You Can't Cheat an Honest Man - James Walsh [81]
To a psychoanalyst, this probably sounds like impostor syndrome— the disabling feeling that a person doesn’t rightly deserve his place in any circle, system or organization. Asked if he suffers from impostor syndrome, the talkative perp shrugs. “Maybe. But I’m not a big believer in psychology or dwelling on the past. I focus on the future.”
This standard dodge may mark the limit of a criminal’s ability for selfexamination. The most relevant downside of the impostor syndrome— a shifting code of circumstantial ethics necessary to get along with everybody—is beyond most Ponzi perps. It’s too much a part of the charm or charisma that’s often the perp’s strongest personal asset.
Everyone feels some part the impostor syndrome at some point in his or her life. People deal with the feelings of isolation in different ways. Most well-adjusted people realize that the feelings of an impostor’s isolation are a common part of life. Less well-adjusted people are so disturbed by the feelings that they slip down a slope of egocentrism...and even pathology.
This is where the circumstantial ethics exact their price. Dwelling on themselves, these egocentric types can’t get past the idea that they are outsiders—and even frauds—within any social or economic circle. From this place, committing an actual fraud is easier than most people would think.
In August 1996, a Florida woman who’d bilked almost 200 investors out of nearly $8 million—and then plotted the murder of the federal judge who put her out of business—was sentenced to more than 24 years in prison. Jan Weeks-Katona, founder of Premier Benefit Capital Trust, had been convicted in December 1994 of fraud, money laundering and conspiracy to commit murder.
Immediately after her conviction, Weeks-Katona started lobbying for easy treatment. She argued that, if she hadn’t been medicated during her trial, she could have assisted her attorney. “I’m sure the jury would have found me not guilty if I had been able to do so,” she’d later say.
Her sentencing was delayed for more than a year, while she underwent court-ordered psychiatric evaluation and treatment.
In the early 1990s, Weeks-Katona and her son had operated Premier Benefit Capital. Through the company, they sold unregistered securities on the guarantee of a 12 percent return on investments of at least $25,000. Using radio programs and free seminars to attract investors, they quickly amassed millions—mostly from senior citizens.
They spent some of the money buying two gulf-front homes near Tampa, Florida.
But complaints followed as the Ponzi scheme collapsed. The Securities and Exchange Commission sued the company in 1993. U.S. District Judge Steven Merryday promptly ordered a receiver to take over operation of Premier. (The receiver eventually recovered some assets and returned about 40 cents on the dollar to Premier Benefit investors.)
Weeks-Katona, her son and others involved in the company fled to Mexico, where they plotted to kill Merryday and other officials. The group was eventually arrested by Mexican law enforcement officials working with the FBI.
At her sentencing hearing, Weeks-Katona appeared calm and relaxed. But her doctors and her attorney said she still suffered from a combination of mental disorders, which produced “delusions of grandeur and extreme paranoia” that led her to commit her crimes. So, her court-appointed lawyer argued for an unusually light 10-year sentence.
Federal Judge Susan Bucklew agreed that Weeks-Katona was mentally ill but said she had to consider protection of the public. (Bucklew had sentenced Weeks-Katona’s son, Jason Spencer Weeks, to 30 years in prison from the same case.) “She feels no responsibility for any of this,” Bucklew said. And the judge cited other