The Ingenius Fraud

Shortly after retiring from my post as a legal consultant, I received a telephone call from an old friend in arms. Thomas Aung, who still ran his legal practice although he was close to eighty, wanted my advice on the payment of fraudulently drawn cheques. As I now had ample time on my hands I agreed to discuss the case with him on the next day. The facts that unfolded during our conversation raised my eyebrows. The victim, a Mr. Lim who died at the ripe age of 92, had migrated to Singapore from China early in the 20th century. A poorly educated man, who had never mastered English, he succeeded to build up a reasonably prosperous sweetmeats business. Naturally, he needed a current cum savings account and, eventually, opened it with a bank that had a branch near to his enterprise. Being unable to sign his name in Latin characters, he used his Chinese signatures and a rubber stamp (a ‘chop’) setting out the name of the business. ...

Thomas’ main question was whether clauses of this type were binding under Singapore law. On behalf on the estate, he requested me to write an opinion. However, the facts were so unusual that I felt the need to meet the ‘estate’. The point that irked me concerned the statements. How would Lena know on which day the genuine statement would be put in the letter box? Unless she knew that, how would she know when to substitute for it the bogus statement? After all, she could not peep into the letter box day after day. And the Bank’s statements could be delivered at any time between the 10th and 20th of the month, a fact well known in Singapore. Further, she had only a day or two to prepare the bogus statement. After all, how could she be certain the late Mr. Lim would not summon her at the end of the month to draw a cash cheque? ...

To get a clear picture of the facts, I asked to have a meeting with Mr. Lim’s sons and heirs. My motivation was simple. After almost fifty years with the law, I had no wish to tarnish my reputation by getting involved in a questionable case. Further, I was afraid of ending up with an omelette on my face. The late Mr. Lim’s three sons were waiting for me when I arrived for the meeting, which took place in the unadorned conference room of the old law firm. Thomas emphasised that we were dealing with a ‘modest’ estate. Substantial expenditure was to be avoided. Initially, the estate had hope that the Bank would come up with a settlement. But up to now the Bank had taken a militant stand. ...

Back in my office, I felt that something was fishy. The sons and heirs took the fraud lightly and did not even attempt to get at the truth. To satisfy myself that I was not being drawn into a morass, I obtained a copy of the proceedings instituted by the prosecutor against Lena. It turned out she had confessed and her lawyer’s only task was to plead for a light sentence. The police did not attempt to trace the money. Indeed, this was not their task. ...

After some three days I advised Thomas and the estate the terms of the agreement, cited as applicable, were binding under Singapore law. They concluded, on this basis, that they had a poor case. It seemed best not to prod them. Thomas said he was still hoping for a settlement. “In that case you have to fight the case on the merits” I told him. “For instance, didn’t the Bank owe special duties of care to a very old and illiterate customer? They did have his record!” ...

A few days later on, Thomas asked me to present my fee note and advised me that they settled for $250.000. Thomas appeared deeply moved by the Bank’s generosity. I thought it best to congratulate him. All the same, I bit my tongue! Quentin looked perturbed when we met the following week. After solving together a Bridge quiz, both of us were again at home with one another. In the event, he opened the final discussion of the case. ...