Master of Deceit

Master of Deceit

by Jodi Andes

© Copyright 2020 by Jodi Andes

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

Cover Design: Michael Yuen-Killick Book Design: Jane McWhorter

To the woman who taught me independence but never wanted to be far.

You are always with me.

Contents

In Appreciation 2

Introduction 6

Chapter One – Hiding in Plain Sight 15

Chapter Two – Prepare for War 28

Chapter Three – Primed for Success 42

Chapter Four – Covert Ops 50

Chapter Five – Tall, Dark and Spooky 64

Chapter Six – A Fraud is Born 78

Chapter Seven – Capitalizing on Fear 89

Chapter Eight – The Perfect Concoction 99

Chapter Nine – Good Friends Are Hard to Find 109

Chapter Ten – Good Luck or Good Friends? 125

Chapter Eleven – Thank God for Humility 133

Chapter Twelve – Beginning of the End 144

Chapter Thirteen – The Hunt 153

Chapter Fourteen – It’s Him 164

Chapter Fifteen – Mr. X 175

Chapter Sixteen – There Never Was Much 188

Chapter Seventeen – The Lack of Fallout 191

Afterword - A Lesson Learned 201

In Appreciation

AS A FIRST-TIME AUTHOR, I was blissfully naïve of all the challenges and time needed to complete a nonfiction book like this. I thought I had a pretty good guess. My project began in 2012 after I left work at the Ohio Attorney General’s Office. I budgeted time for writing and rewriting on nights and weekends to balance family, who is always my priority. I even accounted for time because my day job, which never seems to be only 40 hours a week. My initial estimate was that the book would likely take five years to finish at this pace—tops. As I said, I was naïve. I was only off by about 1,000 days. For eight years, I have hammered away following one lead after another and writing one chapter after another, and then rewriting it again until it was to my liking.

I thank God I didn’t know it would take me eight years to finish. I might have given up. Still, those years are crucial to setting the stage for two reasons. One, I want to start with a sketch that roughs out the enormity of research that went into this book. The volume of analysis needed was so extraordinary because frankly, John Donald Cody was that crafty. He would file incorporation paperwork and create bank accounts for what seems to be no reason other than to generate rabbit holes for investigators. I really don’t want to know how much time I lost along the way, since totaling it might lead to a sinkhole with depression written all over it. Another time drain was all the aliases he used. Tracking them created something like rabbit holes within rabbit holes because it took a while to determine if it was an alias or a decoy.

Within two or three years, I came to grips with the realization that was no way to budget time and limit research. That realization was compounded with another reason this book consumed eight years of my life—I refused to shortchange the research. I am, by nature, one of those stubborn types who refuse to give up. Case in point, there have been new allegations that came in after completing the book that I will still run down. This case is that intriguing. It makes it hard to let go. It is so captivating and unfathomable; it reads more like fiction. And I don’t mind saying I would have trouble believing it if I didn’t follow the evidence myself. However, as any journalist knows, sometimes you need to say its time. When you are writing about the truth, there is always more to learn, but one must begin somewhere. I felt it was time to get the story out.

Perhaps there is a third reason to share the years that went into this book. I hope to underscore the length of this endeavor to show how long my family, friends, and sources have waited. Eight years is a testimony to their support. In return, they have my utmost respect and gratitude.

My appreciation starts with those men and women who worked on this case and did what their peers in law enforcement thought was impossible. I am grateful for the help provided by U.S. Marshal Pete Elliott, Deputy U.S. Marshals Bill Boldin, Tony Gardner and Mike Wagner, and Euclid Police Officer Mike Caruso. Others who worked on this case but did not collaborate on the book are still owed gratitude for their dedication in solving what seemed to be an unsolvable mystery. That list includes people such as Secret Service Special Agent Jonathan Schuck, retired Secret Service Agent David Barrick, and former Secret Service intern Stacey Pratt.

I am thankful to those who initially worked on this case and fought hard to untangle the mystery. There were investigators, lawyers, and forensic accountants in the Ohio Attorney General’s Office Charitable Law and former NCIS Agent Dan Royse. The detailed work of these tradesmen and women was an honor to watch. Even to them, this case was not merely their job. It was a mission. For example, I know the men at NCIS, particularly Royse, not only donated the equivalent of days of overtime, it was clear  he continued to mull the case on nights and weekends. This case was such a complicated puzzle that it was hard to put down, especially given that American veterans were the victims.

And of course, none of this would have been possible if former Ohio Attorney General Richard Cordray, First Assistant Chris Glaros, and Chief Law Enforcement Officer John Lenhart weren’t so unrelenting. That was key since no one else in law enforcement was stepping up to take the lead.

Unraveling this story required a lot of research help and support along the way. Endless thanks goes out to Mike Bigelow, Susan Mesch, the staff at FollowtheMoney.org, the staff at the Cuyahoga County Clerk of Courts, Allan Buxton of Secure Data Inc., Shawn Sines and Edward McCabe of the Rubicon Advisory Group, attorney Mark Zaid, and consummate journalists Barb Carmen, and Barbara Hipsman Springer. Then there were authors Karen Paget and Jesse Kellerman, who I didn’t know, yet who gave time to offer fresh ideas when I was stumped. Little things can help a lot.

I also want to thank those who helped the story gain traction and worked on the publication. This includes literary agent David Fugate, film-rights agent Dominic Powall, Ruth Hanley, and cover-design artist Michael Yuen- Killick. Of course, most importantly, I would like to thank Deborah Levine Herman and Joshua Adams, who are nothing short of masterful in their story analysis, editing, and guidance.

Then there was what you might call mental support—friends who were tortured with details year after year. They include Jennifer and Scott Ziegler, Suzanne Hoholik, Dr. Rene Galindo, Whitney Fair, Kris Cadek, Alisa Nass, and Connie and Ed Johnson. They were always there for me, as were the family members who had faith even when I didn’t: Tammy Andes, Doug Andes, Sherri Mendrala Andes, Mike Andes, Amy Graham, and my father, David Andes.

However, my most profound gratitude belongs to my sons, David and Andy. These years were personally rough beyond measure. They cheered me on, took glee in anytime they could correct my grammar, and offered helpful suggestions. I hope this book teaches them more than anything: don’t focus on the obstacles in your way, don’t make excuses, and never give up.

The final mention of gratitude is reserved for the American military. It is not hyperbole to say I was only able to write this book thanks to veterans who ensured our freedom. John Donald Cody’s crimes were not the first- time veterans have been used as pawns in a scam, nor is this scam likely the last.

In my idealistic mind, veterans should receive so much respect that officials should vie over the right to fight for justice on their behalf. Sadly, that is not reality. And it is certainly not what happened here. Only a small group of prosecutors, investigators, and federal agents were willing to put forth the effort to defend our veterans’ interests. To all those who have served in our military or are serving now, I offer my sincere and endless gratitude.

You were truly my inspiration.

Introduction

Something was missing .

The scam that robbed U.S. veterans of more than $100 million was the work of a con man so skilled, few in law enforcement expected an arrest. They had a good reason for their skepticism. The man behind the crime somehow conned the Internal Revenue Service and charitable analysts from 41 states into believing that the U.S. Navy Veterans Association was real. Yet the whole thing—from the association offices, officers, members, and beneficiaries—was a sham. Furthermore, Lt. Commander Bobby Thompson—the only face of the USNVA as it was more commonly called— wasn’t even who he said he was. Bobby Thompson was simply an identity he stole.

Few could even speak from experience about any charitable deeds done by this association. The lack of information was not only because the association didn’t have real directors or officials, other than Bobby Thompson. It was because the USNVA gave little. Phone solicitations lasted for more than a decade. Still, there were only a few dozen instances of charitable aid—and many of those which came only after a reporter started asking questions. Yet, not one regulator in the 41 states or within the I.R.S. noticed problems.

Bobby’s ultimate downfall was his own doing.

A sinkhole started to grow when a reporter from the St. Petersburg Times noticed a political contribution made by the USNVA. Such gifts are illegal for charitable groups like the association, so the reporter rightfully had questions. Of course, Bobby may have avoided the reporter’s scrutiny if he acknowledged that they made a mistake. Who can argue with contrition? But  that wasn’t Bobby. He grew this charitable behemoth from nothing. And he wasn’t about to be questioned by any reporter. He unleashed an expletive- laden tirade before kicking the news reporter off his property.

That was just Bobby’s way. He liked to think he was the smartest person around. And he never backed down from an opportunity to articulate why someone else was wrong. It was that hubris that tanked him.

The reporter ran a series of articles starting in March 2010 that alerted Americans to the scam. State attorneys general read with great interest. That’s because these attorneys general—whose job is to protect consumers— had given the USNVA the green light to collect money. Before the stories appeared, they had no idea the association was fake, but this was also proof that none of the charitable regulators bothered to look. Not even the I.R.S. Attorneys general didn’t take long to respond. One after another announced they were investigating Bobby Thompson and the USNVA.

I quickly earned a front-row seat with the case. I had been a newspaper reporter who loved to expose corruption, and I had moved over to the Ohio Attorney General’s Office about 14 months before the St. Petersburg Times stories appeared. Initially assigned to criminal investigators, the case was so complicated that it sputtered along at a snail’s pace.

Cordray’s first assistant asked me to serve as a fresh set of eyes to see if a reporter could find anything investigators might have missed. After a review, I suspected Bobby’s girlfriend, or at the very least a woman he admired, lived in New York City. This was an important clue, and it wasn’t rocket science to me. Starting in 2008, he began reserving plush hotel rooms, made dinner reservations, and used limos all around N.Y.C. He had been to the big apple many times before, but he never acted like this. And it wasn’t new found money. The USNVA had been collecting millions for several years.  I was willing to bet this was a man merely showing off for a woman. My hunch proved correct. And the more I looked, the more I found. Thanks to time and luck, my role continued to grow.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was becoming hooked. The case was amazingly frustrating, given so much about the charity was fake, but it  was never work. An obsession, maybe, but never work. My interest may have been the result of an engrained deep-seated respect for the military. My grandfather was a World War II veteran, a flight engineer on a B-24 Liberator that bombed Germany. He saw colleagues shot down around him flight after flight while he prayed that he could make it to the White Cliffs of Dover and ultimately home to the woman who promised to be his bride. The cliffs are a stretch of England’s coastline that faces France; in World War II, it was also the unstated line of demarcation that no German bombers dared to cross. The joy of seeing those cliffs was also one of the few things my family  ever heard about the war. My grandfather mentioned friends he lost, but never the experiences he endured. He was strong, cunning, nurturing, and one of the greatest men I have ever known. Maybe I wanted to see this through for him and for all those who were never able to come home.

In fairness, my interest might have also stemmed from the case seeming like an impossible puzzle, one that many said could never be solved. Nothing motivates me more than someone saying I can’t.

The St. Petersburg Times printed new revelations one after another. It unfolded like a soap opera with one dramatic reveal after another, but this was real. One of the most shocking discoveries seemed to link donations to political coffers. Though he had no other job, Bobby somehow found tens of thousands of dollars to give to Republican politicians. The stories were shared from coast to coast, but it didn’t change the outcome. Only one state ultimately charged Thompson.

Ohio’s then-Attorney General Richard Cordray, took the lead at the beginning of the investigation and never backed down. Undoubtedly, the filing of criminal charges in Ohio gave officials in other states the license to back down: If Ohio was bringing Thompson to justice, why bother? Thompson was believed to be in his 60s; any of the states that allowed the USNVA to solicit could have leveled hundreds of charges against him if they wanted to. Thompson easily faced the potential of life in prison if someone could find him.

What was more interesting was looking at which agencies didn’t get involved.

I.R.S. or F.B.I. were two likely contenders to join the fight. USNVA— which was tax-exempt—had been collecting millions with the equivalent of a few pennies going to veterans. And since when is the I.R.S. not interested in tax evasion? Initially, I.R.S. agents assisted the state of Florida in its investigation, but their help was felt little outside that state.

The F.B.I. had a veritable smorgasbord of potential crimes to devour. After all, the USNVA was involved in this scam for more than a decade. Donations came in and were moved all over the country. Money laundering was one potential charge. Thompson also deceived Americans into giving

money, opening the door for possible fraud. Bobby Thompson wasn’t who he claimed to be, raising the possibility of a charge of identity theft as well. Also, this so-called charity was part of a larger scheme. How big it was or what the hustle was, no one knew. But racketeering was always waiting in the wings for consideration on a case like this.

And those were just some of the possible crimes at first glance.

It was clear the F.B.I. was content to watch from the sidelines. Outsiders may wonder if the F.B.I. didn’t consider the crimes significant enough to warrant federal involvement, but that is highly improbable. The head of CharityWatch, a national watchdog of charities, had said there had only been one scam larger than this ever prosecuted. This scam was one for the history books.

Another thought was maybe the case didn’t seem worth the effort. Bobby Thompson disappeared just as the state investigations were gaining steam, and all the state officials agreed Bobby Thompson was a stolen identity. However, none of them had any idea who he really was. So perhaps the

F.B.I. thought their time was better spent elsewhere? Who knows? The F.B.I. wouldn’t comment after the discovery of the crime in 2010, and they haven’t commented a decade later.

One thing about the case, though, was clear early on. The likelihood of recouping large chunks of the $100 million raised wasn’t going to happen. All the money raised appeared to be gone. Most USNVA accounts had a few hundred or thousand dollars in them if they had any money at all. In other words, only a pittance of the $100 million remained.

Even though recovering a lot of the money wasn’t likely, the lack of federal involvement was still absurd to me.

Not only had the F.B.I. never expressed interest in getting involved, they even declined to get involved when the Ohio Attorney General’s Office asked if they would work with them on the case. Ohio officials knew they could go it alone, but getting evidence from banks or businesses outside of Ohio could undoubtedly be challenging. Anytime a bank or company not doing business in that state objected to subpoenas, state prosecutors would have to go to court and argue why banks should have to comply. The legal hoops guaranteed a long and bumpy road, coupled with the knowledge there was no pot of gold at the end. Some Ohioans felt the lack of federal help was like telling Bobby not to worry: You have more time to extend whatever lead you have already accumulated. Ohio is still on the case, and it just may take a while. A long while.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one disappointed. The lack of federal interest was undeniably disconcerting for some in the Ohio Attorney General’s Office. Still, Ohio officials remained confident that they at least had enough evidence to put Bobby behind bars—if they could find him.

The Ohio AG did receive some help along the way from U.S. Marshals about a year after Ohio’s investigation started. By this time, Ohio Attorney General Richard Cordray left the office; he lost his bid for re-election to former U.S. Senator Mike DeWine. DeWine allowed the case to continue, but it had slowed down. Far fewer people were involved. I was chasing bank accounts from the 23rd floor of a downtown Columbus skyscraper while working periodically with state attorneys and forensic accountants. The criminal side of the investigation had even less activity. Those assigned to the case had it featured on America’s Most Wanted, but their time was more restricted, given the other cases piling up.

The realization that the summation of work on the case was down to one

fulltime person and others on and off was indeed a sad commentary given

$100 million was donated, and U.S. veterans were the victims.

Thankfully, though, the investigation was about to get a helping hand.

After leaving Ohio office, Cordray was appointed by President Barack Obama as the first director of the U.S. Consumer Financial Protection Bureau, and he was in Washington D.C. when a tipster tracked him down. The caller said he knew Bobby’s identity, but was afraid to talk to anyone but Cordray. He worried investigators would ignore the tip or that someone may come after him.

Of course, Cordray no longer had a role, and this was no longer his case. But Cordray convinced the caller that the tip should be forwarded to the U.S. Marshals in the Northern District of Ohio, where the criminal charges were based. It was a brief period of excitement and uncertainty. No one yet knew if this tip Cordray received would amount to anything. The tipster could be a lonely soul looking for attention. Or maybe it was Bobby Thompson himself calling in a fake lead to put authorities on the wrong track? Or perhaps  the tipster only thought he knew Bobby Thompson’s real identity but was mistaken.

The tip proved to be the latter.

Despite the dead lead, there still was a reason for hope. Peter J. Elliott, the U.S. marshal for the Northern District of Ohio, made it clear he had no interest in quitting the case. Elliott was a no-nonsense law enforcement officer who was appointed by President George W. Bush and then proudly served under Republican and Democratic presidents. He comes from a family where law enforcement is in their bloodlines, and he is so respected his phone never stops ringing. Elliott had become the longest-serving marshal in Ohio history, and he was determined to see this case through. His reasons, though, were not political; this case was personal. Elliott’s father was a Navy veteran and former deputy marshal. Elliott wasn’t about to sit idle, knowing Bobby could still be scamming other veterans. The marshal wanted to untangle the mystery not only for his father but for all others who served.

Elliott assembled a team of deputy marshals and one suburban police officer who had been on loan to the agency and gave them a charge investigators long to hear. Go where you must. Do what you have to do, but put the son-of-a bitch behind bars. There wasn’t much else he could offer. He did give them office space, but it was just a small room with storage crammed inside. The deputy marshals joked it was a closet, but cleared it out and converted it into a war room. At least they would have someplace to comb through a case that was slowly becoming a behemoth. The use of the term war room may conjure up scenes of the types depicted in movies. This room had the envy of other deputy marshals who also wanted space, but it was anything but glamorous. The room had no windows and often piled up with miscellaneous remnants from meals, a hint at the many long hours put into the case. They taped pictures of Bobby to the wall. They included images with many national Republican leaders, including President George W. Bush. Given those political connections, they added a U.S. Secret Service agent to the team.

Reporters were more flabbergasted at the pictures than was the task force. To them, the photos were more a tool. The images spanned several years and provided a view of the ways Bobby liked to change his appearance.

Others in law enforcement remained skeptical that the task force would do any good. Even members of the Ohio Attorney General’s Office didn’t think the marshals would find Bobby. One state investigator quipped the odds of finding this fugitive were as good as any of the investigators winning the lottery.

It took about a year, but the