going to cost a damn fortune.” Jim looked away, pursing his lips.

  “I’m afraid so.” Jerry Adams deliberated for a moment, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “It’s a pity my old mate, Henry Flanagan, is currently disbarred. He is particularly brilliant and would jump at a case like this. It’s right up his alley.” He sighed. “No use wishing.”

  “What do you think will happen?”

  “I can’t say for sure.” He folded his arms. “You’ll defi
nitely have to repay the Taxation Department the full amount that is owed to them, and you’ll probably have to pay their court costs. There’ll also be a certain amount of interest and I’m sure the fines will be quite severe.”

  “Jail? They wouldn’t send me to prison, would they?” Jim asked anxiously, unwilling to believe that such an outcome could even be considered.

  “Not in this case, I’m sure. Since there was no obvious intention on your part to defraud the Taxation Department, a custodial sentence seems out of the question.”

  Chapter Two

  Because of a large backlog in Queensland’s legal system, it took almost six months for the case against James Rankin to come before the court. Jim and Judy thought an unobtrusive case such as theirs would attract little public or media scrutiny. They were both wrong. A federal election was looming at the end of the year and there was much point scoring between political parties, with tax evasion and tax cheats the centre of attention. A Queensland member of the House of Representatives even raised the case in parliament, painting Jim as untrustworthy and dishonest; a person who had unlawfully defrauded the honest, hardworking taxpayers of the nation. On the morning of the hearing, Jim’s case was the subject of heated discussion on the local talk back radio programs. Opinions were divided.

  ***

  Jim gazed up at the building Jerry Adams had described as an ugly white elephant, occupying almost a full block of Brisbane’s George Street. In the past, he’d said there had been ineffectual attempts to modernise the court complex, originally constructed of brick and stone. Its exterior remained grey with years of accumulated grime and neglect. He planned to plead guilty, his case not expected to last more than one day. Walking up the steps toward the entrance of the building, they were taken by surprise by the barrage of flashbulbs exploding in their faces. Entering the court room, Jim felt it was like stepping into a different world. Legal people with their outdated black gowns and wigs scurried here and there. Jim shook his head in wonder. Relics from the past. They look so damn stupid dressed like that.

  After discussing details of the case with his barrister, Ralph Endersby, a court official escorted Jim to the defendant’s box where he was required to stand during proceedings. To both the prosecution and defense teams, there was no question about his guilt. He’d admitted to signing the documents that defrauded the Taxation Department. The only real consideration for the court was his intent and lack of knowledge of his accountant’s malpractice.

  Jim eyed the judge’s flowing red gown as the grossly overweight man took his seat behind the elevated bench overlooking the court room. Justice Anderson donned a pair of spectacles, then began examining the sheaf of documents in a file in front of him. A few minutes later, he removed the glasses and cleared his throat. “Mr. Endersby,” he opened in a superior tone. “I have been informed that your client has pleaded guilty to defrauding the Taxation Department. Is that correct?” He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  Jim’s barrister rose to his feet, and nodded seriously. “Yes, Your Honour, that is correct. My client is exceedingly regretful over the whole matter. However, I must emphasise to the court in the strongest possible terms that there was never any intention by my client to defraud the Commonwealth.” He deliberated. “As a consequence of this case, my client’s accountant is under federal investigation for malpractice. It is he who is the real villain in this matter.”

  “I see where you’re headed with this, Mr. Endersby.” His lips became a thin line. “However, your argument is not really relevant. Your client signed the taxation returns that perpetrated this taxation fraud. It is he and his business that benefited from the fraud. It is therefore he who must take full responsibility.” Justice Anderson turned his attention to Jim, eying him with contempt. “He was no doubt happy to accept the monetary gains from his accountant’s fraudulent malpractice. He must now accept the consequences of his action.” A shiver ran down Jim’s spine. Justice Anderson again donned the spectacles and began to read in a solemn voice. “James Rankin, you have pleaded guilty to defrauding the Commonwealth Department of Taxation to the sum of fifty-six thousand dollars.” He lifted his head, again eying Jim before continuing. “Under normal circumstances, if there was no intent to defraud, a custodial sentence would not be considered.” He pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. “In your case, however, you appeared happy to benefit from your accountant’s malpractice, knowing full well your firm’s income tax was extraordinarily small. Furthermore, you did not make inquiries concerning this matter and you have expressed very little remorse to this court. Your only defense is that the offense was not your fault.” The volume of the judge’s voice increased. “Not good enough, Mr. Rankin. Not good enough.” The hackles on Jim’s neck rose as Justice Anderson continued. “Wage and salary earners of this nation do not have the same opportunity or flexibility as people in business to reduce their taxable income. I can personally verify this, Mr. Rankin, because I am a wage and salary earner.” He paused for effect.

  Jim’s mind spun. The supercilious old bastard, as if he doesn’t get plenty of lurks and perks.

  The judge went on. “This places a great deal of responsibility on the business people of Australia to do the right thing where their taxation responsibilities are concerned.” His eyes locked on Jim’s face. “In sentencing you, I am sending a strong message to all those in business who think they can get away with defrauding the genuine tax payers of this nation. James Rankin, you will be required to reimburse the full amount owing to the Taxation Department plus interest. I further impose upon you a custodial sentence of three years with a non-parole period of eighteen months.”

  A scream of shock erupted from the public gallery. “No!” Judy Rankin held a handkerchief to her face.

  Ralph Endersby leaped to his feet, astonished. “Your Honour, I must protest,” he yelled above the commotion. “A custodial sentence is surely out of the question. I mean...” That was as far as he was allowed to proceed.

  Justice Anderson slammed down his gavel. “Order in the court,” he shouted before turning on Jim’s barrister. “You’re out of order, Mr. Endersby. Any more outbursts and I will hold you in contempt. Now resume your seat.”

  While the exchange between his barrister and the judge took place, Jim continued to stand, shaking his head in disbelief, dumbfounded, unable to come to terms with what had just taken place. A custodial sentence was something he’d not even contemplated. He looked up at the tear stained face of his wife.

  ***

  Later that same afternoon as Jim waited in his holding cell below the court complex, he met with Judy and his barrister.

  “I’ll lodge an appeal immediately, Jim.” Ralph Endersby’s face continued to display his shock and outrage at the severe sentence imposed. “I mean with so much talk about your case, I wonder if political pressure has been applied.”

  “You’re not serious.” Judy still reeled from the sentence.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time. Anyway, the appeal court will surely overturn the jail term.”

  “How long will that take?” Judy lifted a lace handkerchief to her tear-stained cheek.

  The barrister shrugged. “It’s hard to say, Mrs. Rankin. Three, four or maybe even six months.”

  “Bloody hell.” For the first time in his life, Jim Rankin felt trapped in a situation over which he had no control.

  “Oh darling, what are we to do?” Judy wrapped her arms around him possessively.

  “It appears as if there’s no alternative until the appeal, love. I suppose I’ll just have to cope with the whole bloody mess.” A worrying thought crossed his mind. “What about the business? New models are due any day now. How will you manage without me? What about the kids? What will they think?” He breathed out a long sigh. “I’ve really stuffed up our lives.”

  “Don’t you worry about the business, or the children for that matte
r.” She pressed her lips together determinedly. “We’ll all cope.”

  A uniformed guard approached the cell door, addressing the visitors. “You’ll have to leave now. The prison van is here.”

  “Oh Jim.” Judy held him tight.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll be all right.” He tried to keep his voice light, and put on a brave face as he kissed her briefly on the forehead. Beneath the show of bravado, his heart pumped as if he had come face to face with a charging lion.

  “Don’t get too disheartened, Jim. Just hang in there.” Ralph Endersby held out his hand. “I can assure you that I’ll be devoting a considerable amount of my time to getting you out. And I will succeed. I promise.”

  ***

  The Pukka Correctional centre was a privately managed prison operated by an American conglomerate named International Correctional Services Pty. Ltd. For some years, the multi-national firm had controlled prisons in a number of Western countries. In Australia, however, they were new on the scene. Truth be told, Pukka was ICS’s first correctional centre in Australia. At reception, the company slogan was clearly displayed in bold letters on the wall for all visitors to see and reflect upon.

  ‘Re-educate and Rehabilitate to Socially Acceptable Standards’.

  The current state government had a policy of privatising a whole range of government run enterprises and services, including prisons. It was of concern to many prison officers that only two prisons remained under the direct control of the Department of Corrective Services. The officers’ union had considered industrial action over the issue.

  The prison slogan shone brightly even though the actual building was dark by the time Jim arrived. A guard dressed in a khaki uniform and peaked hat accompanied him to the office of Pukka’s Chief Correctional Officer, a man named Weston, who sat behind a small desk. On entering, Jim gazed down upon the gleaming shaved head of the CCO. Impeccably dressed in a khaki uniform, two pips on the shoulder lapels indicated he was a man of authority within the prison. As he examined the paperwork on the new arrival, CCO Weston’s lip curled contemptuously. He looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing. “Just what we all like to see here at Pukka, a bloody tax bludger caught and sent to prison.” Of medium height and build, he slowly rose to his feet and moved around the desk to confront Jim who remained silent. “In here, Rankin, you are what we refer to as a white collar criminal.” A small smile flickered around his thin lips. “It gives me a great deal of pleasure in telling you that people such as yourself usually do it very tough in places like this. The heavies will be on to you in a flash.”