We used to handle suffering during crises by mutual aid societies or by giving philanthropy to those we know best–our friends and neighbors. The potential fraudster is less likely to defraud their brother or neighbor, than some unknown taxpayer in a distant state. And the local philanthropist is more likely to be able to judge which relative or neighbor will benefit from aid. Giving billions to fraudsters fueled the future inflation that ordinary decent citizens would latter struggle with.
If the federal government wanted to reduce the pain from the pandemic, the best way would have been to reduce the number, and shorten the length, of mandates. Handing so much money to fraudsters, with so little due diligence, is outrageous.
[Admission: I was the victim of identity theft when the S.B.A. gave a fraudster, using my name, tens of thousands of dollars for a potato farm supposedly run by me. Then the S.B.A. had the audacity to start sending me threatening letters about my alleged failure to pay back the loans they had given to the fraudster.]
(p. A1) When J. Bryan Quesenberry first learned that the federal government was sending out hundreds of billions of dollars to help businesses survive during the Covid-19 pandemic, he thought: “There’s going to be fraud here. There just has to be.”
A few months later, Mr. Quesenberry started sifting through a list of businesses that received Paycheck Protection Program loans, which were intended to help small businesses ravaged by the pandemic continue paying their employees. The Oregon lawyer said he knew businesses were not allowed to receive more than one loan during a single round, so he searched for “double dippers.”
He soon found dozens of businesses across the country that appeared to improperly obtain P.P.P. loans. During the summer of 2020, Mr. Quesenberry started suing those firms to try to help the government recover funds.
“It just blows my mind,” Mr. Quesenberry said. “That’s tax money that comes out of your pocket and that comes out of my pocket.”
As federal officials try to retrieve billions in stolen pandemic relief funds, private citizens are scouring public data, company websites and social media pages to help identify potential cases. Those who have filed suits say they are motivated by the desire to root out wrongdoers and expose corporate fraud.
But there is also a strong financial incentive. Under the False Claims Act, private citizens can file lawsuits on behalf of the federal government against those who may have defrauded the United States. If the government recovers funds, those citizens can typically earn between 15 and 30 percent of that amount.
. . .
(p. A15) The armchair sleuthing highlights how widespread pandemic fraud was and how federal investigators have struggled to keep up with it. In its haste to stave off an economic crisis and provide immediate aid to Americans, Washington distributed billions of dollars with few strings and little oversight. The Small Business Administration’s inspector general has estimated that more than $200 billion — or at least 17 percent of the pandemic loans the agency distributed — was awarded to “potentially fraudulent actors.” The majority of P.P.P. loans have been forgiven by the federal government.
While federal investigators have gone after some of the biggest perpetrators of fraud, limited resources have hindered their ability to go after the estimated thousands of people who improperly took government money.
. . .
Some private citizens said that it often took hours to investigate leads, and that they were unearthing cases that might otherwise slip through the cracks. Although Mr. Quesenberry said he relied primarily on information available on the internet to build cases, he said it was a time-intensive process that often required combing through government websites, Yelp pages, news articles and LinkedIn profiles. He said he thought he added value because he was pulling together evidence to “paint the picture of fraud.”
Mr. Quesenberry has earned more than $400,000 from 10 cases that have helped the federal government recover more than $3 million, according to a review of documents from U.S. attorney’s offices. Mr. Quesenberry said he had been investigating pandemic fraud for about four and a half years and was now working on his cases full time.
. . .
Hadar Susskind, the president and chief executive of Americans for Peace Now, said officials thought they had qualified for the loan because they did not consider the nonprofit to be a political organization. He said they had settled because it could have been costlier to go to court.
Mr. Susskind said he had never met Mr. Abrams, but he believed the complaint was “very much ideologically motivated” because of the nonprofit’s work to promote Israeli-Palestinian peace.
In an email, Mr. Abrams said: “In America these anti-Israel organizations have the right to spin, distort or even outright lie about Israel. However, they do not have the right to subsidize their activities with government monies for which they were not eligible.”
Mr. Abrams said he had long done other activist work, including recently representing a Jewish high school student who was the victim of antisemitic bullying. He said that he did not charge fees in those matters, and that the “whistle-blower cases do generate significant revenue so things more or less balance out.”
For the full story see:
(Note: ellipses, and bracketed date, added.)
(Note: the online version of the story has the date Nov. 23, 2024, and has the title “They Investigated Pandemic Fraud, Then Earned Thousands.”)