Trouble was, no one knew they were borrowing money. Red Storey’s widow Bunny only found out about the purported loan two weeks ago, after Jones disappeared. Ditto Mary Coughlan, who only recently found out she had “borrowed” $50,000 from fellow Jones client Christiane Jackson. In each case, Jones’s clients say their signatures had been forged. Maclean’s was able to view several of the loan agreements; in several instances the lenders’ signatures aren’t uniform.
All the while, Jones was bullish about his investments. He claimed to have a locked-in “high interest instrument” with the Royal Bank that allowed him to buck the bleak economic outlook of late 2008. Even when cracks began to appear—cheques to the nursing homes of several clients began to bounce three months ago—Jones remained ebullient, usually blaming the glitches on his computer. For Jones’s clients and family alike, it remains the most unnerving aspect of the whole fiasco: even as their fortunes were melting away, Earl Jones remained the picture of stability and reassurance until the day he disappeared.
In reality, Jones was eagerly trying to secure more cash for his operation—particularly in the last few months. He approached Jackson’s neighbours for roughly $125,000 (luckily for them, they didn’t get the financing in time). One Westmount couple was hit up for $50,000 after Jones told them another pair of clients needed a down payment for their home. Jones promised an eight per cent return. Margaret Davis “loaned” $20,000 to the Persmann estate, with a promised return of 15 per cent. As before, the purported debtors hadn’t sought to borrow any money.
“I used to say to him, ‘Earl Jones, you’re so full of s–t,’ ” said Jackson. “ ‘Do you think I actually believe that you are getting 15 per cent?’ It would offend him. He said that he wouldn’t have been in business for 35 years if he was doing something fraudulent.”
Jones also prepared taxes for many of his customers, and in April sent out statements purportedly co-signed by Montreal notary Pierre Courchesne indicating the amounts paid on their estates. The taxes were never paid, and Courchesne maintains his signature was forged.
Jones’s secretaries Debra Stewart and Nancy Wynands acted as gatekeepers as he became less and less available over the last few months. “Earl picked up your call late last night,” Stewart wrote on March 10 to Dominique Jackson, who was trying to withdraw money. “He was away with his kids and grandchildren.”
On June 26, Jones reassured his godson, who’d invested nearly a million dollars with him, that all was well with the estate of his mother, Wendy Nelles. A week or so later, two clients of Jones filed papers against Earl Jones Corporation through their lawyers, compelling Jones’s company to pay out their family’s estates. On July 6, a seemingly calm and collected Jones left a voice message for Dominique Jackson, Christiane’s daughter, complaining of a recent minor medical procedure. “I’ll survive,” he said in a reassuring tone, adding he was looking forward to their meeting the next day. Jones himself was gone by the time authorities seized his company assets on July 10. His bank accounts, like the illusion of Earl Jones himself, were empty.
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