Trapped: A Couple's Five Years of Hell in Dubai

by Lee, M

  MARCUS

  We had to endure another agonising wait until we got our first day in court on 15 September. The delay was caused by summer holidays, when Dubai effectively shuts down for a month, then Ramadan, the Muslim holy month that involves fasting, during which nothing official gets accomplished. Mr Ali said the judge to whom our case had been allocated was known to grant bail, but would he look favourably upon us?

  Only about 50 per cent of the prisoners in the Out-Jail were Muslims, but we all had to observe Ramadan. Food was served before sunrise — but the normal breakfast time was 4 a.m. anyway — and after sunset, which in summer meant almost 7 p.m. No food or even water could be consumed in between. The visiting hours were also changed from six hours of visits on a Saturday (spread across male and then female visitors) to just two.

  As the days went on the prisoners around me became more and more irritable and then aggressive. Sleep was almost impossible because the lights were left on 24 hours a day and people roamed the dormitories non-stop. Everyone was starving hungry, exhausted and bored out of their minds. Barely an hour went by without a brawl.

  One day I was standing in the dormitory, near Matt as it happened. A fight broke out between some of the Indian ‘serial killers’ who had been with us in Port Rashid. In moments it dissolved into a deadly melee and suddenly there was a sickening thuck sound. One of the brawlers had hit the ground, smashing onto the concrete head-first and as he did, I felt liquid spray over my face and the front of my body.

  I said to Matt, ‘I’ve got blood on me, I can feel it!’

  He looked at me and said, ‘No, there’s no blood.’

  I kept saying, ‘I can feel it, I can feel the wetness.’ He was right, it wasn’t blood. It was brain fluid. Someone else’s brain fluid, all over me. How was anyone supposed to stay sane in here?

  Chapter 17

  THE TRUTH WILL PREVAIL

  JULIE

  I wasn’t crying as much anymore because now that Marcus had been charged I had something real I could fight against. But the stress took a physical toll. A skin rash appeared. It spread and spread over the following months. Eventually it covered my whole body and was unbearable. It lasted for years.

  In August 2009 my mum, sister Min and her husband Mark came to visit. I knew the long flight would knock Mum around, and the oppressive Dubai summer heat would be hard for them and I hugely appreciated the effort they had made. They helped me by giving lots of hugs and by spending their time reading through the entire case file and every document we had, Min shaking her head in disbelief at the allegations.

  Mr Ali described what the general court process would be like. There were three hearings and the first would simply hear the defendants’ pleas of guilty or not guilty. The second would list the witnesses. Only at hearing number three would there be any testimony, and the first witness. Mr Ali could apply for bail at each one, but he would wait to see what the main judge was like. He asked me to give all the documents to one of his lawyers, Archana, and this seemed a positive move — it was the first time he had asked for documents.

  Meanwhile Sunland lodged its threatened civil claim in the Australian court, seeking damages for its supposed loss over the D17 purchase from Matt and Angus Reed. Marcus was not being sued, but because his name was mentioned twice in the document Sunland lodged it was included in every story about the lawsuit. Most of these stories simply regurgitated Sunland’s version of events and then journalists would contact our families for comment. We asked everyone back home to say nothing, but it was a great relief when John Sneddon agreed to help with the media.

  It was so good to have John there to talk to. I could tell him about the case and he responded in a calm, sensible and sane way — such a change from talking things through with Marcus.

  I simply didn’t trust the press to write the truth — it hadn’t happened in my experience. But John advised us to speak to Rick Feneley, who was writing about the case for Fairfax. With John’s help, I settled on some simple points I wanted to get across.

  The story, headlined ‘Truth Will Prevail, Says Jailed Executive’s Wife’, ran in The Sydney Morning Herald on 9 September. Given the reaction to it, I think it’s worth quoting it in full:

  IN THE 228 days that Marcus Lee has spent behind bars in Dubai, his wife has waited in anxious silence in the Arab emirate. His 40th birthday has passed. He has learned that his father, in the final stages of terminal bowel cancer, has only months to live.

  Now Julie Lee says her husband feels overwhelmed by helplessness. The Australian property executive fears he will not see his father before he dies, and he is powerless to support his mother through this harrowing time, Mrs Lee told the Herald yesterday. ‘Every day is a huge struggle,’ she said, making her first public comments since her husband and his Australian colleague on the Dubai Waterfront development, Matt Joyce, were arrested on January 25.

  Both men have been charged with fraud. But Mr Lee’s newly appointed Australian lawyer, John Sneddon, says nothing in the prosecution documents suggests that his client gained any money or benefit from the deal at the centre of the case.

  That deal was between two Australian developers, Sunland and Prudentia. Sunland, a critical witness for the prosecution in Dubai, is taking separate action in the Federal Court in Brisbane this month to recover millions it claims it lost in Dubai because of an alleged scam by Prudentia, its director Angus Reed, and Matt Joyce, who attended Geelong Grammar with Mr Reed.

  In that action, Sunland is not suing Marcus Lee, who was head of commercial operations at Dubai Waterfront, a massive project by the state-backed developer Nakheel. Matt Joyce was the Waterfront’s managing director.

  Sunland alleges it was duped into paying a ‘consulting fee’ of more than $14 million to Prudentia to hand over a Waterfront plot. The two companies had planned to buy and develop the land together but, when the joint venture fell through, Sunland agreed to buy the plot from Nakheel and pay Prudentia the fee. Dubai authorities say Prudentia had no rights over the land. Prudentia, Mr Reed and Mr Joyce insist they acted honestly.

  In documents Sunland has filed in the Federal Court, its only mentions of Marcus Lee say that either he or Dubai Waterfront’s senior legal counsel, Anthony Brearley — it cannot be sure which — urged the company to act quickly to secure the land. Neither Mr Lee nor Mr Brearley has been named as a party in this case, but Mr Lee has employed Mr Sneddon, of Shand Taylor Lawyers in Brisbane, to defend his name in Australia. Mr Sneddon says his client was ‘swept up’ in the Dubai investigation.

  His only involvement concerned the sale of the land to Sunland, a deal formally approved by Nakheel, Mr Sneddon said. He had never had contact with Prudentia or Angus Reed.

  Mrs Lee told the Herald: ‘There is a very clear set of documents that show Marcus’s limited involvement and that demonstrate the approvals for the transaction that were gained from his employer. Once the authorities consider those documents, I am confident the truth will prevail. I have lived in this country for several years and have confidence in the system.’

  But doctors have given Mr Lee’s father three to six months to live. Mr Lee’s 91-year-old grandmother has also received a poor prognosis. ‘The detention of Marcus has been devastating to the family,’ Mrs Lee said.

  Mr Sneddon said: ‘Marcus is having great difficulty understanding why he has been charged . . . The only references to Marcus in the prosecutor’s report are statements about his work functions which formed part of his daily activities and responsibilities. This is also confirmed by witness statements provided to the Dubai authorities.’

  Dubai has declared Angus Reed and Anthony Brearley fugitives in the case. Both are in Melbourne.

  Mr Brearley, yet to comment on the case, could not be contacted.

  Mrs Lee said: ‘Marcus was just doing his job in a difficult and challenging environment.’

  I was rapt when the article appeared. Little, ordinary ‘us’ finally had a voice and we could say out loud what
a toll the case was taking.

  MARCUS

  Julie read it out to me when I called her that evening. By coincidence Matt was also on one of the phones and had apparently been speaking to Ange, who had read him the story. He hung up, barged into my phone cubicle and shouted at me, ‘Why didn’t Julie get Ange’s sign-off and approval before you did the story? Why weren’t Ange and I consulted before you issued a press release? Ange is beside herself,’ and then stormed off. I quickly said goodbye to Julie and went to ask Matt what his problem was.

  He said, ‘The only reason I’m not going to beat the shit out of you is that I don’t want another case against me.’

  I was speechless. I pointed out that it wasn’t a press release; Julie and John had answered questions that were put to them. I added, ‘What they said was largely in relation to my father and his illness and the possibility that I won’t even see him again, something that’s very personal to me.’ He didn’t listen, just gave me a death stare.

  Eventually he spat out, ‘You’ll get what’s coming.’

  I really couldn’t fathom his reaction. The Joyces had previously put out a press release trying to explain away the money Matt had received from Prudentia. That release had led to the story full of errors that said I was the CFO of Nakheel. There had been no explanation from Matt then — and Julie and I had said nothing to him. Yet here he was accusing me of disloyalty and threatening me as well. The real Matt Joyce seemed to be coming out.

  Three days before we were due in court I wrote in my journal:

  I saw Julie and Wayne today at visits . . . I talked about the case as usual but Wayne has been going through a few difficulties being away for so long, no friends and having to deal with all the intensity of dealing with me and the case etc. There’s such a toll on everyone and everything associated with this and I hate it. We are now just 3 days from the 15th, court date. I hope and pray every day and night that I get bail . . .

  Two days after that, the night before the hearing, I wrote:

  To say I’m petrified is a gross understatement. I know it’s a bit of a long shot but I’m hopeful of bail. . . . I hope that Mr Ali can get out the key points — No Money, No Contact with PRUDENTIA, Everything approved by NAKHEEL. I’ve been speaking to Julie and Wayne quite a bit this morning, trying to calm my nerves. I can’t eat . . . I keep telling myself I’m strong, I can get through this.

  The next morning, Matt and I were taken to the court building, handcuffed together as usual — even more uncomfortable, under the circumstances. After a long, drawn-out, nervous wait in the basement ‘dungeons’ we were taken into the courtroom, where to my relief I could see Julie, Wayne and Mr Ali. The justice system in Dubai is not an adversarial system like ours, where a lawyer has the ability to cross-examine the other party’s witness. It’s an inquisitorial system and the judge, or a panel of judges, takes the part of inquisitor. That means the judge questions the defendants and the witnesses. The prosecution and defence lawyers can submit questions but the judge can ask the question or not — and if he does, he will do so in his own words.

  In our case there were three judges. One read out the names of the defendants, then read the charges in Arabic, and Matt and I were asked through an interpreter if we were guilty of each of the four charges. I tried to stand straight and tall as I loudly said ‘No’ four times.

  Matt’s lawyer, Salem Sha’ali, then engaged in heated conversation with the judges in Arabic, causing the prosecutor to leap to his feet. Julie told me later that Sha’ali had said the charges were wrong and unsupported by evidence, and the prosecutor had vehemently disagreed. They both sat down. Mr Ali requested bail. The main judge said it was too early in the case but he would consider it later, and it was all over.

  After so much build-up, this was unbearable. We had to wait a month for our next court date, and even then what could we expect but more of the same. I became suicidal. On 18 September I wrote in my journal, ‘I feel like killing myself every day.’

  JOHN SNEDDON

  My first meeting with Sunland was set for 7 October 2009. I spoke to Marcus for the first time shortly before then. One day I was having a Skype conversation with Julie — we never used video conferencing, it was just the sound — and I could hear her phone ring. It was Marcus calling from jail. She had told me repeatedly, ‘Marcus can’t talk to you, his confidence is so knocked by the experience he’s gone through. My husband is a very confident businessman who’s very good at dealing with people, but right now he’s just so desperate he’s leaving it to me.’ I could hear her say to him, ‘Marcus, I’m on the phone to John right now, why don’t you say hello.’ Then I just heard this weak voice say, ‘Hi John’ and that was all. He sounded very flat, very flat indeed.

  Unfortunately I can’t discuss what happened in that meeting with Sunland and its lawyers without breaching confidence. We agreed that our initial discussions would proceed on a without prejudice basis. ‘Without prejudice’ is a form of legal privilege that applies to statements made by parties attempting to settle a dispute. Practically speaking, it usually means the statements are ‘off the record’ and made without admission of liability.

  I have never put in so much preparation for a meeting in my life. I got up at 3 a.m. and sat on my back deck reviewing every document in the case and planning my meeting strategy. As the sun rose, I reminded myself that on the other side of the world my client was trapped in a Middle Eastern jail and it was vitally important that I had my game face on. I needed to come across as competent and professional right from the outset.

  Sometime after that Julie arranged for Marcus to call me from the jail, warning me that he would only be allowed to speak for eight minutes. He rang, and I was impressed with his firm resolve. I had noted a couple of critical points to talk about, and he had obviously done the same. He wanted not just to be released but to make sure that people were held accountable for what they had done to him. That impressed me. I sensed his strength. At one point he said, ‘If you want to know what it’s like in a Middle Eastern jail, it’s just like the movies.’

  I said, ‘What, like Midnight Express?’

  He said, ‘Yeah, just like that.’ And then the phone cut out.

  MARCUS

  Tuesday 20 October finally arrived, and we set off for court again. As Mr Ali had warned us this was an administrative hearing only. With, apparently, the admin dealt with, Mr Ali began speaking emphatically to the panel of judges, waving the documents in his hand for emphasis. I didn’t know what he was saying, but it was clear he was speaking up for me and I felt incredibly grateful. I didn’t see him or Julie before we were led back to the prison van. As soon as we were back, I called Julie. The call went through to her mobile; she was still at the court building.

  She was explaining to me what Mr Ali had said about my lack of wrongdoing when suddenly she said, ‘Wait . . . Bail has just been granted!’ Quickly conferring with Mr Ali’s assistant, she told me the bail conditions were that we pay AED1 million (around AUD320,000), surrender both our passports and lodge the passport of an Emirati who agreed to act as a kind of guarantor. (Matt’s lawyer, who had stayed silent during most of the hearing, had piped up after Mr Ali’s passionate display requesting bail for his client too, and Matt was also granted bail under the same conditions.)

  This was thrilling news. There were very big hurdles to jump over, but for the first time, freedom was within reach. Julie was setting to work right away to try to figure out how we could come up with what we needed.

  This breakthrough caused some thawing between Matt and I and we spoke a little about the challenge ahead. He said he too was worried by the bail conditions because he didn’t have AUD300,000.

  By emptying out almost every last saving we had, drawing money against our line of credit and taking cash advances on our credit cards, Julie was able to scrape together the money required and was confident she could access it from our Dubai bank account within three or four working days.

  Tryin
g to find an Emirati passport proved much more difficult. Julie spoke to Ange, who didn’t seem to be making much progress either. But on Thursday afternoon, barely two days later, I saw Matt packing up his things. Then, over the loudspeaker came the call, ‘Matthew, Australia, release’. Matt walked past me with barely a nod and was gone.

  I phoned Julie and told her what had just happened. Neither of us could take it in. Both Ange and Matt had kept up the pretence that they were in the same position as us, unable to meet the bail requirements. I was locked up with 200 people but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone in my life.

  JULIE

  I had to get Marcus out, but it had been tricky pulling the money together. I just couldn’t think how we were going to find an Emirati — it had to be a male — to agree to hand over his passport. I called Tony Perrin and Justin Crooks, both of whom were back in Australia, and they each got straight on the case, trying to find someone. My friend Karen Kendall was trying to find someone. Wayne, who had arrived back in Dubai, was trying to think of who we could approach. Indrani asked all her Sri Lankan and Filipino friends if they knew someone.