I worked for a literal con artist and had no idea.
Here’s the backstory: For several years, I’ve had a website where I combine my love of genealogy and old newspapers, along with my volunteer work for Find A Grave and my autistic inability to leave anything alone, into posts about the bizarre accidents, tragic deaths, and general mayhem that took place around here in the early 20th century.
A follower of mine on Facebook messaged and asked if I was interested in writing for an online magazine about the area. I should have said no and continued my peaceful, cat-herding life. But, because I am an idiot, I decided it would make a decent side hustle. And there was my first mistake.
Fast forward: My co-writer (who never wrote any articles)/boss (who insisted that he was my “partner” even though he was the one paying me)/whatever the hell you want to call him, who from now on will just be called “Walking Eagle” was a loud mouth know it all from the start. Being a former nekked dancing chick, I’ve dealt with more than my share of blowhards, and just took the ludicrous stories of his life as an Army Ranger, National Geographic photographer, documentary filmmaker, rescuer of burning busloads of orphans, yadda, yadda, with a grain of salt while I waited to get paid. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Soon, after countless tales of woe involving misplaced checkbooks, hacked bank accounts, his dog being attacked by a mountain lion in the center of town, his fiance’s mother surviving three strokes, etcetera, etcetera, he owed me over $1000. I went on hiatus until somebody somewhere started handing over some money. No more trips that cost me more in gas than I got paid while dodging free-roaming herds of bison, no more tempting tetanus in gutted-out hotels, no more ghosts of murdered little people, nada. Miraculously, it turned out that the dog didn’t eat his checkbook after all, and he managed to pay me the grand that he owed me.
The idiot had me fill out a W-2 instead of a 1099 form when I began writing for him. This should have been my first clue that he had no idea what he was doing. Then he called me in October (around the same time he supposedly lost his vehicle in a lawsuit that no one has ever learned the truth about), claiming that he had lost the form and needed another one. Luckily, when I gave him the W-2, I had written down my Employee ID Number instead of my SSN. After joking over the phone about having a zero credit score and keeping my defaulted student loan in the spare bedroom, and telling a story about my ex filing his taxes every year as married to me, he suddenly didn’t need me to put my info on a new tax form anymore. A few days later, Walking Eagle showed up, driving a new Jeep Wrangler.
Months of this nonsense and twenty published articles later, I received the princely sum of $1800. Meanwhile, Walking Eagle received $76,000 for my work (which I wouldn’t find out until just a few days ago after a conversation with the head of the county’s tourism commission).
So, January comes and goes, and I have no 1099 form for my taxes. I’m starting to get pissed off. I called the IRS, and a lovely lady there told me how many cups of coffee I’d already drunk that morning and to wait until February 15th. If there was no 1099 information available online by the end of that day, then Walking Eagle had committed tax fraud, and I’ll have to call back on the 16th.
With time to kill, I started Googling this dude’s name. I was not prepared for what I found on just one website. Lawsuits, bankruptcies, illegal porn creation (it turns out you can’t pimp out your wife in Oklahoma), and lots and lots of outright theft, going back to the 1980s. Every claim this guy has ever made about his life is a lie. He’s probably never opened a National Geographic magazine, let alone worked for them, never been in the military, never worked as Anthony Bourdain’s cameraman, nada. It’s all bullshit.
Meanwhile, my asshole buddy here shows up on the news. He’s just been named the Executive Director of our little zoo, which is already in dire straits even without him around. I sent out a few emails and Facebook messages on Tuesday, reaching one of his former business partners, who he had scammed for tens of thousands of dollars. My new friend sent an email to the news station on Thursday night. By the following Monday, Walking Eagle was standing in the unemployment line. Of course, he had to tell anyone who would listen that he had quit and hadn’t been fired. Whatever, dude.
This rag I’ve been busting my ass for all these months for pennies has a contract with our county to produce at least five written articles a week and two videos. That’s twenty articles a month. Walking Eagle barely posted that amount in a year, along with one video. One. So, after several phone calls and Facebook messages between myself and county officials, Walking Eagle was fired over the phone last week. He immediately started calling and texting me, demanding I answer the phone. He has no idea I’m the one who set all of this in motion and got him fired, so he has created an elaborate story that he desperately needs me to hear. One of the County Commissioners just made up these stories about him to make him look bad, and he needs to tell his side of things. I refused to answer the phone. I made a Facebook post saying I was at the airport, and he immediately started texting me. I had to tell him my sister was dying to get him to leave me alone. He immediately offered to come to my house and feed my cats. Thanks but no thanks. I’ll pack all twelve of them into my car and drive to California before you ever get a key to my house.
So far, he seems to have either bought the story or taken the hint. It’s been eerily peaceful around my house. I’m sure he’s already moved on to a new scam, but the IRS should come knocking soon. On February 16th, I filled out and mailed off all the forms to turn him in for not paying his taxes or giving his writers their 1099 forms. Hopefully, he’ll be in jail soon before anyone else gets hurt or loses their money.
Cat Hoskins 