I got a ‘heads up’ call early last Monday. ‘Beware! The Feds may want to talk to you.’ An old boss had been led away in handcuffs and another was apparently on the lam. Crooked Tucson rearing its head again.
About a year ago, I quit a job in Tucson because I didn’t like the shadiness of it. My mother had just passed, and my bosses—business partners—were being jerks to me. When I gave my two-week notice from the Vegas airport heading back to Tucson from my Mom’s funeral, I got fired immediately. The next week, my bosses—pillars of the community—tried to get me caught up into signing a weird NDA liability shield. I refused and kind of laughed in their faces (virtually).
So now I’m told one former boss got arrested for their scheme while the other is traveling somewhere having embezzled more than 500k from the business. It’s an example of layered business corruption that I began to suspect when I quit. The shady business is described in this post, but apparently there was another layer involving illegal prescription drugs and perhaps more—I imagine this is where the half-million-plus embezzled money came from. Yep, my former bosses—Rx pillers of the community.
This is mostly hearsay at this point. I haven’t found any news coverage of it, but there is an Arizona District Court docket. I’m glad I extricated myself when I did, telling them I had never signed ‘legalese’ document in my life so there’s no reason to start. I cannot fathom living a life where everything is built around whether some judge will approve my lawyer’s argument over some other lawyer’s argument. One measure of success in life is how little you gotta wear a suit or be around people wearing suits.
Tucson feels like this whole strange trip that I’m trapped in till certain things play out. I came here thinking I’d be inspired to write a book, but the muck is so deep I can’t get above ground long enough to make way. It’s so symbolic of these times in America. Everyone’s a crook in a suit with something to hide, except me.
Yet there seems to be a path opening. The idea of creating the life I want by doing the things I’ve always wanted to do. There’s probably not a lot of money in that, but there’s not a lot of money in doing things other people want me to do either. They hide the money away and end up on the lam. This is the second criminal conspiracy I dodged in dodge (Tucson), and I guess I ought to be grateful I followed my feelings and sidestepped the deeper muck others are now trapped in.