Mississippi Ponzi

By Mike Yarbro

The true story of how a Mississippi church deacon and Sunday school teacher squandered over seventeen million dollars by operating an illegal Ponzi scheme and living the good life. Church members, friends, and family lost most of their life savings, and the Ponzi scheme operator was not indicted for almost five years. The story describes the mental anguish of one of the elderly families. After working forty years and saving nickels and dimes, the family confesses their inner feelings of what is like to lose over one million dollars in their elder years and how only their faith held them together.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Yarbro
• Release date: Dec 28, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310322549

Mike Yarbro

Born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi Mike Yarbro worked in the construction equipment import-export business for most of his adult life and traveled throughout the world buying, selling, importing and exporting, heavy equipment and working with road building contractors on World Bank projects in developing countries and the U.S.A. After forming his company his travels took him to the far corners of the earth dozens of times where he worked with customers and contractors in bridge building, road construction, and large dirt moving projects. Visiting foreign countries and viewing various economic conditions and cultures made him appreciate and love the United States even more. He has been married to Marilyn Sue Childs Yarbro since 1968. Before and after college he was an avid horseman involved in rodeo, breeding, raising, training, and buying and selling quarter and thoroughbred horses and won horse races in seven states. At one time he owned the World Champion calf roping horse. He wrote and sold numerous songs and played violin for two years in the Jackson Junior Symphony Orchestra before playing guitar, piano, and mouth harp in the Tyrants rock and roll band during college.

Book preview

Mississippi Ponzi

Mike Yarbro

Copyright (c) 2014 by Mike Yarbro

The narratives and details in this story were taken from witness accounts and documents. Some of the mentioned parties were not available to address the details of provided by witnesses, family and friends.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 1

What in the world has happened to me? I’m standing here looking out at the water. It’s a good place to quieten my mind and think about how I got to this point in my life. I need to figure out how I got myself in this mess. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be in this situation. I’ve always been so careful.

And pride. What’s that old saying about pride goes before the fall? I’d been a proud man, proud of the way I had built my business from the ground up with integrity, and how I’d been able to take care of my family in a way that would make my daddy proud of me. I have lost so much in this debacle like many other people. But I’m angry with myself, and I’m more angry for them. I think about what happened to us and those good and honest folks who couldn’t afford to lose anything, much less their entire life savings.

The breeze off the water is cool and welcome. The sailboats are out cruising, making the most of this sunny, beautiful day. Fishermen line the banks sitting on their rears on the grassy slopes of the Ross Barnett Reservoir. Old-fashioned fishermen with hook, line and pole, casting out and waiting patiently while their floats bob on the gentle waves. I hope they all make a good catch. It’s reassuring to see some folks who can still find pleasure in such ordinary things: go to the reservoir and catch their supper. They appear not to have a worry in this world. Oh, how I wish my life was so calm, so simple.

I am reminded of that feeling by remembering days with my family at daddy’s horse barn just outside of Jackson. Daddy’s pal Grinder, was a black boxer in the navy; and that’s how he got his name. He and daddy had served on the same ship during World War 11, boxed together and became good friends in 1944 before it was common for people of mixed races to be friends as today.

Grinder would be out there with us, firing up the grill, swatting horseflies away from the meat. He was a huge, uncomplicated man, the best at the grill you’ll ever find. He’d throw on a slab of meat, and burn it to perfection, black and crispy on the outside, red in the middle. Mama would be there, getting in Grinder’s way, trying to help. Get out the way, Miz C. Mr. Cecil said I’m in charge of the food out here. Well, here, mama would say, a little peeved, as she shoved dishes at him, I brought baked potatoes and green salad. You want them or not?

It wasn’t easy for her to turn over the cooking to somebody else—that was her domain, but when we were at the horse barn things were different.

After we’d eaten, my sister Brenda and I would go to the stalls and bring out our horses and ride off bareback across the pasture, ripping through the cockleburs and bitter weeds, jumping a ditch here and there. Those days at the barn are some of the best memories of my life. It certainly was the most carefree time of my life, a childhood anybody would envy.

I guess I’d say I’m a self-made man. I know there’s really no such thing. You’ve got to factor in genetics, environment, luck, good sense, and a host of other things. So maybe it’s more accurate to say I’ve been a lucky man up until now. I sure got a good draw on the genetics if I overlook this terrible arthritis I’ve struggled with for so many years. I got my drive and ambition from Big C. That’s what they called my daddy Cecil. Big C. He lived up to the name. I got my values from him and my mama, and they gave me one heck of a good start in life. The luck—they were my luck.

I never thought my luck would run out at this time of my life, in my late sixties, joints aching, muscles cramping, worrying about money and a livelihood. I’d been so careful, worked so hard, saved my money to help my children get a good education and a good start in life. I’m not embarrassed a bit to say I did make some good choices in my life; the best of all was asking Mr. Childs for his daughter’s hand in marriage. That reminds me, I need to get back to the house. Sue will be wondering where I’ve disappeared to. That’s a new thing in my life, wondering if she might be worrying about these strolls I take to think over this terrible mess I’ve got to deal with, and this awful thing I’ve gotten my family into.

She’s waiting for me on the patio, her face a mask of calm like she is trying to show that she is not as worried and as scared as I am. Where’ve you been? she asks, but I can see through her and tell that she is worried and nervous. Very nervous and very worried.

Oh, just walking by the Rez. I lean in and give her a kiss wishing I could kiss away this horrible situation.

It’s turning off cool, she says. Maybe you ought to come in the house before those old joints of yours start acting up.

Old joints? Good gracious. I didn’t think she thought of me as old. She is still as beautiful as she was the first time I laid eyes on her at Angelo’s, a restaurant where the college crowd hung out in south Jackson. She’d been a beautiful blond—strong, smart, upbeat and high-stepping. She was a High Stepper at Hinds Junior College in nearby Raymond. That’s their dance team that always performed at intermission at football games and parades. They were known far and wide for their perfect drills, their long legs, their beauty, and their boundless enthusiasm. I wonder if they still have High Steppers at Hinds. I do hope so.

Sue says, We’re supposed to be at our friends for dinner in an hour. Are you going to change clothes?

Do you still want to go, honey? I watch her face carefully, trying to read what she’s really thinking.

Yes, she declares without hesitation. Now, more than ever. We need to get out of this house

I look into her beautiful eyes to see if there is any hint of sadness. I know there has to be some there, but she’s good at hiding it. Did I get any calls while I was out? Ordinarily I’d have taken my cell phone with me, but now I’m trying to escape it. Actually, I’m having a duel with my cell. I can’t stand to answer it, afraid of what I might hear, but I’m miserable, and a little scared, whenever I miss a call.

Well, yes. Jeremy Barlow and Michael Moore called, Sue says as she turns away from me to stare out at the water. It’s as if she didn’t want to meet my eyes.

Jeremy Barlow and Michael Moore are my lawyers. I take a deep breath and ask, What did they say?

They said they’d call back. She’d