Thursday, May 16, 2024 | 2 a.m.
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A 75-year-old man named Robert McClanahan knocks on the front door of Eddy Blizzard’s house in Maryland, desperate to know what happened to all his money.
With no answer, McClanahan goes to the rear of the house and knocks on another door.
He gets no answer there, either.
It’s August 2019. Having gone to the bank to get cash for his vacation, and having been told there was none, having tried to get Blizzard, his 40-year-old financial adviser, on the phone for several days, McClanahan pounds again on Blizzard’s door.
No one answers.
Imagine such a moment of heart-racing fear, the sudden realization that the guy you trusted with your retirement fund turned out to be a crook. And now what? Where is he?
McClanahan looks at his cellphone. A new voice message has just arrived. It’s from Blizzard: Please stop pounding on the doors, the message says, the neighbors are complaining.
Imagine this Blizzard, hiding somewhere and leaving that message, admonishing his longtime client to stop making noise, knowing full well why McClanahan was there: Blizzard had stolen more than $1 million from him.
Federal authorities say that, in the same voice message, Blizzard claimed to be hospitalized after attempting suicide at his parents’ house in South Carolina.
That was not true, just a shabby attempt at gaining sympathy from a man he had bilked out of his life savings.
The U.S. Attorney’s Office in Baltimore provides even more detail about this case of elder fraud:
Robert McClanahan left school after the ninth grade; he never learned to read or write. He’d spent his life installing sophisticated air conditioning systems, working long hours of overtime to save money for his retirement and an inheritance for his three grandchildren.
When he left his job after 40 years, he invested his money with a bank where Blizzard worked. He believed his nest egg would be safe there.
Over time, Blizzard gained McClanahan’s confidence as well as access to his checking account. He managed to get his hands on many signed blank checks. That’s how he stole more than $1 million to pay his taxes, buy a boat and make a down payment on a house, among other things.
Meanwhile, his client fell behind on mortgage payments — Blizzard had agreed to make them and, of course, didn’t — and his lender foreclosed on McClanahan’s house in the fall of 2019.
Then, a few months later, Robert McClanahan died, his savings and assets gone.
Everything about this case is infuriating.
Fortunately, the FBI caught up with Eddy Blizzard. He was charged with bank fraud and pleaded guilty in December. Two weeks ago, U.S. District Judge Stephanie Gallagher sentenced Blizzard to 42 months in prison and ordered restitution in the amount of $1,037,719 plus asset forfeiture of $848,445.
If the prison part of that penalty seems light, remember what they say: A special place in hell awaits all those who exploit the most vulnerable among us, children and the elderly.
Blizzard’s abuse of McClanahan’s trust went on for years.
“It’s not uncommon for elderly people to be defrauded by people they know and trust,” says Evelyn Lombardo Cusson, the assistant U.S. attorney and elder fraud specialist who prosecuted the case with Aaron Zelinsky. “One of his dear friends spoke at sentencing and said that (McClanahan) didn’t believe Eddy Blizzard would take advantage of him, that he (considered him) a friend.”
Crimes that involve the exploitation of trust have an especially fierce effect on victims. It’s that sick feeling of having been tricked, betrayed, blind-sided, jilted by someone you thought was a confidante or friend, or maybe someone you admired and even voted for.
There are two types of trust, personal and public.
Though less painful of the two, violations of public trust — in Baltimore, for example, two of the past four elected mayors had to resign because of corrupt actions — erode confidence in government. The cynicism in the American air today results not only from super-partisanship but from a steady trickle of indictments against both Democrats and Republicans.
Violations of personal trust, on the other hand, are more directly and deeply damaging. Victims are not only hurt by the betrayal, but they feel naive or foolish and, ultimately, responsible for their financial losses. Some might carry guilt to their graves.
The Eddy Blizzard matter is the second case of tragic elder fraud I’ve examined in the past couple of years, when there were thousands to choose from, according to the FBI.
It’s too late for Robert, but everyone else — that is, senior adults and their kin — should be mindful of these scams and how to report them when you suspect them.
So, clip and save: The National Elder Fraud Hotline (1-833-FRAUD-11, or 1-833-372-8311) is managed and staffed by the Department of Justice from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. on weekdays. If you think you’ve been a victim, call the FBI’s Internet Crime Complaint Center at 1-800-225-5324.
Dan Rodricks is a columnist for the Baltimore Sun.
