Steeped in Blood

by David Klatzow

  There are three interesting aspects to Kebble’s behaviour that night. Firstly, Kebble never went anywhere without a jacket, yet that night he left without wearing or carrying one. Secondly, Minnaar noticed that Kebble had been preoccupied and had seemed agitated the whole evening. Thirdly, whenever Kebble went to visit someone, he was known always to take a good bottle of wine or Scotch with him. That evening he left with nothing.

  What is the significance of these minute details? Cases are about little things; about the detail. People are creatures of habit, and everyone has their routine. When these habits are broken or the routine changes, there is a reason for it – and I want to know why. That evening, Kebble was doing things differently: he said he was going out for dinner, then changed his mind; he went out without a jacket; he was agitated; he left without a gift for his host; he drove slowly; and he stopped in a dark and dangerous place. As Minnaar had driven out the gate on his way home, about 100 metres down the road he had seen Kebble just sitting in his car, parked at the side of the road. Minnaar didn’t stop to ask questions – he did not want to pry – instead, he went on his way. That was the last time Andrew Minnaar saw Brett Kebble. From there, Kebble proceeded to his assignation with death, a mere two or three kilometres away.

  A couple of days into the investigation, there were suggestions that Kebble’s death had been the result of a hijacking. Yet things didn’t add up. Why would someone open their window for a hijacker, and how would that explain his drastic changes in routine and behaviour?

  I then received a phone call from Alfred Koch, a forensic investigator for Liberty Life. He wanted to know if I was aware of the fact that Kebble had taken out two large life-cover policies a few months prior to his death, well within the suicide waiver period on all life insurance policies. This was the first I had heard of this. Koch wanted to know if anything seemed suspicious to me, but since I had not yet seen the post-mortem results, things appeared normal at that point. Warning lights were starting to flicker in my mind, however, and the events of the next few days brought the matter into focus.

  I received a call from forensic accountant Danny Sabbagh, who asked me if I knew that a photograph of Kebble being baptised had been taken shortly before all of this happened (see photo). I discovered that Kebble had found the Lord in Peter George’s swimming pool a short while before his death.

  Kebble’s business dealings had often been quite unorthodox, even dubious. I contacted Peter Skeat, a very successful mining engineer who had sold Kebble some shares in a coal-mining venture, for which Kebble never paid. There was a very large sum of money involved – hundreds of millions of rands – and Skeat took Kebble to court. Kebble lost on the first round. The case went to the Supreme Court of Appeal, and Kebble lost on the second round. It then ended up in court again. In the run-up to the court date, Kebble told Skeat to back off or he would make Skeat’s life a misery.

  Skeat ignored the threat and told Kebble he would see him in court. Peter Skeat returned from an overseas business trip shortly afterwards, and found a warrant for his arrest as he landed back on South African soil. He was arrested and locked up, despite the fact that no charge was brought against him. He was released shortly afterwards. Kebble must have arranged, possibly through Agliotti and Jackie Selebi, for Skeat to be ‘roughed up’ a bit so that he would be more amenable to doing business. But even more fascinating is that, shortly before his death, Kebble had called Skeat to make amends and seek forgiveness.

  The picture suddenly started to slip into focus: Kebble had been taking out insurance policies – both for the here and for the hereafter. For the here, he took out two insurance policies, with his wife appointed as beneficiary. The joint proceeds of the policies were R30 million. For the hereafter, Kebble’s policy took the form of a baptism and attempts at making peace in his life on earth for the day when he had to answer for it.

  I called Alfred Koch, asking him to disregard my comments to him previously, as I now believed Kebble’s death to have been an assisted suicide. All the hallmarks were there: Kebble knew people who could easily access the type of weapon that had been used, Clinton Nassif was involved, Selebi, perhaps, too – all facts pointing to a possible assisted suicide.

  I then received a call from former High Court prosecutor Pietman Mostert, who had insight into the state matters. He asked me if I knew that there had been a warrant issued for Kebble’s arrest shortly before his death. I hadn’t known this. All the pieces now slotted into place: Kebble had run into debt problems of many billions of rands. He had been disempowered, in that he no longer had any influence in Durban Roodepoort Deep and the various other mining operations in which he had been involved – part of the rescue package of Investec to these businesses was conditional upon Kebble’s complete removal from any position of power.

  So he was isolated, finding himself in a position where he had no money and few friends. I found out that he had been trying to sell some of his properties, but the market was down and times were tough. It was obvious: if he was arrested, the whole pack of cards that was the Kebble empire would fall apart. There was no more room to manoeuvre – it is very difficult to act from a jail cell, or even to find an attorney to represent you if you do not have a substantial amount of money to offer. It would have been a high-profile case, and no attorney would have represented him without cash upfront. Suddenly all the attorneys who had surrounded Kebble when he had money would be nowhere to be found.

  If Kebble went down, he would leave nothing but disgrace and poverty for his family. He had a wife and children to consider, for whom he needed to provide financially. Any money that came in would go into his estate, and his creditors would get first pickings. The only way to avoid this was to ensure that money was paid directly to his wife, bypassing the estate and creditors. In order for this to happen, she had to be listed as the beneficiary on his insurance policies. In the lead-up to his death, Kebble seems to have had good intentions and demonstrated some family values.

  It astounded me that, despite my manifest warnings, Liberty Life and Discovery Life paid out the claims. If the case had concerned an ordinary person, they would most certainly have waited for the inquest. They would also not have paid if there was a hint of suicide in the air.

  I went to see Judge Heath and his son, Marius, who listened intently to what I had to say about Kebble’s death. I told them that Clinton Nassif was right in the middle of this mess, and that the death was probably an assisted suicide; I didn’t think it was a hijacking, I said to them. I believed that higher authority was involved. Interestingly, Judge Heath just raised his eyebrows.

  I finished my report and then received a call from Marius Heath, who informed me that Jackie Selebi wanted Judge Heath and me off the case. I agreed, saying that I would submit my report, but that I wanted my account settled first – until then, the report stayed with me. It was about a month later, in early December 2005, when Willem Heath called me, wanting to meet. We met, and he told me that I could laugh off any chance of being paid for my work.

  I never quite understood what Judge Heath’s involvement was in this whole matter. It later emerged that he, who worked for the Kebbles, was deeply involved in the Kebble–Agliotti–Selebi saga.

  Since I hadn’t been paid for my work, I decided to talk about it – there was no confidentiality clause binding me – and I was interviewed extensively. A reporter for e.tv, in editing, called me a mad conspiracy theorist. I was a little taken aback by this, to put it mildly.

  I contacted Liberty Life to see if they were interested in my report and any further investigation. They jumped at the opportunity, and I continued investigating on the insurer’s behalf. I obtained access to the affidavit submitted by Agliotti, in which he stated that Kebble’s death had been an assisted suicide. A man by the name of Mickey Schultz, as well as other characters, were named as having been involved in the plan. This affidavit confirmed exactly what I had said in my television interviews a year earlier – the e.tv producer
had to eat his words.*

  The story of Brett Kebble’s death leaves many unanswered questions. What was Willem Heath’s role exactly? In what way was Agliotti connected? Why was the involvement of these men not clarified? Why did Agliotti phone Selebi on the night of Kebble’s death? Was Selebi involved in the decision to release the car to Nassif?

  Brett Kebble’s death was clearly his last great financial scam. His business deals were all smoke and mirrors: just about every law firm in Johannesburg was involved in his shady deals in one way or another, yet none of them saw through the fraud and facade. And then Brett Kebble died just as he had lived – in a cloud of smoke and mirrors.

  ___________

  * See Appendix H for the 2010 revelations regarding Mickey Schultz.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE DYNAMIC INVESTMENT THAT SHRANK

  ‘[P]rediction of the unknown and unknowable is a cherished and often well-rewarded occupation.’

  – JOHN KENNETH GALBRAITH,

  Canadian-American economist and author

  What is a retired couple to do when they invest their life savings, only to find a few years later that some of their money has ‘disappeared’? If these funds are their sole source of income, it can cause more than a mild panic, particularly if there are no straight answers forthcoming from the company with which they invested. This was the problem facing Mr and Mrs Wentzel.

  I have found myself in later life being more active in assisting people with claim settlements as opposed to investigating on behalf of insurance companies. Big business, and insurance companies in particular, spew forth wonderful advertising messages, but seem so reticent in delivering on these promises when push comes to shove.

  The Wentzels were schoolteachers who had retired to Cape Agulhas. When they retired, they had invested their money with Sanlam, who had offered to guarantee their capital and pay them a reasonable income every month. They were happy with this arrangement, and after five years they had received their capital back. They wanted to reinvest with Sanlam, but were told that the same product was no longer available, as market conditions had changed.

  The Wentzels shopped around and met a broker, Leon Coetzee, who represented Dynamic Wealth, an offshoot of a company that used to be called De Witt Morgan. A few years earlier, Morgan, the senior partner, had made the strange decision to invest in maize futures, which had lost the Johannesburg City Council R1.8 billion of their pension fund.

  Coetzee convinced the Wentzels to invest with Dynamic Wealth. He arrived at their home with Johan Strydom, one of the directors of the company, and they promised the Wentzels an income of R3 500 per month, saying that their capital of R450 000 would be preserved. They were sold a policy from the Dublin-based Scottish Mutual International, a company not registered as a life insurer in South Africa, so the Wentzels had no protection under the Long-Term Insurance Act. This product should not, therefore, have been marketed in South Africa in the first place.

  All went well, until the Wentzels started receiving a fairly irregular and slightly lower monthly income of R3 100. They were not too perturbed, however, as they felt safe in the knowledge that their capital would be preserved.

  Then, in 2008, a shock came: R210 000 of their capital was paid back to them at the end of the term – less than half of what they had invested. They tried in vain to get some kind of explanation from Dynamic Wealth, but could not get hold of anyone from the company. Messages were not returned, and the Wentzels’ mood changed from disappointment to anger. In desperation, they approached me to see if I could help them.

  I called Dynamic Wealth and was initially referred to their compliance officer, Willem Lecante. He skilfully evaded my questions and openly taunted me, questioning my involvement in the matter, as I would not be paid for the work. I then received a letter stating that I could talk to the company’s attorneys. I informed them that I do not deal with attorneys, and that I would talk to them in another way.

  I called Bruce Cameron, editor of Personal Finance, and sent him my file to look at. He then wrote to Dynamic Wealth, asking them what they were going to do about this situation. When Lecante unpleasantly tried to evade Cameron’s queries, as he’d done to me, he received an even stronger reaction. At long last there was some action, and two of the company’s directors came to see me. They asked me what I’d like them to do.

  I replied that I wanted to speak to Strydom, the broker. I received a visit from Strydom, who told me how anxious the Wentzels had been to invest with them and how hungry they had been for risk. He had warned them, he said, of the potential risks involved in investing offshore.

  It was clear that we were not going to make headway on our own, so we agreed to take the matter to arbitration. Since I am not a lawyer, I prepared my documents as well as I could, and simply stated the facts and the particulars of our claim. We exchanged papers with the other side, and I received a multipage document from them, filled with legal jargon.

  As prepared as we could be, the Wentzels and I flew up to Pretoria the day before the arbitration was due to start. It was comforting to know that the retired Judge President of what was the Transvaal, Judge Frikkie Eloff, a man of high standards and integrity, was to preside over the matter.

  The next morning, as we were waiting for Judge Eloff to arrive, the advocate representing Dynamic Wealth came to introduce herself. Observing this, Mrs Wentzel anxiously called me aside to check whether they were really using an advocate to defend themselves in this matter. I told her that they were. She then asked me if I had any legal qualifications, and I had to tell her that I didn’t. She looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘O, fok!’

  As the plaintiff, we started the proceedings. I was in full swing, outlining the case as well as I could, when Judge Eloff stopped me mid-sentence. ‘Doctor, have you read this contract?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, I have, my lord,’ I replied.

  ‘Have you understood this contract?’

  ‘I think I have,’ I said.

  ‘Proceed.’

  We all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

  I was a little rattled by all of this, but I continued, and proceeded to call my first witness, Mr Wentzel, asking him if he had signed the contract. When he responded in the affirmative, I asked him if he had read the contract. He replied that he had not. Why not, I asked, to which he replied that it was because he had listened to the man who came to see him, and pointed to Johan Strydom. ‘We trusted him,’ Wentzel added.

  The advocate then had her chance at cross-examination, and she grilled Wentzel, telling him that ignorance of the law is no excuse and referring to specific clauses in the contract, amidst all kinds of other legal jargon. Wentzel was quite overwhelmed by this, and left the witness box visibly shaken.

  I then questioned Mrs Wentzel, and she was a little more forceful. She told the court that she and her husband could never get hold of the company to find out where their money had gone. She spiced up the proceedings a little by saying that she had left a few messages with explosive expletives on voicemail out of sheer frustration because no one ever returned their calls!

  These were ordinary people who wanted straight answers. Eventually we found out where their monthly income was coming from: it was being taken out of their capital, which is why the capital had reduced to such an extent.

  It was then the advocate’s turn to present her case. As she was about to start her argument, Eloff interrupted, asking her if she was planning to call a witness. She was – Johan Strydom. The broker, Coetzee, had left the company to become a pastor. It transpired that he was being pursued by the Receiver of Revenue and had some judgments against him, which tells a story in itself.

  As Strydom was testifying, it became apparent that Judge Eloff was rather taken with him – he started chatting to Strydom about financial matters. Strydom came across very well in his testimony, but said something very interesting – that he could remember more or less what he had told the Wentzels about the risk. I bided my time.r />
  In cross-examination, I asked Strydom if he considered himself a professional. ‘Yes,’ he replied. I went on further, asking if that meant that all the detail in the contract and pleadings was accurate and thoroughly checked. He agreed with this, and said that he had read the contract and the pleading document. Seeing as this was a brokered deal, I said, there would be no vicarious liability to the company, and that our remedy, if any, must be sought from the broker. Strydom concurred. In theory, I knew that we had little recourse because Coetzee was nowhere to be found.

  I then referred Strydom to page three of the contract, asking him to tell the court whose name was written down as the broker. There was dead silence. I knew whose name had been noted as the broker, of course – Johan Strydom. There was no need even to mention Coetzee’s name in the arbitration. The whole basis on which Dynamic Wealth’s case rested was cut away with that simple question. They had been so confident that they had not even read their own contract properly.

  I referred back to the discussion that had taken place in my office in Cape Town previously, and asked him if he could recall exactly what he had said to me on that occasion. At the time, he had said that he could remember the exact words he had used when he spoke to the Wentzels five years earlier. I asked if he could remember that I had questioned his infallible memory of a discussion that had taken place five years previously, even though he dealt with many of these contracts. He had stood by this fact at our meeting in Cape Town. Now he was telling the court that he could remember more or less what he had told the Wentzels. I wanted to know from him on which occasion it was that he was lying – then or now. It was downhill from there.