Most Popular

Recent Articles

Recent Articles by Karina Ioffee

  • He's No Angel

    They once called him a savior who helped people in need. Today, Edwin Parada is accused of taking money from Latinos unfamiliar with real estate laws.

National Features >

  • Miami New Times

    Budget Ballin'

    South Florida's lawless exotic rental car industry keeps rolling.

    By Gus Garcia-Roberts

  • Houston Press

    Crime Doesn't Pay Back

    In Texas, restitution for victims is nothing but a state-sanctioned sham.

    By Chris Vogel

  • Seattle Weekly

    Hot and Frothy

    If you thought Seattle couldn't fetishize coffee any more, you haven't been to a "cupping" yet.

    By Jonathan Kauffman

He's No Angel

Continued from page 4

Published on June 17, 2008 at 12:47pm

"He wanted $40,000, but we could only write him a check for $20,000," she said. She also said she lent Parada the money because she considered him a friend. Parada said he would repay the debt with $2,000 interest within a couple of months. Seven months later, the Arteagas say they are still waiting.

Mortgage fraud schemes have been uncovered in other parts of the Bay Area, as well as in Sacramento, Stockton, and Los Angeles, leaving behind a trail of people who have not only lost money, but have also ruined their credit.

This past April, two East Bay women were arrested on charges that they ran a fraudulent foreclosure "rescue" business that used grant deeds to con at least 14 families out of thousands of dollars. Their clients, most of them Latino immigrants, were asked to fill out documents that deeded a part of their property to fictitious companies. The suspects then filed bankruptcy petitions using the fake companies' names, which stalled the foreclosures. But homeowners — who were paying up to $2,500 a month to the pair — still lost their homes when banks went to court and overturned the grant deeds.

But even when perpetrators end up behind bars, the money they steal is not always recovered. More often, police find the thieves have burned through the money, leaving few assets to be seized. Nor is there a lot of hope that crooks can earn back the money while incarcerated.

"When you put people in prison, they're not able to make wages, so that creates a tension in the system," says Lim, of the Alameda County DA's office. "Do you hold the person accountable and punish them with prison to deter others from committing the same crime or do you let them out, so they can get a job and repay the victim?"

The alleged victims all say they just want Parada to return the money he owes them, although they wouldn't mind if he also is held accountable by the courts. The police say they're still investigating and making progress in the case.

Anyone convicted of taking money from victims could face up to three years in prison, if tried and convicted of grand theft, forgery, and false recording of documents — charges typically associated with fraud, according to Lim. California also has white-collar enhancement clauses for crimes involving over $100,000, although much also depends on a person's criminal record and whether any of the victims were elderly.

The Marceloses, for one, say they will keep fighting as long as it takes, not only to keep the bank from foreclosing on their home — a process which has temporarily been stalled with their lawsuit — but also to help other immigrants navigate the complex world of real estate law and educate them about their rights.

One little-known one is that in California, any agreement that is negotiated in Spanish — or Chinese, Tagalog, Vietnamese, or Korean, for that matter — requires all accompanying documents such as a lease, a loan, or any other contract to be in the same language. But although the law was passed in 1976, landlords, agents, and brokers frequently ignore it, either because they do not know about it or because there are no repercussions for violations.

Marcelos had no idea about the law when he was handed that thick stack of closing documents he couldn't understand. Today he knows better.

"When, we started, it was just the two of us against the broker, the bank, the whole system," Marcelos says. "Now, it doesn't matter if we win or lose because we've come out stronger having waged the fight, and in the process have helped many people. That's what counts."

Others aren't so optimistic. Sitting in her tiny living room on furniture she's been able to find on the street and holding her wriggling one-year-old grandson Antonio in her lap, Carmen Ruiz says she has contemplated suicide many times. The only thing stopping her is the knowledge that if she dies, there would be no one to look after her grandchildren.

"I am so tired," she says. "Some days I want my cancer to spread all over my brain so I won't know what's going on anymore. I just want to forget. ... It cost me years of work to have my house, and this man came along and took it from me. He took the title, he took my money, he even took some of the furniture that I had. He has left me with nothing."

« Previous Page   1   2   3   4   5