Chapter 13 - The First Martinez Millions
Rebecca dug into old corporate records.
George’s first major real-estate deal happened in 1994.
A warehouse district outside Philadelphia.
He bought it cheaply.
Very cheaply.
Profit: $18 million.
That became the foundation of Martinez Urban.
Nothing illegal on paper.
Until Dad recognized the seller.
“Henderson Supply Pension Trust.”
His old company’s pension fund.
I stared.
George had been a trustee before selling his shares.
Dad pulled old files.
The warehouse assets had been transferred out of the pension portfolio below appraisal.
Approved by three trustees.
One was George.
Another later worked for him.
The third was dead.
Dad whispered:
“I never knew.”
Rebecca said:
George’s fortune may have begun with a self-dealing transaction.
Potentially criminal then.
Maybe beyond prosecution now.
But devastating reputationally.
Dad looked sick.
“Workers’ retirement money.”
He knew those workers.
Men who trusted the plan.
Some had taken reduced settlements when the fund closed.
George had not simply envied Dad’s wealth.
He may have built his own from money connected to Dad’s workers.
Fiona sat across from us.
“My father did that?”
Good.
Evidence first.
Then an old accountant named Samuel Pike returned Rebecca’s call.
He had worked on the pension fund.
He agreed to meet.
George’s signature appeared beside a valuation adjustment.
Samuel said:
“I objected.”
“What happened?” Dad asked.
“I was fired.”
“Why didn’t you sue?”
“I had three children.”
There it was again.
Power thrives on ordinary fear.
Samuel handed Dad a letter he had saved for thirty-two years.
Addressed to Arthur Henderson.
Never mailed.
Dad read it.
His face broke.
The letter warned him what George had done.
Samuel whispered:
“I thought you knew.”
Dad looked at me.
May you like
For the first time since the wedding, the man who had seemed impossible to shake looked devastated.
“I didn’t.”
