Friday, 31 March 2017

The Golden Keys to the City


Can We Help?

The City of London is by far the most powerful  and influential repository of professional expertise in the world.  Its comprehensive skills are open to anyone without an obvious UK criminal record who possesses the Golden Keys to the City: the money to pay the fees.

Influence, political status, class – none of them matter a dot, as long as the ackers are there. Footballers like Lineker or Beckham, politicians of all hues, oligarchs, sheiks, lottery winners,  Indian honeymooners with a South African tale to tell, English rock musicians.

The politically powerful, those shadowy creatures so beloved of aged, trad-jazz loving, Professor Teddy Cardigan and his ilk,rarely  have a chance against mobilised professional expertise at this level. The  US government, for example, faced with a relatively cheap but determined rescue package on behalf of the data hacker McKinnon, whose extradition they had demanded, was effortlessly seen off.
The controversial Gina Miller, who knows her way round the City as well as a few other places, had no trouble at all hiring its resources to pin the entire British government like a specimen butterfly when it came to Brexit, so far without having been assassinated by Those Behind Everything.
The great Brinks-Matt bullion robbers, as scary a bunch as you’ll ever have the misfortune to meet, included a number who walked free from the grip of the criminal justice system. A decade later the City, on behalf of the insurance companies based there and using their own investigators and informers, was still tying the “cleared” ones up in legal knots and gradually getting hold of their assets, without fuss or publicity, via the civil courts.  

Having and Holding

The world being what it is, if you are doing well in Kazakhstan, South Sudan or Moscow you get what you want with muscle and, ultimately, let’s face it, sudden death. But if you want to play in the wider world, or get out before you're taken out,  then that will usually mean playing by London rules, and London rules are all about protecting yourself and your property against risk, not with bullets but with the superior and much more reliable force of law, national and international,  expertly handled.  
Whether it’s to stop the state grabbing your inheritance or taxing your lottery win too heavily, arbitrating between exiled Russian thieves, defending your innocence, getting what's left of your musicians' royalties back from  crooked managers, maintaining your reputation, insuring your tennis arm or your breasts, enforcing your contracts, or making your divorce settlements work, the City – actually twin cities with finance and accountancy in the City itself, entrepreneurship and media production based in Westminster and the law situated comfortably on the border between them – does it better than anywhere else.
Others – in the Hague or Geneva – can carry on making the world a better place but London, much to the disgust of righteous Europeans, lets other people handle that sort of thing and gets on with making real money from its immense, concentrated – and often foreign-born – brain power on behalf of those with the Keys. And that is why baffled Portuguese, even today, search for hidden explanations for the extraordinary and incomprehensible whirlwind that engulfed them when they tried to investigate  a couple of common little doctors about the disappearance of their child.
For the media uproar that  Gerry McCann, with the instincts of a gambler,  had unleashed on May 4 2007 made them multi-millionaires within a few weeks, courtesy of public support and public donations, a narrative  that even the most fanciful of film plots would have struggled to get away with. That presented  this unlikely  pair with the Golden Keys to the City – and, as always, the City was ready to help.
Next: Part Two,  Coping with grief, you know.  

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

Yes dear



Even in the gallery of grotesques surrounding the McCann Affair, Detective Dave Edgar stands out – and by no means reassuringly. Can you imagine the sound of your front door splintering in the middle of the night and then seeing those giant stranglers’ hands thrusting through to  tear the panels out?
As you back away, incapable of speech or rational thought, the leprous  hands wrench out the  top panels and the weird melting-waxwork, cauliflower-eared visage of Edgar appears. “Chroist,” he says, “this isn’t number fifty fucking two, is it? There's been a mistake.”
But then Edgar has a long  history of not being able to get through the right door.
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Maddie Cop on Trail of ‘Mr Spotty'

Whoops!
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Maddie Detective Flies to Germany

Will Question Paedophile about Missing Tot 

Whoops!
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Get's Turned Away! Flies Back Again!

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And all the rest.

Edgar gave his definitive conclusions years ago.  “Obvious facts”, he told the media when he was still working on the case in 2009, demonstrated that the child had been taken by a solitary abductor who “wanted a child to take care of”.
Along with this conclusion to his research he rubbished all other claims. A group of traffickers? A gang of paedophiles? No, no, definitely not, said Dave. “There has been a huge reward offered. One of the gang would have broken ranks by now and come forward for the money.” So no gangs.
And there was no planning, meticulous or otherwise – Madeleine McCann was, he concluded, “simply in the wrong place at the wrong time”.  
 
So how does Brains justify last week's  360 degree turn and  absolute rejection of  all his own contentions? New evidence? Nope. So how can theories that he said “just didn’t stand up”, like the abduction gang theory, suddenly start walking?
You have to remember Edgar is part of McCann land, that territory in which the truth as such never exists, only the latest bullshit. He never mentioned the existence of his earlier contemptuous public dismissal of gangs and  he fibbed that this was "the first time" that he was "speaking out".  He doesn’t give any evidence or any reasoning at all, let alone comment on the undeniable fact that if "one of the gang...would have come forward by now" in 2009, then how come it doesn't mean anything eight years of increasing likelihood later?   And, naturally, he doesn’t even have the nous to see that not doing so only adds to the firm public image of a relatively decent but chronically thick and pliable buffoon.

Embarrassment in Court

If you want to know how reliable an investigator Edgar is you need to read the  transcript of his exceptionally brief, embarrassing and unsatisfactory evidence at the Lisbon libel trial.
It was a lamentable, stumbling performance. At one point proceedings came to a halt as Edgar, muttering about "that officer er...er..." couldn't even remember Paolo Rebelo's name until he was told.  He was strong on assertions, including the assertion that he had “facts” but when pressed on these facts, particularly about the McCanns unfounded claim that the book had “damaged the search” by making all the Portuguese give up on looking for her because she was dead, the sound of rowing back splashed around the courtroom. “Each case is different,” Edgar mumbled...“it’s very difficult to  say"…"again it’s difficult to say…” He blamed the masses of files left by the previous private investigators for not making more progress since he had to "review it all first".
The Guerra and Paz lawyer seemed to think that Edgar’s “investigation” was a joke in poor taste. 
Lawyer: Did you have access to the investigation files?
Sherlock Holmes: Yes, I had access to the files via Madeleine McCann’s parents.
Lawyer: All of the material?
Dave McMaigret: They passed on to me what was considered relevant...[mumbles] I don’t know if it was all.
[After five years he still didn't know. Now why would that be?]  
Lawyer: Then how did you manage to conduct an investigation without analysing the evidence? Who did you contact in Portugal?
J. Edgar  McHoover: [avoids answering first question] I contacted an informant
That’s it. That’s Edgar’s investigation and place in history. Still, he ended on a characteristic note:
Lawyer: Were there other private  investigators  before you?
Phullip Marlow: Yes, but I was the first professional.
Of course you were, dear.
 

Saturday, 18 March 2017

Payback Time




Hello, Clarence. Remember all those years ago when we said you would pay for what you did?

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Clunk!

Clunk!

Clunk!

 
No, not the Wayback machine, the real one, the Payback Machine. One after another up they come before our eyes, the Verdict, the Final Judgement  and The Empty Cupboard. The main shelf of the cupboard is now labelled "Grange: facts in the McCanns' defence to emerge from the investigation." It is big, it is friendly and it is empty.
 
The Bureau always said that the McCann/Amaral case was a fight to the death. That was not rhetoric: one of the two sides was going to be destroyed - literally.  That was why we joined the struggle in our  own small way.
 
The Verdict resulted from the demolition of the McCann narrative  during the libel trial. It was the beginning of the end.
 
The Final Judgement provided, for the first time, a defence for the UK media in the libel courts after the McCanns' eight year attempt to muzzle it at source.  Eight years after the McCanns and their revolting Portuguese ally, Isabel "no friends" Duarte, ambushed Amaral in order to prevent the publication of his claim that "the child died in the apartment"  the couple are being relieved of 400 000 Euros and faced with claims in the tabloid press that - guess what? - the child died in the apartment.
 
Eight years older and four hundred thousand euros lighter, the McCanns are today faced with the publication in the Sun of claims that they are not body disposers but - guess what? - killers. The Sun  stuff  is far worse than the UK media ever produced in September 2007 while the couple cowered  in their hideous Rothley home waiting to find out if their lawyers would save them.
 
They did, the shelving and the Archiving Summary followed and the way was open to sue.
 
Clunk! Years later one of those lawyers sat in the Lisbon witness box listening to the McCanns'  claims and credibility being destroyed. Payback time. Two years later he has had the pleasure of hearing the lying "exoneration" claim  - that the McCanns and the slug-like opportunist Mitchell dishonestly presented to the media the day after the shelving - dismissed by Portugal's highest court.
 
Clunk! News International lawyers passed the Sun story last night. Clunk! Amaral's  draining of their resources leaves them without enough of their, ahem, own money to sue. That means Carter-Ruck taking on the Murdoch organization on no-win, no-fee basis. Good luck with that one.
 
The Empty Cupboard - the Reality Cupboard - has finally brought starvation. Nothing has emerged from the four year Grange investigation to strengthen their chances in any libel court, as News International knows. So far the McCann "team" has whined and snuffled at these claims but has made no threat to sue.
 
Amaral won. The McCanns are now being destroyed in front of our eyes. By Amaral and the public that they deceived. Grange is a footnote.
 
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Exits to background babble...wayback...super injunctions...Murdoch and Rebekah will always save the McCanns...Teddy Cardigan threatening arch protector May and the Yard ...tenth tapas dunnit...they've got away with it...R Hall - how the mainstream media will bury McCann news for ever in a UFO, take it from me...Joanna Morais...the British Establishment will protect their own, I have the tapas bar table photographs to prove it...ambassador Henderson...Dr Roberts: how a pyjama jacket was eaten by Jim Gamble...yes dears, yes dears...