"I told you, Tony, just do as I say, and they won't be able to touch you,"
"But the bank won't answer my calls, and without their consent, I can't make any loan modifications. If this continues, in less than two months, I won't be able to pay off my loan."
"Tony, I've checked. The bank can't provide the original note you signed when you took out the contract, I suspect it's been lost.
Besides, the physical documents for the mortgage were replaced with electronic versions by the county court, and according to Ohio law, these electronic copies are not valid.
In other words, the bank has no right to foreclose on your house now!"
"But I'm tired, Mr. Wedner. I'm ready to give up. My mom said there's a place at her house where I can move in."
"Tony, I've never lost a foreclosure case!"
"You're a good lawyer, Mr. Wedner, but I'm sorry..."
Dean had just walked in when he was met by a young man with a look of dejection hurriedly coming out of Wedner's office.
Dean stepped aside to let him pass, then quietly approached the door to Wedner's office.
Inside the room, Wedner rested his forehead in his hand, weary.
"I think I might have come at a bad time," Dean said with his arms crossed at the doorway, shrugging as a way of greeting.
"Ah ha, if it isn't Mr. Glan Tai himself gracing us with his presence. You know what, I smelled the stinginess on you from two blocks away."
Seeing it was him, Wedner couldn't help but set aside the files he had on his crescent-shaped desk and stood up to pour himself a cup of coffee.
After entering the office, Dean, seeing him enjoying the coffee alone, couldn't resist protesting, "That's not very hospitable. Remember, I am your client."
"Anyone who hasn't paid a bill in this office, isn't a real client. Besides, if you want coffee, pour it yourself."
"Even if I'm not a real client, I'm at least a potential one. Also, as a member of the social elite, perhaps it's time for you to consider hiring a secretary," said Dean as he made himself a cup of coffee, nodding politely to the office owner before comfortably taking a sip.
"Do I look like I need a secretary?" Wedner asked, standing in his less than 6-square-meter office, looking at Dean as if he was an idiot.
"So tell me, what brings you here today? Your father Peter's case is about to go to court, and the article Sean is going to publish is ready. After so much preparation, I don't expect any other surprises," Wedner said.
"I'm here today to become your client, a real client," Dean declared, setting down his cup with a touch of pride on his face.
"A real client?" Wedner looked at him, surprised as if he had discovered a new world.
"Of course," Dean snapped his fingers, then swiftly got down to business, sitting down in front of his office desk.
"Oh~, what a surprise, that certainly doesn't suit your nickname 'Glan Tai'."
"Come on! Mr. Wedner, I'm your client now," Dean said, feeling his reputation was being wronged.
"Alright, let's see what has stumped our genius boy," Wedner settled into his chair and casually flipped the hourglass on the table.
"Cough~, first off," Dean cleared his throat, "if I found a sum of money on the road, a significant amount, and there's no claim of ownership, do I need to pay tax on it?"
Wedner looked at him, a strange glint in his eye, "Found money on the road? A significant amount?"
"Mm-hmm~" That's right, Dean nodded.
"Mother F*cker! You think I'm an idiot? Found money on the road, huh?
In Youngstown, a piece of bread falling on the ground would be snatched up by a homeless person within a minute.
And you're telling me you found money? That's the biggest joke I've heard all year!"
"OK~OK!" Dean signaled Wedner to calm down, "The details might be a bit off, but the outcome is more or less the same."
"Listen, Dean." Wedner said, looking at him seriously, "Firstly, I need to know the details of the situation; otherwise, I can't help you.
Besides, considering the attorney's fees paid by the Truck Drivers Union, let me give you some advice. Don't try to challenge the legal system built by countless elites over generations with your wits."
"Alright," Dean spread his hands, "the situation may not be entirely by the book, but there's no explicit law prohibiting it.
The thing is, I've gotten a batch of prepaid phone cards, and now I want to sell them to those in need.
I need to know how to properly declare the earnings for tax purposes, as I don't want to get in trouble with the IRS."
Before Wedner could reply, Dean quickly added, "Let's be clear, that's all I can disclose. As for the source of these phone cards, I can't explain."
Wedner had seen too many of these grey-area dealings to be concerned about how Dean got his hands on them.
The only two things he cared about were: first, whether the matter was worth dealing with, and second, how much profit he could make if he got involved.
After thinking it over for a moment, Wedner asked his first question.
"Dean, tell me, is the total value of the phone cards you need to flip over ten thousand US dollars?"
Dean nodded, "I believe so."
"Good, lucky you came to me instead of planning to hide the cash you earned from flipping them. Otherwise, you might be taking over your father's spot in jail just as he gets out," Wedner finally felt that Dean wasn't completely hopeless legally.
"So, what do I need to do, wise Mr. Wedner?" Dean went straight to the point, which was also the main reason he came here today.
Wedner did not answer him right away. Instead, he stood up and went to the file cabinet at the back of the office, beginning to dig for documents.
After rifling through files for a while, a smile finally appeared on his face.
"Your problem is somewhat thorny, but not without solutions. Moreover, I guess, in addition to the tax issues, the telephone company also poses a potential risk for you."
Dean's eyebrows arched in surprise, but he did not object because he indeed thought that he should also find a way to avoid issues with the telephone company.
"Congratulations on meeting the great Matthew Wedner," Wedner spread his arms like a king of the world, "But to resolve these troubles, you'll need to pay an extra price, otherwise, it's not enough to make me take on the associated risks."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he pulled an agreement from his desk and handed it to Dean.
"What is this?"
"A 5% legal consultancy fee, calculated based on the actual transaction amount. Federal law states that for cash transactions over ten thousand US Dollars, one must report the source of income to the IRS.
Of course, the income must be legitimate and legal, and how to make this money compliant is the service I can offer."
Wedner, dressed in a pinstriped suit, spoke with confidence, much like the power brokers of Washington.
"Wow~" Dean's eyes widened dramatically, "I never thought the great Mr. Wedner could have the IRS at his beck and call."
"Dean," Wedner shook his head, "I am taking risks, and this is what I deserve."
"IRS and telephone company problems, solved for good?" Dean's eyes roamed uncertainly, pondering something.
"Just for this transaction," Wedner put a condition on his statement.
Just one transaction? That wasn't really a problem, after all; Dean never planned to do it a second time.
"Alright, deal!" Dean quickly signed his name on the agreement.
To be honest, letting go of six to seven hundred US Dollars just like that did make Dean's heart ache. After all, it was nearly the same as his house mortgage for a month.
Based on the prices of '88, a dozen eggs cost only 84 cents, and a pound of round steak only 2.37 US Dollars.
Six to seven hundred US Dollars wasn't a small sum, but it was a necessary expense. Now Dean could only hope that his money was well spent.
"So, great Mr. Wedner, tell me about your once-and-for-all solution."
Wedner put away the contract and handed Dean the documents he had just found in the file cabinet.
"Ever heard of the Carter Telephone Case?"
"The Carter Telephone Case?" Dean held the yellowed documents, baffled.
"In '65, Thomas Carter from Texas filed a private antitrust lawsuit against all the communication giants including AT&T, Western Union, General Telephone & Electronics Corporation.
The reason was that in '59, Carter filed a patent for a device that could connect a regular telephone line to a two-way radio.
This allowed workers on his farm and in distant oil fields to use regular walkie-talkies for long-distance communication."
Dean's eyes lit up; that was quite the egg-laying hen strategy.
"It seems you've realized the crux of the issue," Wedner always liked dealing with smart people, "Exactly, just as you thought. Carter exploited Bell's telephone network, yet he never paid a dime for it.
The workers using the device were effectively making free phone calls. Without a doubt, Ma Bell wasn't going to let him off the hook.
Instead of backing down in the face of Bell's suppression, Carter unleashed his Texas-size fury to the max.
This redneck directly sued 22 communication companies at once, determined to give these big companies a solid kick in the butt.
And then the result, as you saw, in '68, the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) ended the case with a decisive ruling.
AT&T had no right to forbid the use of third-party equipment on its network lines, and since then, more and more third-party equipment manufacturers have entered the telephone industry.
So, making free phone calls might not be an illegal act. It all depends on how it's done."
At this moment, Dean no longer grieved over his six to seven hundred US Dollars; the high attorney fees proved worthwhile in certain situations.
"If those phone card transactions become reasonable, then naturally, paying taxes for them would also become reasonable," Wedner winked at Dean.
"What phone cards? What I sell are speakers that amplify the sound of a telephone receiver. Oh, if you're talking about those small cards that can make phone calls?
Please, they're just value-added items that come with the device. They're worthless by themselves!" Dean looked at a flabbergasted Wedner with a puzzled face, kindly correcting his mistake.
"Dean, you damn have the potential to be a billionaire!"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Dean got up, ready to go back and implement his plan.
"Before you leave, let's settle the legal consultancy fee for this time," Wedner slickly tossed over another bill.
"WTF? Didn't I just sign the profit-sharing agreement?"
"That was the fee for another transaction. This is a separate matter," Wedner stood firm.
"F*ck you! Wedner, you're stingier than Glan Tai!" Dean cursed as he dug out his wallet to pay the bill.