“The List, The Accountant… & The Lobster”

The posh and private lobby of the car dealership where I sat a year or so ago waiting to sign the purchase agreement and litany of other paperwork that accompanies a new car acquisition was impeccably clean, well-furnished, and quite attractive, if a bit stark for my taste, but there was no denying the statement it projected. Wealth and luxury were practically oozing from every square inch of the enormous showroom. Thus, it came as no surprise that among the carefully curated collection of magazines which graced the thick glass surface of the sleek contemporary, black iron encased coffee table was a copy of “ ‘Something’Luxury – The Hamptons.” I picked it up and immediately began to peruse the pages of photos and copy so precisely featured on the richly textured paper. My attention was piqued as I had visited the Hamptons infrequently but early on during my first few years with Al. Magnificent homes, fascinating characters, elegant dinners, and a variety of glam Concours d’ Elegance were all part of the experience when dating the President of a world renown Architectural Firm, also a confirmed, die-hard Automobile and Real Estate aficionado/collector.

WHOEVER SAID, “LESS IS MORE” OBVIOUSLY NEVER HAD ENOUGH MORE, NOR KNEW ANYTHING ABOUT THE HAMPTONS.

I took in the vast array of privileged niceties from that period of my life with the same attention and scrutiny I exacted when choosing the new vehicle which I was about to drive home. As I turned to the next page of the weighty magazine resting upon my lap, I paused briefly before doing a complete double take, realizing I recognized two of the illustrious names printed in clean black text upon the otherwise completely white page with its two neatly structured columns of featured identities. How utterly bizarre but coincidental it seemed that from across the country, I found myself riveted by the written name and presence of an individual who had drastically manipulated, damaged, and seriously altered my life’s path. For a moment or two my mind wandered while I pondered whether the feature capturing my interest was poorly titled. It would have felt far more authentic had the page littered with assorted monikers been entitled “The Rabbit Hole” as that’s where my mind was headed, but then again it wasn’t me responsible for publishing or titling that specific piece of work. Nonetheless, that didn’t stop my A.D.D. from kicking into overdrive. My initial reaction spiraled out of control as I contemplated all the questions which that publication’s list triggered. How were the “names” chosen? Were the individuals “captains of industry?” Did those same people pay for the privilege of being on the page? Perhaps the group of names cited had contributed in some super significant manner to philanthropic endeavors, qualifying them to being heralded on such a public platform? Who decides which people make the cut? Is the spotlight potentially generated or based on nepotism? Is there a commonality amongst the group being featured? Good grief, I could probably have gone on like this for another paragraph or two… but I didn’t and won’t. Instead, I turned my focus back to the name which initially sparked this scrutiny. A string of memories from decades earlier flashed before me and continued to rule the moment as I thought about more names from “that other life” which were popping to mind as quickly as rabbits procreate. What ever became of Monique, Gomis, Jimmy Cohen, Tommy Ferr, Tony Cintino, Paulo P, or even Prince Bandar? Eeegads, I’m telling you the way my brain works is a conundrum for sure. A simple memory holds the power to unravel and release a veritable loop of stormy topics. You may recognize some of the names referenced, as a few have appeared in DearEasyDiaries over the past three years, particularly the one referenced in “The List” for all the world to see. There he was… on the page featured in black block text towards the mid-section in the second column of the list of names, and revealed in entirety on my Twitter/X feed from 12/12/23. His, is a name burned into my past and not in a good way, but I never gave him credit for having the panache to secure a place in what would appear to be such a bold and public validation of worldly notoriety. My (then) unfailing optimism and faith in people didn’t always serve me well. The accountant, whose name appears amidst those two columns, proves another classic if pathetic illustration of both my poor judgement regarding men and more specifically THAT man as well as his boss… my ex.

When did his rise in notoriety occur? As I contemplated the question, my thoughts digressed to an occasion many years ago when the man in question (hereafter identified simply as “he” or “the accountant”) and I were working together one afternoon in Al’s 20 Audrey Avenue offices. We were sorting through, and either filing or pitching, a vast litany of accounting logs and documents that Prince Bandar’s embezzlement suit against Al had created, prompting the shuttering of both Al’s New York architectural firm locations forever. My secretarial foundation came in very handy over the years, and that instance proved to be one of those times. There we sat, rifling through cardboard document boxes, as well as digging from a number of filing cabinets with two to three large trash cans looming nearby. Aside from the accountant directing me as to what action each document or log required among the mountains of paperwork in our midst, we made idle chit-chat about the “surprises” life presents, dogs, and other random subjects. He shared with me that he and his wife were desperate to add a pup to their family and having heard from Al about my fascination for everything canine, he eagerly picked my brain about suitable dog breeds that ticked off the necessary boxes on their doggy checklist. A Bichon Frise was the ultimate winner of that specific exchange and as I learned later, the dog became a beloved family pet for well over a decade. Other topics were covered as well, and my interest was sparked when he started talking about family and how he had come to know Al. Still a rather meek woman, not given to the outspoken and unapologetic manner that has become my more recent style, I listened intently, anxious to gain every tidbit of insight he might possess regarding my (then) new husband. Al’s repertoire of people came in an assortment of flavors. There was his work crew… the Uncle Eds, Monicas, Gomezes, and Michaels, as well as the now sullied and banished “traitorous fat rat of an assistant” (Al’s words, not mine) who facilitated Al’s abrupt decline as well as the demise of an architectural dynasty when “the fat rat” staged a coup and revealed Al’s abuse of Prince Bandar Bin Fahad’s financial investments? The assemblage of other characters included service people such as Eddie the driver, Frank or Jehovah the property caretakers, Mabel and Margarita, the housekeepers, Santa the secretary, Dave and Mike, the tennis pros, as well as an assortment of others who popped in and out of the picture. Then there were the car guys; names like Bruno, Matty, Rico, or Bennie had been constants in my 3½ year history with Al. It escaped my attention at the time how Al so handily managed to compartmentalize the people in his life. Also, I couldn’t grasp the reluctance or outright refusal with which Al addressed his family of origin. Yes, I had spent time with his two adult daughters, but Al’s older sisters who practically begged him, as did I, for an introduction were never granted their requests. It was both curious and concerning to me, as I was always so open in conversation as well as the welcoming of Al into each occasion we shared together with my family. The stark contrast between our styles was tough to process. I couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around Al’s limited capacity to connect emotionally and yet at that juncture I still didn’t know… half of the half of it.

My mind stopped wandering about then, and I refocused my attention on the man sitting beside me on the floor that afternoon in Oyster Bay, New York. He was a chatty one and began to speak about his wife and the family he had married in to. Up until that juncture the dark-haired accountant, who bore a strong resemblance to the actor Bruno Kirby from the movie, “When Harry Met Sally,” hadn’t occupied much space in Al’s world… at least not that I knew of. Cohen was the only accountant type among Al’s cronies I had met thus far, but he appeared to have recently vanished. So too, this new guy had never been included in any of our social interactions and had not been a guest nor even invited to our wedding ceremony weekend a mere three months earlier. But regardless of any back history I may have been unaware of, here he was regaling me with stories about his successful Father-In Law, who owned an Insurance Agency on Long Island together with the accountant’s supremely savvy Brother-In-Law who just so happened to additionally tout “Natti’s Famous Hot Dogs” and a booming Real Estate empire as part of his business repertoire. It just crossed my mind that the accountant might not have been so thrilled to share his glory by appearing on such a coveted platform as “The List” with his mover and shaker Brother-In-Law, but there they were, portrayed together with only a few names separating their placement upon the page; nonetheless the Brother-In-Law still received top-billing over the accountant. Was it a nanoscopic slight which only the brother-in-law, the accountant, and their families might notice? Certainly, on that memorable day when “he” commanded the process of disposing of or keeping items from Al’s cache of dirty laundry (which appeared to fall solely at the accountant’s discretion) I got the feeling that the accountant felt inadequate, invisible, and small when compared to his in-laws. However, he was nice enough and there was work to do, so I kept my head down and went about the process of doing as I was told with the paperwork. In retrospect, it probably would have served me well to take more interest in the material that we were sorting, filing, and discarding… but that was the old, naïve Missy. I had no clue what level of miscreant activity I might have fallen witness to; it would take another couple decades to achieve that enlightenment.

More recently, after driving the new car home, I still couldn’t shake the visual image of “The List” which caught my attention earlier in the day from the Hamptons issue of “Something Luxury.” I suppose I really ought to own stock in “Reynolds” aluminum foil for all the ribbing I take regarding my alleged paranoia or conspiracy theories about the vast instances of legal fraud, tax evasion, and money laundering I’ve both witnessed and been victim of, but it’s hard to disregard the boxes and boxes of examples I have in my possession that illustrate the veracity of my claims. If my proof of fraud, corruption, and wrongdoing was limited solely to memory, I’d side with, or at least understand, the naysayers, but that’s not the case.

*THIS QUOTE AND BACKGROUND MESSAGE FROM CHIP GAINES IN A BACK ISSUE OF “MAGNOLIA MAGAZINE” REALLY STUCK WITH ME.*
*SO TOO, MY MISSION TO DISCLOSE THE TRUTH ABOUT THE HEINOUS LEVELS OF DECEPTION AND LEGAL FRAUD (DIVORCE, BANKRUPTCY & TAX) EXACTED BY AL AND THE ACCOUNTANT WILL FOREVER REMAIN A CONSTANT.*
IF SHINING A LIGHT, BY SHARING MY EXPERIENCES, SHEDS HELPFUL INSIGHT INTO THE MALICIOUS MACHINATIONS WHICH OFTEN STEER & VIOLATE THE LEGAL SYSTEM, NEGATIVELY AFFECTING THE OUTCOME WHICH “AN OUTSPOUSE” AND THE CHILDREN OF DIVORCE ENDURE, I AM FIRMLY COMMITTED TO SUCH TRANSPARENCY.

I have a feeling this post may end up being more than just a brief interlude, as there’s volumes more to say, but I also feel strongly about the use of appropriate punctuation marks and so maybe we leave it here for the time being, and just let it all sink in? Or do we keep digging a bit longer and see the direction this path takes? Yes, per usual I’m all in and say let’s go… “door #2.” The ego is a powerful machine, and I’ve got to believe there may be no finer example of that statement than this singular component of “Something Luxury’s” Hampton’s issue. What say you? Are you impressed by such open flaunting of a person’s prominence in a certain region or industry? I mean really? Being featured in “The List” is hardly on a par with saving a life or serving our Country. However, it would be very disingenuous of me if I didn’t confess that way back when, my response to stumbling upon such a list would have evoked a very different reaction than the way I perceive that type of display now… today.

Later in my marriage to Al, when the accountant sat down with me in the Summer of 2007 together with the backstabbing, “incompetent Miss Piggy” (again Al’s owndescription of his assistant) to “school me regarding my complete ineptitude with financial matters” while simultaneously messaging the unpleasant and unexpected subject matter Al had tasked the two of them to deliver, regarding his desire to formalize a “divvying up” of marital assets, I was flabbergasted. It sounded an awful lot like some sort of preemptive divorce settlement, and for once I stood up for myself and essentially told Al’s two “henchmen” to “f*** off.” It was a slightly less combative response which I shared with Al once the two messengers left the room, but the gist of my answer was consistent. No, I would not consider such an action. After all, even if a dissolution was Al’s goal and our (completely invalid) “prenup” was to be referenced, it contained a “sunset clause” providing that should our union survive ten years (as was already the case) the document was no longer applicable, meaning our marital assets would be deemed “community property.” So, logic follows… why discuss the formal division of assets while still married? That is unless such an action was Al’s way of proactively, somewhat surreptitiously, and totally deceptively, “sticking it to me” while pursuing a separation or divorce? Was that the point of the accountant’s trip from New York to Santa Ynez that August day? How much better I might have fared had I known that the type of agreement Al had the accountant propose was hauntingly similar in tone to the arrangement he devised when separating from his first wife, a number of years prior to their formal divorce? If I knew about the “Capone v. Capone case submitted to the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court of New York” in 1989, I might have been privy to and forewarned about the malice suspected of my then husband? But would that have changed anything? We’ll never know, because I knew nothing about those nitty-gritty details during my initial involvement with Al, as well as far too many years beyond. He was a master of deceit, as I learned late… but as I have also discovered, the accountant played a large role in Al’s insane game of manipulating and hiding assets.

MAYBE IT’S NOT TOO LATE TO HEED THE WORDS WITHIN THIS BLACK SQUARISH GRAPHIC? BUT… IF I DID “LET SHIT GO,” WOULD THERE BE ANY CHANCE I MIGHT PROVE HELPFUL TO OTHERS WHO ARE POTENTIALLY FACING SIMILAR CIRCUMSTANCES?
*DOUBTFUL.*
*IF I HAVE THE ABILITY TO REACH EVEN ONE PERSON WHO NEEDS THE EXTRA PUSH TO AGGRESSIVELY ADVOCATE FOR THEMSELVES, IT’S WORTH EVERY IOTA OF EFFORT & AGIDA THAT THESE MEMORIES MAY STIR.*

If you happened to read my last blog entry, you might remember that I quoted a song from the uber talented Dierks Bentley, called “I Hold On.” No words could be more applicable as I recall an event which transpired during Al’s four-year long Bankruptcy case, which he openly admitted was filed to avoid adhering to our Marital Settlement Agreement. This particular issue has always triggered me, because it made absolutely ZERO sense, but none of my attorneys at the time would give me the time of day when I suggested digging a bit deeper regarding a number of dubious issues including one specific property. “Let it go Missy; you can’t pursue each and every item that you deem questionable. None of this is within your control, and we have far more substantial issues to tackle. Plus, this property represents a mere pittance when compared to the balance of items plaguing your future security.”

Ugh, if I had a quarter for each instance when I was issued an analogous rendition of that succession of phrases, I’d likely be boarding my own jet this week for Cabo. But alas… that’s not happening, just as so much of what was legally documented and promised to me never came to fruition. What I would have liked to say to that team of lawyers, naysayers, etc was a big ol’ “bugger off,” but I didn’t dare. Those same attorneys had convinced me that they were my only hope in navigating the murky waters which Al and the accountant had polluted so thoroughly. There may be nothing more infuriating than having a team of lawyers dismiss any objection you raise because they regard you as little more than a scorned outspouse, regardless of the hundreds of thousands of dollars you pay them to advocate on your behalf?

Please don’t forget while you read this about my disclaimer above… “I hold on!” With that in mind, I’ll never forget the tongue-lashing I received from my B/K attorney, issued one particular day after an exchange of puzzling emails. When responding to the chain of emails Joe forwarded to me, I questioned him about the “Pension Plan” being referenced because it was NOT disclosed in Al’s Bankruptcy Financial Disclosures and Schedule of Assets, prepared by the accountant. I was told, “Missy, get over it; we’re past that point. Focus on the matter immediately before you. This is a non-starter, and I’m certain Judge R. and the B/K court isn’t going to care either.”

Great, just great, I thought to myself. How am I supposed to rally any confidence and keep fighting for my kids and myself when I continue to meet resistance at every turn, even from my own, alleged, side? If you haven’t been there yourself, let me assure you it’s a pretty crappy way to feel. Should you have, or are now, encountering anything close to such a situation, you must know the “punch in the gut” feeling that the reaction I received elicited, right? It sucks. Not a terribly poetic expression, but a true one. For once I acted on a hunch, and quietly reached out to my then Georgia attorney, who after some research verified that my suspicions were well-founded. Still, it meant nothing to my California B/K counsel nor to the blah, blah, blah Judge for the Central District of California Bankruptcy Court where Al’s case had been filed. Maybe it would have mattered though had I known at the time that Al bought Tidal Cove (the subject property referred to in the email and purchased in 2004) the same year when he bought our oceanfront, Cottage 64 home on Sea Island? Was there some special significance linking the two properties and why was I so oblivious to it all. Obviously, Al and the accountant were intentionally very covert in the actions they exacted. Did it matter that the property was anything but a wreck, as my B/K attorney’s email claimed? Apparently not. In reality the property appraised in close alignment with the $290,000 Al originally paid for its purchase, millions less than Tabby Lane’s purchase price, so again why, and what was the property’s purpose? Tidal Cove’s photos revealed a decent house on two lots and actually boasted a deep-water boat dock? In fact, if using a proper vessel, one could most likely reach the entire Eastern Seaboard from 145 Tidal Cove Way, conceivably as far off as Oyster Bay, New York where Al once owned another property known as the Oyster Bay Marina. Could Al have potentially been a drug-runner? No; surely that’s wildly preposterous, or is it? Other than “smuggling” cheese from Canada on Morrie and Gina’s Global, or Gandhara sculptures from his time working on the U.S. Embassy complex design in New Delhi, I wasn’t aware of any other dubious actions Al might have exacted, at the time. But then again as this paragraph and so many others like it illustrate, I knew next to nothing about Al’s actions, or even Al himself. Perhaps, Al used the two-story home as a “hook-up house?” Knowing what I do now, that’s every bit as likely as the “El Chapo/drug-lord/smuggling” angle, but I’ll never know for sure, so instead my mind runs amuck with disturbing if somewhat entertaining scenarios. For example, did he use the same Interior Designer to “set up” that property, as he had Ocean Forest #1, #2, the Tabby Lane move-in, or the 574 “Casa Costalotta” house? What about the Beach Club Penthouse or Black Banks décor installation? And whatever happened to Al’s two lots in Frederica, or the King’s Point properties? Or how is it that SSI’s “Green Sheet” reflected Al transferring local Island real estate for absurdly ridiculous amounts like $2500 - $4000, when the real valuations exceeded half a million dollars and in most cases far more? Only Al and the accountant could answer those questions with any certainty, but here’s what I do know… the accountant and Al set the Tidal Cove ownership entity up as a “shell company,” Tidal Cove Inc. Furthermore, although the shell company’s inception was set up following the property’s purchase in 2004, it wasn’t until 2010 when the accountant, as “Trustee of the Capone Defined Benefit Pension Plan” and Al acting in his capacity as “Attorney In Fact for Tidal Cove Inc.” began swapping the title documents and corresponding financial “Notes” back and forth, eventually resulting in a “suspect” Foreclosure procedure initiated in 2010 and finalized with a sale in 2012. All such events occurred under the legal umbrella of Al’s Georgia divorce counsel, now a Magistrate Judge in Glynn County, and his firm. Coincidence? I think not. Nevertheless, what was the property used for from 2004 through 2012? Eight years of property ownership that Al “allegedly” knew nothing about, despite his name identified as the “attorney in fact” for the shell company? Not hardly. Still that was the story which Al and the accountant attempted to peddle. It was almost as implausible as the “Rico/Ponzi Suit” story that “The New York Post” published in March of 2009. While I have no doubt that the NY Post reporter simply published whatever information was garnered directly from Al, the accountant, or any corresponding legal documents, the underbelly of that sham was fairly transparent. The farce was further amplified when I learned that the accountant was the same person responsible for introducing Al to the “alleged Ponzi pair,” and the story became even more dubious when it was disclosed that one of the illustrious “Ponzi Pair” guys just so happened to be one of the same attorneys who originally represented Al in the Prince Bandar embezzlement suit. If all of this doesn’t make your head spin… more power to you, but I can’t seem to shake all the inconsistencies and the twisted way in which these tales were woven together. On the face of each singular action, MAYBE you could buy the sh** being shoveled by Al and the accountant, but there’s just no world in which the scenarios represent an inkling of truth when you piece together the totality of all the parts. Regardless of the way their game ultimately plays or played out (if it’s actually realized) the strategy of creating many medium messes to distract from their real and bigger agenda worked for awhile. No longer.

Does any of that bizarre trail of information correlate in anyway to “The List,” from “Something Luxury?” Probably not, but maybe “The List” featured in that publication is representative of a greater list? Could it be symbolic of all the other miscreant misdeeds done by Al and the accountant, ones for which the account was getting the credit? Perhaps it’s indicative of how power can go to your head? Is it possible that being prominently positioned among titans of talent, wealth, and privilege for all the world to see is worth selling out your integrity, as well as feeling entitled to screw over other human beings, including one’s own children? I’d be absolutely ignorant if I didn’t concede that is very likely, if not absolutely, the case and was a lesson learned in a very personal, costly, and painful manner, prompting the creation of my own “List.” It’s doubtful that my list will ever be featured in a super-glossy lifestyle magazine, but then there are other vehicles of expression and disclosure, aren’t there?

“The List, The Accountant… & The Lobster”

A Rosary or A Xanax?

Family Trust Pt.3 -a.k.a. Revocable Trust