“Things do not go away. They go somewhere.” (Annie Dillard)
Many trustees assume that a dormant trust can be safely forgotten. No income, no assets, no transactions … No problem.
SARS has made it clear that this assumption may be an expensive one.
In recent months, SARS has intensified its focus on trust compliance, targeting trusts that have failed to submit annual income tax returns. What many trustees may not realise is that inactivity does not remove a trust’s tax obligations.
A trust that has been sitting dormant for years is still required to submit annual income tax returns. Failure to do so can now result in administrative penalties, even where the trust has conducted little or no activity.
Dormant does not mean exempt
One of the most common misconceptions among trustees is that a trust only has compliance obligations if it earns income, owns assets, or actively conducts transactions.
That is not how SARS views the issue.
According to SARS, all registered trusts, whether economically active or passive, are required to submit annual income tax returns. The obligation exists even where the trust has little or no economic activity.
Why SARS is paying closer attention
Since May 2026, the revenue authority has been issuing administrative penalty assessments to trusts with outstanding returns following earlier final demands for compliance. Trustees who received those demands were given an opportunity to correct the non-compliance before penalties were imposed.
Depending on a trust’s assessed taxable income, monthly administrative penalties can range from R250 to R16,000 and may continue accruing if the non-compliance is not remedied.
This reflects a broader shift in SARS’ approach to trusts. What was once viewed by many as a relatively passive area of administration is increasingly becoming an area of active oversight and enforcement.
Thinking about winding up a trust?
Many trustees only discover outstanding compliance issues when they begin taking steps to terminate a trust’s affairs. By that stage, years of outstanding returns, incomplete records, or unresolved SARS obligations may need to be addressed before the process can move forward.
Importantly, a trust that has effectively ceased operating is not automatically regarded by SARS as deregistered for tax. Trustees remain responsible for ensuring that trust information is maintained, updated, and, where appropriate, formally deregistered through the correct processes. Failure to do so may expose the trust, and potentially its trustees in their capacity as representative taxpayers, to penalties and other consequences under the Tax Administration Act.
Winding up a trust and deregistering it with SARS are not the same thing. A trust that trustees regard as dormant, inactive, or terminated is still regarded by SARS as a registered taxpayer with ongoing filing obligations until it has been properly deregistered.
The position can become particularly costly where penalties have been accumulating in the background.
As SARS continues to invest in data capabilities and automated enforcement mechanisms, historic compliance issues are becoming easier to identify and harder to overlook. In some cases, trusts that trustees believed were inactive for years are now being drawn back into the compliance net.
The lesson is straightforward: before assuming that a dormant trust requires no further attention, trustees should ensure that all filing obligations have been met and that the trust’s SARS records are up to date. A trust may be dormant in practice, but that does not mean it has disappeared from SARS’ radar.
“All’s fair in love and war, but not in business.” (Modern twist on the old proverb)
Your business is flying after years of hard work and personal sacrifice. Suddenly, your most trusted employees resign and set up in direct opposition to you. The speed with which they do so makes you realise there’s something fishy going on.
Sure enough, they are brazenly using your confidential knowledge, resources and client relationships against you.
A recent High Court decision provides a perfect illustration of how our law can and will protect you from that sort of unfair competition.
A new business and software in 11 days? Something’s fishy
This unhappy saga starts with a company in the niche business of measuring and analysing diesel engine emissions. Monitoring these emissions is important in several industries, most notably the underground mining industry. It’s the first and only such business in South Africa thanks largely to two factors: firstly, its exclusive Africa-wide distribution agreement with a German supplier of specialised equipment, and secondly, its founder’s development of custom software.
All went well until two of the company’s senior managers resigned from their positions. Just 11 days later they had set up their own business in direct opposition to their erstwhile employer. One can only imagine his distress and anger when he realised that they were using the fruits of his technical expertise and hard work to try to poach his clients from him.
He lost no time in taking legal steps, and when the managers refused point blank to stop trading, he asked the High Court for an order forcing them to do so.
What is springboarding?
“Springboarding”, as the Court put it, “entails not starting at the beginning at developing a technique, process, piece of equipment or product, but using as a starting point the fruits of someone else’s labour.”
Competition and entrepreneurship are of course healthy and to be encouraged, but only if they are lawful. Springboarding grounded in unlawful conduct is prohibited.
From springboarder to belly flopper
The evidence of unlawful conduct in this case was overwhelming. For example, one of the managers had months previously been suspended under suspicion of planning a competing business after a budget for a new venture, including a provision to buy the specialised German equipment, was found on his laptop. In due course their new company duly bought the equipment, despite them having full knowledge of the distribution agreement in favour of their employer (they couldn’t deny knowledge, having actually signed the agreement on behalf of the employer).
The Court was also sceptical of the new company’s claim to have developed its own independent software in a matter of weeks, especially in light of evidence that, shortly before resigning, one of the managers had emailed his employer’s software to himself.
The final nail in the managers’ coffin was that their marketing presentations to two of the employer’s clients were sufficiently similar to the employer’s presentations for the Court to conclude that they were using its business model, methodology, equipment and software against it.
As regards their terms of employment, only one of the employees had signed a contract (it included a confidentiality clause). But what mattered was not their contracts, but that as employees they had a general fiduciary duty to act in good faith and in their employer’s best interests.
Referring to the abundant evidence of their misuse of confidential information gained during their employment, the Court slammed the managers and their new company with a series of orders that will presumably cripple their new venture, at least for now.
They and their new company are prohibited from unlawfully competing with the original business for eighteen months, they must return all confidential information and documentation (deleting electronic copies), and cannot disclose the information to anyone else. What’s more, the Court ordered them to pay costs on the punitive attorney and client cost scale.
A checklist to protect your business from springboarding
The employer is victorious, but it’s taken him almost a year to get here, and inevitably his business (and he personally) will have suffered.
With prevention always being a great deal better than cure, you can protect your business from going through all the delay, cost, trauma and business risk of a court fight with this checklist:
Perhaps most importantly, act decisively at the first hint of a springboarding attempt. A robust lawyer’s letter will often be enough to nip the problem in the bud.
“By failing to prepare, you are preparing to fail.” (Benjamin Franklin)
A dementia diagnosis affects far more than memory. As the condition progresses, it can impair a person’s ability to manage finances, make legal decisions, sign contracts, or deal with property and investments.
For many families, the legal implications only emerge when practical problems arise. A bank account needs accessing, a property needs selling, or financial decisions must be made for someone who can no longer act independently.
At that point, many assume a Power of Attorney will help. South African law says otherwise.
The Power of Attorney myth
A Power of Attorney allows one person to act on another’s behalf. It is commonly used when someone is travelling, unavailable, or needs assistance with specific transactions.
What many people do not realise is that a Power of Attorney is only valid while the person who granted it still has legal capacity. In simple terms, they must be able to understand the nature and consequences of their decisions.
Once a person loses that capacity through dementia, Alzheimer’s disease, a stroke, or another condition affecting cognitive function, the Power of Attorney falls away. South Africa does not currently recognise enduring powers of attorney that remain valid after a person becomes mentally incapacitated.
This can create practical difficulties. For example, if a property is sold after the owner has lost legal capacity, a Power of Attorney that was previously valid may no longer authorise the transaction. That can create legal uncertainty at a time when families are already under pressure.
Let’s look at three other options.
1. Curatorship: The traditional route
Where a person can no longer manage their own affairs, the High Court may appoint a curator bonis to take control of their financial affairs.
A curator manages assets, pays expenses, and protects the person’s financial interests. In some circumstances, a separate curator may also be appointed to deal with personal matters such as medical and care decisions.
Curatorship provides important protection, but it can be a lengthy and costly process. The application requires medical evidence, court involvement, and ongoing oversight by the Master of the High Court. For larger or more complex estates, however, it may be the most appropriate option.
2. Administration: A lesser-known alternative
In some cases, a simpler option may be available.
The Mental Health Care Act allows the Master of the High Court to appoint an administrator to manage the property and financial affairs of a person who is unable to manage their own affairs because of a mental illness or severe intellectual disability.
Unlike curatorship, this process does not require a High Court application, making it generally quicker and less expensive.
However, it is only available in specific circumstances and is generally intended for smaller estates. An administrator’s powers are limited to financial and property matters and remain subject to the supervision of the Master.
Professional advice is essential to determine whether this option is available in a particular case.
3. Special trusts: Planning before capacity is lost
Where dementia is diagnosed at an early stage and the person still has legal capacity, a special trust may be worth considering.
Unlike curatorship and administration, which are generally implemented after capacity has been lost, a special trust allows arrangements to be put in place while the individual can still participate in decisions about their future affairs.
Special trusts may also offer tax advantages in certain circumstances and can provide a structured way of managing assets for the benefit of a person who later becomes unable to manage their own financial affairs. Professional advice is essential to determine whether a special trust is appropriate and how it should be structured.
Act sooner rather than later
Dementia presents families with both emotional and practical challenges. The earlier legal planning begins, the more options are available.
A common thread running through curatorship, administration, and trust planning is timing. Once legal capacity has been lost, choices become more limited, and the available solutions often become more complex and costly.
Dementia cannot always be anticipated, but its legal consequences can. Understanding the available options before a crisis develops can help families protect both the dignity and financial wellbeing of a loved one during an already difficult time.
“The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.” (George Bernard Shaw)
Many landlords assume that once a tenant stops paying rent, an eviction order will inevitably follow. A recent Western Cape High Court judgment shows how wrong that assumption can be. Despite rental arrears of more than R46,000 and an apparently legitimate grievance, a landlord’s eviction application failed because of a problem many people overlook: the cancellation letter.
The dispute arose after tenants allegedly fell behind on their rental payments. The landlord sought to terminate the lease and evict the occupants. Although the alleged arrears were not seriously disputed, the case ultimately turned on a different question: whether the lease had been validly terminated in the first place.
The court didn’t even consider whether the eviction itself would have been justified. Instead, the application failed because of defects in the cancellation process.
Why the cancellation failed
The letter sent to the tenants purported to cancel the lease immediately because of the rental arrears. At the same time, it gave the tenants a future date by which they had to vacate the property and demanded payment of the outstanding amounts.
The difficulty was that the letter appeared to communicate several different and potentially contradictory things at once. Had the lease already been cancelled? Were the tenants being given an opportunity to remedy the breach? Would payment of the arrears change anything? The notice did not provide clear answers.
The court confirmed an important principle of South African law: a notice terminating a lease must be clear, unconditional and unequivocal. If a notice leaves uncertainty about the parties’ rights and obligations, it may be invalid.
In this case, the court found that the cancellation notice was ambiguous. Because the lease had not been validly terminated, the landlord could not establish that the occupants were unlawfully occupying the property. Without unlawful occupation, the eviction application could not succeed.
A costly lesson for landlords
For landlords, the lesson is straightforward. Even where a tenant owes substantial rental arrears, a defective cancellation process can derail an otherwise strong case. Before launching eviction proceedings, it is essential to ensure that all notices have been properly drafted and served, and that all requirements for a valid termination have been satisfied.
For tenants, the case demonstrates that the outcome of an eviction application is not determined solely by whether rent is owing. A landlord must also show that the lease was lawfully terminated before a court will consider whether an eviction order should be granted.
The judgment is a reminder that legal disputes are not won on the facts alone. Even where a landlord has a legitimate grievance, a defective notice can bring an eviction application to a halt before a court ever considers the merits of the case.
The lesson extends beyond landlord-tenant disputes. Small drafting errors in legal notices can have significant consequences, particularly where rights and obligations depend on clear communication.
A properly drafted notice can prevent costly litigation. If you are considering cancelling a lease or pursuing an eviction, obtaining legal advice before taking formal steps may help avoid costly delays and unnecessary disputes.
“Justice cannot be for one side alone, but must be for both.” (Eleanor Roosevelt)
Under the antenuptial contract alone, she would have had no claim on his estate. The court found otherwise. A woman who spent three decades running a home, raising her husband’s children, supporting his career, and making financial contributions to joint expenses received 40% of his estate. The parties were married out of community of property without the accrual system. The antenuptial contract said their estates were separate. Contribution told a different story.
Until recently, redistribution orders under section 7(3) of the Divorce Act were only available to couples married before 1 November 1984. Couples who married after that date and excluded the accrual system in their antenuptial contract had no access to this remedy.
The Constitutional Court changed that, declaring the limitation constitutionally invalid. It found the limitation to be unconstitutional, constituting unfair discrimination that disproportionately affected women, who more often sacrifice financial independence for the benefit of the marriage. The redistribution remedy is now available to couples married out of community of property without accrual, regardless of when they married.
A redistribution order is not automatic. The court must be satisfied that the claimant contributed directly or indirectly to the maintenance or increase of the other spouse’s estate during the marriage. The court then considers the means and obligations of each party, any donations made during the marriage, and any other relevant circumstances, before determining what transfer is just and equitable.
Ordinary spousal duties can be enough. A claimant does not need to show contributions beyond what a spouse would ordinarily do. Managing a household, caring for children, supporting a partner’s pursuits: all of these count. The remedy is nonetheless discretionary. Each case turns on its own facts and the burden of proof rests on the party seeking redistribution.
The parties had been together for thirty years, six of them as cohabitees before their marriage in 1999. The wife worked in her husband’s legal practice, cared for his children from a previous marriage, managed both their homes, and made direct financial contributions to municipal accounts for two properties. She received modest remuneration, had no savings, no pension, and no formal qualifications beyond standard eight.
The husband, by contrast, built a successful legal practice, invested in several businesses, accumulated properties, gold coins, artworks, and a family trust. He retired comfortably. She left the marriage at 58 with jewellery worth R45 800 and a broken-down vehicle.
The court accepted that the pre-marital cohabitation period was a relevant supporting factor in the redistribution assessment. Where parties live together as husband and wife and pool their resources, that period can constitute a universal partnership, and here it extended the effective duration of their shared life to thirty years rather than twenty-three.
The court also noted that the husband had not made full disclosure of assets held through the family trust, a factor that informed the court’s overall assessment of his estate. The clean break principle was applied. Rather than granting permanent maintenance, the court ordered redistribution of 40% of the husband’s net estate, together with twelve months of rehabilitative maintenance at R20 000 per month.
An antenuptial contract excluding accrual is not a guarantee that estates will remain separate at divorce. Where one spouse has contributed, directly or indirectly, to the growth of the other’s estate, a court has the power to order a transfer of assets, notwithstanding the contract.
Generally speaking, the longer the marriage lasts and the greater the disparity between estates, the more likely the Court is to order a transfer of assets. But the outcome is never certain. Courts assess these cases on their individual facts.
Got any questions about your ANC? Ask us.
“A creature with a big enough head to make a contract should have the sense to make one it can keep.” (Barbara Kingsolver)
A R1.725 million deposit. A bank guarantee that never arrived. A property that ultimately sold for significantly less than the original price. What happens to the deposit money?
The seller agreed to sell an agricultural property in Kyalami for R17.25 million. The purchaser paid a deposit of R1.725 million into the estate agent’s trust account. The balance of the purchase price was to be secured by a bank guarantee on request.
The seller called for the guarantee and gave 14 days to comply. When it was not provided, a further notice gave five business days to remedy the breach. The guarantee was still not furnished. The seller cancelled the agreement and claimed the full deposit.
The purchaser attempted to recover it, but the claim failed.
A true rouwkoop clause – from the Dutch for “regret-purchase” – allows a party to withdraw from a sale by paying a fixed amount. It is an agreed exit mechanism, not a consequence of breach. A forfeiture clause operates differently. It is triggered by breach and is subject to the Conventional Penalties Act. The clause in this case fell into the latter category. The purchaser’s only remaining recourse was section 3 of the Act, which allows a court to reduce a penalty if it is out of proportion to the prejudice suffered.
The purchaser argued that the word “timeously” meant within a reasonable time, not strictly within the five-day notice period. The court rejected that argument.
Read in context, the agreement created a clear notice-and-remedy mechanism. The five-day period was the operative timeframe. “Timeously” did not introduce flexibility. It referred back to the period expressly stipulated in the contract.
Once the guarantee was not provided within that period, the seller’s right to cancel arose. What the purchaser might have done after the deadline was irrelevant.
The purchaser invoked section 3 of the Conventional Penalties Act. That argument did not succeed.
The court looked beyond the arithmetic. It considered the broader consequences of the failed transaction, including the collapse of an onward purchase, the loss of a prior offer, bridging finance, and extended holding costs.
On that evidence, the seller’s prejudice was substantial. The forfeited deposit bore a reasonable relationship to that prejudice. There was no basis for interference.
Deadlines in property transactions are not flexible unless the agreement says so. A deposit is not a placeholder and sellers don’t have to play nice. The bottom line? Get advice before you sign.
“I can’t afford to die; I’d lose too much money.” (George Burns, comedian)
At the heart of any estate plan lies your will. Pair it with a file containing all the information and documents that your executor and heirs will need to wind up your estate, and you’ve laid a solid foundation for protecting your loved ones when you’re no longer around to do so.
Hopefully, most of us have already crossed those two essentials off our “to do” list. But there’s a third step which doesn’t always receive the attention it requires: planning for the costs your estate will have to pay, including a number of taxes.
As with all things to do with SARS and tax, there are many detailed requirements and grey areas involved, so what follows is a general guide only. It’s no substitute for specific professional advice.
CGT is one of those low-profile taxes that lurks around unobtrusively in the wings, being ignored and forgotten about until it suddenly pops out of the woodwork.
In this case, the “popping out of the woodwork” will happen when you’re no longer around to be ambushed by it. That’s because CGT is triggered by a taxpayer’s death, which is a “deemed disposal” tax event. In other words, your assets are deemed to have been sold at market value on the day you died. And that triggers a tax liability for your estate on the asset’s growth in value since you acquired it – the capital gain.
Before we get into the nitty-gritty of putting figures to that liability, let’s share a smidgen of good news.
Note firstly that no CGT at all is payable on “personal-use assets”, retirement fund benefits and most mainstream life policies.
Secondly, there’s “spousal rollover relief”: liability for CGT on assets left to your spouse is “rolled over” so that it’s payable not by your estate but later on by your spouse (on sale) or by their estate (on death). That, of course, can make a tremendous practical difference in ensuring that your spouse will be okay financially.
Thirdly, the annual exclusion in year of death, the primary residence exclusion and the small business disposal exclusion can all reduce CGT substantially. And as we note below, Budget 2026 has boosted them all. Good news indeed!
Now for the actual CGT calculation, which will give you a rough idea of the final liability so you can plan for it:
Putting together a comprehensive estate plan, anchored by your will, is essential to ensure that your loved ones are properly catered for after you’re gone. You know who to call if you need any help!
“The buyer needs a hundred eyes, the seller not one.” (George Herbert)
A Marina Da Gama property. A collapsed wooden deck. A purchase price of R1.55 million and repair costs claimed of just over R100 000. The facts are not complicated. But the legal battle that followed lasted more than a decade.
The buyers purchased a residential property in October 2013 after the estate agent described it as being in stunning condition. They took occupation in January 2014. Seven months later, the upper wooden deck collapsed. Expert evidence subsequently confirmed that the decks had been constructed without approved plans and were not built to National Building Regulations standards. The defects were latent, meaning they were not visible to a layperson on inspection.
The buyers pursued the estate agent, his close corporation, and the seller across eight separate claims. At the close of the buyers’ case, the defendants asked the court to dismiss the matter on the basis that insufficient evidence had been presented against them. The court agreed and dismissed all the claims.
The buyers argued that the estate agent’s description of the property as being in “stunning” or “beautiful” condition amounted to an actionable misrepresentation. The court disagreed.
Descriptive sales language of that kind is puffery. It reflects aesthetic opinion, not structural fact. It does not amount to a representation about the integrity of the building, compliance with approved plans, or the absence of latent defects. To cross from puffery into misrepresentation, a statement must assert a verifiable fact. Words like “stunning” do not do that.
The estate agent’s duty of disclosure, under the legislation applicable at the time, extended to material facts within his personal knowledge. It did not require him to conduct engineering or technical investigations to uncover hidden structural defects. The defects would not have been visible to a layperson. They were not within his knowledge. No actionable misrepresentation was established.
The sale agreement contained a voetstoots (as it stands) clause. To defeat it, the buyers were required to prove two things: that the seller had actual knowledge of the latent defect, and that he deliberately concealed it with the intention to defraud.
Neither was established. The buyers’ own evidence undermined the claim. Both buyers described the seller as a decent, honest person. One stated plainly that the seller did not know about the defects. Quick-fix repairs noted by the experts did not change that conclusion. Repairs may reflect ordinary maintenance. They do not, on their own, establish knowledge of a structural defect or an intention to deceive. Fraud is not lightly inferred.
Even if the buyers had established liability, their damages claim faced a separate problem. The actio quanti minoris, a claim for a reduction in the purchase price, entitles a buyer to compensation for the property’s reduced value caused by the defect. The reasonable cost to repair may serve as evidence of that reduction, but no more. The buyers simply claimed replacement costs, which was entirely the wrong way of going about it.
Puffery is not a promise – in fact, it’s to be expected in real estate listings. A voetstoots clause is not easily defeated. And the burden of investigating a property before signing rests firmly on the buyer.
Nine court days. Twelve years. Presumably substantial legal costs. Every claim dismissed. Get advice before you sign, not after the deck collapses.
“One of the greatest disservices you can do a man is to lend him money that he can’t pay back.” (Jesse H. Jones, entrepreneur)
A recent High Court decision provides yet another cautionary tale for lenders. The stakes are high: get this wrong, and you could lose everything.
Before you lend, be aware of two major risks that you need to manage. Both are imposed by the National Credit Act (NCA):
Note that even a single qualifying loan, of any size, can trigger the requirement. The thresholds that previously limited it to commercial lenders and to larger loans fell away in 2014 and 2016 respectively.
A SAPS employee and her husband, heavily indebted to a range of creditors, approached a debt consolidation business for help in 2012.
Having carried out its version of the credit assessment required by the NCA, the debt consolidator organised a lifeline for the couple in the form of a R430,000 loan from an investor (a family trust) to pay off their debts. The loan was secured primarily by a bond over the couple’s house in Kraaifontein. A secondary security in the form of a sale agreement by the couple to the trust was to be held in reserve and activated only in need. The idea was that, after a short period of financial rehabilitation, the borrowers would refinance the loan through a bank, but that never happened.
When the borrowers defaulted on their repayments, the trust sued for R430,000 plus interest (a lot of money at 17.1% p.a. for 10 years), and an order allowing it to sell the couple’s bonded house to satisfy the debt.
The Court declared the credit agreement “reckless credit” and set it aside. The trust must now write off the balance of its loan and interest, cancel its bond over the couple’s house, and pay all the legal costs. Its only consolation is that the Court, in exercising its discretion to structure a just and equitable solution between the parties, allowed the trust to keep the R251,325 already paid to it.
Why did the lender lose so badly? In a nutshell, the affordability assessment performed by the debt consolidator was flawed. Instead of asking whether the couple could afford this loan based on their existing financial means (as required by the NCA), the assessment relied on “a risky potential of future funding”, i.e., the speculative prospect of a mainstream bank granting a further loan in the future. The borrowers had always been over-indebted, this new loan made their situation even worse, and therefore the lending was reckless.
NCA regulations in force since 2015 set out in detail the various technical criteria and formulae to be used in assessments. This is just an overview of what you need to cover:
“The big print giveth and the fine print taketh away.” (Tom Waits)
You have almost certainly signed a disclaimer at some point. A waiver before a trail run, an indemnity form before a bungee jump, a clause buried in a brochure. Businesses rely on these documents to limit their exposure when things go wrong. A 2026 Supreme Court of Appeal judgment is a sharp reminder that a disclaimer is only as good as the process behind it, and that courts will not lightly allow a company to escape liability on the strength of fine print that was never properly agreed to.
An Australian tourist was travelling in a converted safari truck in Botswana as part of a Southern African tour arranged by a safari business. The trip had been booked by her life partner as a birthday surprise, without her knowledge. While the truck was moving, she stood up to access her locker, which the tour operator actively promoted as accessible while the vehicle was in motion. She lost her balance and lurched against a window which fell out of its frame. She fell through the opening onto the tar road and sustained serious injuries.
When she sued for damages, the company relied on two disclaimers. The courts were not persuaded.
The party relying on a disclaimer bears the onus of proving that a binding agreement was concluded. That requires more than paperwork. Our law requires the following:
Both disclaimers relied on by the business failed these requirements. The first, buried in a brochure under an insurance heading, was too general to clearly exclude liability for the negligence alleged and had not been adequately brought to the victim’s attention. The second was an indemnity form signed by her partner without her knowledge. The SCA found no credible evidence that she was even aware of its existence. The business had only itself to blame. It had failed to ensure that each participant had personally concluded a binding indemnity.
The Court further indicated that having actively promoted the conduct that caused the injury, any disclaimer purporting to exclude liability for it would likely have been contrary to public policy and thus unenforceable.
Businesses operating in high-risk environments cannot afford to treat indemnity documentation as a formality. A disclaimer is not a substitute for safe practices and proper risk management. Consent cannot be assumed, and general wording will not suffice.
For consumers, your right to bodily safety is not easily signed away, especially by someone else on your behalf.
The lesson is straightforward. A disclaimer must be clearly communicated, properly understood and formally agreed to. It will not protect a business where consent is absent, notice is inadequate, or the wording does not clearly cover the risk.
If your indemnity documentation needs reviewing, or you are unsure of your rights as a consumer, ask us.