My BIL Bragged, “I’m Flipping The Family Beach House. Easy Profit.”…
Testing the Liar
My sister joined us and slipped her arm in Jackson’s.
“He’s being modest. He’s been so stressed about the permits and the timeline and making sure everything’s up to code.” She said.
“The permits came through okay?” I asked finally.
“County took forever, but yeah. Everyone approved.” Jackson stated.
“That’s great. Which permits did you file?” I asked.
He stared at me like I was speaking a different language.
“The, uh, the standard ones. Building permit, electrical, plumbing.” Jackson said.
“No structural? The deck’s not structural?” I asked.
“It’s a replacement.” Jackson replied.
“County usually requires structural review for deck replacements. Weight load calculations.” I noted.
Jackson’s smile tightened.
“My contractor handled it.” He said.
“Huh. Good contractor.” I said.
My sister looked at me curiously.
“Why all the questions?” She asked.
“I’m just interested. Real estate stuff, you know me.” I said.
She didn’t recognize me, and neither of them did.
The Hidden Reality
They knew Quiet Michael, a software developer who rarely spoke at family gatherings.
They were unaware of the rental income I had been quietly producing over the past five years. They had no idea I had been studying property law in my free time following several tenant issues.
They had no idea I had a real estate attorney on retainer. They had absolutely no idea I was witnessing my brother-in-law conduct fraud in real time.
I excused myself and proceeded to the restroom. I locked the door and called Luke Marshall.
He answered on the second ring.
“Michael, it’s Saturday night. This better be good.” Luke said.
“My brother-in-law is renovating my beach house without my permission using forged permits.” I told him.
Silence.
“Say that again.” Luke requested.
Criminal Implications
I detailed everything: the announcement, the contractor, the images, and the bogus permission numbers.
Luke whistled softly.
“That’s fraud. Like actual criminal fraud.” He said.
“I know.” I replied.
“Have you contacted the police?” Luke asked.
“Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first.” I said.
“You need to file a report tonight and you need to document everything—every conversation, every text, every photo that contractor sends you.” Luke advised.
“What about my family?” I asked.
“What about them?” Luke said.
“They think he’s legitimate. My sister’s married to him, Michael.” I said.
Luke’s voice became serious.
“He’s committing fraud using your property. He’s lying to a contractor. He’s forging government documents. This isn’t a family dispute; this is a crime.” Luke stated.
Setting the Trap
“I know.” I said.
“So what do you want to do?” Luke asked.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. Michael be quiet. Michael was overlooked. Michael was a quiet person.
“I want to let him hang himself.” I said.
Luke was quiet for a minute.
“Meaning?” He asked.
“He’s announced the flip publicly to my entire family. He’s committed. He can’t back out now without admitting he lied.” I explained.
“Okay.” Luke said.
“I’m going to capture everything. Let him continue talking and when the time is right, I’m going to show everyone exactly who he is.” I told him.
“That is hazardous. What if he does more damage to your property?” Luke asked.
“The contractor is legitimate. He isn’t going to ruin the place. In all honesty, the job probably needed to be done anyhow. I’ll just make sure Jackson pays for it through legal means.” I said.
“Through legal means?” Luke groaned.
“You are my client, therefore I will assist you. But Michael, take care. Family stuff becomes ugly and this guy sounds anxious to pull off something this large.” Luke said.
“I’ll be careful.” I replied.
Layers of Deception
I hung up and returned to the party where Jackson was showing someone images from his phone.
“Before shots,” he explained.
“The place was a wreck. Has not been updated since the 1990s. In 2021 I plan to remodel the kitchen with new appliances, worktops, and backsplash.” Jackson said.
The photographs he showed were from an internet real estate ad for an entirely different house. This was not simply fraud; it was complex, intentional deception.
I remained for an additional hour. My father patted Jackson on the back and said things like, “Always knew you had it in you,” and “That’s how you build wealth.”
My sister glowed with reflected joy as I watched Jackson accumulate accolades like cash.
Nobody asked me how I was doing, about my job, my life, or if I had lately visited the beach home. I was invisible as usual, which turned out to be just where I needed to be.
Meeting James Carter
Two days later I saw James Carter in a coffee shop in Riverside County.
He was in his mid-40s with aged hands and sad eyes, and he had a six-inch thick file folder.
“I’ve been doing this for 12 years,” he explained, laying paperwork across the table.
“I have dealt with homeowners, investors, and flippers. I thought I had seen everything. Tell me how he approached you.” James said.
The job board advertising stated that he had inherited a family beach house and wanted to remodel it for sales. He showed me images, gave me the address, and stated he had the permits ready to go.
I quoted him $25,000 for the deck, bathroom, and interior painting. He settled for $18,000 and we shook hands.
“Did he show you the proof of ownership?” I asked.
“He said his name wasn’t on the deed yet since it was still in his grandmother’s estate. Said the family was handling the paperwork.” James said.
My grandmother. He had exploited my grandmother’s death to justify his deception.
The Evidence Mounts
“When did you begin working?” I asked.
“Four weeks ago. I’ve put in around 40 hours of effort plus supplies. I’m in for $18,000 already.” James said.
I took out my phone and showed him my act.
“This is the county record with my name and property. I purchased it from my grandmother’s estate five years ago.” I said.
James gazed at the document.
“He said his grandmother just passed.” James said.
“She died six years ago.” I noted.
“Jesus. Have you got the permits he showed you?” James asked.
James took out photocopies. I opened my laptop and logged into the county permit system, checking each number.
“These are bogus. The permission numbers do not exist in the county database.” I continued.
“How did he forge them?” James asked.
“Probably got a template online, modified the numbers, and printed them. Most contractors do not check every permit number unless they have a cause to be suspicious.” I explained.
A Decision for Justice
“I verified the address,” James responded defensively.
“And I confirmed the property exists. I didn’t thought to check the permission numbers since why would someone go to such pains to falsify them?” James asked.
“Because he’s desperate or compulsive, or both.” I said.
I dug out further county documents and property tax payments, all of which were current and paid by me.
“I need to file a police report.” James stated.
“You should. I’m going to file one too, after I spoke with my sister.” I replied.
James stared at me.
“She doesn’t know?” He asked.
“I do not think so. She appears genuinely pleased for him.” I said.
“Are you going to inform her that her spouse is a fraud?” James asked.
“I’m going to show her the evidence and let her draw her own conclusions.” I answered.
James slumped back in his chair.
“You are a better guy than me. I would burn him down right away.” He said.
“Oh, I’m going to burn him down. I’m just going to do it thoroughly.” I claimed.
Confronting the Truth
That night I called my sister.
“Hey,” she said cheerfully.
“What’s up?” She asked.
“Can we have coffee? Just you and I?” I asked.
“Sure. Is everything all right?” She said.
“I just need to talk to you about something.” I said.
Pause.
“About Jackson?” She asked.
“Yeah.” I replied.
“Michael, if this is about the beach house, I know you’re probably hurt that he didn’t ask your opinion. But it’s been sitting there for years and…” Sophie said.
“Sophie, please just have coffee with me.” I said.
Another pause, longer this time.
“Okay. Tomorrow.” She said.
