Chapter Eight The Art of the Scam #2
He continued, “These complexes are tiered. There’s senior living, which will consist of duplex housing that seniors can rent with the option of having meals included. Very much like a resort. They will have all of the amenities including a golf course, pool, tennis, and fine dining.
“The second tier is assisted living, where people with special needs can live. A very scaled-down version of the active residential accommodations.
“The third tier is long-term care. One stop-shopping for the older folks is how I like to look at it.”
“But how does this afford a lavish lifestyle for you?”
“Us, my brother.” Spencer continued his explanation, “The government provides funds for the assisted living and longterm portion, and the active residents pay for their housing and other accommodations.”
Max was running the scenario in his head. It didn’t seem like a money-making proposition to him. “Have you run the numbers?”
“Of course, but what I described is the outer membrane of the operation. We vet the applicants and accept those who have money and no known relatives. We get them to sign over their estate to the corporation under the guise of investments and money management. We also encourage them to leave their estate to a ‘charity,’ of which we are directors.”
The feeling of intimidation Max had felt earlier had dissipated. Now it was his turn to flex a little muscle. Not a lot, but enough. “There has to be more to this,” he said, and he was correct.
“If we control everything, and I do mean everything, we can continue to collect checks even after the person has left the planet.”
Max did not feel the need to point out the illegality of what Spencer was suggesting.
Spencer could tell it was going to be a bit of a hard sell and went on, “Look. It’s not really stealing, if you think about it.
Those people put their money into social security or their pensions.
There’s no reason why it should sit in the government coffers after they’re gone.
Someone should enjoy it. And that someone is me—and you.
” He poked Max’s chest with his finger. He anticipated a lot of questions and was prepared for them.
“We keep management very lean. They sign a nondisclosure agreement and get well compensated. The rest of the staffing is status quo. Housekeeping, aides, and the like. I know this is a lot to absorb, but I’d like you to fly up to D.C.
next week, where we can get into the nitty-gritty. There is much more to discuss.”
Max had to admit he was intrigued. It was worth investigating further. “Alright. Let me know, and I’ll put in for some personal days.”
“See? That’s another thing you will never have to do again. You will answer to no one, including your constituents. You just need to keep them happy with crumbs and the least bit of effort. Your real job is to keep getting reelected.”
“And you think this is doable?”
“Absolutely, my man.”
Present Day
It had been ten years since Spencer Gerber hatched his plan.
He groomed Max to be the perfect candidate for the House of Representatives, and with Karen’s father’s influence, the campaign financing was a breeze.
Gerber made sure Maxwell Hawthorne was “visible” to anyone who mattered in Washington.
It was no surprise Max won by a landslide.
Karen and her father were over the moon that they had a member of the United States Congress in the family.
And Karen was in her element: over-the-top parties and disingenuous people. It was a dream come true.
Congressman Maxwell Hawthorne and Senator Spencer Gerber sat on committees in their respective legislative branches.
Spencer was right. It was easy to float a few million dollars into a bill that was slated for human resources, and have it designated to Sunnydale through its various shell companies.
While individual states provided Medicaid assistance, the federal government matched the funds.
No one would notice a few million here, a few million there.
Not with the gargantuan national budget. It was peanuts in comparison.
Complaints against Sunnydale were minimal.
There had been less than a dozen cases during their five years of operation.
The key was to admit people who had no known relatives, and if one surfaced, they would be buried in litigation and paperwork for an exceedingly long time, draining the families of their hard-earned money.
There was only one situation when a distant family member surfaced from nowhere and made a claim.
They speculated the person might have been a scammer.
Takes one to know one, but some cold cash can make almost any kind of pest go away.
Sunnydale compensated him with a measly sum and required him to sign a nondisclosure agreement.
It was helpful that superior court justices in two states were enjoying the benefits of lavish trips, cars, and vacations.
They were excellent at kicking a can down the road, as well.
The wheels of money laundering, deception, and a multitude of sins were running smoothly under the banner of Sunnydale.