Greedy Givers

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 4Special agent Kari Wheeler escorted the professor into one of the small interview rooms off the reception area of the FBI’s Philadelphia field office in Center City. When he had called to set up the appointment, his voice had been whiny and demanding, and she had expected him to be short, thin, white, and more than a little nerdy. But Walden Burton, professor at Hunter Valley Christian College, a small Midwestern school in Michigan, was taller, more fit than she had imagined, and Asian. He was sporting the standard-issue professorial glasses, and a brown, well-worn, leather backpack was slung over his left shoulder. She knew that whatever was inside the bag had already been placed through the magnetometer and scanned by the security before he would have been allowed to enter the building. He gave her a weak handshake, and when she sat in a chair near the door and motioned for him to sit on the opposite side, he seemed perplexed.

“How can I help you?”

“Is Special Agent Wheeler coming?”

“I’m Agent Wheeler.” She patted her chest with both hands. “We spoke on the phone this morning.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen. A pink flush of embarrassment began creeping across his cheeks and neck. “When you answered you said, ‘Kari Wheeler’s office…’ I thought—”

She laughed. “You thought I was the assistant for C-A-R-Y. As in Cary Grant. I’m Kari with a K and an I.” She laughed again, louder this time. “We answer our own phones around here.”

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“No problem.” She raised her hands. “It’s just that that hasn’t happened in a long time.”

His eyes scanned her frame in what felt to be a nonsexual, but nonetheless probing, way. “I apologize again. It’s just that you’re not at all what I was expecting.”

He wasn’t what she had pictured either, but she decided against responding ditto and instead said, “I get it. You were expecting a guy. Not a black female. So, Mr. Burton—"

“Please, call me Wally.”

“Thank you, Wally.” She did not offer for him to call her Kari. She had learned it was best to first establish her authoritative position before relaxing protocols. “During your phone call, you mentioned that you were an accounting professor at a Christian college in Michigan.”

“I’m a CPA and I also handle their books, their financials. It’s a small college.”

“What brings you to Philadelphia?”

“Business.” He patted the backpack. “Your name came up when I asked for a referral.”

“A referral? From whom?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad you were able to see me on short notice.”

“You have a fraudulent matter—a potential case—you think I should look into?”

“I was told that you are an expert in investigating frauds and scams.”

“I’ve been working these types of cases for a number of years. They’re important to pursue.” She was about to launch into her spiel about white-collar crime being the barometer of morals and ethics in this country, but she stopped herself. “So, what can I help you with?”

He took a piece of paper out of one of the front pockets of his backpack, unfolded it, and handed it to her. It was a copy of a newspaper clipping. “Did you see this article in the Philly paper last week?”

She put on her reading glasses, held the sheet in both hands and, quickly scanned it. The headline read, “Cuddy Mullins Honored by Philadelphia Philanthropic Society, By Kitty Oliphant, Inquirer Staff Writer.” It appeared to be a positive feature story about someone she had never heard of doing charitable work. After less than a minute of reading, Kari looked at Professor Burton and shrugged. “It makes him sound like one of the good guys. He’s the person you think is running a scam?”

“All this flattering press makes me sick. Cuddy Mullins has everyone fooled. That article gives them credibility. And as we all know credibility is contagious.” His tone turned sour. “I’ve been trying to get someone to listen to me.”

Kari handed the article back to Burton. “I’m listening. What did the reporter get wrong?”

He placed his backpack on the conference table and took out a massive, white, vinyl binder packed full of documents and slid it across the table toward her. “It’s all in here.”

Kari tapped her fingers over the cover art embossed on the cover. The logo showed a man and a woman sowing seeds as beautiful flowers and plants sprung up behind them as they walked through a vacant lot. She opened the binder, which contained several thick, multicolored folders. She flipped through the pockets of the first folder and removed a fancy prospectus printed on fine linen paper.

“It’s based here in Philadelphia. It’s supposed to be a charitable foundation, but technically it’s not. He’s fooled a lot of accountants, but not me,” said Burton.

“Who’s ‘he’?”

“The New Visions in Giving’s president, Cuthbert ‘Cuddy’ Mullins, III.”

“Cuthbert?”

He pushed up the tip of his nose with his right index finger, a mocking gesture. “His name makes it sound like he’s from Mainline money, but my investigation has revealed that he grew up far away from the equestrian-and-champagne social set.”

“Your investigation?”

“I’ve been gathering some preliminary facts.” He patted the binder twice. “My research is all in here.”

Kari gazed at the elaborately designed materials inserted under the initial offer tab in the binder. The offer was printed on high-quality paper, with embossed gold lettering. She reviewed the formal solicitation. It looked good but read like a chain letter.

“You collected all of this and put this binder together?”

“The slick marketing materials are from New Visions. I added my findings to the folders in the back section.” He came around to her side of the table, stood behind her, and reached over her shoulder as he flipped the book to the last few folders, which resembled paperboard files from a local office supply store. “This is my stuff. Let me show you what I discovered.”

Kari backed her chair into him. The tight confines of the small interview room made him too close for comfort. He was unaware that her fingers were just inches away from the panic alarm button installed under her side of the table. She pointed to the chair where he had been sitting. “Make yourself comfortable. You have my full attention.”

Burton huffed, returned to his side of the table, and plunked the binder down. Everything about him seemed clenched. She waited silently as he pulled in a calming breath, took off his jacket, and hung it over the back of his chair.

When he seemed settled, she said, “Talk to me.”

“These people are ripping off nonprofits and scamming donors, and nobody will do anything about it.”

“Let me figure out what you have here and if it’s something I can help you with.” She folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. “Can you give me a moment to take a look at the materials and ask you some questions?”

They sat in silence for a beat. Kari watched as Burton took in yet another deep breath, let it out slowly, and nodded. He wasn’t manic—he was full of nervous tension.

“What’s going on? I can see that this means a lot to you, that you’re frustrated.” She pulled out the narrow metal drawer under the table, grabbed a notebook and pen, and laid them in front of her. “Can we dial things back a bit, so I can better understand what’s going on here?”

“It’s been difficult to get anyone to take me seriously. I’m afraid that more organizations will be harmed.” He rested his elbows on the table, his chin on his cupped hands, and stared blankly at the papers laid out in front of them.

“Let’s start with the basics.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “What do I need to know?”

“What you need to know about the ‘foundation,’” he said flatly, using air quotes, “is that they’re doing an aggressive money grab. While other charitable foundations practice with what I would say is a quiet benevolence, New Visions in Giving is practically predatory.”

“But this article says that they’re exclusive and selective in who they let in.”

“That’s bull crap. New Visions is like the Publishers Clearing House of donations.”

“So, why is your college participating? Did you tell them what you’re telling me?”

“I’ve been sounding the warning bells for six months now. I wrote a letter to the board of trustees, and now my employer is threatening to take action against me.” He poked himself with his thumb. “It’s all smoke and mirrors.”

“What’s your connection to New Visions? Did you lose any personal funds to this alleged scam?”

“No, but I believe I have a fiduciary responsibility to advise the school administration and the trustees that New Visions is not legitimate.”

“And why do you think that?”

“I discovered a five-hundred-thousand-dollar wire transfer that the college sent to New Visions earlier in the year. The money is supposed to be matched and—”

She held out her hand to interrupt him. “Let me play devil’s advocate for a minute. Matching funds are a legitimate tool for incentivizing charitable giving. I get notifications from my favorite cause, Smile Train, several times a year pledging to double and even triple my support,” said Kari.

“But you’re not making a donation to yourself, and you’re not being asked to first funnel your donation through a third party.”

“I’m not following you.”

“When I asked about that wire transfer, I was told that the money was being held in escrow, and after six months, New Visions would match the funds and return one million dollars to Hunter.”

“Who’s supposed to be providing the matching funds?”

Burton paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before answering, “Nine anonymous donors.”

“What?” Kari scrunched up her face. “Anonymous donors? Let me guess, six months passed and the college never received back the money and matching funds?”

“No, they did. Sort of. But only for one week. Despite my protests, Cuddy Mullins convinced them to reinvest the whole thing for another six-month matching term.”

“They’re now expecting two million dollars to be coming to them?”

“That’s right.” Burton pulled a tax return from one of the folders, turned it around so that she could read it. He pointed to a line at the bottom of the form. “This is the foundation’s 2017 tax return. And here’s the major red flag I detected. See?”

Kari stared at the entry listed under non-taxable investment interest. “What am I looking at?”

“The New Vision financials indicate that the foundation’s operating budget comes directly from interest generated by funds being held in escrow by the foundation.”

Kari stroked her chin with her thumb and forefinger as she tried to follow his point.

“It’s all right here,” he said. “If New Visions took in eighty million dollars in funds to be matched, they should have earned at least a couple million in interest. Yet their return shows they only earned $63,000.”

“New Visions was holding $80 million?”

“And this is just last year’s records. They’ve been operating for four or five years.” Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. A huge grin split his face. “I think I just piqued your curiosity.”

“If that number’s correct, if we’re talking about millions in potential losses, I’m absolutely interested.”

Burton showed her once again how the dollar amounts didn’t make sense.

“And this tax return reflects the escrow account where the matching funds are being held?” she asked.

Burton smiled and slowly nodded his head. “This is the right account. But it appears the money isn’t in the account long enough to earn any interest.”

Now Kari was smiling too. “I see where you’re going with this. New money is deposited, but it’s immediately withdrawn.”

Burton was grinning, and now his head was bobbing up and down. “You’re a quick study.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time.” She looked over her glasses. “I’ve seen a thing or two.” Kari pressed the tips of her fingertips together and leaned forward. “Old investors are repaid from the funds of new investors. Just like a Ponzi scheme.”

“Exactly.” Excitement shone from his eyes. “The investor list is pretty impressive. Victims of the scheme include Christian colleges like mine, but also large institutions like the American Red Cross, the Salvation Army,United Way, Juvenile Diabetes Foundation, Free Library of Philadelphia, the orchestra—”

“What? How could they be victims and I haven’t heard anything about this?” She shot Burton a look of skepticism.

“Because they don’t know it yet.” He handed her another document. “This investor list was submitted with New Vision’s last tax return.” He ran his finger down the page. “See? They’re all here.”

“Wow,” said Kari. “This could be a huge fraud case.”

“It’s a relief to hear you say that and to know that you understand the scam being run by New Visions. If I leave this with you today, how soon do you think you’ll take action?”

“I’ll be able to open a case first thing tomorrow and to get a prosecutor on board to issue subpoenas immediately after that.”

“And then to shut down the foundation? Two days, three days more?”

Kari knew that Burton wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “No. I’m sorry, but that’s not how it works.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “How much time do you need? Two weeks, a month?”

“If we gather the evidence to prove what you think is going on, it will take a few months, but probably less than a year.”

“What do you mean?” He smacked the binder’s cover with his palm. “I have everything you need right in here.”

“What you have in that binder might be, and I repeat might be, enough for me to initiate an investigation, but I’ll need much more than what you have there to recommend charges and pursue an indictment. The FBI can’t shut down a business without presenting authenticated evidence.”

She could see his visceral reaction to her words. His face was tight, his fists clenched, and as he stared back at her his eyes were piercing.

“I’ve been telling him for months now that I’m going to bring him down. It’s no wonder he doesn’t believe me—”

“You’ve been in contact with Mullins?”

“I spoke with him when that p********a-filled article came out.”

“Do me a favor—don’t call him anymore.”

“I had to. No one else is doing anything to stop him.”

“That’s not fair. You called me this morning, and I agreed to meet with you today, all without any notice.” Kari pushed the air in a hands-off motion.

After several more minutes of heated discussion, she convinced him that she believed he was onto something, and then they spent another half hour reviewing the documents in the binder. He didn’t want to hear anything about holding back and following procedures, but she remained steadfast. “There’s no cutting corners on a case like this,” she said.

When he caught her looking at the time on her cell phone screen, he became irritated again. She tried to assure him that she wasn’t blowing him off, but she had another appointment, and they would schedule another meeting to go over everything he had gathered. He whined like an impetuous child, and she considered calling and canceling her counseling session. But she was doing so well in her recovery and was determined to stay on track.

“If you leave the binder here, I can get someone to make copies and return it to you before you leave. When are you heading home?”

“Tomorrow evening, but I already have plans for the morning.”

“About this?” Kari said. She noticed his hesitation before answering.

“My first trip to Philadelphia. I thought I owed myself a couple of hours to do the tourist stuff. The binder has all the information you need to get started. I put together several. You can have this one. I have even more documents scanned as pdfs. I’ll Dropbox the files to you when I get back to my hotel. Do you have a business card?”

She took one of her cards from her jacket pocket and handed it to him.

“Can I have three?” he asked.

She gave him two more, assuming he wanted to take them back to his bosses. “I’m happy to speak with a school administrator or trustee over the phone, but I’ll probably request that an agent from the Ann Arbor resident agency come out to the college and conduct a more thorough, in-person interview later on.”

He scanned the info on the card. “So your full name is Karolina?”

“I prefer Kari.”

“Well… Agent Wheeler, I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Absolutely. I plan on looking at everything you’ve given me over the next couple of days. Can I circle back with you at the end of the week?”

“I’m betting on it,” he said with a sly smile.

“And thank you for understanding that these things take time. “

She thought she detected a flash of sarcasm when he said, “Yep, I get it.”