by Ben Mezrich
As the man poured him a shot, he spoke low, into the phone.
“I’m gonna fight this,” he said, trying to sound hard. But inside he was falling, spiraling down toward a deep hole that had been with him his whole life. He’d climbed so far out of that pit—but now he was plunging right back down.
“Scott,” Hilt was saying, “you need to talk to the lawyers. This is going to be big news. The newspapers are already calling it Black Friday. Maybe you can go to New York and make some sort of deal.”
Scott hung up the phone. He knew Hilt had his best interests in mind, but Scott wasn’t going to New York. He was going to stay right where he was, in Antigua, as long as he could. He truly believed, in his heart, that he was innocent, and he wasn’t going to throw himself into hell because of an indictment that had come out of an unfair, poorly written law.
He had built a company out of an American pastime. He’d created a way for the Internet to provide a game of skill to people who wanted to play it, and now he was being persecuted for it. He’d come from nowhere, and had built a billion-dollar company—and now it was all gone, a multibillion-dollar industry destroyed in the stroke of a pen, and he was facing jail time.
No, he was going to stay right where he was.
CHAPTER 33
Lawyers, lawyers, and more lawyers. Phone calls, e-mails, faxes. Long hours sitting in glass-walled offices, staring at documents that barely made sense, poring over numbers that never added up. Day after day, week after week, and yet still it just kept spinning on and on, a never-ending marathon, so mind-numbing and heavy that by the end, when Brent finally made his decision to turn himself in, he was actually relieved.
Of course, the decision hadn’t been easy. And at first the thought of what he, personally, was going to do had taken a backseat to how he and the company would deal with the fallout of what everyone now called Black Friday.
An entire multibillion-dollar industry, gone in a single day—the fallout was astronomical, and almost instantaneous. The minute those three websites were seized, their assets frozen, hundreds of millions of dollars in players’ accounts were suddenly put into jeopardy, and much of those millions disappeared in the blink of an eye. Likewise, an entire marketing and advertising field vanished—perhaps a hundred million dollars in television sponsorships alone. Overall, throughout all the industries affected, perhaps as much as ten billion dollars evaporated. But to Brent, and to many millions of people around the globe, the biggest disaster fell on the players themselves, many of whom were facing personally devastating losses.
Though PokerStars had enough capital on hand to pay back many of its accounts, Full Tilt and especially Absolute Poker were facing true catastrophe.
Brent saw it happening right in front of his eyes. Almost immediately a large number of his payment processors—shady middlemen in the best of times—simply disappeared, along with whatever money they owed players and the company. At that same moment, Brent and Pete were also facing the forced firing of more than four hundred employees, most of them in Costa Rica, all of them demanding severance, whatever salaries they were still owed, whatever benefits the laws of their country mandated. And on top of all that, of course, there were the lawyers—not just his, but the company’s, the shareholders’, the employees’. Everyone now needed a lawyer.
From the very first moment that the site was frozen, the money began to evaporate—faster and faster, and it looked like it was only going to get worse.
The first thing Brent tried to do was to submit a proposal to the U.S. government to help the players reclaim at least a portion of the money they’d deposited into the site to play poker. By his calculations, the company had about fifteen million dollars in cash, another forty-five million in receivables. His plan gave the players precedence over other debts—and, by his numbers, would have gotten them about seventy-five cents on every dollar they’d deposited.
Unfortunately, the government turned his plan down, for a variety of reasons. They were in the process of building their case, and the most important thing to them was their investigation, and taking down what they considered an illegal industry. The lengths they’d already gone to were impressive. Brent learned from his lawyers that beginning back in 2009, the Department of Homeland Security had created a fake payment processor, called Linwood Payment Solutions, which was really staffed by U.S. federal agents. Linwood had actually processed close to fifty million dollars in poker money, while the feds gathered evidence against Brent and the others named in the indictment. Brent himself had dealt with Linwood—signed his name on forms that were now entered into evidence against him.
Clearly, the government was not interested in Brent being involved in cleaning up the fallout that Black Friday had caused; the only thing they wanted from him was cooperation—in the case against his company and the industry as a whole.
And with two young kids at home and a Colombian wife, whom he desperately wanted to bring back to the States to try to restart a normal life, Brent had taken the government’s request for cooperation extremely seriously—until his lawyers explained what “cooperation” really meant.
It wasn’t a matter of telling them a few stories and giving them details about how the business worked. If he cooperated, he would have to speak out against anyone the government wanted to target. His friends, his fraternity brothers—and, of course, Scott. There was even talk of Brent having to wear a wire.
In exchange, Brent would get a guarantee of no jail time and no forfeiture of assets. But even so, he simply couldn’t do it. His brother was his hero, and despite everything that had happened, his brother would always be his hero.
The brief conversation he’d had with Scott right after the indictment hadn’t changed anything—although it had been incredibly tense and had started on a very harsh note. The minute Scott had gotten on the phone he was shouting in Brent’s ear:
“Why is my name on this fucking thing?”
But Brent’s response had brought him back into the reality of the moment. “Why are you asking me? My name is there too.”
And after that, it had just been two brothers talking about a future they’d almost had, a past they’d shared, and what all of them would do next. Scott was going to stay in Antigua. He’d probably end up trapped there, a fugitive; Antigua wouldn’t extradite him, because there, running an online poker site wasn’t illegal, it was a respected line of work. Pete had gotten on the first plane to the United States, taking his family with him. Garin was remaining in Costa Rica—even though at the moment it seemed a little terrifying. Right after the indictment, Scott’s house was raided by Costa Rican agents, who’d literally carried out everything of value they could find. Hilt was in Panama; technically, he was free to go where he wanted, but he was going to avoid setting foot in the United States, because the last thing he wanted to face was a subpoena. None of them wanted to be forced to speak out against one another.
And that left Brent. He had a wife, two young children, and no job, and he was facing a near future of lawyers, lawyers, and lawyers. All he wanted was for all of it to be over.
So he’d made a decision—not to cooperate fully, but to turn himself in.
Over the next few weeks his lawyers had begun to negotiate his surrender with the U.S. government and the U.S. Attorney’s Office. The government had quickly agreed to drop most of the gambling and money-laundering charges, but Brent would have to plead guilty to some form of bank fraud. Even so, the prosecutors were willing to admit that it was fraud without any loss to anyone—without any real victims. In fact, the people being defrauded were making money, not losing it, and most were willing participants.
Although the sentencing guidelines for what he would plead guilty to were between twelve and eighteen months in federal prison, his lawyers, and the prosecutors, were confident that his past, and his willingness to surrender, would translate to a sentence of probation. Maybe he’d have to pay a fine, but he’d be home, he’d be free, he’d be with his
family.
In the end, the plea had seemed the right thing to do.
On July 21, 2012, even though the Department of Justice’s own attorneys argued for leniency, Brent Beckley was sentenced to fourteen months in prison for his role in running an online poker website. The very prosecutors arguing the case had agreed that there was no evidence that Brent had caused losses to any banks or any individuals. Despite this, the judge enacted a sentence that, in his words, “makes clear that the government of the United States means business in these types of cases.”
After the sentence was handed down, Brent found himself standing in the back of the courtroom, surrounded by eight members of his extended family. Everyone around him was crying, and Brent himself was in a state of near shock. Even so, he did his best to stay upbeat.
“It’s not cancer,” he said as he gave them each a hug, one by one. “We’ll get through this.”
Even through his shock and sadness, there was a sense of relief. Because for him, at least, it really was over.
EPILOGUE: THE AFTERMATH
Brent Beckley is currently serving fourteen months in a minimum-security federal prison situated on the grounds of a supermax outside of Denver, Colorado. He is taking culinary classes while in prison and hopes to work in the restaurant industry upon his release.
Garin Gustafson and Shane Blackford are both happily married, working together as business partners and entrepreneurs, and are still living in Costa Rica. Garin visits Montana frequently, and Shane has a new baby daughter and is still actively involved in his NA and AA fellowships.
Pete Barovich finally listened to his wife and got his family on the first plane out of San José after the federal indictment. He has since relocated to Phoenix, Arizona, where he runs his own business.
Hilt Tatum remains in Panama City. Since leaving Absolute Poker he has started various businesses and currently works in private equity while commuting back and forth to the UK to finish up business school at Oxford University.
Scott Tom remains trapped on the island of Antigua; although he is not technically a fugitive—since he was on Antigua when the federal indictment came down, and thus isn’t fleeing, but remaining still—the feds currently consider him “at large.” Despite the fact that he presumably earned millions of dollars as the creative force behind Absolute Poker, and was once days away from becoming an Internet billionaire, he now lives in what could be accurately described as a gilded cage.
The industry of online poker took a huge hit on Black Friday; billions of dollars vanished with the stroke of a pen, and millions of players saw their poker accounts disappear. Even so, most legal experts believe the U.S. online poker business will one day make a regulated, taxed, and extremely profitable recovery. In July 2012, PokerStars agreed to pay a $731 million fine to the U.S. government; part of that settlement included a deal in which PokerStars purchased what remained of Full Tilt Poker. The newly merged company has since resumed operations; in January 2013 it announced that it had purchased a brick-and-mortar casino in Atlantic City, gaining a foothold back in the American market. Even more significant, one month earlier, in December 2012, the Department of Justice’s Office of Legal Counsel finally and officially clarified its position on the 1961 Wire Act as it applies to the online gaming business. According to U.S. deputy attorney general James Cole, the OLC analyzed the scope of the Wire Act and concluded that it is indeed limited to sports betting. In other words, the DOJ now officially believes that online poker should not face criminal prosecution under the Wire Act.
Whether these developments open the door to the resurrection of the U.S. online poker industry remains to be seen.
PHOTO APPENDIX
March 2002: Group shot on the scouting trip to Costa Rica. Garin Gustafson, Gary Thompson, Phil Tom, Shane Blackford, and Scott Tom.
(Courtesy of Garin Gustafson)
September 2002: First trip to meet with Korean software programmers—a partnership begins. C. J. Lee, Garin, and Victor Kim.
(Courtesy of Garin Gustafson)
June 2006: Garin at the Gumball 3000 finale party in the Playboy Mansion.
(Courtesy of Garin Gustafson)
Absolute Poker software in the beta testing period, depicting the initial design of a virtual poker table.
The foam-covered aftermath of the crash of the private plane, from which Scott and Hilt somehow emerged alive.
(Courtesy of Oscar Hilt Tatum IV)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I am grateful to the many individuals within this story, named and unnamed, who opened up their lives to me over the many months it took to research this amazing tale. I am also indebted to my wonderful editor, Peter Hubbard, and the team at William Morrow. I am also, as usual, grateful to Eric Simonoff and Matt Snyder, the best agents in the business. Many thanks to my Hollywood brother Dana Brunetti and the incomparable Kevin Spacey, as well as Mike De Luca. I would also like to thank my secret weapon, Jeff Glassman, and his associate Michael D’Isola. Many thanks to Barry Rosenberg, Megann Cassidy, my incredibly supportive parents, and my brothers and their families.
And most important of all, thank you Tonya, Asher, Bugsy, and our newest addition, Arya—you make it all worthwhile.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BEN MEZRICH graduated magna cum laude from Harvard in 1991. Since then he has published twelve books, including the New York Times bestsellers The Accidental Billionaires, which was adapted into the Academy Award–winning film The Social Network, and Bringing Down the House, which has sold more than 1.5 million copies in twelve languages and became the basis for the Kevin Spacey movie 21. Mezrich has also published the national bestsellers Sex on the Moon, Ugly Americans, Rigged, and Busting Vegas. He lives in Boston.
www.benmezrich.com
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ALSO BY BEN MEZRICH
Nonfiction
Sex on the Moon
The Accidental Billionaires
Rigged
Busting Vegas
Ugly Americans
Bringing Down the House
Fiction
The Carrier
Skeptic
Fertile Ground
Skin
Reaper
Threshold
CREDITS
Cover design by Adam Johnson
Cover images: flying money © by Lumina Imaging/Getty Images; money pile © by Vovan/Shutterstock Images; cards © by Ljupco Smokovski/Shutterstock Images
COPYRIGHT
STRAIGHT FLUSH. Copyright © 2013 by Ben Mezrich. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition © JUNE 2013 ISBN: 9780062240118
ISBN 978-0-06-224009-5 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-06-227771-8 (international edition)
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