Part of Chapter 2 of Adam's Book...he has some GREAT STUFF in there!

Chapter 2

LEMONADE WITH THE LAWN BOY

It was hot that Friday afternoon when she rolled up in a white Mercedes SL convertible –– a sleek and roaring 12 cylinder with a crisp white leather interior that smelled strongly of money. She emerged, wearing head to toe white. I’d never seen anything like it. Skin-tight white jeans, fitted white sweater, white sandals, and oversized white sunglasses. She even had a white rhinestone belt around her waist. Sandie Tillotson looked like a female Liberace. “Mmmm...” she purred, looking down her nose over her sunglasses. “This looks even better than a Coke commercial.” I could feel her eyes roaming over every inch of my darkly tanned, sweaty body. She was cold, calculating, almost reptilian –– like a boa constrictor looking to devour its next meal.

All of a sudden I was 14 years old again, only this time I knew what that look meant. This wasn’t the first time I’d been chased by an older woman, and I liked being pursued. My body was ripped and sweaty from swinging a pick, and I knew I looked hot. “Why don’t you drive my car?” sheinsisted, as she winked and tossed me the keys. I had never been in a car worth $150,000, and I was surprised at how nonchalantly she offered her expensive possession up, especially since I was covered in dirt from digging sprinkler trenches.

“I made reservations at the Market Street Broiler” she said, the most expensive restaurant in the area. I started sweating nervously as we pulled up, knowing I only had $50 in my pocket. We sat outside on the patio, and it wasn’t long before I felt like I was being interrogated by the CIA. She wanted to know everything about me. I knew I’d passed her qualifying round when I realized we had similar hobbies –– scuba diving, horses, travelling, motorcycles, sex.

This was the first time I’d gotten a good look at her. I was distracted as she playfully fingered the neckline of her sweater, drawing my eyes down to her rock-hard fake breasts. Her nails were long and hot pink, the skin on her hands was thin and spotty, much more aged than her face. I noticed her hair, bleached blonde with dark roots, teased, coiffed, and sprayed. Long, wispy bangs hid most of her heavily made up face –– dark black eyebrows, blue glassy wide-set eyes, and a square jaw. I thought, this woman was probably really hot 30 years ago.

Please Send Adam an Email to Buy his BOOK!!

My friend Adam has asked that I post this to everyone out there: please send him an email at info@formerlyfilthyrich.com or formerlyfilthyrich@yahoo.com and he will let you know where to buy a book. Nu Skin has done a splendid job at taking this book off of every website and service that Adam has attempted to sell it. Is NuSkin the new Nazi Germany?

Nu Skin has attempted a coverup of a book that tells the truth about one of its infamous founders. Is it AT ALL constitutional to extinguish a person's first amendment rights to the point where they can't even tell their story?

What if their story is so shocking that if it is revealed, it would threaten the foundation of the company?

Why would Nu Skin spend so much time and money having their attorneys disable every website, link, press release, blog, Facebook page, and websites where the book was for sale?

If the book WASN'T TRUE, Nu Skin would not waste their time.

Is it really possible to completely erase the footprint that a brave and courageous man has made out in cyberspace by telling the sad story about what was done to his son?

Ask Nu Skin - apparently, it IS possible to completely erase all signs that this book ever existed and was ever for sale. All you need is money. Don't want the truth out there? Pay some crooked attorney - thugs at Cohne, Rappaport and Segal in Salt Lake City to take care of it.

http://www.examiner.com/conservative-in-san-francisco/book-burning-america-a-tale-of-nu-skin

Please visit Adam's website (if it's still up!) and give him your support!

www.formerlyfilthyrich.com

More interesting links (people are talking Nu Skin):

http://exmormon.org/phorum/read.php?2,328324

Evictions at Christmas - A Favorite Holiday Pastime

A story I'll never forget (oh, how my memory bank is full to the brim of these) was a particularly chilling tale I heard Sandie tell once at a cocktail party.

After a few glasses of wine, and who knows what else, the conversation would get flowing and someone who didn't know Sandie very well would often ask how she "got her start."

Sandie relished this moment, as it came often, and I've heard as many versions from her "spieling" lips as I have hairs on my head... but only one version of the story chilled me to the core like this version did.

She likes to credit herself with inventing the "save the paupers from foreclosure" scam before the foreclosure crisis even came about.

She would get a list from her banker of homes that were in pre-foreclosure. She would meet with the families, and tell them that they could sign over the home to her, and she would bring all the payments current, and then all they needed to do was pay her "rent" to stay in their home. The best part was, once they got back on their feet, they could refinance and buy it back from her.

To a family about to lose their home, there was no downside! How could there be? This nice lady is offering to help, and bringing everything current! We can even buy the home back when we are ready!

Papers were already drawn up, and 99% of the time she left that initial meeting with a signed agreement. For some reason no one ever seemed to question or read the "paperwork" too carefully...if they had, they would realize that they had just signed over their home to the most unforgiving, heartless landlord they could ever imagine. One day late on your rent? You're gone.

This was all completely legal, of course, in fact Sandie thought the story was quite funny. After all, these people were the "idiots" who naively signed the papers without reading the details of the contract.

She would then proceed to tell the group of people at the party about how her favorite moment in real estate was when she evicted a single mother with five kids from her home on Christmas Eve.

Yes, Christmas Eve.

She laughs again, recounting the story about how the Sheriff asked the woman to leave, and the woman threw an "absolute fit" about having to leave without enough time to pack any of their belongings. Of course, she had a tree with presents under it and five kids to pack up - but, this was of little consequence to Sandie, because in an eviction, the Sheriff only has to give you FIFTEEN minutes to pack it all up!

So to make a point, the woman comes tromping out into the snow without any shoes on, then orders all of the kids to take their shoes off too as they walk to the car. "See kids, this woman doesn't even want us to leave with SHOES on our feet!"

Sandie would then laugh devilishly, as if this were the funniest thing she'd ever seen. I wondered if her poofy bleach blond hair was covering a set of horns.

I never found this story funny. In fact, there is NOTHING FUNNY AT ALL about evicting anyone, and especially, evicting a SINGLE MOTHER and her FIVE KIDS on Christmas Eve!

What kind of a person could actually do such a thing? Do you think Sandie went back up to her 10,000 square foot house on the hill and even gave this poor family a second thought? Or, maybe she was spending Christmas up at her $15 million dollar estate up in Deer Valley.

Either way, was I the ONLY person who was sickened by this story? I guess evictions on Christmas Eve are a Tillotson family pastime. So much for Secret Santa and Caroling!

The "HEWY" Story

I’ve been friends with Adam all my life, and I know he can get you in some pretty dicey situations. We’ve gone skydiving, raced motorcycles, raced pro trucks, flown helicopters and MIG trainers, zip lined in Costa Rica – you name it, we’ve done it.

Adam is a great guy with a big heart and only one flaw — he is TOO nice to people and TOO trusting and generous. This flaw is what got him trapped in the black widow’s web…let’s call her “Sandie.”

Being the simple and straightforward guy he was, Adam went through the entire relationship like he was in the front seat of a roller coaster that never came to a stop. He had no control of anything whatsoever, he was just there for the ride. The person controlling the roller coaster in the rusty cage down beneath was Sandie, of course. Everything was reward / punishment. Sandie often joked that training a “man” was a lot like training a “horse”. Reward them when they are good, and punish them quickly and severely when they make a mistake...or step out of line.

The black widow drew him into her web quick, and once he was tangled, he couldn’t get out. She wouldn’t let him out. Not without nailing his ass to the ground and sucking him dry. No one gets of a relationship with Sandie unscathed. No one.

This rule also applies to friends and acquaintances. Once their separation became “public”, friends quickly started taking sides, and anyone who chose Adam’s side (obviously the less lucrative of the two positions) would pay, and pay dearly.

One such friend, let’s call him “Hewy”, happened to be the recipient of a very generous gift from Adam: a brand new yellow convertible Corvette.

Every time Adam would drive the Corvette down to his airplane hangar, Hewy, Adam’s flight instructor, would remark on how much he liked the car. Eventually he asked if he could drive it, and he and Adam went tearing up the canyon on a joyride. Adam knew a guy like Hewy would love nothing more than to own a car like that.

One day Adam called me up and said “Hey, I need you to follow me down to my hangar.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I am giving Hewy my Corvette today, I need a ride back.”

Since I’d known Adam all his life, this was a completely normal occurrence and nothing out of the ordinary. He’d given us all extravagant gifts before – all expenses paid vacations, expensive watches, you name it.

This gift, however, would be a gift Hewy wished he would never have accepted.

A couple of months after Adam gave Hewy the Corvette, the divorce we called “war of the roses on steroids” was in FULL swing, and Sandie had mobilized her thugs all over town. Her favorite thugs, of course, were the slimy attorney’s from Cohne, Rappaport and Segal, and these guys were an entire team of tough-talking assholes who descended on all of Adam’s friends and family to threaten them all with baseless lies and mafia-style intimidation tactics.

Once the roaches at Cohne Rappaport (Dena Sarandos and David Dolowitz) got wind that poor Hewy held the title to Adam’s Corvette, they descended mercilessly upon Hewy (at work!) and demanded he give the car back to Sandie immediately.

Hewy stood his ground, and insisted that the car had been a gift from Adam, and that it was his to keep. Adam gave him the gift before the divorce was even filed….therefore, none of the nonsense that was going on mattered at all.

Standing his ground was the RIGHT thing to do….but it was a decision that would cost him TWO YEARS of his life fighting with SANDIE TILLOTSON, the BILLIONAIRE, in a court in Utah County, over an asset that was only worth $30,000! That had been a gift! That had belonged to Adam!

To put it in perspective, for the rest of us 99%, it would be the equivalent of spending two years in court fighting over a gift from the DOLLAR STORE. 

WHY? Why would someone like Sandie Tillotson waste her time and money fighting an honest, hardworking guy like Hewy for a GIFT he got? Did Sandie not have enough cars in her fleet, she had to go fight and harass a normal everyday guy in court for TWO YEARS and add all that stress to his life and his marriage, over something as meaningless as a Corvette?

Well that’s just it – Sandie Tillotson’s greed and megalomania and desire to hurt people knows no bounds. Sandie will do whatever it takes to ensure that what Sandie wants, Sandie will get, even if it means destroying other people and entire families in the process.

Car Kicking in Kuala Lumpur - rescued blog #5

We flew into Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia on a commercial flight, first class, to attend one of the NuSkin international conventions. The conventions were a rah-rah show, a way for the company’s executives to travel the world and get the sales force fired up about selling face cream and vitamins and Normally we’d fly on the corporate jet, but it wasn’t available for some reason or other, and we had to make do with wide leather seats, cute flight attendants, and champagne courtesy of Singapore Airlines. Life at the top was rough, sometimes.

The reception at the airport wasn’t quite what I expected. Sandie said we’d have a limousine waiting for us, and I expected a nice Mercedes S500 or something of the sort. Well, a Benz was on hand, an armored stretch job that could seat eight and luxuriously whisk the occupants along without any intrusion from the outside world. To make the ride to the hotel even more care free, the authorities had provided a police escort speed the way and to keep the peasants at a safe distance. It took a while to load the luggage into the car –Sandie never travelled light-- we got into the car for the ride to the hotel, with one police motorcycle leading the way and another following.

We were settled into back of the car, relaxing after the long flight, when the car slowed to a crawl. I lifted my head to look out the windshield to see what was slowing us down. As I did I saw the cop on the motorcycle ahead of us pull level to the car in front of us, and kick the window of the car with his boot. He kept kicking, and screaming at the driver, until the car pulled toward the shoulder of the road. The cop repeated the scene with each car in front of us, kicking at doors and windows and shouting at the drivers, until he’d cleared a path for the limousine. When the path was cleared, we rode along like Moses through the Red Sea. 

The next day, the same two cops appeared to escort us to the convention center, with more kicking and screaming at cars. We had to tell them not to do that at the convention center, because the cars at the center were NuSkin’s distributors, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to treat them like riff-raff. At least so openly.

How I Went From Exotic Dancer to Trophy Husband - blog 4!!

Like a lot of guys, I was a scrawny little kid, and my sisters were always picking on me. And since there were five of them, that made growing up a bit difficult. I got tired of the abuse, and when I reached my teens, decided that to start lifting weights. I started out with those cheap concrete weights, the kind you buy at Kmart or Sears.  They were cheap, but they worked, and after a few months I started feeling really good about myself, and my sisters stopped picking on me. Working out with weights became a daily habit for me. The cheap-o concrete weights were replaced by better sets, and after a few years I was ready to move on to a gym. After all, there’s only so much you can do at home.

The place was called Lifestyles 2000, I think, and I was worked out there on a regular basis all through my teen years and even after I was married and we had kids. I became friends with another guy who trained there, and one day he said to me “Hey I think you’ve got a look that I think would sell. Would you be interested in a part time job?” Well that got my attention, because I had kids and I needed some part time income. My wife at the time wasn’t working, and I was working a couple of jobs to make ends meet, and it was pretty tough at times.

Now it turned out that this guy was an exotic dancer, although I didn’t know that until later. “You could make $200 to $300 an hour” he told me. That was serious money, and he really had my interest. I wondered what I had to do. He told me to meet me at this bar in Provo (Utah).

So I met him down there one night, and I find out that there’s about fifty girls in line waiting to get into this bar. He told me that all I had to do was jump around on the stage in my underwear, and I’d get $150 for the night plus whatever tips the girls gave me. Now it really wasn’t that big a deal for me, and I wasn’t afraid to get on stage, since I used to perform in the ice show with my sisters. Actually the jumping around seemed kind of silly, but the money was good. So I gave it a shot.

It was quite a rush the first couple of times, and the adrenaline was pumping. I’m trying to be masculine, but here I am in my underwear, with everybody in the bar looking at me and judging me, with this music blaring. It’s like one of those dreams were you’re walking around and everyone’s looking at you, and you realize you don’t have anything on.  Now I’d raced motorcycles, which is also a great adrenaline rush, and pretty scary as well. But I had to pay for that, and it wasn’t cheap. It probably cost about a thousand dollars for a weekend, for tires and fuel and parts and such.

 So now by dancing around in my underwear, I get the adrenaline rush, and I get paid for it. Well I thought that this was a pretty good deal, and I was making three or four hundred dollars a night at the club.

Soon I was doing private bachelorette parties for girls, and I was doing a couple of parties a night every weekend, and with tips I was pulling in about two grand a weekend. That was about what I made a month in my part time jobs. Now I made a lot of money doing this. So much that I did it for about eight years. And that’s where I met my next wife, Sandie Tillotson, the billionaire founder of NuSkin.

Steal only the Best - rescued blog #3!

Steal only the best

There’s a story I ran across in the New York Post the other day. I don’t normally read the Post, and I especially don’t read the fashion section, where I saw this story. But I spent some time living in the AOL Time Warner Building, as well as Trump Tower, so every once in a while I take a peek at the Post to find out what’s happening in the Big Apple. It seems that a trendy jewelry designer, name of Alexis Bittar, has refused to lend any more jewelry to Kim Kardashian, claiming that Kardashian is ripping off the designs for her own design label, Belle Noel, and producing look-alike jewelry. For the record, Belle Noel denies the charge. But the story is interesting, in that Kardashian has sued Old Navy for using a model who looked like her in its advertising. You know, a look-alike.

Now there are a few things that jump out when you think about the story. The first one, of course, is this: Kardashian has to borrow jewelry? Is she maxed out on her credit cards, a bit low on the mad money? Should we pass the hat and take up a collection, or maybe hold a benefit concert for her? If she’s going to rip the designs off, the least she could do is buy a piece or two, she doesn’t have to do an intellectual Lindsay Lohan. Now I know it’s common for designers to lend items out to stars to get the publicity of a star wearing their designs. But really, a nice set of earrings from Bittar is only going to set her back about $300.  I’m sure Kim could come up with it.

Now the second thought that came to me when I read the piece (Iced Out) is how it reminded me of the woman I was married to for a number of years, and how incredibly cheap she was. Her name was Sandie Tillotson, and she is one of the founders of NuSkin and worth well north of a billion dollars. Yes, capital B, billion. Nine zeros.

Sandie and I were in New York City at our apartment at the Trump Tower after spending a couple of weeks in Italy, and we decided to get out and do some shopping. Even though we’d only been back for a day or two I was feeling claustrophobic, and I could see from our picture window that is was a beautiful New York Day, bright and sunny with just enough of breeze to keep the air crisp and clean. I grabbed my camera on the way out so I could take some snapshots.  We walked along Fifth Avenue, enjoying the day, and as we passed Tiffany’s, I said to Sandie that we should go in, since I was looking for a watch. She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me away from the window, and said she had a better idea.

We walked down the street to Van Cleef & Arpels, the luxury French jewelry house, and went in. Sandie went right for the diamond rings, and had the salesman take a few from the case so she could try them on.  She did the same with a couple of necklaces, and each time she tried one on, she’d coo and ask me if it looked good on her. I thought they looked great, as well they should for their five and six figure prices.

“I can’t decide” she said. “Take a picture, of me with them on, then I’ll look at it later, okay?”

Well it sounded like a reasonable idea, and the salesman didn’t object. So I took some shots, and we left, promising to be back in a week or so. Over lunch we looked at the shots on the digital camera’s screen, and I saw a necklace that I liked for her, it was pear shaped, with lots of diamonds, and cost a small fortune. But she had the bucks, after all.

“I’ll get it.” she told me. “I’ll just have my guy copy it from the picture, and he can do make it for a couple of thousand dollars. You didn’t think I was going to pay them for it did you? Besides, who can tell the difference between cubic zirconium and diamonds anyway?”

Mountain Dogs and Mennonites - rescued blog #2!

Mountain dogs and Mennonites

It was a Christmas Eve, and I was flying the Cirrus to Oklahoma. We had an old English sheepdog named Winston, but he had to go away because he’d bitten too many mailmen or neighbors, I forget which, and they’d lodged a complaint with animal control. Whatever the situation was, Jason Chaffetz took care of it before the authorities could take the dog away. Sandie was despondent over losing the dog, and I wanted to do something about it. Sandie Tillotson was my wife, a founder of NuSkin, and Chaffetz, who had worked for Governor Jon Hunstman of Utah as his chief of staff– was working as Sandie’s fixer at NuSkin. So I was on a mission to replace the dog, on a thirty hour round trip between Utah and Oklahoma with my friend Dave for company.

We’d been looking for a Bernese, and I found a breeder in Oklahoma. The Bernese is a handsome dog, a big dog, about 100 or more pounds fully grown, with a black with white chest and rust colored markings above the eyes. The Swiss use them in the Alps, and they were farm dogs, and some of them were so big they were used for pulling carts. Whatever the purpose, they’re good looking dogs, and good pets, and I’ve always wanted one. With Winston gone, it seemed like the perfect time to get one, even if it meant a flight halfway across the country and back.

I spotted the runway through a thick fog, which turned into rain, and made my approach. The rain was light, but the runway was short and narrow, and I had my work cut out for me putting the plane down in one piece. I let it down easy, and reached the end of the runway where I started to turn around so I could make my return take off. Well the concrete strip was just a bit to narrow, and I put one wheel off the pavement, and into the mud.  The plane sank and I turned the engine off, said a few nice words,  and got out just as an well worn cream and brown truck drove up. There were three bearded men in the front, and two others in the back riding shotgun and holding about a half dozen dogs. All were pups, with similar markings, and I picked one out in short order and paid the man in cash. The breeder was from a Mennonite community, and his price was really quite good.

Well now Dave and I had to get the plane out of the muck, and in just the few minutes we’d been there it had sunk in up to the axles of one wheel. Dave pushed and I pulled, or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, we couldn’t move the beast until the fellows in the truck offered help. They hooked up a tow line to the front, and with the truck pulling and the rest of us pushing, we got the plane onto the pavement.

Fifteen hours later, I walked into the house and a wife very angry at my being away and late on Christmas Eve. But even Sandie Tillotson couldn’t resist the pup’s big brown eyes, and for the moment, at least, I’d been redeemed

I saved one of the blogs - thank goodness for internet cache!

My son wrote this letter right before Christmas in 2008. He was 9 years old at the time. When a little boy is that age, a few days before Christmas he should be dreaming of all the toys he is going to get on the “big day”, pining over the ones he might not get – and making sure he’s been a good boy all year so Santa doesn’t forget him. Not Korbin. Not that year.

Korbin disappeared down to his room right after dinner. My sweet little blonde haired son Korbin, who was usually jovial and fun-loving, who liked goofing off and watching re-runs of SpongeBob, was all of a sudden sullen. He reappeared back up into the family room a while later, with this piece of paper in his hand.

“Dad. I wrote Sandie a letter.”

He handed it to me. I quickly read it, and a tear welled up in my eye. I fought hard to hold it back.

“I thought maybe if I sent her a letter she wouldn’t take away our house.”

I fought back the tears. I knew I couldn’t cry in front of my youngest son, I didn’t want him to see my weakness. I put my arms around him and gave him a long hug. His tiny body was too young, his fragile little soul was too sweet to have to be experiencing this, stressing over this.

It had only been a day since the sheriff posted a “writ of execution” on our door, informing us that our home would be sold at auction to pay Sandie’s attorneys fees. Though I’d tried to keep it a secret, things of this magnitude just have a way of not being secret for too long, especially when it comes to kids.

“Dad. Do you think the letter will work?” he said, looking up at me with his big green eyes. I could see the innocence and the optimism still in his cute face. Life hadn’t screwed him yet.

“I don’t know if it will work. We can send it to her and try.”

“Ok. Thanks Dad. Let’s send it to her so maybe we can stay here for Christmas. If we have to move, Santa Claus won’t know where to bring the presents.”

“You’re right. We’d better make sure we can stay here for Christmas. You’ve got a lot of stuff coming from Santa.”

His face lit up with a smile. “Dad. I have a better idea. I am going to make copies of my letter and take them up to Sandie’s house for her Christmas party. Maybe if I give them to all of her friends, she’ll let us keep the house.”

“Ok, you can do whatever you want. If you want to hand out the letters, I’ll drive you up there.”

“Love you Dad. I think it will work.”

“Me too. Now get to bed, we have a lot to do before Santa comes. I love you.”

“Love you too Dad.”

He raced back down to his room, wind back in his sails again. Within a month, the house was gone, and all of our hopes and dreams and hard work were down the toilet. Of course, Sandie was the one who bought the house at the auction. And then sold it to a NuSkin employee for a $400,000 profit two months later.

The kids had to change schools in the middle of the school year, lost all their friends, and have still never recovered from getting so far behind in school. I have never recovered from losing the home that I built from the ground up, the home that took me three years of my life to build, every day spent working and staining baseboard and mouldings and installing travertine.

Just another day in the life of Sandie Tillotson — ruining lives, taking things away from people, and making LOTS and LOTS of money on other people’s misery. A nice tidy profit of $400,000. 

Book Burning in America & More Stories Not in the Book

This is the Adam Baker story. The story not told in his book. This is the Adam Baker story told by one of his very close friends, who has been there with him through it all.
You see, I have known Adam since we've been little, and I've seen everything he has done, experienced, flown, married, and crashed. Adam Baker is a guy that even alpha males can get a "guy crush" on - not because he's the best looking guy, but because he's a guy with BALLS. Because he is the guy who is not afraid to say what he thinks and be who he is. Even most of us self-proclaimed "alpha-males" are still living our lives for someone else - trying to be, buy, impress, whatever you call it.
I read his book, cover to cover. I begged him not to publish it, because I knew Sandie would come after him with her "assassins" and her other on-the-payroll "thugs" and "merchants of deception." Sandie was, and continues to be, a merciless and nefarious woman who knows no God other than the "God of money." No, that creepy woman with the facelift in the youtube videos that talks about being a great mother to her kids and this wonderful Grandmother? Hogwash. I've seen it. The woman detests kids, her own, and especially "other" people's kids.
Not only is the "loving mother" persona a sham, so is her entire past. Sandie hails directly from Nazi's who escaped the Nuremberg trials, and the Neaman's still pass around old family photo albums at family parties, proud of their "SS" heritage. The cold and soulless blood that ran through her forefathers veins certainly did not escape Sandie, no, she is very much a thriving, calculating individual with enough venom in her pinky finger to incapacitate the entire island of Manhattan.
Every decision in Sandie's life is a calculation of risk to reward. Each person in Sandie's life is there, not because they like her as a person, but because of what they hope to gain by being present in her ubiquitous "court." I've been at parties and seen people actually start shaking when they meet Sandie, as if they've just met Jesus or the President of the United states. What kind of an idiot would behold someone and put them on a pedestal simply because they have made a lot of money? Sadly, that is what we as Americans judge each other on and place most value, the accumulation of material things, not the actual true nature and deeds of the individual person.
This money, and the power it bestows on people, only seems to further enhance the true nature of who they are. If you were evil and soulless without money, once you get it, you will become even MORE evil and soulless. Such is the case with Sandie. I've seen Sandie wield her power on several occasions over everyone in her presence. The "carrot and the switch" is her method of operation, and if one does not do as one is told, they are severely punished, and cut off from her royal presence and her golden coffers.
On several occasions, I heard her mention the unfortunate "Ron" Gratzinger. She spoke of Ron like a boss speaks of an employee that they had to "fire" several years back, with disdain and a hint of smugness. The "Ron" story was brought up often as an attempt to scare everyone and "warn" them, in not so many words, that this fate could be theirs, too, if they didn't all mind their p's and q's. As I look back, she enjoyed telling this story because she wanted to let everyone know how powerful she was - that with nothing but a "phone call" and not even a "shred of evidence", she held enough power to get a man locked in prison for months.
Who is this poor guy Ron Gratzinger, anyway? Well, like many of the "blacklisted" ones in Sandie's life, he was an ex-lover who, at some point in the relationship, no longer served her or was needed. Sandie had met another man, and quickly replaced "Ron" with another fellow as the "flavor of the month". Poor Ron, by the time she got home from her trip where she'd met this new Adonis, his stuff was already packed and on the front porch of her massive home. As a consolation prize, she offered to keep him "on the payroll" helping out with some landscaping and mowing around the house. The poor guy stuck around for longer than one would expect a guy with any self-worth would, but, being a pilot, he knew he could make some money with that trade.
He convinced Sandie to let him fly an aircraft over to the Cayman Islands and start a charter business. She agreed, happy to have him "out of her hair" so to speak. Besides, she would profit too from such a venture. Leases were signed, agreements were in place - and off he went, to start his new business.
Like Sandie does with all those in her "kingdom", she can't stand to actually see a person not "need" her or be "successful" without her controlling it every step of the way. Hushed whispers of the people who were around say that Ron started making a decent living with the charter business, to which Sandie quickly decided, she MUST put an end to it. Ron disagreed, and demanded that she abide by the lease they had in place.
Sandie was furious. Around the first of December, she called the authorities in the Caymans and reported the plane "stolen". By this point, she already had one of her "thugs" on the way to pick up the plane. Within hours the plane was back in the United States, and when poor Ron showed up to the airport that morning to commence his charter - to his surprise, he was "quietly" escorted into custody and charged with theft.
As Sandie gleefully recounts the story, Ron spent the entire month of December in custody in a federal prison. He did not get to see his children or any of his family at Christmas, which delighted Sandie to no end. She was all to happy to swoop in to pay a visit to his kids and bestow hundreds of dollars in Christmas gifts to Ron's kids, all the while insisting she had "nothing" to do with his incarceration, and feigning concern for his plight, all while keeping a straight face!
Mysteriously, after the first of the year, the charges were dropped against "Ron" and Sandie issued him the stern warning, that she was NOT to be screwed with, or questioned, or talked about, EVER. If he ever recounted the story to anyone else, or came back against her or her money in any way, she would drum up the charges again and he'd be back in prison quicker than she could snap her fingers.
The RON story always stuck with me, in the pit of my stomach, like eating a bad meal at a greasy diner that just never seems to digest.
It bothered me to no end that someone could be that EVIL. And it bothered me even more that my best friend, Adam, had fallen prey to her little game. Who wouldn't? The guy was human. We all would fall for the bait.
Fast forward a few years later...it is 2011. Sandie has stolen nearly eleven of the best years of his life. 7 in a relationship with her...four more trying to get away from her.
What is a guy to do? Not only did she do disgusting and horrifying things to his son, but she left Adam after the divorce with LESS than he had coming INTO the marriage. How can a guy who owns a landscaping company come out of a marriage to a "Billionaire" with LESS than he came in with? The guy gave up everything for Sandie, made her millions all by himself, and was chased out of Utah by her "thugs" and lawless and corrupt attorneys so that he could no longer make a "fool" of her by being seen in public with his "new wife" ...after all....Utah is a very small place.
When he tries to tell his story, again, his rights are simply "quashed" by her powerful and influential friends and the lovely sham of a company "NuSkin" that she founded. Please read the following article that has gone viral:
http://www.examiner.com/conservative-in-san-francisco/book-burning-america-a-tale-of-nu-skin

In the coming posts, I will attempt to get the original posts from Adam's "wordpress" blog back into circulation by reposting them in MY blog. Stay tuned.

www.formerlyfilthyrich.com

Here is a copy of the lovely Japanese version of the book! It has sold over 5,000 copies in Japan and is going crazy over there!

Here is a copy of the English version:

Keywords:

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