Cherie Gourlay is fighting on behalf of her mother and deceased father to recover money from the Ilich family.
In Northland's tight-knit farming community, your handshake is your bond. You honour it. But when things go wrong, a handshake deal is useless, as many people have discovered when trying to recover money off Jack or Andrew Ilich. Cherie Gourlay is not optimistic she will see what she says is $28,000 owed to her late father. Cherie and several other creditors talked to Kristin Edge about what happens when a handshake deal results in clenched fists, and a scrap to get your money back.
NORM BLACKWELL was a worker of limitless energy and strength for the first 49 years of his life. A two-time winner of the prestigious Golden Shears competition, he was a fit man of the land with a loving young family when life dealt him a cruel blow.
Norm developed a tumour in his neck. It started to strangle his spinal chord.
An operation removed half of it but while recovering, he fell and snapped his spinal chord.
He spent 21 years as a tetraplegic, paralysed and in a wheelchair before passing away in October last year.
Two decades in a wheelchair did little to diminish his strength of mind.
And when he could no longer work the farm, it was decided to let the land for grazing. The necessary work would be done by wife Shirley. Grazing became their only source of income.
In 2008, the new grazer from Hikurangi brought his stock to the Blackwell's Parua Bay property.
Jack had experienced some tough times with flooding on his Hikurangi swamp farm. That year, he told the Northern Advocate he had lost $300,000 but he vowed to make it back.
"When Dad heard Jack was in trouble ... he felt sorry for Jack," recalls Cherie.
"He (Dad) came from the school of thought (that) you helped your neighbours. That's just what Dad did."
For three years the "handshake deal" worked. And then in August 2011, a payment bounced.
Jack apologised. Things were tight - he'd had to act as a guarantor for his son Andrew who was bankrupt.
"He begged for time to sort it out which my parents agreed with. Over the next few years payments continued to bounce or were missed all together. My parents felt very sorry for him so allowed him to extent his credit."
By June 2014 the Blackwells had had enough, they were owed $30,000.
They generously offered to clear the debt in exchange for keeping 12 head of Ilich stock - worth about $12,000 - left on the Blackwell property.
The deal was rejected.
Jack, his wife Katarina and son Andrew visited the Blackwell farm.
With Andrew leading the Ilich family negotiations, they offered to repay $700 each month.
The Blackwells agreed, as long as the $700 was by bank automatic payment. And once the payment was set up, the Ilichs could have their 12 head of stock back.
The automatic payment was set up.
The Iliches took their stock.
After one payment the money stopped.
Tears well up as Cherie explains how her father's health deteriorated rapidly.
"Dad checked online every day (for the money) and there was nothing."
He suffered a stroke and passed away on October 18, 2014, just before his 50th wedding anniversary. A signed doctor's report states the stress, anxiety and frustration Norm experienced over the debt contributed to the worsening of his health. The Blackwell family received three more $700 payments, before the money stopped.
Widow Shirley says she is still out of pocket by $28,595.30.
"The common denominator most of the creditors have is the fact they originally felt sorry for Jack and his environmental issues on his farm. They all allowed him to extend his credit, thinking they were helping out a local farmer in tough times," Cherie says.
Repeated phone calls and emails by Cherie went unanswered.
The Iliches then responded with a restraining order against Cherie and her mother. It was later withdrawn. The Iliches also disputed the debt's interest, but a Small Claims hearing dimissed the claim. Now Cherie is carrying out her father's dying wish.
"Before Dad died, he said we'd never get our money but the least we could do was warn others so they don't get caught out too."
One day, while seeking free legal advice at the Public Trust, Cherie chatted with another woman. It turned out the Blackwells were not the only ones owed money by the Ilich family.
* See Gwen Murphy's story below
Frustrated creditors concerend at debt
The Ilich family farm is a sprawling property on the Hikurangi swamp, just north of Whangarei.
The Northern Advocate visited to offer Jack Ilich an opportunity to respond to his frustrated creditors. The magnitude of the debt, the seriousness of the claims and the many questions left unanswered warranted a visit in person.
Outside on the road, the mortgagee sale signs were up.
Creditors have spent hundreds of hours trying to recover thousands of dollars, and have told the Northern Advocate the experience was not always pleasant.
Jack was polite and pleasant, but declined to comment any further. He spoke briefly to us about the trouble the family had in 2008 with the floods.
The Advocate also contacted Jack's son Andrew, who advised his lawyers would be in touch. Andrew also called again, after the Advocate left a message to reiterate the opportunity to comment.
He declined again.
The Advocate has also spoken to several other creditors. Some did not want to be named, as they are involved in legal action to recover their money.
The collective sum of two creditors who want to remain private is at least $50,000. Another phoned on Thursday afternoon and claimed $30,000 is owed.
Gwen calculates she's owed $20,418.24 for grazing after deals struck with Jack and then Andrew Ilich. And $12,000 for 15 registered dairy heifers that left her farm after Andrew said Gwen would be paid over three months.
Sitting at her lounge room table, her work-worn hands flick through a pile of papers relating to the Ilich family.
Gwen says Jack came to her house and asked about grazing 36 head of stock in April last year.
She presented him with a grazing agreement. They ran through the details and cost per head. Jack didn't sign.
"Then two days later Andrew turned up and sat right at this table and was very happy. But he never signed the agreement either."
A trusting Gwen also agreed to sell them 15 heifers at $800 each.
Gwen hasn't seen a cent for the heifers. She suspects they have been milked in the Ilich herd for the last two seasons.
"I presumed he (Andrew) was honest. It wasn't until it was too late that I found out what he was really like."
Gwen also sent the Iliches a grazing agreement and a bank deposit slip, to set up automatic payments.
The money arrived in "dribs and drabs" before stopping.
Invoices were sent, telephone calls made, messages left, but still no payments. "I wasn't allowed to deal with Jack after that first meeting. I always had to ring Andrew."
Out of desperation, Gwen phoned Andrew and said she was going to sell the cattle she had.
"He yelled at me and said he would take me to court.
"I hoped I would have been paid. I didn't wish animosity. We looked after the animals and if he paid what they owed for grazing they could take their stock.
"I don't want to get legal but he never did pay."
Gwen won't reveal where the cattle are and estimates the money she would get if she sold them would not even cover her costs.
For 30 years, she and her late husband Kevin grazed the land and never had issues with non-payment.
"Grazing is how we make our money, it's our living.
"He was very plausible when we met. All he wanted to do was get young stock in good condition for mating.
"Jack and his wife did a walk through the paddocks and they seemed really nice people. We agreed on a price between the three of use. We shook hands because that's all you do. It was a gentleman's agreement."
Alan was to be paid four-weekly for grazing 46 calves.
Jack made the first two payments in advance, and then missed a payment.
"I thought well, he will pay the next month."
Jack also expressed interested in buying hay from Alan. They struck a deal at $5.50 a bail and Jack collected 840.
An invoice was sent for $5200 for the hay including GST. A payment of $2500 was made toward the hay but no money, still, for grazing.
By the end of April 2009, the grazing bill was $18,765.
At the time Alan was undergoing radical treatment for stomach and pancreatic cancer and dealing with a marriage breakup.
"I just didn't needed the added stress of not having a regular income."
Alan became "sick of the excuses." He prepared his newspaper ad, and made a last call to Jack, who was in disbelief that Alan would sell the animals. Jack paid up.
GRAZING STOCK is bread and butter for experienced Whareora farmers Kerry and Sheryl Campbell.
They milked cows on the farm for 20 years before deciding to offer their lush rolling hills for grazing in 2007.
Come November 2014, along came Jack Ilich, wife Katarina and grandson Stefan.
"Jack Ilich was a name known to me as an established dairy farming identity in the district," recalls Kerry.
The Campbells went for a farm walk with the Iliches and a handshake deal was struck for 44 jersey weaners and 10 angus-cross beef calves to be grazed, and reared, at $7.50 per head a week until July 2016. While there was no written agreement, the first invoice was paid without query.
The Campbells tried to recover the money. In the meantime, they drenched the stock and started supplementary feeding.
"We had been without regular income for four months apart from an investment which doesn't return enough to cover mortgage and fixed costs. All of our expenses had been added to our bank overdraft."
Finally, Kerry got a visit from Jack's son, Andrew Ilich.
"I didn't get a good image of him. He was acting like he was the victim and was very belligerent.
"I was led to believe they were under financial hardship with floods ... I was assured of full payment."
It never happened. Invoices were ignored, phone calls went unanswered.
Kerry went back to the court. Another order was made for the Iliches to pay up.
It never happened.
Kerry went to the collection department at the Whangarei District Court about the situation. He was given the go-ahead to sell the 10 cattle. The Campbells are still $2000 out of pocket.
"I've been farming since 1980 and this is the first bad taste I've had but I'm not letting one bad egg ruin my trust."