The fantastic world of Loizos Michaels
Last week, conman Loizos Michaels was sentenced to eight years’ prison for stealing more than $3 million. Matt Nippert covered his trial.
OVER THE course of eight weeks in room 10 at the Auckland District Court, lies were told. Prosecutor Christine Gordon, QC, said last week at the sentencing of Loizos Michaels: ‘‘There was not just one lie, but a series of, what turned out in the end, quite extraordinary lies.’’
Judge Christopher Field, in sending Michaels to prison for eight years after finding him guilty of 30 counts of fraud, said this was an intimate crime where victims were carefully selected and then prepped with an escalating cycle of lies.
‘‘You gained the trust of your victims,’’ he said. ‘‘You led them on with promises that became more extravagant as their trust in you increased.’’
Judge Field said victims – including notables in business, politics and sport – were effectively trapped in a net of wild deception by the end, with many handing over their entire life savings and then approaching friends and families for more.
‘‘It was impossible for them to extricate themselves [ having reached the stage] where they were committed to contributing more and more money in the hope – rather than the expectation at the start – of getting something back,’’ he said.
Michaels’ victims handed over more than $3.2m and none has been recovered.
Michaels, apparently 55, used at least seven different names, claimed to have five birth dates and two birthplaces, according to court testimony and a Fairfax investigation. But these variable identifying details are arguably the least of his lies.
What follows is a compilation of Michaels’ greatest fibs. Seven weeks into the trial, Michaels took the stand and declared the case against him to be a ‘‘beautiful set up’’ orchestrated by a ‘‘corrupt’’ Serious Fraud Office. He accused the more than 50 witnesses called by the prosecution of all being liars. The court itself was star-struck, he said, by the highprofile men giving evidence against him, such as National Party president Peter Goodfellow and All Black legend Jonah Lomu. ‘‘Just because a person is worth millions of dollars and covered in stardust in this court doesn’t mean that he’s honest,’’ Michaels said. Documentary evidence showing payments from victims and subsequent large cash withdrawals out of bank accounts he controlled was evidence financial institutions were also in on the conspiracy, he said. In the end, Michaels’ theatrical performance was the only evidence called in his defence. Judge Field wasn’t impressed, describing Michaels’ testimony as ‘‘garrulous and evasive’’ and his conspiracy theory ‘‘completely incredible’’. The first big lie told by Michaels in New Zealand magically transformed him from problem gambler into corporate raider. Michaels explained his presence at the Christchurch Casino in early 2007, where he was losing up to $15,000 a day on pokie machines, as part of his ‘‘due diligence’’ on the casino industry. Michaels said he was working for the Macau-based Melco Group, reporting directly to shareholding billionaires the Ho family, who were planning on taking over the SkyCity Entertainment Group. Michaels promised Goodfellow a seat on the board of Melco, signed documents in the name of the ‘‘Ho Corporation’’ offering Lomu US$15 million to lend his image to a nowdefunct kickboxing enterprise, and offered numerous witnesses lucrative jobs in Melco’s Macau casinos if they would join in on his wild schemes. Michaels also claimed to be an heir to the family interests controlling Cypriot shipping firm Louis Cruises. His ex-wife Caroline Wood was even taken in. When she checked the company’s website and found he was not mentioned she said her husband seemed genuinely upset. ‘‘He was concerned his photo had been taken down from the website,’’ she said. The prosecution filed affidavits from the Melco Corporation and Louis Cruises. Both multinationals said they had never had any business dealings with Michaels, and indeed had never heard of him. In Australia and New Zealand, Michaels also claimed connections to the darker side of society, particularly assassins. Former Christchurch Casino boss Stephen Lyttelton told the court Michaels twice told him his life was in imminent danger from hitmen. ‘‘There was one night I was in the [Christchurch] casino with Michaels and he pointed out two men at one of the tables, and he said it had come to his attention they were out to cause me harm. He said they were assassins, basically,’’ he said. Lyttelton was led to believe it was only swift action from Michaels’ unseen security detail that prevented his life being taken in 2007. Australian Adam Hanson said Michaels also claimed to employ assassins, not just foil them. In 2004, a business rival of theirs suddenly dropped dead from a heart attack, but Hanson said Michaels painted the death in a much more sinister light and said he’d pulled strings with his Yakuza contacts. ‘‘He led us to believe [the] heart attack wasn’t a heart attack, it was from a lethal injection from people that he knew, and led us on to believe that these were the sorts of things that he could do,’’ Hanson said.