by James Ross
“Look for yourself.”
J Dub twirled around to look out the window to see what Lew had done. He hadn’t noticed that Lew had been working in that area, so he was curious to see what sort of work Lew had accomplished. A new four foot by four foot piece of Astroturf was lying on the first tee box. “Does it play a song when they tee off?” J Dub asked Lew. He made reference to the Astroturf in Lew’s parking spot that played music.
“Feel fortunate that it is fixed,” Lew replied. He had only replaced the old Astroturf.
“We’re trying to run a golf course around here that has grass for a playing surface,” J Dub commented. “That looks so tacky.”
Lew gave J Dub a fierce look and then headed into the office. “Julie, come here.” Julie ran after him. She could tell that he was in a hurry. “Grab the checkbook,” he ordered.
“You haven’t had any jobs on the course lately,” Julie stated.
“I took the dump truck in for some brake work and a new transmission,” Lew declared. With mounting legal bills Lew had to come up with some excuse to raid the course’s bank account.
Reluctantly, Julie grabbed the checkbook. She was resolved to fate. He was going to raid the checking account again, despite all of the heat that the government was putting on him. “How much and to whom?” she asked.
“Make it to Lew’s Repair Service,” Lew said with a smirk. Julie stopped writing and glared at him. “The total bill was seventy-nine thousand, four hundred and thirty-six dollars,” his voice trailed.
Julie put the pen down and placed her hands on her hips. Lew didn’t know when to quit. “And eighty-two cents.”
Julie sat motionless in the chair. Lew walked over and positioned himself behind her. He rubbed his crotch against her back. Julie cringed and pulled away. “That dump truck is over thirty years old and worth about four thousand bucks.”
“It needed some work,” Lew said as he forced a grin.
“There is no way that will fly with the accountant,” Julie said adamantly.
“That’s taken care of, Sweet Cakes. Just write out the check.” Lew walked around to the front side of the desk. He stared at Julie’s breasts. “And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll buy you some boobs,” he suggested. His forwardness toward her was taking new heights.
“Cut it out!” Julie yelled. She was nearly in tears.
“That would be a good business move for both of us. Plus I can expense it out. The bigger your boobs are the more guys we’ll be able to pack into the pro shop. We’ll sell more drinks and you’ll make more tips.”
“You’re disgusting!” Julie wrote the check unwillingly and handed it to Lew. “If you don’t shut your trap, I’ll get my rifle and change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot!” she said defiantly. “And don’t think I can’t.”
Lew grabbed the check and exited the office. Julie momentarily contemplated whether or not she should pursue pressing sexual harassment charges against him. After a second, she gathered her bearings and walked into the pro shop. “J Dub, the little prick just took over seventy-nine thousand dollars to fix the dump truck.”
They both peered out the window. J Dub saw that Lew was headed for his motorcycle. He bolted out the door with Bogey at his heels. J Dub was incensed. He stormed up to Lew. Bogey started barking at Lew. “Where do you think you’re going? We need that cash for winter!” he yelled.
“I’ll do what I want!” Bogey started growling at Lew when Lew raised his voice to J Dub. “If you don’t play your cards better, you’re going to lose this place,” Lew continued.
“That won’t happen! I’m protected in the buy/sell agreement. Besides, you need to give me a contract before I can go any further.”
“Let me tell you something!” Lew shouted as he revved the engine on his motorcycle. Bogey’s barking increased. The noise that was being generated was not normal for a golf course environment. “If you lose it, then it’s your own fault. You’ve lost out!” Lew hollered.
He reached into the storage pack on his motorcycle and pulled out the black velvet pill box that he had privately nicknamed “Nirvana.” He took a capsule out of the pill box and shook it in J Dub’s face. Bogey’s barking continued. “Hitler made sure he never lost!”
Lew threw the motorcycle in gear. The cycle lurched toward Bogey and ran over his hind quarters. One of Bogey’s rear legs took a direct hit. Lew gunned the engine and raced off of the lot. Bogey whimpered and limped away.
J Dub watched as Lew sped off of the lot. He hurried after Bogey only to see that the right rear hind leg was so badly mangled that it was beyond repair. J Dub grabbed Bogey and consoled him. “Oh, Bogey, I’m so sorry that you came out here with me. He’s too much for me and I know that he’s too much for you. Let’s get you fixed up the best we can.”
J Dub ran to his pickup and rushed Bogey to the animal hospital. It appeared that Bogey lapsed into shock on the way to the veterinarian. His energy level decreased. He lost a great deal of blood. Later that evening the vet worked feverishly on Bogey’s lower extremities. He did all that he could do. After consulting with J Dub, the vet amputated Bogey’s leg.
Chapter Seventy
Special agents Booker and Hayden interviewed several witnesses that might have had knowledge of what had been taking place at Prairie Winds. They conducted the taxpayer interrogations with attorneys present for both Lew and Walter. Formal affidavits were written, signed and filed. Testimony had been provided under oath.
Booker and Hayden were knowledgeable, efficient, and experienced. They knew exactly how to gather evidence and develop it. They then evaluated the evidence and analyzed it. The next step was to decide whether or not the allegation was, in fact, a criminal violation.
One more step was needed. They felt compelled to call J Dub back in for some more questioning. After he arrived at the Internal Revenue Service offices he was escorted to a conference room.
Seated at the table were Peter, Booker, Hayden, and Ellie. The entire atmosphere gave him mixed signals. The cold, impersonal impression of the room itself was depressing. There were no windows to allow sunlight to enter the room. No wall coverings were visible. The pale green paint on the walls was enough to cause his stomach to rumble.
Papers and files were strewn around the room. It was obvious that they had gathered a lot of evidence and had assembled it. He was anxious to find out what more they wanted. Before J Dub’s butt hit the seat, Peter blurted, “You’re holding out information!”
J Dub thought that it was rude to be approached like that before any cordial greetings had taken place. He was there to help. He really didn’t expect to be antagonized after all that he had done to assist with the investigation. Once he had been contacted he had fully cooperated with the investigation and had been truthful in answering any questions and forthright in providing information.
“What are you talking about? You’ve got the tax returns and the financial statements,” J Dub barked at Peter. At that point he didn’t care if he was somewhat disrespectful toward the assistant U.S. Attorney. “That’s what you asked for.”
“Where’s he funneling the money?” Peter demanded.
Booker came to J Dub’s defense. It was the classic “good cop, bad cop” routine. Booker chastised Peter. “Lay off him. He was paid to run the business.”
Peter turned to Booker. “How can he be that stupid? He’s got to know where all of the money went.”
Booker had shared many conversations with J Dub. He felt comfortable with his answer. “He ran the day to day stuff. Lew controlled the money.”
“He told me way back when to show up for work and be responsible for bringing money through the door. I treated the golfers with as much respect as I could and thanked them for their business,” J Dub emphasized. “He told me that he would take care of the financial end of things.”
Two days prior to the meeting, Booker and Hayden made a recommendation to the U.S. Attorney’s office to prosecute. After examining all of the
evidence the U.S. Attorney’s office wasn’t as sure of getting a conviction as the two special agents. Garrett O’Connor, Lew’s tax defense attorney, had shut Lew up and had argued against intent. He claimed that what had been done with the books was an unintentional oversight.
Booker knew that the heat had been turned up a notch. He turned to J Dub. “Are you concerned for your safety?”
“Thieves don’t kill, do they?” J Dub answered.
“Our profiles don’t indicate that,” Booker replied. “Loose cannons might though.”
“If you’re concerned for your safety, then we can protect you if you’d like,” Ellie offered.
“Have you heard something that I don’t know about?” J Dub asked.
“ . . . No, not at all. We were only wondering if you felt threatened,” Ellie responded.
“I’ve run the business for him for quite a while. He won’t cause any physical harm to me,” J Dub responded in a naïve way.
Booker felt compelled to go into another direction. They had decided prior to J Dub’s arrival that Booker would make the suggestion since he had established the strongest relationship with J Dub. “Look, we’ve got some problems securing a conviction,” he went on to explain. “For this thing to really get some meat on it, we need to get Lew and the accountant on tape,” Booker put into plain words.
“Are you willing to wear a wire?” Ellie offered.
“I have a wife and kids to care for!” J Dub shrieked.
“The investigation has produced mixed results. All of the evidence is circumstantial,” Booker clarified. Hayden started to put a wire around J Dub. Booker moved to assist him.
“What are you doing?” J Dub asked.
“I’m just taking some quick measurements,” Hayden deadpanned.
“Think about it,” Booker reasoned. “When the time comes we’ll be in a van across the street. Your safety will be the utmost priority.”
“It may be the only thing that we’ll be able to hang our hat on,” Ellie concluded.
Chapter Seventy-One
Early February 1997 . . .
The winter of late ’96 and early ’97 was especially cold and icy, and not conducive to many rounds of golf at Prairie Winds. J Dub couldn’t do much about the resulting financial state of the business so he took the winter to think through the limited alternatives that were available to him. He finally decided to heed Marcia’s advice and call a lawyer.
J Dub needed to bounce some legal matters off of someone. He was in need of advice and opinions that might shed some light on what was going on. Lew was getting more and more hostile by the day due to the pressure caused by the ongoing IRS investigation. And, to compound matters for J Dub, he had just learned that the lawsuit by the Morton heirs had recently been thrown out of court.
The funds that J Dub had available to pay for legal counsel were limited, so he sought out an acquaintance based on his wife’s referral that would be happy to help him at a reasonable rate. Hank Lowery, Esq. handled small-time domestic affairs. He and his wife, Joyce, were members of the same church that J Dub and Marcia attended. In fact, Marcia and Joyce shared babysitting duties at one time for a group of pre-schoolers. Hence, a meeting with Hank Lowery was scheduled. Curt had agreed to go with him.
Hank had an affable personality. He greeted J Dub and Curt hospitably and immediately made them feel welcome. Hank operated his practice out of a modest business condo in a progressive part of town. It was easy to notice that he was not a corporate lawyer with a lot of connections. “I understand that you’re having some partnership problems,” Hank began.
J Dub nodded. “I got involved in business with my partner around fifteen years ago and now it’s time to act on the provisions of the buy/sell agreement.”
“What have you done?”
“Basically, my partner has agreed to sell the business to me. He got the property appraised.”
Hank wanted to pump J Dub for as much information as possible before answering questions specifically. “You have the rights to buy it?”
“Yes, I carry the option to buy the business and the first right of refusal,” J Dub explained. “That’s all spelled out in the buy/sell agreement that we have.”
“J Dub’s partner is Lew Zerrmann. He won’t give J Dub a contract to purchase the property,” Curt interjected.
“He doesn’t have to, does he?” Hank interrupted.
J Dub was shocked by that revelation. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re a minority partner. Correct?” Hank probed.
“Sure. My minority interest is twenty percent.”
“You don’t have any rights,” Hank declared.
“But I own twenty percent of the business,” J Dub stressed.
“It’s not worth anything,” Hank said matter-of-factly.
“It’s probably worth well over a million dollars,” J Dub countered.
“Not really. You can’t go out on the open market and sell it to anyone. Therefore it has no value. No one else would want to pay that kind of money to be in a minority position,” Hank put the bad news into plain words.
“Nothing makes any sense,” Curt butted in.
Hank’s interest was piqued. “What do you mean?”
“The financial statements are bogus,” J Dub blurted.
“Do you know that for a fact?” Hank insinuated.
“The IRS has put him under investigation,” J Dub admitted. “I’m sure that they are headed in that direction. Normally where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“In that case, that changes things a little,” Hank conceded. “He owes you a fiduciary duty. He has to be honest with you.”
J Dub’s ears perked up. “What if he’s not?”
“Then you might have a civil claim against him,” Hank offered. “But we’re a long way from that.”
“What’s involved?” Curt asked.
“First off, a civil action is a road that you probably don’t want to go down. I’d avoid it at all costs,” Hank said.
J Dub had traveled a long, bumpy ride with Lew. He was all ears. “Why?”
“Any civil action is costly. Plus it could take ten to twelve years to get through the justice system,” Hank explained, “with no reasonable expectations that you can win.”
“That would eat up the prime years of my adult life,” J Dub shrieked.
“Exactly,” Hank affirmed. “I don’t have the resources or experience to help you with something like that anyway.”
“What would I need to do if that were to occur?” J Dub requested.
“Probably get a heavy duty law firm to take the case on a contingency basis.”
J Dub sighed and looked at Curt. “For crying out loud,” J Dub uttered. “You know, I’m just an average guy that gets up and goes to work every day. I have sincerely wanted to buy the business that I have run for the last fifteen years. It’s spelled out in our agreement that that opportunity is available to me. I don’t want to sue for something that I feel that I’m entitled to.”
“That’s why it would be best to get the issue settled,” Hank advised.
“Now we’re back to where we were when we walked in,” Curt proclaimed.
“You’ve got problems,” Hank admitted. “He controls the business and doesn’t need to sell it to you.”
“Dammit!” J Dub screamed. “I’m not going to give up fifteen years!”
“If he’s being a horse’s rear end, then maybe you’ll have to prove that the business was run fraudulently. It may come down to that if he’s not cooperating with you,” Hank said.
“Now you’re talking lawsuit again,” J Dub pointed out. “I don’t want to go in that direction.”
“Good. I wouldn’t recommend going that route. It’s too tough to prove.”
J Dub was fraught with stress. What once appeared to be a wonderful business opportunity was crumbling right in front of his eyes. Curt felt like he needed to console J Dub a little. “It looks like it was run fraud
ulently. At least that is what the financials indicate.”
“Then the burden of proof is yours. You’ll have to build your case, have a trial in front of a jury, and hope for the best. It’s very high risk.” Hank wanted to hammer home his point. “That’s not to mention that that sort of process is expensive and time consuming.”
J Dub felt himself getting sick to his stomach. He was getting lightheaded. The temperature in the room seemed warm. He felt as if he was going to pass out. “What’s my next move?” he muttered.
“The ball is in his court. Wait to see what he does. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t give you what you think he should,” Hank reiterated.
“If he doesn’t, then I’ll have no other choice but sue him for non-performance on the partnership agreement,” J Dub stressed.
“What you have to guard against is if he wants to get rid of you,” Hank warned.
“What then?”
“Essentially what will happen is that you will say that your twenty percent is worth x number of dollars. Lew will say that it is worth nothing. If it goes in front of a judge, then the judge will say to split it down the middle. But you’ll have to pay an attorney. In the end you’ll get whatever the median value is minus attorney’s fees,” Hank clarified.
“What will that amount to?” J Dub pried.
“In the cases that I’ve seen you’re talking about maybe thirty to thirty-five cents on the dollar, if you’re lucky,” Hank stated. “That’s if the majority partner wants to be cordial.”
“Cordial? That’s disgusting after all these years of hard work,” J Dub whined.
Hank truly felt sorry for J Dub’s plight. “Sometimes life isn’t fair.” He looked squarely at J Dub. “Feel free to call me whenever you’d like. I’ll be here to help you,” Hank said. “You might be screwed though.” Hank escorted the two to the door.
“Are there any other things I should be aware of?” J Dub asked.
“Just remember that business is business,” Hank warned.