There's a reason lawyers almost always tell their clients to keep their mouths shut, at least when the media's around.
Rick Muto's bizarre decision to call a local newspaper (obviously not this one) last week demonstrated why that's usually pretty good advice.
Muto, facing criminal charges and a civil lawsuit alleging he swindled more than 200 investors, most of them from Niagara County, out of $19 million in a fanciful Florida land deal, made like Mrs. Kenneth Lay last week. Doing his best imitation of the Enron Trophy-Wife-in-Chief, the erstwhile investment adviser told the Niagara Gazette that he can't get a job, and that he and wife Deborah will probably lose their luxurious $460,000 estate in a Las Vegas-area gated community.
Pardon me while I wipe away a tear.
It's just not fair. Why wouldn't a company jump at the chance to hire someone with such a sterling resume? And why shouldn't the Mutos be allowed -- nay, guaranteed -- the opportunity to continue enjoying the lifestyle to which they've been accustomed? Financed, of course, by other people's money.
Poor Richard.
But on the way out of State Supreme Court a couple days earlier, Muto showed the investors he allegedly bamboozled exactly what he thought of them in the form of a flippant hand gesture.
Poor Richard's actions shouldn't have come as any surprise. While the disgraced investment adviser oozed charm and warmth while convincing friends, relatives and the friends of relatives to sign over their lives' savings and retirement funds, he's been giving them all the finger since Day One.
According to the civil suit filed by the people who invested in Sweetwater Development and a criminal case brought by New York State Assistant Attorney General Diane LaValle, Muto used his family's name and reputation to persuade dozens of Niagara County residents to invest in a housing project near Orlando.
While the civil suit alleges that investors pumped $19 million into Sweetwater, the land was sold in bankruptcy last year for a reported $1 million.
According to the suit, Muto continued signing up new clients even as older ones were demanding the promised return on their investments.
The reason for Muto's appearance before Judge Joseph Makowski embodied the arrogance that's become synonymous with the Sweetwater fiasco. Despite a court order demanding that he turn over any and all checks while a civil lawsuit brought by angry investors is pending, Muto saw fit to cash his $13,632 tax-return check.
Rather than jailing Muto on a contempt of court charge, Makowski gave Muto 48 hours to raise the money. When Muto left the courtroom, a mob of investors greeted him with shouts of "you son of a bitch" and other niceties that can't be printed in any newspaper.
So Poor Richard responded with a universally understood form of non-verbal communication. Judge Makowski dismissed the contempt of court charge after the supposedly indigent Mutos somehow raised the $13,632.
Still, they displayed their contempt for the system and the plaintiffs in other ways.
The angry exchange took place moments after his attorney asked to be dismissed from the case because Poor Richard and Deborah owe him $23,000. The judge agreed to assign counsel, even though the Mutos own a luxurious $460,000 home in a Las Vegas-area gated community. Since investors haven't yet been able to show that the Mutos' Nevada estate was purchased with ill-gotten gains, they get to keep the house AND receive a taxpayer-funded defense.
Then, the exertion of raising his middle finger apparently triggered back spasms, and Poor Richard had to be rushed from the courthouse in an ambulance.
During my highly forgettable high-school football career, a teammate had a weekly ritual of feigning injury once it became obvious our alma mater was going to lose, which was usually soon after halftime. The game would stop, and everyone forgot our ineptitude for a few minutes while he was loaded onto a stretcher. The ruse guaranteed him a hearty round of applause when our coaches and trainer lugged him off the field, and another when he'd inevitably make a remarkable recovery and return to the field a few series later.
No one cheered for Poor Richard when his trick back acted up last week, but the incident was equally transparent and at least as pathetic.
You'd think, at this point, getting already-furious investors even angrier would be almost impossible, but Muto's courthouse performance did the trick.
"I hope they send him to Attica," said one man who lost $10,000 on Sweetwater, meaning he got off relatively lightly. "They'd love him in there."
That's unlikely, even if Muto and his business partner, Jeffrey L. Klein, are convicted on state criminal charges (you're going to pay for their lawyers in that case, too -- and Poor Richard's chosen barrister, Thomas Eoannou, doesn't come cheap). Thanks to the vagaries of the American justice system, people who steal with paperwork and pens get relatively posh accommodations compared to your less-refined street criminals.
The investors were none too happy when Judge Makowski allowed the Mutos extra time to come up with the $13,632. And his sudden burst of public candidness didn't extend to where that money originated.
As for Muto's digital act of defiance, I feel safe offering this thought on behalf of all those people who trusted him:
Right back at ya, Rick.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | April 8 2003 |