Bounty hunter on trail of money
Published
July 12, 2003.
He uses `innocent strong-arm tactics'
ELIZABETH
SHEARER
SPECIAL TO THE STAR
From low life criminal to wealthy businessman, Doug Cannon has the unique perspective of someone who has lived on both sides of the tracks.
And
that's what gives him the audacity to implement bizarre tactics as a financial
bounty hunter — the only one in Canada, he says.
Cannon spent 13 years in prison as a result of a youthful crime spree that involved bank robbery, breaking and entering and forgery. He went through a rough time, including beatings by the guards, but he also experienced a catharsis.
"A psychiatrist who's a real bigwig in the penitentiary system told me if I channelled my energies the right way, there'd be nothing I couldn't do," he says.
It was while in jail that he thought up the idea of starting what is now Cando Credit Consulting (http://www.candocreditconsulting.org), a company that collects money.
Collections is a huge problem, says Cannon, 52, who is based in Brampton and whose clients, which include law firms, car dealerships and construction companies as well as individuals, are primarily from Ontario.
"I help them get their money and I collect worldwide," he says.
"The legal system doesn't work, you get a judgment — a piece of paper — and they don't know how to facilitate it. Small claims courts don't work. You get remands and they're bogged down.
"Agencies are only licensed to make phone calls and write letters. They can't mitigate the damages and they can't sit down between lawyers and act as mediator. They say some pretty rude things over the phone. You don't get the money by being tough — you get it by being resourceful."
The words "bounty hunter," so reminiscent of the Wild West, are much in the news, but Cannon's use of the term is his own. While he doesn't take 'em dead or alive, elusive debtors are often shocked by the lengths he'll go to and his unwillingness to give up.
"I don't do anything illegal," Cannon says with a laugh. "I do unusual things — all legal but borderline crazy sometimes."
Like the time one of his clients needed to evict delinquent tenants in order to develop his property.
"They were 1 1/2 years in arrears," Cannon says. "The sheriff's office hadn't come over, so when they were out, we loaded up all their stuff with a moving company and put it in storage, phoned the humane society who took their three dogs, and then bulldozed the house — end of problem."
Same problem, different solution: He dumped a load of pig manure on a client's property to get a debtor to move.
Then there was the time Cannon followed someone around a golf course with a megaphone, blasting him for avoiding calls and asking when he was going to pay his debts.
He recently went to a funeral home viewing in order to confront someone who had been avoiding his calls.
"I pulled him aside and said, `Did your father leave you any money?' I was polite about it. I said, `I don't want to ask your mother. I want to give her my condolences.' I got the money the next day."
While the ethics of such actions are questionable, the legalities are not, and Cannon is able to carry out extreme measures thanks to a shrewd knowledge of just how far he can go.
The common scenario involves a verbal confrontation and then the management tells him to leave the premises. He has never been charged with harassment.
OPP Senior Constable Robert Rivait says Cannon came to his attention because people were upset by his tactics. Even though Cannon exhibits bad taste in approaching people publicly, Rivait says, he is abiding by the Trespass to Property Act by leaving when he is told to do so.
"It's called innocent strong-arm tactics. Anyone can threaten legal action; it's not a threat under the Criminal Code. Anyone can go to public places."
Revait says he reminded Cannon that if he's in violation with the law, he will be investigated and dealt with. "He was bordering that line, but he knows how far he can push."
There are hazards to the job and Cannon has been threatened with bodily harm, his Corvette was blown up and he's been locked in a freezer. But he justifies his extreme and seemingly crass tactics by saying the debtors — by disregarding his clients' situations and being unwilling to pay the money they owe — force his hand.
He gets particular satisfaction out of getting back money lost through fraud and embezzlement.
"I had a little old lady who was owed $45,000," he says. "They had tried for four years but hadn't been able to get it back, so her son hired me. I got it back in two weeks. I forced the guy who owed her to take out (a line of credit) against his house. She was so happy, she wanted her picture taken with me."
Cannon calls himself a credit consultant and he sometimes works as an agent for the small claims court of Ontario. As a paralegal, he has become adept in such aspects of the law as civil disputes, child support, landlord and tenant, seizures and probate.
Collection agencies work on commission, anywhere from 5 per cent to 50 per cent, depending on the particulars of the case. Not so Cannon. He takes a retainer from his clients, from $1,000 to $5,000 per year, and he receives 10 per cent to 25 per cent of the monies retrieved.
He says he has collected in excess of $10 million over the years, but he's tight-lipped about exactly how much he has earned. His biggest collection was $1.7 million from a satellite dish company, for which he received his biggest payoff — a flat rate $80,000.
Unlike collection agencies, he doesn't set up a trust fund and monies are paid directly to the client. Since he is not a registered collection agency, his company does not fall under the jurisdiction of the Collection Agencies Act. That's a sore point for Jim Shaw, president of the Ontario Society of Collection Agencies.
"We take issue with the fact that there are law firms and paralegals who are able to compete against us and are not necessarily registered," Shaw says. "There are strict guidelines that agents must adhere to, such as contacting people either by letter or by telephone, in Ontario, only between 7 a.m. and 9 p.m. and not on Sunday. If we have permission from a client, we can sue, but papers are served through process servers. As far as I am aware, paralegals are not, as yet, regulated."
A lot of Cannon's work involves corporate disputes where he acts as a mediator. "Oftentimes, disputes go back and forth between lawyers for a year or more. I contact building inspectors, bylaw officers, decipher problems and do research. They don't have time to do all that."
He claims a success rate of 90 per cent, whereas collection agencies generally achieve 20 per cent success.
Cannon has collected from such formidable opponents as members of the Hell's Angels and Satan's Choice.
There are times when he hits a dead end, but it's usually because of bankruptcy or when his conscience kicks in.
"If you have someone on mother's allowance and they're legitimately telling me the truth, I just tell the client, `Hey, I'm not gonna be the jerk.'"
He's been on the right side of the law for 25 years now and revels in the success he has earned.
Cannon has a taste for the high life, including expensive cars and gambling. He was recently in a car accident that totalled his $170,000 Viper and he hasn't decided whether to get a Hummer for a change. He's owned two Vipers, nine Corvettes and two Prowlers. He's also had seven Grand Cherokees, his winter vehicle.
Seven days a week, he is either playing cards at Casino Rama or betting on horses. He and his wife won $500,000 playing Superstar Bingo.
"I don't drink and I don't use drugs," he says. "I gamble."
In fact, he's so well known at Casino Rama that he gets treated like a celebrity. Every weekend, he attends Rama concerts and has his picture taken or dines with the stars.
He enjoys the limelight and is a regular guest on a MOJO radio talk show. He likes to talk about his friendships with the late King Clancy and jockey Sandy Hawley.
His biggest win at Rama was $15,000 and he has no idea how much he's won and lost over the years. "I'd have a heart attack if I kept track of that," he says.
He's been married three times and has a 16-year-old daughter from his second marriage. He is grateful he has been able to help his mother and that his father died proud of him.
"I put them through hell when I was young," he says
As for the future, he's considering expansion and is working on an instructional CD that will give tips on collecting and what to expect in handling delinquent accounts.
"It's been a thought to do franchises or something like that," he adds. "Your rewards are unlimited if you use your mind and do things constructively; there are more avenues to succeed.
"It
beats robbing banks."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Elizabeth Shearer is a freelance writer who lives in Newmarket.
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