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  • A Place for Us

    There's a place for us,
    Somewhere a place for us.
    Peace and quiet and open air
    Wait for us
    Somewhere.

    There's a time for us,
    Some day a time for us,
    Time together with time spare,
    Time to learn, time to care,
    Some day!

    Somewhere.
    We'll find a new way of living,
    We'll find a way of forgetting
    Somewhere . . .





    Cook Islands, a Paradise of Untouchable Assets


    By LESLIE WAYNE

    Picture a paradise where you can be lawsuit-proof. A place to hide your hard-earned assets far from the grasp of former or soon-to-be-former spouses, angry business partners or, if you happen to be a doctor, patients who might sue you.

    Lawyers drumming up business say they have found just the place: the Cook Islands. And, thanks to a recently released trove of documents, it’s become clear that hundreds of wealthy people have stashed their money there, including a felon who ran a $7 billion Ponzi scheme and the doctor who lost his license in the Octomom case.

    These flyspeck islands in the middle of the Pacific would be nothing more than lovely coral atolls, nice for fish and pearls, except for one thing: The Cooks are a global pioneer in offshore asset-protection trusts, with laws devised to protect foreigners’ assets from legal claims in their home countries.

    The Cayman Islands, Switzerland and the British Virgin Islands capture headlines for laws and tax rates that allow multinational corporations and the rich to shelter income from the American government. The Cook Islands offer a different form of secrecy. The long arm of United States law does not reach there. The Cooks generally disregard foreign court orders, making it easier to keep assets from creditors, or anyone else.

    Win a malpractice suit against your doctor? To collect, you will have to go to the other side of the globe to plead your case again before a Cooks court and under Cooks law. That is a big selling point for those who market Cook trusts to a broad swath of wealthy Americans fearful of getting sued, and some who have been.

    “You can have your cake and eat it too,” says Howard D. Rosen, a lawyer in Coral Gables, Fla., who has set up Cook trusts for more than 20 years, in a video on his website. Anyone with more than $1 million in assets, his firm’s site suggests, should consider Cook trusts for self-preservation, but especially real estate developers, health care providers, accountants, architects, corporate directors and parents of teenage drivers.

    International regulators have become more aggressive in efforts to clamp down on tax haven countries, offshore banks and their customers, but they have paid scant attention to the Cooks. Yet Americans are the biggest customers of the trusts, which may be held only by foreigners, not Cook Islanders. The islands’ official website calls the Cooks a “prime choice” for “discerning wealthy clients.” There are 2,619 trusts, according to the Cooks’ Financial Supervisory Commission, offering anonymity as well as legal protections. The value of the assets is not disclosed and it is against the law in the Cooks to identify who owns the trusts or to provide any information about them.

    But a cache of documents obtained by the International Consortium of Investigative Journalists, based in Washington, reveals the owners of about 700 Cook trusts. The Cook data were among 2.5 million documents containing information about customers of offshore havens throughout the world. Earlier this year, the release of some of those documents, disclosing the names of tax-averse companies or government officials and their close allies, caused an international furor.

    A close study of the Cook Islands documents by The New York Times and the international consortium shows that these trusts are popular with the wealthy in Palm Beach, Fla., New York and Hollywood. The trust owners include people who have been convicted of Medicaid fraud, Ponzi schemes and bilking employee pension funds. Many others are simply rich.

    The documents described a Cook trust held by Denise Rich, former wife of the disgraced trader Marc Rich, who was pardoned on the last day of the Clinton presidency. Her trust contained more than $100 million in assets, including her yacht, the 157-foot Lady Joy; a Learjet 60; and a Swiss bank account. In addition, more than $116 million in assets of the Cordish family of Baltimore, which owns one of the nation’s largest privately held real estate conglomerates, were held in Cook trusts.

    Cook trusts provide security along with secrecy, officials say. “Asset protection is to provide a layer of insurance for something that cannot be insured — the unforeseeable,” said Jennifer A. Davis, chief executive of the Cook Islands Financial Services Development Authority.

    There is nothing illegal about setting up a Cook trust, and putting assets into one does not eliminate the requirement to pay taxes on those assets’ earnings. But the trusts have a following among those who suspect they could be sued: doctors facing malpractice suits, businessmen avoiding creditors and some who have been sued by the federal government.

    R. Allen Stanford, who is serving a 110-year term for masterminding a $7 billion Ponzi scheme, had a “Baby Mama Trust” in the Cook Islands, named after a mistress with whom he had two children and who was the trust’s beneficiary. “Baby Mama” contained proceeds from the sale of a $2.5 million Florida home — proceeds that were held in Swiss and Isle of Man accounts and are now among 30 offshore accounts subject to a forfeiture order to pay Mr. Stanford’s victims.

    Lawyers often aim their Cook trust pitches at doctors, many of whom say they fear frivolous malpractice claims. But the trusts can also protect those who have committed serious transgressions. Dr. Michael M. Kamrava, who lost his medical license after implanting embryos allowing Nadya Suleman, the so-called Octomom, to give birth to octuplets, placed his interest in a Beverly Hills surgery center and a Swiss bank account in his “Athena Trust.”

    There is also Dr. James Naples, a Texas podiatrist who pleaded guilty in 2004 to federal charges of obstructing justice in connection with treating cancer patients with a pesticide and then billing Medicare and insurance companies. Another Cook trust holder is Dr. Richard Edison, a Fort Lauderdale, Fla., plastic surgeon, called “Dr. Dread,” who was sued after five patients at his Florida plastic surgery clinic died and he left a medical sponge in a woman’s breast. After the 2004 death of a patient, the Florida health department restricted his medical license.

    “There will always be a need for these trusts,” said Bernard A. Singer, the Florida lawyer who set up the trust for Dr. Edison. “A lot of people are concerned that we live in a litigious society, and they want to be protected.” He added that Dr. Edison voluntarily settled with his patients. He said they never went after the doctor’s trust assets, which, documents show, included a $1.6 million Austrian bank account and was set up after he was sued in the sponge incident.

    Critics of Cook trusts say they undermine the basic premise of the American legal system, which is to hold people accountable for the consequences of their actions. “U.S. jurisdiction stops at the Pacific and on the beach,” said Jay D. Adkisson, a California lawyer and critic of offshore trusts. “Nothing will happen. That’s why those with Cook trusts include a high number of the unscrupulous who have committed fraud and are trying to hide their ill-gotten gains.”

    Even the United States government has had a hard time going up against a Cook trust. In a lawsuit that has dragged on for years, Fannie Mae, a government-sponsored lender, is still waiting to collect on a $10 million judgment against an Oklahoma developer who defaulted on his loans. In legal filings, Fannie Mae says it has collected only $12,000 — and “that is not for lack of trying.” The “clear purpose” of the trust, Fannie Mae’s complaint said, “is to avoid payment of the judgments obtained by Fannie Mae,” efforts that the agency called “brazen.”

    The Federal Trade Commission, as well, has come up dry. In 2007, the F.T.C. won a $37.5 million judgment against Kevin Trudeau for “airing blatantly deceptive infomercials” for his diet book “The Weight Loss Cure,” but has collected nothing so far. Mr. Trudeau, who lives in Chicago, had been jailed for contempt over his refusal to testify about his Cook Islands trust and other offshore accounts. The government claims Mr. Trudeau “uses sophisticated asset-protection devices designed to defeat the jurisdiction of American courts.”

    “The whole purpose of the legal system is accountability,” said Jack A. Blum, chairman of Tax Justice Network USA, a nonprofit that campaigns against tax havens. “It’s the idea of being outside the rule of law: that you can put money into a trust, do something wrong and not have to worry about answering in court for your actions. It’s a way of making that money disappear. It’s not nice and it’s not right.”

    Americans have parked approximately $1 trillion in offshore accounts around the world, and the United States government has begun to make an issue of it. But the Cooks, a self-governing state associated with New Zealand, have gotten little attention from American regulators or legislators so far, perhaps because the islands do not appear to have been widely used by multinational corporations to avoid paying taxes and because they have not been linked to terrorist financing or money laundering.

    In August 2012, Hillary Clinton became the first secretary of state to visit the islands. Her public remarks on the main island, Rarotonga, did not contain a word about the trusts. A Congressional Research Service study on tax havens released in January cited offshore trusts, in the Cooks and elsewhere, as possible conduits for evading taxes, with little follow-up.

    “There’s been a lot of pressure on the Caymans and other places to clean up,” said Heather Lowe, director of government affairs at Global Financial Integrity, a Washington research and advocacy group. “There are many areas where pressure is not exerted, and the Cooks is one of them. Using a Cook trust to hide assets from your spouse may not make the headlines.”

    Given the Cooks’ success in attracting money, a number of other countries — about 25 and growing — and about 14 states have developed some form of asset protection law. In the United States, the first was Alaska, which enacted an asset protection statute in 1997. Delaware followed, along with South Dakota, Nevada, Wyoming and others. Many domestic trusts, however, have been broken open — “pierced,” in legal parlance — allowing creditors who win judgments to tap into the assets. Most other countries’ asset protection laws are not considered as tough as those of the Cooks.

    For the islands, the trust business has been a bonanza. The Cooks have a stable government and a sophisticated judiciary based in English common law. Business generated by the trusts — registration fees, taxes on trust companies and their employees, and various support services — accounts for just above 8 percent of the $300 million Cooks economy, after tourism and ahead of fishing. Cash and investment accounts, along with real estate and businesses, are typically registered in the trusts. None of the items have to be physically located in the Cooks, and business can be conducted electronically.

    The Cooks law was written with Americans in mind. In fact, it was drafted by a Denver lawyer, Barry Engel. A Cook official, seeking revenue for the islands, read in The Economist about Mr. Engel’s firm, which was pioneering the concept of asset protection trusts, and hired Mr. Engel to help write the 1989 law.

    “Lawyers can debate the morality of these trusts,” said Mr. Engel, who has established more than 1,300 Cook trusts. “My first duty is to my clients and my clients have a need. This is in response to a legal system that has spun a little out of control and is abused by lawyers for legal extortion and who can throw someone’s life into a tailspin. Trusts are our response to that abuse of the legal system.”

    The newly released documents show that many trusts were set up just before or while some Cook clients engaged in activities that later got them into trouble.

    For example, in 2001, Robert T. Harvey set up the “Lo-Ry Principle International Trust” and by 2004 it contained $1.2 million. That is the same year, according to the Securities and Exchange Commission, in which he helped mastermind a Ponzi scheme that bilked investors of $52 million over the next two years. In 2010, Mr. Harvey was permanently barred from the securities industry. A lawyer representing him said he was not aware that Mr. Harvey had a Cook trust, which he closed in 2007. Nor were his victims.

    In March, Eric T. Schneiderman, the New York State attorney general, announced a settlement with a credit card processing company, Northern Leasing Systems, that was accused of skimming $3.6 million from mom-and-pop stores across the country. Northern Leasing agreed to refund the money and halt the skimming. Two of the company’s principals, Jay Cohen and Leonard Mezei, turned out to have Cook trusts. Neither was held personally liable. Their lawyer declined to comment, and the attorney general’s office did not respond to requests for comment.

    Lawyers who arrange Cook trusts see them as a negotiating tool: If litigation arises, many creditors will settle for cents on the dollar, rather than face the expense of a long and difficult lawsuit halfway across the Pacific.

    “You are paying blood money to stop the madness,” said Jeffrey M. Verdon, a lawyer in Newport Beach, Calif., who sets up Cook trusts. Mr. Verdon said he settled a $78 million judgment for $7 million and a $5 million one for $100,000. Since settlements are private, those numbers could not be verified.

    Mr. Engel, the lawyer in Denver, said a victory in American courts was merely “academic,” and pointed to testimonials on his website. One unnamed client, described as a Midwestern real estate developer, settled a $7 million judgment for $125,000. “Cook Islands scares them,” said the developer’s testimonial.

    Cook trusts can backfire on their owners. That happened in the case of Gregory M. Bell, who was released last month after four years in federal prison for his role in a $3.5 billion Ponzi scheme. Because Mr. Bell, who lived in suburban Chicago, was born in Russia and had a Cook trust, the courts considered him a flight risk. He was jailed for 14 months and denied bail. Cook law prevents trust assets from being entered under duress, so he was unable to use the $15 million in the Cook trust to settle with the S.E.C.

    In the end, the Cook trustee relented, and the money was distributed to Mr. Bell’s victims as part of a plea deal, said Vincent P. Schmeltz, his lawyer.

    Cook officials say they are planning to build on their success with Americans by marketing the trusts to customers in China and elsewhere in Asia. The islands are, after all, roughly midway between the United States and Asia. “We can literally get something done for you yesterday if you are an Asian client,” said Ms. Davis, chief executive of the Cooks financial services authority.

    New Asian customers can help the islands should American officials turn their attention to Cook trusts. But at the moment, that shift is not happening.

    “Washington looks at where the big money is,” said Stephen E. Shay, a tax professor at Harvard Law School and a former Treasury official. “That means tax avoidance by multinationals. But as the government squeezes these big places, more money will go into smaller and smaller quarters, and that will make the Cooks a target.”





    Dr. Michael Kamrava, a fertility doctor who lost his license in the “Octomom” case, also had assets in the Cook Islands.

    Denise Rich, ex-wife of the disgraced trader Marc Rich, had a Cook trust worth more than $100 million.


    A recent data leak revealed that R. Allen Stanford, who was convicted of running a $7 billion Ponzi scheme, held a Cook trust.

  • #2
    Re: A Place for Us

    I'm guessing that if it really makes it onto the radar as a tax haven and becomes a thorn in the side of US/Australia/China, then they will be putting the screws on New Zealand(responsible for foreign affairs and security).

    I'd be thinking if there's a bunch of connected Denise Rich type characters with assets there it may be "safe"/positive for the time being.

    But Octomom doctors and GFC sacrificial lambs like Stanford having assets there are neutral to negative "noise".

    The relationship between the US and NZ has changed considerably in the last 10+ years.

    Defense/Security(beyond "5 Eyes" intelligence and discreet SF stuff) has grown by leaps and bounds in the last 3 years or so and finance/banking has become even more intertwined.

    I would guess that if the US wants the Cook Islands gone as a tax haven it will be gone.

    Comment


    • #3
      Re: A Place for Us

      But Octomom doctors and GFC sacrificial lambs like Stanford having assets there are neutral to negative "noise".
      Agreed, these are run-of-the mill slime balls. In art, however, the micro can suggest the macro, in digestible bites . . .




      By A. O. SCOTT

      Future archaeologists, digging through the digital and physical rubble of our long-gone civilization in search of reasons for its collapse, will be greatly helped if they unearth a file containing “The Wolf of Wall Street,” Martin Scorsese’s three-hour bacchanal of sex, drugs and conspicuous consumption. Then as now, the movie is likely to be the subject of intense scholarly debate: Does it offer a sustained and compelling diagnosis of the terminal pathology that afflicts us, or is it an especially florid symptom of the disease?

      From its opening sequence — a quick, nasty, unapologetic tour through its main character’s vices and compulsions, during which he crash-lands a helicopter on the grounds of his Long Island estate and (not simultaneously) shares cocaine with a call girl in an anatomically creative manner — to its raw, chaotic finish, “The Wolf of Wall Street” hums with vulgar, voyeuristic energy. It has been a while since Mr. Scorsese has thrown himself into filmmaking with this kind of exuberance. “Goodfellas,” a sprawling inquiry into how some men do business, is an obvious precedent, and so is “Mean Streets,” an intensive study of how some men get into trouble. Even the occasional lapses of filmmaking technique (scenes that drag on too long, shots that don’t match, noticeable continuity glitches) feel like signs of life. This movie may tire you out with its hammering, swaggering excess, but it is never less than wide-awake.

      At the center of the whirlwind is Jordan Belfort, a crooked stock trader played by Leonardo DiCaprio, who has recently become the handsome cinematic face of extreme capitalism. “The Great Gatsby“ (this year’s other major motion picture about a rich criminal with a mansion on Long Island) gave Mr. DiCaprio a chance to explore the romantic side of wealth.

      Playing a plantation owner in “Django Unchained,” he savored the sulfurous corruption of an older ruling class. As Jordan (a real person whose memoir is the source of Terence Winter’s screenplay), he achieves a kind of superhuman shallowness. Jordan is forthright about the ecstasies of money — the pills, women, cars and other toys it allows him to buy, and above all the pure dopamine rush of acquiring more — and indifferent to anything else. Gordon Gekko, the lizard of “Wall Street,” proclaimed that greed is good. That sentiment is far too lofty for Jordan. What matters to him is that greed is fun.

      Mr. Belfort’s book is more boast than confession, and Mr. Winter (whose television credits include “The Sopranos” and “Boardwalk Empire”) declines to treat his rise and fall as a fable of redemption. As portrayed in the movie, Jordan Belfort is a thoroughly despicable human being, but one whose charm — the ineradicable trace of melancholy furrowing Mr. DiCaprio’s brow, the still-boyish openness of his smile — makes actively despising him almost impossible.

      After meeting Jordan at his saturnalian peak, we flash back to his beginnings as an eager newbie at a reputable firm, where he is introduced to the mysteries and pleasures of the trade by a gleefully Mephistophelean Matthew McConaughey. This is less a fall from grace than a rite of passage, and after the crash of 1987 flushes Jordan out of the real Wall Street, he finds a way to recreate its worst and most attractive aspects. Taking inspiration from a storefront penny-stock outfit, he conjures up a high-profile company with the fake blue-blood name of Stratton Oakmont.

      As my colleague Joe Nocera has recently pointed out, the misdeeds of Stratton Oakmont — a relatively straightforward pump-and-dump scam built on the temporarily inflated value of often worthless stocks — have little in common with the elaborate, as yet mostly unpunished, schemes that wrecked the economy a decade after Jordan Belfort’s downfall. The sums that Jordan and his pals rake in may be huge, and their methods unsavory, but they are small-timers operating on the fringes of real power and attracting the attention of law enforcement (embodied by Kyle Chandler, playing a meager hand as well as he can). The big fish, still swimming freely, can be found in “Inside Job,” Charles Ferguson’s magnificent, indignant documentary on the origins of the financial crises, or in J. C. Chandor’s “Margin Call.”

      Anyway, what makes “The Wolf of Wall Street” a vital and troubling document of the present is not so much Jordan’s business plan — he tells us repeatedly that it’s too complicated and boring to explain — as his approach to life. It’s a truism that every salesman sells himself, and as Stratton Oakmont grows, Jordan becomes an evangelist of easy money and unbridled pleasure. The ambitious brokers who flock to its trading floor are lured by the promise of huge bonuses and endless debauchery, but their enterprise is held together, above all, by the boss’s charisma.

      His first convert is Donnie Azoff (Jonah Hill, a manic, tubby Joe Pesci to Mr. DiCaprio’s Robert De Niro), a middle-class nebbish who gathers a bunch of like-minded losers into a recognizably Scorsesean crew. (Eventually Jordan’s dad, an accountant played by Rob Reiner, overcomes his initial reservations and joins the fun.) These guys are less violent than the mobsters of “Goodfellas,” and also less preoccupied with supposed codes and traditions, but they are nonetheless a familiar testosterone brotherhood, and Mr. Scorsese cannot help but revel in their profane, hormonal vitality.

      What they do is consistently appalling and sometimes very funny. The comedy in “The Wolf of Wall Street” can be deliciously brutal — an extended sequence in which Jordan and Donnie are so blitzed on Quaaludes that they can barely move is sure to join Mr. Scorsese’s greatest-hits reel — but the movie laughs with Jordan as well as at him. And, intentionally or not, it makes a fetish of his selfish bad-boy lifestyle.

      This brings me back to the question I started with, which perhaps should be posed another way: Is this movie satire or propaganda? Its treatment of women is the strongest evidence for the second option. On his way up, Jordan trades in his first wife, a sweet hometown girl named Teresa (Cristin Milioti), for a blonder, bustier new model named Naomi (Margot Robbie), whose nakedness is offered to the audience as a special bonus. (Mr. DiCaprio never shows as much as she does.) The movie’s misogyny is not the sole property of its characters, nor is the humiliation and objectification of women — an insistent, almost compulsive motif — something it merely depicts. Mr. Scorsese, never an especially objective sociologist, is at least a participant-observer.

      His camera has always operated partly in the service of his id. This is a virtue and a failing, since his best films register a passionate fascination with the frequently ugly worlds they depict, a reluctance (or inability) to step back. “The Wolf of Wall Street” is no exception, and in this case it may be unfair to demand from the director a clarity of judgment that virtually nobody else — in business, politics, journalism or art — seems able or willing to articulate.

      Does “The Wolf of Wall Street” condemn or celebrate? Is it meant to provoke disgust or envy? These may be, in the present phase of American civilization, distinctions without a meaningful difference behind them. If you walk away feeling empty and demoralized, worn down by the tackiness and aggression of the spectacle you have just witnessed, perhaps you truly appreciate the film’s critical ambitions. If, on the other hand, you ride out of the theater on a surge of adrenaline, intoxicated by its visual delights and visceral thrills, it’s possible you missed the point. The reverse could also be true. To quote another one of Mr. Scorsese’s magnetic, monstrous heroes, Jake LaMotta, that’s entertainment.

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