I can’t believe I haven’t told this story yet. It’s one of my best ones.

The year was 2009. At least I think it was, like y’all can expect me to remember that far back. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast.

I was a terrible real estate agent/mortgage broker. It all came together one year and I made decent money, but the other two years I didn’t make much more than minimum wage. I just didn’t have the killer instinct needed to be a decent agent.

It wasn’t just about networking, which I sucked at (still do, in fact). I wouldn’t even do basic stuff like phone people back if I saw a house they might like. I considered all that stuff to be “slimy used car salesman stuff.”

No wonder I basically starved.

But I did sell quite a few places over the years, including one that ended up being used for some very bad things. Here’s how I was an unwilling participant in mortgage fraud.

It all began…

When one of my office’s female agents decided she didn’t want to deal with a group of guys who phoned her up. They weren’t originally from Canada, and therefore gave her the creeps. Hey, it is small town Alberta we’re talking about here. Casual racism is a thing.

Let me tell you kids something about being a real estate agent. Whenever somebody in your office wants to give you a client or listing, know that the lead is absolute garbage. If it was good, they’d jump on that like a while girl and pumpkin spice *anything*.

But she was nice and I was ambitious, so I took on these guys anyway. They told me they owned a construction company and they were looking to buy a place for about a year while their crew did some work building a new school. The story seemed plausibleĀ enough, so I volunteered to take them to a half dozen houses the next day.

We go out to the first place and the lockbox doesn’t actually have a damn key inside. I phone up the Realtor who had it listed, but he’s got no idea what’s going on. So all we can do is look around the outside of the place.

I apologize profusely, but these guys don’t seem to care. They love the place. The price was right, it had plenty of off streetĀ parking, and they thought the inside looked great through the windows.

(It turns another Realtor had shown the place and forgot to put the key back. We didn’t find this out until the next day).

We go and view the other five houses, but these guys don’t seem to care. We spend less than five minutes inside each one. They still love the first one. After the last showing, they come back to the office and decide to write up an offer.

This place was listed for $80,000. Remember, I come from a small town with very reasonable real estate values. So this place was cheap, but not overly so when compared to other similar houses. It wasn’t a smoking deal, in other words.

The bottom end of the market was slow, so I encouraged them to come in a little low with their first offer. My warnings fell upon deaf ears. They offered $78,000.

I wasn’t there, but I can only assume this was the seller’s reaction:

crazy-dance

I also had to convince the buyers to add a property inspection clause. Not from a home inspector, but from the guys themselves. Remember, they still hadn’t been inside the place.

When things started getting weird

At this point, this is one of the oddest deals I’ve ever done, but there’s still a reasonable explanation behind everything.

But then it started getting weird.

First, the guys insisted on buying the place through their limited company. Except when I Googled it there was no evidence of this company ever doing anything remotely related to construction. As far as I could tell it was an oilfield services company.

Then they come back and we finally get them in the place. We stayed for about a minute and a half. They didn’t even go into the basement.

They also wouldn’t pick a lawyer. It took them at least a week after conditions were lifted. I googled the guy to find his address and the first result that came up was disciplinary actions taken against him by the Alberta Bar Association.

The biggest red flag was probably when I had to fill out the mandatory Fintrac money laundering form. This was a brand new form (at the time) that forcedĀ Realtors to make sure the person we were dealing with was indeed the guy who was buying the place.

When a limited company bought the place all I needed to do was get the info for the guy with signing authority. I presented him with the form and his face went white. You could tell he did not want to sign it.

After a brief conversation in their native language, the lead guy handed over his driver’s license and I recorded all of his info. And then I never saw him again.

The aftermath

A couple of months later I got a phone call from the existing tenant. The seller never bothered to contact him. He hadn’t paid a nickel of rent since they took possession. I thought that was weird, especially considering the intended use of the property. So I gave him the new owner’s phone number.

Which was disconnected.

Probably six months after that I got a call from an appraiser. He was doing some research on the property for the Bank of Montreal, and had some questions. How big was it? What was the condition? And most importantly, what did it sell for?

Here’s what happened. These guys bought the place for $78,000. They then altered the purchase contract to say $220,000 and the feature sheet to say the place was far bigger than it really was. These forged documents were then used to get a $200,000 mortgage.

The lawyer’s job was to inform land titles that these guys did indeed pay $220,000 for the place.

And then they never made a payment. I’d assume they did this a few different times and then buggered off to some country where they can’t be extradited.

Wrapping it up

And that’s how I became an accessory to a major crime. It’s been eight or nine years now, so I think I’m in the clear. In fact, I was never even questioned. I never talked to anyone from BMO directly. And I certainly didn’t talk to any cops.

The lesson? Do your job right, kids. Because I insisted on getting all the proper forms, I was in good shape. I suppose I could have done more when I first had suspicions, but I had no proof of anything. It was all just weird.

Tell everyone, yo!