Still Kicking The Tires

 It's been another few years since I visited this thread and, as time goes by, memories do become less organized. However, there's a lot of moments, events and things that are simply unforgettable.

As I said, the lawyer, Gerry, guided me through the legal nightmare when I had no real-life experience. In most cases, the agents investigate and then the prosecutors prosecute. In my case, the opposite was true. They had investigated the crap out of the smuggler and his crew, but they had hardly known about my situation during that two and a half year stretch. The original informant did know about me but knew virtually nothing about how I did my stuff. So he gave them my name along with quite a few others. I was pretty much 'just another guy'.

Which was what I had always intended... I wanted to be just another guy. My entire visible life was built on the premise that I'd show income, pay taxes, live out in the open, and essentially present as a 'normal' citizen. And this worked pretty much as I intended. We accumulated lots of things that were bought with visible funding from sources that had paid the income taxes and whatever else was required under the financial codes. There was our house (bought in 1980 on 2.5 acres) that eventually became the site of the bust. There was another nice house (on 2 acres) in an exclusive community where my mother-in-law was in residence. There was a fantastic house on top of a hill in Park City Utah that we built from scratch. Then there were other things that were funded with cash... like a bunch of buildings the were assembled in the downtown area of Christiansted, St Croix and given the name Market Square Mall... and on and on... I was driving a Saab 9000, the Mrs. had a nice Mustang and I had bought her a vintage red and white 1967 Corvette. Materially, we had plenty of toys and places. We traveled to Europe, went to all the finest restaurants, shopped at all the exclusive places, and didn't think all that much before spending thousands on jewelry or whatever else struck our fancy.

But... and this is the big but... the entire premise of being 'just another guy' went well only until I became a target. At that point, all of the supporting cards that the above-board life was built on became areas of exposure. Most all of my income was generated in an accounting scheme where the employer wrote off my income. I would pay them cash and get back salary/commission checks minus 10%. Meantime, they would keep the cash and reduce their own taxes by showing an expense. I don't know how much the accountant made but I never cared much about that sort of thing. If it worked, who was I to tell someone what they deserved to make.

There were so many ways the money surfaced I hardly recall them all. And then there was the 'under the table' stuff... We'd buy the work cars and rent the work spaces with all cash. Believe me when I say that very few people refuse cash. The assemblage on St. Croix was almost entirely done with a combination of cash and banking. If an owner wanted more than the bank would finance, well, that was no problem when a bag was on the table. Then the owner would 'sell' for a 'bargain' and the bank would be happy to finance the deal based on the 'loan to value' formula.  And the thing was that it wasn't all done that way.  It was a montage of different methods and deals.  I had a partner who was seriously connected there and, over the prior years, had some very successful businesses there.  You couldn't just look and single out any one transaction as unusual.