| Live By The Sword,
Die By the Sword by David Baines
B.C. Business Magazine,
Feb. 1997
Vancouver
Sun stock market reporter David Baines was
impaled by the pen of penny stock tipster George
Chelekis. He recounts how he turned it around and
stuck Chelekis for the largest libel award in
B.C. history.
In the early
morning hours of April 15, my wife and I returned
to our New York hotel room just off Times Square,
slightly boozy from imbibing the bar music in
Greenwich Village. The red light on the telephone
was pulsing with an influx of calls from family
members, neighbors and reporters with some
long-awaited news. B.C. Supreme Court Judge John
Rowan had assessed $875,000 in damages, plus
legal costs, against three parties who had
orchestrated or facilitated a campaign to destroy
my reputation as a journalist. It was the
culmination of a four-year battle to redress one
of the most egregious libels ever committed in
Canada.
Rowan's award was
the second-highest in Canadian libel history,
exceeded only by the $1.6 million awarded an
Ontario Crown prosecutor libeled by the Church of
Scientology. In British Columnia, it was more
than six times the previous record of $125,000
awarded to deputy attorney general Richard Vogel
against CBC reporter Chris Bird.
In his judgement,
Rowan rejected allegations I had used my position
as a stock market reporter and columnist with The
Vancouver Sun to manufacture negative stories
against Vancouver Stock Exchange companies and
profit on the ensuing sell-off. He also dismissed
allegations I was involved in a homosexual
relationship with my alleged co-conspirator,
free-lance stock market investigator Adrian du
Plessis, and that I had contracted AIDS but had
failed to tell my wife.
(The relevance of
these alleged sins to my purported stock market
transgressions was never explained.)
In 1986, when I
was still a rookie business reporter with The
Province newspaper, I was assigned to interview
Foster Winans, a former Wall Street Journal
writer who had authored the Journal's venerable
"Heard on the Street" column. Winans
had been caught taking bribes from a broker who
paid Winans to forewarn him about details in the
upcoming columns, thus enabling the broker to buy
or sell stock, depending on whether the news was
good or bad. Winans had been promptly dismissed
from his job and was facing criminal charges.
About the same
time, a former colleague working freelance with
The Financial Post was found by her employer to
have been investing in the same public company
she had been writing about and was summarily
barred from ever writing for The Post again. In
my view, she is a very honorable person and the
investment was immaterial to her net worth, but
the incident became the seminal embarrassment in
her life.
Both these
incidents made a deep impression, but at that
time the issue was largely academic, as I was a
green reporter with no track record and
absolutely no influence over any company's stock
price. But this gradually changed after I met du
Plessis, a former floor trader who knew the dark
secrets of the VSE. With his help I learned how
to delive into VSE companies and their promoters
and expose their seamy methods.
As my reputation
grew, so did public recognition. I won a National
Newspaper Award, a National Magazine Award, a
Jack Webster Award and numerous B.C. Newspaper
Awards. Service clubs, professional organizations
and journalism schools often asked me to address
their members. Local and national radio and
television shows interviewed me. Journalists from
Forbes, Barron's, CNN, ABC-TV and many other
large media outlets routinely called to pick my
brain about the Vancouver Stock Exchange, a.k.a.
the Venus flytrap of North American stock
markets.
In late July, 1994, I
received a call from a George Chelekis, a writer
for The Bull & Bear financial newspaper, a
U.S. publication I mistakenly viewed as a
Barron's-type periodical. Chelekis said he was
doing a story on the VSE and began asking me
questions that gradually moved from the Exchange
to me personally. I became increasingly
uncomfortable and soon cut him off. A day or two
later, du Plessis - whose nose for subterfuge was
in high alert - called to warn there was a fellow
from Florida who was purportedly writing about
the Exchange, but whose real motives were
unknown.
On July 29 I
called Chelekis's office and advised his
secretary I did not want to be mentioned in his
story. In a follow-up fax, I stated: "I have
received information that you are not a
mainstream journalist, as you represented
yourself. I therefore direct you not to use my
name or any quotes from me in your
publication."
Chelekis
immediately wrote The Sun publisher Don Babick,
advising him I had threatened to kill his
secretary and was now trying to kill his story.
He also wrote senior editors at The Financial
Post, The Globe and Mail and The Toronto Star
declaring: "Apparently a nerve was touched
when my investigation turned up vested interests
connected with Baines and du Plessis - neither
want this information published as it may
severely impact their careers."
Chelekis portrayed
himself as a respectable journalist. His
letterhead proclaimed him a member of the
American Society of Journalists and Authors. He
also said he was a "best-selling
author" and winner of something called a
Gold Charlie Award.
However, one look
at a copy of The Bull & Bear confirmed my
worst suspicions: It was a Florida-based rag that
touted penny stocks and blatantly invited public
companies to "Tell your story to millions of
investors" by having "an award-winning
author write your company's story the way you
want it to be told." When I later asked
Chelekis whether he was the award-winning author,
he replied, "No one pays me to write
articles the way they want them written. I write
what I want."
It was specious
phraseology. Subsequent events would show that
Chelekis indeed wrote what he wanted. What he
wanted to write most of all were nice things
about companies that paid him money.
In August 1994,
John Woods, editor of Canada Stockwatch in
Vancouver, faxed me the latest edition of The
Bull & Bear. Written by Chelekis, the line
story described a "Baines-du Plessis
money-making scheme" in which we
"connived to create a pipeline of
disinformation.
"Forget what
you've heard about the Vancouver Stock Exchange.
Not only are a great deal of the rumors outdated,
but my recent investigation has uncovered that
much of the bad "news" was mostly
generated to further the careers of David Baines
and Adrian du Plessis ... Du Plessis' game has
been to hype accusations against VSE-listed
companies, maneuvering Baines for press coverage.
Du Plessis then got paid a fee, based upon what
he recovers for those investors."
This shoot-the-messenger
tactic was nothing new. In October 1992 a
detective from the Co-ordinated Law Enforcement
Unit advised me that, according to an informant,
somebody had placed a contract on my life. That
threat had passed without incident, as surely
would Chelekis. Or so I thought.
On October 4,
1994, a press release came over Canadian
Corporate News in Canada and PR wire in the
United States. Issued by Chelekis's secretary,
the release hyped a second Bull & Bear story
implicating du Plessis and me in a "six-year
short-selling scheme."
The release said
Chelekis had "uncovered that Baines used a
death-threat hoax in a failed attempt to advance
his career, that du Plessis may be illegally
concealing his short-selling profits in a
Panamanian bank account." It also quoted
Chelekis: "These two built careers as
whistleblowers against a scandal-ridden VSE when,
in fact, they were the ones engineering the
scandals. While the VSE became the most heavily
regulated North American stock exchange, these
two were never disciplined for their personal
abuse and profiteering."
I quickly obtained
a copy of the story and was horrified by what I
saw. Entitled "The Vancouver Stock Exchange:
A Short Seller's Paradise Revealed", it
started with a verse from Robert Service's The
Shooting of Dan McGrew. "There are strange
things done in the midnight sun, by the men who
toil for gold...".
"Most U.S.
investors could care less about the gossip and
financial intrigue buzzing around Howe
Street," the story began. "What may
interest investors is how two individuals
manufactured negative press about selected
companies in order to drive down their share
prices. Their previously undetected enterprise,
dated back to 1988, has caused U.S. and other
investors to lose tens, if not hundreds, of
millions of dollars.
"In
Vancouver, the big question mark has been: Why
are these two self-righteous individuals so
energetic in their efforts to generate bad press?
It is for only one reason: short-selling."
Alleging I had
"casually altered facts or manufactured
outright lies to drag down the share
values," Chelekis said, "it is now a
matter for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and
the Canadian Securities Commission to determine
the extent of their crimes and the dollar amounts
they were paid for their scourge against the
VSE."
Chelekis was not
prepared to wait for due process: "Throw the
bums in jail," he wrote.
The allegations were
nonsense. I did not write for any purpose other
than to convey the true and plain facts of Howe
Street. I had not invested, short or long, in any
VSE stocks. In fact, I hadn't bought any stocks
other than a brief gambit with Toronto Stock
Exchange-listed Placer Dome, which had been duly
disclosed to my employer, and shares of The
Vancouver Sun owner Southam Inc. bought under our
employee stock purchase plan.
After reviewing
the press release and the story, I sent a
one-word message to my lawyer: "Help."
"If they make
a movie of this, I want Sylvester Stallone to
play me," joked Barry Gibson, a partner at
Farris Vaughan Wills & Murphy. Gibson, a
bespectacled 49-year-old of slight build and mild
manner, hardly evokes Hollywood beefcake, but he
has quietly emerged as Western Canada's
pre-eminent libel lawyer.
Gibson's forté
was acting for the defense in libel suits. His
stable of media clients included The Vancouver
Sun, Hollinger, Inc., Sterling Newspapers, Lower
Mainland Publications, Vancouver magazine and the
now-defunct Equity magazine. But due to a twist
of fate, he was about to act for a media outlet
that would become a plaintiff, rather than
defendant, in a libel case.
Givson immediately
drove to The Sun newsroom and conferred with
then-editor-in-chief Ian Haysom, managing editor
Scott Honeyman and business editor Gerald
Prosalendis. They agreed the allegations were
extremely serious, bordering on the criminal, and
for The Sun to do nothing would be viewed as
evidence that Chelekis's allegations were true,
and that the newspaper condoned my illicit
actvities.
The Sun
immediately issued a rebuttal through Canadian
Corporate News and filed a lawsuit against
Chelekis, The Bull & Bear, it's publisher
David Robinson and Canadian Corporate News
alleging they knew the allegations were
"false and defamatory, or were willfully
blind to the truth or falsity of the contents
thereof."
Gibson would not
have an opportunity to flex his muscles before a
movie camera, but he would before a B.C. Supreme
Court judge.
Although the first
Bull & Bear story had gone virtually
unnoticed, the press release hyping the second
story did not. Reporters from The Globe and Mail,
The Financial Times, The Seattle
Post-Intelligencer, Reuters, and CCN-TV called to
warn me of it. New York Times business writer
Diana Hendriques even provided some background
information on Chelekis.
Chelekis, then 45,
was born in Ithaca, N.Y. and moved to Florida in
the late 1980s. A Scientologist, he settled in
Clearwater, the spiritual headquarters for the
Church of Scientology. In 1989 his company, Rex
Publishing, produced The Action Guide to
Government Auctions - a list of addresses and
telephone numbers of government agencies that
sell seized property. "How would you like a
new house or car courtesy of the United States
government? A $150,000 home sold for $15!"
enthused one of his ads.
The next year, the
U.S. Marshals Service filed a formal complaint
against Chelekis, alleging that his advertising
was misleading. More than a dozen consumers also
complained that the book was outdated and
virtually worthless and that Chelekis was not
making good on his money-back guarantee.
Chelekis had
meanwhile started a new venture: the
International Real Estate Clearing House, which
claimed to know "tens of thousands of eager
buyers" in foreign countries who were
anxious to purchase single-family homes.
In July 1991 the
St. Petersburg Times reported that more than six
companies had sued Chelekis for more than
$500,000. One plaintiff was a credit-card
processing company that claimed $341,600 worth of
credit-card chargebacks arising from defective
merchandise or purchases that consumers had not
made.
However, Chelekis
had abandoned his businesses and was nowhere to
be found. "I think he personally got more
satisfaction from creative writing than being in
business," said a former associate,
speculating on why Chelekis had flown the coop.
In 1993 Chelekis
reappeared in the news, this time in a much more
favorable light. He was presented with a Charlie
Award by the Florida Magazine Association for his
column "Dollars and Sense".
He would use this
award to pole-vault his way from Clearwater to
Vancouver.
Although the mainstream
press recognized Chelekis's allegations for what
they were, others - who wanted to believe - did
not. They mass-faxed the offending material to
almost every broker and promoter in town. Almost
overnight, the floodgates spilled forther a
torrent of lies and vitriol. In one widely-faxed
letter entitled "David Baines, The
Truth", an anonymous person purporting to be
a vice-president of a Vancouver brokerage firm
described how "Baines works with a
consortium of professional 'short' traders headed
by Peter Brown [chair of Canaccord Capital Corp.,
the largest dealer of VSE stocks]. Most of this
trading is conducted offshore, and in Baines's
case, he owns 100 per cent of it." (In one
of the few pleasant telephone conversations I've
had with Brown, who I often criticized in my
columns, we laughed at the notion that, in view
of our extreme differences, we could ever
conspire on anything.)
Another fax -
"David Baines - Professional Scumbag" -
urged the RCMP and the B.C. Securities Commission
to investigate me for market manipulation,
calling me "a disgrace to professional
journalism". Some were not nearly as subtle:
"Baines, you f---ing bag of shit! You are
worse than any promoter who ever walked Howe
Street. Southam will soon realize this soon, so
start looking for another job."
Some letters came
from more reputable quarters and, therefore, were
potentially more damaging. On February 13, 1995,
Laurel de Ymurralde, self-described stock analyst
from New Brunswick, wrote The Globe and Mail, The
Financial Times and The Financial Post, advising
that I had been "recently exposed" by
Chelekis. "There appears to be more behind
[Baines's] articles than bias or irresponsible
reporting," she complained.
Some Vancouver
junior companies and their supporters waded in.
Most notably Naxos Resources, which claimed to
have a "proprietary" method to unlock
gold and platinum from the desert sands of
southwestern United States, and U.S. newsletter
writer J. Taylor, author of Gold & Gold
Stocks Review, who embraced Naxos as teh next
Bre-X Minerals. Together, they accused me of
being in "an unholy alliance" with a
major Vancouver-based investment bank to spread
false reports, short the stock and then reap the
benefits.
Meanwhile, Chelekis was
busily fueling the flames. On October 28, 1994,
he wrote me claiming that a CIA source had
information I had been involved on a "on
again/off again homosexual relationship"
with du Plessis, that we "cruise the gay
bars in Vancouver," and that my wife
"is unaware that you may be
HIV-positive." He concluded by asking,
ostensibly in the interests of journalistic
fairness, "Would you please respond to the
above report?"
The letter was
scary on two counts. First, it was false. My
eight-year rleationship with du Plessis was
strictly business. Second, Chelekis had dropped
all pretence of a business dispute. It was now
all-out war.
On November 1,
1994 he again wrote, stating that he was
scheduled to appear "on anther major U.S.
talk show to discuss the David Baines-Adrian du
Plessis matter. I expect ot mention the CIA
report." He also claimed to be gathering
more news about my past and would launch an
Internet newsletter called "The Baines-du
Plessis Update". He further stated that he
was negotiating a book deal that offered "a
high five-figure royalty advance, but I would
like to get at least $125,000 US."
On December 19,
1994, Chelekis wrote The Sun business editor
Gerald Prosalendis: "Each time your Mr.
Baines writes a column on a company or
individual, the target of his wrath will receive
a free copy of two articles written by The Bull
& Bear newspaper. This program will continue
until Mr. Baines is left with Zero for
credibility."
Although our
lawsuit had been filed months earlier, it wasn't
until May 6, 1995, just before Chelekis appeared
as a featured speaker at the Vancouver
International Mining Investment Conference at the
Hotel Vancouver, that our process-server caught
up to him. Rattled, he took the podium and
announced he had just been served by The
Vancouver Sun. He also told the 150 mining
players and investors in attendance that I had
hung up on him hundreds of times: "How else
but by asking can I possibly find out if it is
true that Mr. Baines is HIV-positive and that his
wife does not know?"
Stockwatch editor
John Woods later testified that the audience sat
in stunned silence. "You'd have thought
you'd get a grunt of approval about something
negative being said about The Sun or David
Baines, but there was just silence."
There is somebody following
you." Issued during a quiet telephone
conversation, the warning came from an RCMP
sergeant in commercial crime. Within days, a
neighbor noticed a suspicious parked car on our
street. When approached, the lone occupant drove
off. His purpose wouldn't become apparent until
the discovery process produced a partial report
from an unidentified private investigator.
The PI's inquiry
included "a spot check at the Baines'
Richmond residence" where he had
"discreetly" taken photographs. His
search of the motor vehicle registry, the land
title registry, the personal property registry
and the courts disclosed that I owned a 1980
Rabbit, a 1985 Plymouth van, and a house assessed
at $187,100 with an $88,000 mortgage registered
against it. He also reported that The Sun and I
had been named defendants in several civil
lawsuits, none of which had amounted to anything.
Hardly the profile
of a big-time swindler living off the proceeds of
crime.
When Canadian Corporate News
was served with our lawsuit, it immediately
issued a statement saying it had no knowledge of
any impropriety on my part and expressed regret
at any damage caused by its transmission. CCN was
clearly a neutral disseminator that had
inadvertantly put a libelous release on its
system. It had responded in a very proper, prompt
and public manner, so we dropped it as a
defendant.
However, there was
growing evidence that another wire service -
Market News Publishing, a Vancouver-based news
disseminator that specialized in VSE-related news
- had not only carried the press release, but
also the two Bull & Bear stories. Market News
was owned by Robert Shore, whom I had met
briefly, but cordially, only once several years
earlier. His system fed into the Star Data system
with its thousands of terminals throughout
Canada. Star Data, in turn, fed into Bloomberg
Financial Services, a New York-based
dissemination service with tens of thousands of
subscribers worldwide.
The full-text
publication of these feature stories was quite
outside Market News's normal business. Shore
usually confined his business to news releases.
Also unusual were the two disclaimers at the
bottom of the articles: "Opinions expressed
here are solely those of the author and do not
necessarily reflect the opinions of the publisher
or the distributor"; and, "Distribution
of this material has been paid for by the author
who takes full responsibility for its
contents." These disclaimers clearly showed
that Shore realized he was publishing potentially
hot material.
Given my limited
contact with Shore, I was puzzled by his conduct.
In early 1995, I called to discuss the matter and
was astounded by his hostile response. Instead of
expressing regret, he asserted his right to
publish whatever he wanted. I hung up and
immediated recommended to Gibson that he be sued.
Within days, Shore and his firm were added as
defendants.
Like Chelekis,
Shore proved unrepentant. Questioned by Gibson in
examination for discovery, he said he believes
the material was true and didn't think an apology
was warranted but would have considered making
one if pressed because "regardless of the
veracity of the material, and the truth of the
material, a lawsuit requires a tremendous amount
of time, effort and expense."
Sincerity, it
appears, is spelled with dollar signs.
Chelekis used his growing
notoriety to launch a new career as one of the
world's first Internet stock touts. His Hot
Stocks Whispers and Hot Stocks Review purported
to give subscribers the inside scoop on nascent
stocks.
Chelekis's
write-ups typically carried a disclaimer
acknowledging that some companies had paid
"a research and promotional fee" but
had done so "on the understanding that this
was neither advertising nor advertorial, that our
opinions and recommendations were based entirely
on the merits of their materials and information
acquired from other sources."
Junior companies,
most based in Vancouver and listed on the
Vancouver or Alberta stock exchanges, clamored to
obtain coverage. His pronouncements often
presaged dramatic share price hikes.
Often enough, they
were then followed by dramatic falls. One example
was Urban Resources Technologies Inc. of
Vancouver, which claimed to have developed a way
to convert waste plastic into building materials.
Listed on the ASE, Urban was touted by Chelekis
as possibly being the next IBM or Wal-Mart of the
recycling industry. Its stock soon quadrupled to
$1.30 solely on the strength of false sales
reports. When ASE officials discovered that Urban
president Gordon Muir had quietly dumped one
million-plus shares during the run-up, its
trading was halted and the company was eventually
delisted.
In early June
1996, Business Week magazine in the United States
devoted its cover story to online investing. It
featured a photograph of and interview with
Chelekis. Writer Gary Weiss said he was impressed
with Chelekis's Hot Stocks Review, which he
described as well-written, interesting and free.
"Chelekis
told me the money is pouring in from subscribers
who get an extra-fast e-mailed look at his
dispatches for a fee. And above all, the dough is
rolling in from the companies he writes about...
Chelekis says the average fee paid by the
companies is $10,000."
Shortly after the
Business Week article, The Globe published a
story by Mathew Ingram entitled "Controversy
dogs investment writer". Ingram reported
that Chelekis had "run into choppy water.
Some companies have denied the contents of his
reports and he admits he is often paid by his
companies to write about them."
As Chelekis's
personal stock began to slide, regulatory
interest began to heighten. The U.S. Securities
and Exchange Commission commenced and
investigation into his activities. That
culminated in February 1997 when the SEC slapped
him with $162,000 in fines and penalties. The SEC
said Chelekis had received at least $1.1 million
cash and 275,000 shares from more than 150
companies, and had knowingly made false
statements about six of them, including Urban
Resources Technologies. It also said Chelekis
newsletters didn't give readers enough
information on these financial arrangements.
There was some generic disclosure, said the SEC's
Paul Gerlach, but it was plainly inadequate.
For me and du
Plessis, who had filed his own lawsuit in
September 1996, the SEC action was delicious
irony: Chelekis had been nailed for the same sort
of illicit activity he accused us of committing.
This certainly would not enhance his defence, if
he had one.
As the trial date
approached, the defendants began some last-minute
maneuvering. Robinson, the publisher of The Bull
& Bear, wrote to Barry Gibson asking him to
request an adjournment due to Robinson's heart
condition. Gibson refused. Neither Robinson nor
his lawyer would show up for the trial.
Chelekis had not
made himself available for discovery and it was
clear that he was not going to defend himself,
either. In an eleventh-hour attempt to derail the
proceedings, he hired Vancouver lawyer Andrew
Davis to ask for an adjournment on grounds that
he didn't know the trial had been set for
September 8. However, Gibson noted the trial date
had been set nearly two years earlier. Judge
Rowan rejected the motion and Davis immediately
left the courtroom.
That left only
Shore, who had been suddenly stricken by remorse.
On Friday, September 5, 1997 - the last business
day before the trial opened - he published an
apology stating that Chelekis's allegations were
completely false. "We sincerely apologize to
Mr. Baines and The Vancouver Sun for
disseminating this material and for any
inconvenience or embarrassment this may have
caused."
This imminent
arrival of a court date, it seems, tends to
greatly concentrate the mind.
George Chelekis was a
journalist for hire," Gibson said in his
opening remarks to Judge Rowan on September 8,
1997. "Someone with a grudge against David
Baines and Adrian du Plessis hired Chelekis to
undertake a smear campaign. They financed his
trip to Vancouver, the cost of his private
investigators and paid him a handsome sum for his
efforts. There is simply no other logical
explanation for his conduct." (If there was
a mystery financier, we never found out who it
was.)
Gibson said
Chelekis "quickly spotted a second
opportunity to make money. By smearing David
Baines and Adrian du Plessis, he could make a
name for himself with the sleazy Vancouver
promoters and launch a new career touting penny
stocks." He also told Judge Rowan that
accusing a reporter of trading against his column
is the most serious attack anyone could make
against a journalist: "It is like accusing a
lawyer of stealing his client's money or accusing
a judge of accepting a bribe. It is the type of
allegation that ends a professional career unless
disproven."
Reviewing
Chelekis's host of defamations, Gibson continued,
"It would be difficult to find conduct that
was more arrogant, vindictive or
oppressive," and urged the judge to make the
highest award of punitive damages that a Canadian
court has ever given.
Robinson, who had
provided The Bull & Bear as a vehicle for
Chelekis's libelous comments, was "like the
fence who sells guns to criminals. He knew that
Chelekis was a pen for hire. He did not pay
George Chelekis for his columns and must have
known someone else was doing so."
In turn, Shore's
conduct "reflects badly on every member of
the reputable media in this country... We are now
entering a new age when the electronic media is
taking over from the print media as the primary
source of information. Unfortunately, many of
those who control the electronic media have no
background in journalism, no sense of ethics, no
sense of responsibility, and absolutely no
appreciation of the power they wield."
Finally, Gibson
dismissed Shore's courthouse-steps apology as a
"last hypocritical attempt to save
himself," and said the award should be
"large enough to teach Mr. Shore that he
must develop a sense of responsibility
commensurate with the power he exercises as a
publisher."
By this time,
Shore had emerged as the most important defendant
in our lawsuit. Not only was he the only party
defending himself, he was the only defendant with
libel insurance. That made him our "deep
pocket" in the case.
I was the main witness in
the five-day trial. Through me, Gibson unveiled
the chronology of events and submitted the
offending stories and the documented responses.
Shore was the only witness for the defence.
Questioned by Gibson, Shore admitted he had been
concerned about the truth of Chelekis's
allegations and that he had asked Chelekis for
sources. However, he could not recall the names
of any of these sources. He also admitted he did
not try to independently verify the allegations.
"I didn't know how."
Gibson suggested
that Shore knew the stories were "pretty
dangerous stuff," as evidenced by the
disclaimers Shore ran with each story, and the $2
fee he charged Chelekis for disseminating the
material. Gibson suggested these were attempts to
absolve himself of any liability. "No, i
wouldn't say that," Shore replied.
Searching for a
motive, Gibson asked: "What was in it for
Robert Shore?" Shore replied: "I'm not
really sure there was anything in it for me,
except to gain more information and to make
contact with companies in the U.S." He added
that, if Chelekis was correct about the Baines-du
Plessis conspiracy, he had "something
significant to offer the industry."
Not satisfied with
these responses, Gibson produced a draft of a
third article Chelekis had written but not
published. It implicated Shore's arch-rival, John
Woods, in the short-selling conspiracy. Gibson
suggested Shore had another motive: to destroy
Wood's credibility: "The first two [stories]
take out David Baines and Adrian du Plessis, and
the third would take out John Woods."
Shore denied the
claim. He said he didn't apologize sooner because
he was not certain which of the offending stories
he had disseminated. He said he had given
instruction for the stories to be deleted from
the Bloomberg system and, in any event, such
material is automatically purged within four
days.
The next morning,
I went to the Bloomberg system, located the
offending material and printed it out. When court
convened, Gibson - in a moment of exquisite
courtroom drama - confronted Shore with the
copies and asked for an explanation.
"I gave
instructions to have it deleted," Shore
muttered. His lawyer, Bryan Baynham, admitted
that much of what Gibson argued was trued and
that we had no choice but to sue. But he argued
that his client was the least culpable of the
three defendants, that the last-minute apology
was sincere and, in any event, the articles had
not damaged my reputation. "No one, quite
frankly, who mattered, took it seriously except
the charlatans or whatever on the VSE."
It took Judge Rowan seven
months to render his judgment, but it was worth
the wait.
"Chelekis's
conduct was arrogant, vindictive and
continuous," Judge Rowan ruled. "His
intent was to destroy Baines's career." The
judge assessed $875,000 worth of general,
aggravated and punitive damages against Chelekis.
He said the other defendants "willingly
participated in the distribution of Chelekis's
material, but I am not persuaded their conduct
merits an award of aggravated or punitive
damages." He held Robinson jointly liable
with Chelekis for $275,000 of the general
damages, and Shore and his company for $250,000.
The next month,
Baynham settled with du Plessis, offering and
apology and an undisclosed amount of cash. But
any expectation that we would collect on our
award quickly subsided when Baynham announced he
would appeal. "We expected there would be a
substantial award, but we expected [the court] to
make a significant allowance for the retraction
and apology," he told reporters.
Faced with the
additional expense of an appeal, we opened
settlement discussions, but no agreement could be
reached. The appeal is now expected to be heard
in the year 2000. Meanwhile, we haven't collected
a cent. In fact, there is still $135,000 in
outstanding legal fees borne by my employer. Any
possibility of a personal financial windfall is
still a very hazy dream.
Chelekis has
disappeared from public view. There are
occasional rumors that he is still touting stock
on the Internet, but nothing has been
substantiated. Robinson is still publishing The
Bull & Bear, but under a different corporate
name. Shore, insulated by his libel insurance, is
still running his news dissemination business. I
am still writing for The Sun, but my beat has
been broadened to include bad business dealings
of any kind, not just the stock market.
In July, Rowan's
judgment was displaced as the second-highest in
Canadian libel history by an Ontario court
judgment for $800,000 against reporter Jock
Ferguson and The Globe and mail for libeling a
North York civil servant.
If the pen is our
sword, it clearly cuts both ways.
|