| CHAPTER 1 FRIDAY THE 13TH |
It was my birthday eve. I would be leaving behind another year. And, like any other human being, I had
no way of knowing the roller coaster I would board and the ride it would take me on over the
following months.
I had recently been hired as the administrator at Schneerson Hebrew Day School. It was my
responsibility to travel the 20-minute trip to pick up the staff’s payroll checks. The school, which
operatedunder the auspices of the Jewish Educational Center (JEC), depended almost entirely on the
funds, raised through charity, to support the school. Most of the parents paid a minimal amount of
tuition. Many of the families had recently immigrated from Russia. Few of them had money to pay the
full tuition, to maintain the finances of the school.
Schneerson Hebrew Day School, named after the well-respected Rabbi Schneerson, who had died a
few years earlier, was located at Balboa and 34th. This was in the outer area of the Richmond District in
San Francisco. The neighborhood was an ethnic blend. This included a large population of Russian
immigrants who lived in the colorful apartments, homes, and flats. The JEC had been, until recently,
housed a short drive away. The JEC had grown rapidly. A new building had been rented which was a
20-minute drive from the school. This new location was needed to house the staff, which had increased
dramatically since the inception of the JEC, and was possible as a result of the millions and millions of
dollars which had started flowing through the open doors. As I started to leave the school, I sensed a
peculiar behavior from the principal, Rabbi Yitzchok Tiechtel (known to staff and students, due to the
difficulty of pronouncing his name, simply as Rabbi T). The Rabbi seemed as though he wanted to say
something to me but he never did. His thick, dark beard, covering the bottom of his face and flowing
down the front of his black suit jacket, almost seemed to overpower his small stature. His thick glasses
concealed his dark eyes, which quickly shifted as he was talking. His usual pleasant smile had
disappeared from his youthful looking face. It was obvious that he was in deep thought and had
something on his mind. It became clear that he had decided not to share his thoughts, so I left the
school to go pick up payroll checks. It would only be a matter of minutes until I would find out for myself
what Rabbi T probably already knew.
I arrived at the JEC headquarters. I parked my car and started walking toward the building. I noticed two
men standing at the entrance. I didn’t recognize either of them. As I walked toward the door, one of my
colleagues, Frank Malifrando (an employee of the JEC in the planning and fund development
department), came out of the building and started walking toward me. Frank, a positive, upbeat man
with a strong background in grant writing and program planning, had a noticeable expression of
concern covering his face. I said, “Frank, you look like you have seen a ghost.”
Frank simply responded, “Oh, hi, Jack.”
Frank then informed me that I could not go inside the JEC building. I found this very odd. I questioned
him. Frank proceeded to tell me that the Internal Revenue Service had arrived earlier in the day. They
still remained inside. According to Frank, they had basically raided the building. He informed me that
about a dozen agents had marched up the stairs, withdrawn their badges, flashed them at the
employees, and huddled the JEC staff in a circle inside the main room. They apparently gave a limited
explanation about why they were there. They interviewed several employees and sent others home
(terminating their employment with JEC). The IRS agents were there to close the JEC and seize all
possessions. For all intents and purposes they successfully closed the charitable organization forever.
Most of the employees were Jewish (aside from Frank and myself). Many of them were Russians. A
number of the Russians had emigrated from the former Soviet Union. The man in charge of all of
the JEC employees, Patrick Feigelson, was equivalent to a CEO. He was detained the longest, as he
had vast knowledge of the financial aspects of the business (which was, we would later find out, what
the IRS was interested in exploring). Patrick, a former actor, was a strong, staunch supporter of the JEC
and of all its’ charitable endeavors. No matter how tough the IRS was with its questioning, Patrick was
tougher.
I told Frank that I was there to pick up payroll. Frank informed me that I could go and tell the men at the
door, the strangers, but he was sure I would not be admitted inside. Frank walked with me to talk
with the men. As I approached, I couldn’t help but feel a shroud of secrecy surrounding their presence.
Still, I didn’t know just what was or wasn’t being hidden. One man stared at us suspiciously with large,
open eyes. His clean-shaven face, slightly balding hair, and large protruding belly suggested he was in
his mid-forties. The other guy was younger. It was obvious he wanted us to know he was in charge.
He took a step forward to apparently ensure that he would control the conversation. I explained to them
that I was from the school and I was there to pick up payroll.
The men, to say the least, were sharp-tongued, abrupt, arrogant and abrasive. They snickered at my
request to pick up payroll. They informed me that there was no payroll to pick up. And so, the long roller-
coaster ride began. I drove back to the school. Although everyone on staff was aware there were some
“problems” with the charity, none of us had realized how severe these problems were. However, we
would all become aware, mostly through the media, of the problems we faced collectively.
As the afternoon wore on, the employees came, one by one, to my office to pick up their paychecks. I
didn’t have a check for anyone; worse, I didn’t have any explanation for not being able to pay them. A
number of the employees became angry. Several of the employees started to vent their frustration. I
tried to understand their emotions. The Rabbi Bentzion Pil, founder of the JEC, hurried inside the main
office, where my desk was located, and started to open one of the two inner-office doors. He seemed
eager to see his wife, Mattie Plotkin-Pil, who occupied one of the other two offices. Rabbi wore a
distressed look on his face. I simply asked him what was going on. His response was rather simple.
He suggested that the JEC was being targeted, for investigation, for no reason. JEC was the victim. I
was hoping for a more substantial answer. Still, with the unexpected events of the day, I should have
understood that the Rabbi had probably been advised by his lawyers not to discuss the situation
with anyone.
Rabbi Pil was a solidly built man of about 40 years. Like Rabbi T, he had a full beard; however, Rabbi
Pil’s beard flowed down toward his chest in a more fitting manner. He usually wore what I called a
cape. When he flung it across his shoulder it reminded me of a swordsman preparing for a duel. He
often pointed his right index finger, when he spoke, moving it for emphasis. His broken English was
sometimes difficult to understand. However, his deep, husky voice gave him strength, as did his strong,
physical stature.
Rabbi Pil went inside the office to see his wife. I heard, as was often the case, loud voices, mostly from
the Rabbi. It had taken me several months of working at the JEC to realize that what I originally
assumed was yelling and screaming was simply the Rabbi and others carrying on a heated
discussion. Each tried to make the others present in a meeting understand his or her point of view.
I ended the afternoon feeling somewhat bewildered. Relieved to be leaving the school building, I drove
to my home in Modesto. But my birthday celebrations that weekend were interrupted by a message
from an upper-grade teacher, Jane Fried. She sounded serious. She asked me what was going on at
the school and said she was referring to the front page of the San Francisco Examiner. I
drove back to my apartment in the city and immediately purchased a copy of the Examiner.
There, on the front page, in bold type, the information I had been seeking glared back at me: “Used-car
charity charged with fraud— S.F. Jewish center allegedly lies about where money goes.”
My mind started racing. Each paragraph became more difficult to comprehend. It seemed that the
organization where I was employed was being tried and convicted before any substantial evidence had
been presented.
I re-read the story. It began, “After a year-long investigation by state, local and federal officials,
authorities have accused a highprofile Jewish charity of fraud and false advertising and won a court
order to seize its asset. The San Francisco-based Jewish Educational Center has been charged with
civil fraud and false advertising by the district attorney’s office and violations of charitable trust laws by
the state attorney general’s office and is under investigation for possible tax fraud and money
laundering by the Internal Revenue Service, according to those agencies.”
The lengthy article continued, “The complaint alleges that the center promised that donations would
help support 12 Ukrainian children suffering severe medical problems—including radiation
sickness—stemming from the Chernobyl nuclear disaster.” It asserted, “Not one of the children brought
by the JEC to San Francisco…has suffered from radiation sickness, the complaint states. The JEC also
advertises that it is devoted to helping children in places like Bosnia, Rwanda and Lebanon, but the
center has yet to help any of those countries, according to the complaint.”
The article stated that the JEC frequently advertised, “A lot of causes want your car, but only the Jewish
Educational Center will use 100 percent of your donation to fund local programs like schooling and
camp for children and job placement for adults. In reality, the complaint said, the center has spent less
than 20 percent of its revenues for charitable causes. The vast majority has been spent for advertising,
promotion, salaries, and other expenses, according to records filed with the state.”
Finally, the most damaging information: “The state attorney general is accusing Pil, the center’s founder
and executive director, and his wife, Plotkin, of illegally diverting at least $70,000 from the
JEC to purchase a home on 26th Avenue, and $30,000 to throw a bar mitzvah party for their son.” The
article also stated that the charity was one of the biggest used-car dealers in the United States. It
ranked, according to the Examiner, as among the top 50 for-profit used-car chains nationwide. The last
year sales had totaled $8.5 million. Of that amount only $1.45 million had been spent on
charitable efforts.
The news traveled fast around the country. That weekend the Los Angeles Times picked up the story
and I later learned that articles appeared also in the Wall Street Journal. I could never have imagined
how far-reaching this story would become. Little did I know what I faced in the coming few months. The
barrage of media attention and the negative glare of publicity would take its toll on all the JEC
employees, and I myself would face arrest. But all that was yet to come.
no way of knowing the roller coaster I would board and the ride it would take me on over the
following months.
I had recently been hired as the administrator at Schneerson Hebrew Day School. It was my
responsibility to travel the 20-minute trip to pick up the staff’s payroll checks. The school, which
operatedunder the auspices of the Jewish Educational Center (JEC), depended almost entirely on the
funds, raised through charity, to support the school. Most of the parents paid a minimal amount of
tuition. Many of the families had recently immigrated from Russia. Few of them had money to pay the
full tuition, to maintain the finances of the school.
Schneerson Hebrew Day School, named after the well-respected Rabbi Schneerson, who had died a
few years earlier, was located at Balboa and 34th. This was in the outer area of the Richmond District in
San Francisco. The neighborhood was an ethnic blend. This included a large population of Russian
immigrants who lived in the colorful apartments, homes, and flats. The JEC had been, until recently,
housed a short drive away. The JEC had grown rapidly. A new building had been rented which was a
20-minute drive from the school. This new location was needed to house the staff, which had increased
dramatically since the inception of the JEC, and was possible as a result of the millions and millions of
dollars which had started flowing through the open doors. As I started to leave the school, I sensed a
peculiar behavior from the principal, Rabbi Yitzchok Tiechtel (known to staff and students, due to the
difficulty of pronouncing his name, simply as Rabbi T). The Rabbi seemed as though he wanted to say
something to me but he never did. His thick, dark beard, covering the bottom of his face and flowing
down the front of his black suit jacket, almost seemed to overpower his small stature. His thick glasses
concealed his dark eyes, which quickly shifted as he was talking. His usual pleasant smile had
disappeared from his youthful looking face. It was obvious that he was in deep thought and had
something on his mind. It became clear that he had decided not to share his thoughts, so I left the
school to go pick up payroll checks. It would only be a matter of minutes until I would find out for myself
what Rabbi T probably already knew.
I arrived at the JEC headquarters. I parked my car and started walking toward the building. I noticed two
men standing at the entrance. I didn’t recognize either of them. As I walked toward the door, one of my
colleagues, Frank Malifrando (an employee of the JEC in the planning and fund development
department), came out of the building and started walking toward me. Frank, a positive, upbeat man
with a strong background in grant writing and program planning, had a noticeable expression of
concern covering his face. I said, “Frank, you look like you have seen a ghost.”
Frank simply responded, “Oh, hi, Jack.”
Frank then informed me that I could not go inside the JEC building. I found this very odd. I questioned
him. Frank proceeded to tell me that the Internal Revenue Service had arrived earlier in the day. They
still remained inside. According to Frank, they had basically raided the building. He informed me that
about a dozen agents had marched up the stairs, withdrawn their badges, flashed them at the
employees, and huddled the JEC staff in a circle inside the main room. They apparently gave a limited
explanation about why they were there. They interviewed several employees and sent others home
(terminating their employment with JEC). The IRS agents were there to close the JEC and seize all
possessions. For all intents and purposes they successfully closed the charitable organization forever.
Most of the employees were Jewish (aside from Frank and myself). Many of them were Russians. A
number of the Russians had emigrated from the former Soviet Union. The man in charge of all of
the JEC employees, Patrick Feigelson, was equivalent to a CEO. He was detained the longest, as he
had vast knowledge of the financial aspects of the business (which was, we would later find out, what
the IRS was interested in exploring). Patrick, a former actor, was a strong, staunch supporter of the JEC
and of all its’ charitable endeavors. No matter how tough the IRS was with its questioning, Patrick was
tougher.
I told Frank that I was there to pick up payroll. Frank informed me that I could go and tell the men at the
door, the strangers, but he was sure I would not be admitted inside. Frank walked with me to talk
with the men. As I approached, I couldn’t help but feel a shroud of secrecy surrounding their presence.
Still, I didn’t know just what was or wasn’t being hidden. One man stared at us suspiciously with large,
open eyes. His clean-shaven face, slightly balding hair, and large protruding belly suggested he was in
his mid-forties. The other guy was younger. It was obvious he wanted us to know he was in charge.
He took a step forward to apparently ensure that he would control the conversation. I explained to them
that I was from the school and I was there to pick up payroll.
The men, to say the least, were sharp-tongued, abrupt, arrogant and abrasive. They snickered at my
request to pick up payroll. They informed me that there was no payroll to pick up. And so, the long roller-
coaster ride began. I drove back to the school. Although everyone on staff was aware there were some
“problems” with the charity, none of us had realized how severe these problems were. However, we
would all become aware, mostly through the media, of the problems we faced collectively.
As the afternoon wore on, the employees came, one by one, to my office to pick up their paychecks. I
didn’t have a check for anyone; worse, I didn’t have any explanation for not being able to pay them. A
number of the employees became angry. Several of the employees started to vent their frustration. I
tried to understand their emotions. The Rabbi Bentzion Pil, founder of the JEC, hurried inside the main
office, where my desk was located, and started to open one of the two inner-office doors. He seemed
eager to see his wife, Mattie Plotkin-Pil, who occupied one of the other two offices. Rabbi wore a
distressed look on his face. I simply asked him what was going on. His response was rather simple.
He suggested that the JEC was being targeted, for investigation, for no reason. JEC was the victim. I
was hoping for a more substantial answer. Still, with the unexpected events of the day, I should have
understood that the Rabbi had probably been advised by his lawyers not to discuss the situation
with anyone.
Rabbi Pil was a solidly built man of about 40 years. Like Rabbi T, he had a full beard; however, Rabbi
Pil’s beard flowed down toward his chest in a more fitting manner. He usually wore what I called a
cape. When he flung it across his shoulder it reminded me of a swordsman preparing for a duel. He
often pointed his right index finger, when he spoke, moving it for emphasis. His broken English was
sometimes difficult to understand. However, his deep, husky voice gave him strength, as did his strong,
physical stature.
Rabbi Pil went inside the office to see his wife. I heard, as was often the case, loud voices, mostly from
the Rabbi. It had taken me several months of working at the JEC to realize that what I originally
assumed was yelling and screaming was simply the Rabbi and others carrying on a heated
discussion. Each tried to make the others present in a meeting understand his or her point of view.
I ended the afternoon feeling somewhat bewildered. Relieved to be leaving the school building, I drove
to my home in Modesto. But my birthday celebrations that weekend were interrupted by a message
from an upper-grade teacher, Jane Fried. She sounded serious. She asked me what was going on at
the school and said she was referring to the front page of the San Francisco Examiner. I
drove back to my apartment in the city and immediately purchased a copy of the Examiner.
There, on the front page, in bold type, the information I had been seeking glared back at me: “Used-car
charity charged with fraud— S.F. Jewish center allegedly lies about where money goes.”
My mind started racing. Each paragraph became more difficult to comprehend. It seemed that the
organization where I was employed was being tried and convicted before any substantial evidence had
been presented.
I re-read the story. It began, “After a year-long investigation by state, local and federal officials,
authorities have accused a highprofile Jewish charity of fraud and false advertising and won a court
order to seize its asset. The San Francisco-based Jewish Educational Center has been charged with
civil fraud and false advertising by the district attorney’s office and violations of charitable trust laws by
the state attorney general’s office and is under investigation for possible tax fraud and money
laundering by the Internal Revenue Service, according to those agencies.”
The lengthy article continued, “The complaint alleges that the center promised that donations would
help support 12 Ukrainian children suffering severe medical problems—including radiation
sickness—stemming from the Chernobyl nuclear disaster.” It asserted, “Not one of the children brought
by the JEC to San Francisco…has suffered from radiation sickness, the complaint states. The JEC also
advertises that it is devoted to helping children in places like Bosnia, Rwanda and Lebanon, but the
center has yet to help any of those countries, according to the complaint.”
The article stated that the JEC frequently advertised, “A lot of causes want your car, but only the Jewish
Educational Center will use 100 percent of your donation to fund local programs like schooling and
camp for children and job placement for adults. In reality, the complaint said, the center has spent less
than 20 percent of its revenues for charitable causes. The vast majority has been spent for advertising,
promotion, salaries, and other expenses, according to records filed with the state.”
Finally, the most damaging information: “The state attorney general is accusing Pil, the center’s founder
and executive director, and his wife, Plotkin, of illegally diverting at least $70,000 from the
JEC to purchase a home on 26th Avenue, and $30,000 to throw a bar mitzvah party for their son.” The
article also stated that the charity was one of the biggest used-car dealers in the United States. It
ranked, according to the Examiner, as among the top 50 for-profit used-car chains nationwide. The last
year sales had totaled $8.5 million. Of that amount only $1.45 million had been spent on
charitable efforts.
The news traveled fast around the country. That weekend the Los Angeles Times picked up the story
and I later learned that articles appeared also in the Wall Street Journal. I could never have imagined
how far-reaching this story would become. Little did I know what I faced in the coming few months. The
barrage of media attention and the negative glare of publicity would take its toll on all the JEC
employees, and I myself would face arrest. But all that was yet to come.
A Broken Charity -First Chapter
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