Chapter 39 - Ben
One minute, I was walking into court ready to sweet-talk my way out of a no-contact order and request that the divorce be delayed until after the birth of my child—the next, I was sitting in a cell waiting for Frank to figure out how much it was going to cost me to go home.
I had been completely blindsided by Melanie hiring her own forensic accountant. The one Frank hired had spent the last month trying to clean up my financial breadcrumbs and fabricating a court-worthy one for us to present today. All for nothing.
I had also been blindsided by Melanies’ little secret. How the hell had I missed that she had been working the whole time... building an empire, not just 'helping out a little'?
I couldn’t help but wonder how much she had been making and how the hell she had helped her father turn the business into a small chain.
Was she funding it with my money?
I wouldn’t have cared, but I would’ve wanted her to at least discuss it with me.
It IS what I do for a living after all.
Sort of. I invested in stocks, not startups… but still, it took the same basic skillset of being able to recognize a winning idea.
Frank assured me that he’d have me out in a few hours, but I was pretty sure it was going to cost me a lot.
I was grateful that the forensic accountant had suggested that we move some of the funds into the retainer account to make them look more legitimate and keep the funds accessible in case our joint account got frozen.
I still wasn’t sure what the status was on my hidden accounts.
How many had her guy found?
· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
“What do you mean they froze them ALL?” I gaped at Frank.
“Her guy was good… they even found the account that you put in your dad’s name.” He admitted sheepishly.
“Fuck!” I threw my glass at the wall and then sank to the floor on my knees. “I’m going to lose everything…” I whispered as the severity of the situation became clear to me.
“It’s not looking good.” He admitted.
“What if I sign the papers now?”
“It’s too late for that. The judge already turned over the documents to the State Attorney General.
Odds are they’ll pass it along to the IRS.
” Frank chugged his glass and set it down on the table with a thud.
“The retainer account is good; I pulled out five thousand more than what your fee was today and brought that for you in cash. It should help hold you over for a few weeks.”
“Weeks?” I scoffed. I hadn’t had to worry about sticking to a budget since I graduated from college.
“Do you have any secret properties here in town that you can stay at? That would make the money stretch further than staying at this expensive ass hotel.”
“You know what properties I own.” I scowled at him.
“Own, yes… but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been paying rent somewhere.” He gave me a knowing look, and I sighed.
“Nah, I haven’t had that place in a long time.” Almost two years ago, I had decided that I didn’t need to keep an L.A. bachelor pad for when I’d fake going out of town.
“Alright. I’ll see if any of my clients have any empty places for cheap.” Frank sighed. “I’m going to go home. I need to call my own lawyer at this point. I didn’t like how that judge mentioned your counsel needing counsel.” He looked nervous.
“Do I need to hire a second guy?” I had pulled myself into the chair and was staring at the fibers in the rug when I remembered the judges’ comments about needing better representation.
“I think it’s a good idea.” Frank admitted. “I’ll still be your lawyer,” he said quickly, “but in case I end up needing to step back or if this does become a criminal court level thing I think you need to make sure you have a strong defense team behind you.”
“Okay…” I croaked out. “Can you leave the tax forms here, I want to get a better look at whatever Melanie was talking about.” I vaguely remembered the will mentioning that Melanie had helped Gram build her wealth, too.
“Oh.” Frank scowled. “Yeah, turns out your wife has been doing pretty good for herself and not just at making the both of us look like asses. I had the forensic guy dig a little today, since her money is marital assets too. It looks like she was helping her parents and her grandmother choose stocks to invest in and helped her father expand his business. She also is the beneficiary of two trusts. One that her investment profits were being directly deposited into and one that her Gram left for her.”
“I knew about her Gram leaving her money. I completely forgot to look into it when the lawyer mentioned that Mel had helped build Gram’s wealth.
What’s in the other trust?” I frowned. I had never pictured Melanie as the type to hide money from me.
“Is there any proof that she used my money to fund any of these investments?”
“The other trust was set up by her father—her portion of the business and any profits from it are protected in that trust and she’s the sole beneficiary. As long as she doesn’t cash any of it out, it’s untouchable. The accountant said that it had about 1.5 million dollars in it.”
My jaw dropped. She had accrued over a million dollars just working for her father.
“Holy shit.” I breathed out the shocked words, and Frank nodded.
“They’re smart for midwestern bumpkins.”
“Hey!” I scowled, “I’m from there too, and that’s my wife you’re talking about.”
“Man, she’s the curled viper that’s just waiting for a chance to strike. Let it go.” Frank growled. “I’m going home, the papers are on the bed, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow after I’ve gotten a better idea of what the fuck we are dealing with.”
“Thanks.” I grumbled and watched him shuffle out of my room.
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-Eight weeks later-
“Ben. Listen man, the Feds are here…” Frank said in a panicked whisper, “they’re raiding my office right now.
I’m hiding in the goddamn bathroom to make this call.
I’m going to jail and then they’re coming for you.
The state board already pulled Kellie’s license, and I bet by tomorrow she will have been arrested too.
Don’t speak to anybody about anything without Don by your side.
He’s a good attorney—and your best shot. Fucking listen to him.”
The voicemail cut off after that, and I stared at my phone in horror.
In the length of time it took to take a shower, the final nails in my coffin had been hammered into place.
I looked around the dingy motel I had been staying at for the past month to conserve my meager funds and felt my throat start to tighten.
A desperate sob burst from my chest as I dropped to my knees and tried to find oxygen.
Everything was gone, and my freedom was next.
Three hours later, they were banging on my door. I had been sitting in the same spot, staring at the wall, for hours, waiting for them to arrive. By the time they finally did, I had settled into an odd state of acceptance.
There was nothing I could do to stop what was coming, and maybe this was exactly what I deserved.
I wasn’t surprised to find the FBI standing in my motel room reading me my rights. I was surprised to learn that the IRS had real field agents, not just desk guys. The lead agent, Agent Vergara, was absolutely giddy to be there to witness my downfall.
Apparently, she had been working closely with the one and only Angela Reed to facilitate my take-down. Ironic.
Don, my new lawyer, met me at the U.S Marshals office and stood by my side for the detention hearing with a silent proficiency that I found oddly comforting. I felt my knees buckle when they started reading the charges, and he steadied me with a hand on my elbow.
“Mr. Landon, you are before the Court today on a criminal complaint alleging multiple violations of federal law.
You are being charged with:
Tax Evasion, in violation of 26 U.S.C. § 7201.
Wire Fraud, including a scheme involving the skimming of client funds, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 1343.
Securities Fraud, including front-running and churning, in violation of 15 U.S.C. §§ 78j(b) and 78ff, and 17 C.F.R. § 240.10b-5.
Misappropriation of Client Assets, a form of investment adviser fraud, also under 15 U.S.C. §§ 80b-6 and 80b-17.
Conspiracy to Commit Financial Fraud, in violation of 18 U.S.C. § 371.
And Failure to Report and Concealment of Offshore Accounts, in violation of 31 U.S.C. §§ 5314 and 5322, relating to foreign bank account reporting requirements.
These charges collectively allege a multi-year scheme involving financial deception, the concealment of income and assets, and the fraudulent handling of client investments.
Do you understand the charges as I have read them?”
Don squeezed my arm to signal that I was expected to speak.
“Yes, your honor.” My voice sounded strange to my ears, too high-pitched, too shaky.
“Given the scope of the alleged financial crimes, the existence of offshore accounts, the defendant’s history of concealing assets, and the substantial risk of flight, the Court finds that no combination of conditions will reasonably assure his appearance or the safety of the community.
It is the Courts decision that the defendant is ordered detained pending trial. ”
“What?” I looked at Don, my eyes wild with panic. “No bail?” I croaked.
“I’ll file a Motion to Revoke.” He said calmly as the bailiffs started pulling me away.
“Call Melanie!” I shouted as I let myself be steered away. “I need to speak to her.”
He visibly sighed but gave a single jerky nod before he started gathering his papers.
· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
-One week later-
Melanie sat across the table from me in the small attorney-client meeting room that the detention center had arranged for them. Beside her was Penelope Yang wearing Armani and a smug smile. Don was to my right, silent and serious as always.