openpolitics.com

James Regan swindled his way through the city’s monied classes. The problem was, he seemed to believe his own lies

.. It was the morning before Canada Day 2016, and James Regan needed somewhere to live. A distinguished, even handsome, man of sixty-two with silver hair and a trim moustache, Regan presented himself at the ­Chestnut Park Real Estate office, a luxury brokerage in the heart of Summerhill, one of Toronto’s most desirable neighbourhoods. Smartly dressed, he approached the receptionist and inquired about renting an apartment.

His taste was exquisite. He had recently moved out of an opulent rental that he’d outfitted with close to $17,000 in furniture—a striking double-pedestal banded dining-room table set made of yew wood by England’s Bevan Funnell, two ­Regency armchairs, and a pair of chinoiserie cherry-wood nightstands. He drank good French wine and had his eye on an Audi A4. He seemingly knew everyone—judges, lawyers, politicians, nhl players and executives. He presented himself as a ­devout Catholic, a family man devoted to his son, ­Brandon, and ­Brandon’s mother. Claiming to run a thriving consultancy, he hobnobbed at the city’s most exclusive social clubs, hotels, and events.

.. When he was booted from the Sheraton Hotel, a police ­officer told hotel security that there were 128 police entries about Regan on file. His name appears in relation to twenty-nine different criminal-court matters in the city of ­Toronto alone. Regan would go on to be banned from every single Service Canada location for a year because of his “aggressive and disruptive behaviour” at its office on St. Clair Avenue.

.. He always eventually loses, but at a glacial pace.

.. Ennis was so frustrated by Regan’s ­imperviousness to the justice system that she went to the only institution left that she thought could help: the media. So she called the cbc.

.. Regan and Ennis finally went before the ltb. Regan caught wind of the fact that there were reporters on his trail and requested that the matter be heard privately. The tribunal ­denied his request. Regan then asked for an adjournment, claiming that he hadn’t received the notice of the hearing—which he was at that moment attending—in the mail.

.. But as he came out the front doors, he was met by a cbc news crew. “Why haven’t you paid your rent, sir?” the cbc’s ­Trevor Dunn asked him. As usual, Regan was ­impeccably attired—for this occasion, he sported a blue plaid ­blazer and matching tie. “­Because the legal opinions that I’ve been given are indicating that there’s a breach of the landlord’s ­responsibility,” he said, referring to the air conditioner.

.. After a few days, Regan hadn’t been arrested, so Chik went to 53 Division to ask why. It was 53 Division, after all, that in 2008 had issued the bulletin about Regan being wanted for sexual assault. An officer there told her to forget about it. “His lawyer will rip you apart,” the officer told her. “You’ll ­regret it.”

.. Confidence men can sell you ­only those lies that you’re already prepared to believe. They are emissaries of our own optimism, bearing the promise that the world is as decent as we’d hoped.

.. In 1848, a dapper and genteel fellow named ­William Thompson took to the streets of New York with a simple ruse. After some pleasant conversation, Thompson would ask a stranger, “Have you confidence in me to trust me with your watch until tomorrow?” His marks didn’t just believe in him, but also in the premise behind his question—that cities weren’t Hobbesian jungles, but the sort of places where you could entrust your timepiece to a stranger. When he was ­arrested, a reporter for the New York ­Herald christened him “The Confidence Man.”

.. Confidence men are different from mere hustlers, whose tricks—such as pickpocketing—do all the work. Con men tailor their frauds to create a theatre of legitimacy. Bernie Madoff convinced thousands of savvy investors that he had intuited the secrets of the American financial system and could—against all common sense—deliver consistent, impossibly high returns.

.. What makes Regan unique, perhaps, is his seemingly genuine concern for his own reputation. When he’s accused of defrauding someone, stealing their furniture, cars, or rent, he fires back that the accusation is SLANDEROUS and has CAUSED ­DAMAGES. His confidence trick, then, isn’t just that he’s good for it—but that he’s good. His sense of dignity flows from himself into his victims, who are altogether unprepared to believe that a meticulously groomed white man is anything other than an honest gentleman.

.. Against the shabbiness of the tribunal room, he radiated not just style or wealth, but real authority.

.. Regan had spotted me making notes, and locked onto me with a predatory stare. ­He realized that, just as it had been for the original con man William Thompson, the press was an existential threat. Regan has learned to stickhandle everyone except journalists.

.. His cons have been machine-tooled to weaponize the justice system’s own sense of fair play and the safeguards of due process. He represents himself, but always claims to have a lawyer who can’t make his hearings, so he is allowed adjournment after adjournment.

.. he has learned that he doesn’t need to succeed in order to win a year’s rent.

.. Regan is the superbug produced by our legal hygiene, the crook cooked up by our civic decency. The journalist, however, can do what the courts cannot: expose his improprieties as evidence of bad faith in order to warn future victims.

.. His language is unlike anything I’ve ever heard—a pleonastic stream of legalese, which, if you’re not listening ­closely, can be hard to identify as the total and ­utter bullshit that it is. The words come so fast and sesquipedalian that they ­escape faithful transcription. It is the grammar of stalling, but it races right at you.

.. When Codjoe tried to keep Regan on point, he barked at her: “You’re being indignant, madam! You’re overstepping your boundary! We’re trying to accommodate the process, and it’s not your position—”

.. “I’m going to cut you off here—”

“No, I’m going to cut you off here!” Regan bellowed. “We’re putting you on notice!”

.. When Codjoe delivered her decision, she referred to Regan as “the tenant,” as is customary. This infuriated him. “Call me Mr. Regan.” She very pointedly continued to call him the tenant. He very pointedly insisted on being called Mr. Regan. “In life, you earn respect,” he growled. She dismissed his application. “I’ve been played here! I’ve been insulted! I don’t want to be accused in the cbc that I’m a person being seen to supersede process. I want to follow the rules!”

.. The night before, Regan had written the court to apprise it of the fact that he wouldn’t be able to attend the hearing because he’d scheduled a sports mediation for the same day. The court office ordered him to show up.

.. Regan said that he had representation, but that his lawyer hadn’t been able to make it to court on such short notice. He seemed insulted, adding, “I’ve put the counsel on notice and have ­reported them to the Law Society.”

So Justice Thorburn asked for his lawyer’s name. The question caused Regan to stammer. He offered the name of one lawyer, Howard Levitt, and then another, Allan Blott.

.. He started rifling through his papers, and they scattered and fell to the ground. Regan’s voice began to crack as he searched for something in his paperwork. “The problem with self-represented litigants like me…” I had to look up at his face to realize he was crying, his face red and swelling. Regan wept as he told the judge that he had a son and that his son was ashamed of him. “The only thing you have left in life,” he said through his tears, “is your reputation.”

Justice Thorburn cut in, reminding him to confine his remarks to submissions that would convince her of his appeal.

.. He ­normally swung from rental to rental as if from vine to vine, but the new Google search results associated with his name must have been making that next vine elusive.