Parts 1 Through 7

Diary of a Scam Artist: Detailed Summary of the Book to Be Published

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 1

Anyone who looks me up in detail will see what and who I really am, always was, and will be. Even though I have broken two laws, that’s nothing compared to my incessant honesty. This was actually before, during, and after the elaborate business scheme I did, the calling of 911 with a phony murder report to get out of a traffic ticket, which I was not guilty of and therefore was released of, and other poor attitudes during a time in my life where I was, in fact, having difficulties.

Taking it out on two types of individuals:

One group consisted of common John Does—local nobodies, conceptually. Public places like shopping centers, local-type spots, sports in public or big private facilities where sometimes you’d run into what I felt was a schmuck. My reactions were probably mostly irrational. I usually took advantage of them being less respectful, selfish, or nasty (as I saw it) to others or me in some way. I deliberately inflamed them. Usually peppering them to swing at me. I’d then always bob or weave out of the way and knock them out. It worked every time. Ironically, I was never in any legal trouble for that. I never started it; I finished it. But there’s no doubt that I aggravated their already negative attitudes. That’s the truth.

The others were my clients. While some were disturbingly greedy, some of them were quite appreciative, and in any case, I had no business essentially manipulating the self-indulgent ones to act out as they did. I knew how to do that also. I got them to act in ways that essentially caused them to rip themselves off. In reality, I was orchestrating the whole thing.

Different personalities, literally different voices, a whole phony perception that I gave them. That also included my main corporate website, which I called the hub, my spoke websites, which were my clients, my dealers. Most of my dealers were successful, but some of them were phony. Others were my “giant” distributors, which were all phony. All with phone numbers and email addresses leading back to… my hub. And me.

And I played those people. Sometimes I used other people to add new voices, but I was pretty good at disguising my voice. It was amazingly nutty.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 2

I also prayed to God for forgiveness every time I took in big amounts of fraudulent dollars. It was all by wire, which is the reason why the courts considered that wire fraud after the 12 years that I was achieving this.

Sadly, well over 95% of my clients were not scammed. In fact, they were quite well taken care of. That, being the truest part of me, is the saddest part. And my most powerful witnesses.

So what was I angry about?

As much as I loved my marriage, my family, my children, and will always essentially have some form of love for my ex-wife, my marriage was going down the tubes. Losing my marriage and my little family breaking up was very much worse than any divorce. It wasn’t the divorce itself that was so bad. That was essentially pretty easy. Both her and I were nothing less than fair to each other, logical, and respectful.

It was just the fact that I was losing my own little family. And that has to do with where it all began:

As a young man, I was like a man-child. My parents were not educated at all and not very strong to handle me. I was also hyperactive, which I still am. It wasn’t just a matter of me being uncontrollable. Not really.

Any strong or educated parent would probably have been able to handle me, and this may not have happened. But I did my own things, which included making my own money in my own jobs doing things around the neighborhood and delivering newspapers, etc., etc. I was always highly motivated by money.

Why?

Because my father could not just bring in enough income. We were poor. My non-immediate families on both my mom’s and dad’s side were not poor. They were either middle class or upper-middle class, some of them very high class financially.

The arguments that I grew up with were always about money. Not enough of it.

From about seven years old till approximately ten, I worked with my father and his trucking business when I could, usually on the weekends or holidays. He knew that I’d work hard, and we were glad to be with each other.

I helped move things, clean things, work the tailgate of the truck, run errands, etc. within NYC. I loved that but had school during the week and wanted more money.

I suppose that motivated me, so I made my own local neighborhood chore businesses. Lawns, fixing things, errands.

So I did my own things, made my own hours, stayed out when I wanted to, etc. I listened for all practical purposes. And I was a good son in that sense.

Plus, being the first-born male on both sides of any Jewish family is something to be celebrated and looked up to. But nothing seemed to be expected of me in that sense.

Also, Mom and Dad could not really instruct me on bigger decisions. There weren’t many directives. I did listen to what little my aunts and uncles could direct me to do.

I respected more than followed my parents in that sense, but I always loved them.

My aunts and uncles may have provided a better image for authority. But that’s all.

And although my cousins and other non-immediate family loved my jovial, fun, energetic attitude, I doubt I was seen as an example to be looked up to in a relatively standard Jewish family.

Therefore, I built an issue with most authority that didn’t care deep down about me like the few of my family that did.

Getting in trouble as a young man, leaving home at 14 years old, landed me in a reform school.

I recall being in family court of Westbury, NY, children’s shelter, where I recall the lead counselor, probably a psychologist by the name of Frank, becoming very interested in me.

I recall seeing a judge named Friedenberg, a female judge, with my two parents behind me in the courtroom with many other younger teens or those in some form of trouble.

The judge read me my juvenile charges, then asked me a theoretical question.

“If I were to allow you to go home to your mother, I’m not saying I’m allowing this. I’m asking you, IF I was able to do that or give you another choice of being institutionalized, which would you choose, Julius?”

As my mother sat there begging for me to come home and my father, being unsure of what was happening, I turned around to look at them clearly.

After some time, I turned back to the judge.

“Institutionalize me, Your Honor. Put me away.”

To this day, I believe she knew what my answer would be.

I suppose there are times when authority can be a truly conscientious spirit. I’ll never forget her.

And it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 3

It was because of that psychological interest or concern that they kept me much longer than any other minor there.

They finally had my Aunt Linda, my favorite aunt, with my uncle, take me into custody and find me a fitting school within a reasonable time. They did that and did a great job.

And literally starting a new school, coed with a campus; that meant girls!

I found jobs, played games and sports, met more girls, and sold pot to my schoolmates. I was enterprising and creative in what I did.

That soon included more serious sports and recreation, which I mastered. At the time, I also seemed to be popular with several groups of friends.

The Jr. High and high school I ended up at was called HCKS. Living on campus. Coed. They had excellent programs.

Home visits were on weekends, depending upon what status you were on, which was easy to be the highest. Follow directions, listen, do your chores. It was not hard.

Not until one day I came back to my room, which was filled with sculptures, wood items, welded furniture, artsy items I made in their shops, art facilities.

Busts were made, cooked in a kiln, some aluminum coated, etc.

I returned from a home visit and everything was destroyed.

Why?

Because I believed that I should try to do better and try to get to college. Not a very popular attitude amongst my buddies.

I played football for a couple of years on their team, but being a private school, we got kicked off the league against much larger public schools whose games were broadcast on the radio throughout Westchester County.

That didn’t work out very well.

It didn’t help that we were undefeated, kicking everybody’s ass. We had 11 players on a team. No substitutes.

After seeing my room and creations destroyed, I lost control, to say the least.

At 16 years old, with kids younger and older than me, I grabbed the first kid of any size and recall beating the hell out of him.

I continued grabbing people, and I cannot remember how big or small, and doing the same thing until I was grabbed by one of the big, strong counselors.

I pretended to calm down and said he could release me, and he did.

I ran out and continued doing what I was doing.

I somehow decided to get to the infirmary of that institution. I did that because they were familiar with me from playing football and boxing and getting hurt, etc., during usual sports activities. And a few fights.

They knew me and apparently respected me. I certainly liked all of them.

They contacted what’s called the on-duty officers to pick me up and somehow not take me in a straight jacket to Bellevue, for mental cases, which is where you end up when you did whatever I did.

I actually cannot remember what happened.

I was only taken back to my room in my cottage. Some of the students helped me clean up my room.

I went to sleep.

The next day, I was taken to a man named Donald Cox, the director of the institution, kind of like a warden.

Mr. Cox knew me because I had found his house previously just off campus and visited him. I recall his housekeeper inviting me in and him talking with me.

That was how I got rid of a corrupt counselor who once kicked me in the balls, so I got him fired.

But I suppose that’s another story.

The bottom line is when I met him, several of my counselors were around in an administration office.

They presented me with a four-year scholarship to the School of Visual Arts, NYC.

Well, I decided against becoming an artist.

You can imagine how much that did for my confidence as an actual young man who wanted to do well for myself, for the people around me, and for the world.

Sometimes authority figures can really do their job in beautiful, compassionate, and loving ways.

That art scholarship led to acceptance in other universities, other academic scholarships, and living mostly on my own in group homes at 16 years old.

I was respected and offered adoption by a great lead counsler. Jim Campbell was Director of all of these group homes and a successful businessman with a beautiful family. Jim Campbell loved me.

I certainly respected Jim, but I denied his beautiful offer.

But I loved my parents, and I didn’t want to hurt them.

So I did not become his son.

Maybe I should have? I’ll never know.

But I did go off on my own, to the college where I succeeded with more scholarships and six years, two diplomas, and an excellent, functional education.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 4

Before that time, I was doing a modern thing called telemarketing.

I was chosen out of between 20 to 30 interviewees.

Reps were mostly family men earning family income, much more than the usual college kid.

I was dealing with agricultural maintenance supplies and selling, closing deals with farmers around the United States.

That made me appear to be a rich kid.

By the time I entered my first college, I had a car, a motorcycle, and a whole bunch of cool stuff, I was misunderstood as being some spoiled rich kid when I was, in fact, helping my mother with money.

Girlfriend, high grades, and working full-time this whole time in my life through college was like one big giant summer camp.

Easy, not simple, but great mental exercise and a lot of fun.

A tremendous amount of fun, actually.

As far as the misunderstanding as to what I am or what I was, it kind of made me who I am.

I didn’t mind it as long as it wasn’t anything to hurt me.

So, when those who thought I was some rich kid or privileged in some way, it simply made me laugh.

When I was, in fact, a street kid.

Therefore, my education didn’t come only from college. It came from the streets first.

So I knew a lot of stuff.

How that lead to a form of anger and scheming in my established business about 12 years later?

I was simply extremely hurt, not angry at my wife or family, but at the loss of my family. This bigger, more mature, educated, successful, big kid who left home at 14 to start his life and succeeded was angry due to the tremendous pain of losing his beautiful, close, intimate family. Truth is, my anger was quite misplaced. To this day, even with a divorce I have quite a close family and we’re all just as intimate. Family-wise we’re quite, healthy or successful in this sense.

I would not take it out on my to be ex-wife, who I still loved in a respectful sense, or my children who own my unconditional love.

Never.

I’m only known to be a good husband and a good father by everybody I know. I was.

However, my wife at the time, who certainly trapped me with her pregnancy into marriage, which is another story in itself, but it’s nothing that she would deny is what got me.

It wasn’t that I refused to marry her.

But I tried to make her get an abortion and wait until we were much older.

She wouldn’t do that.

So, like probably most men on this earth, I married her because she had my baby.

And I would not allow anyone to be the father of my son.

We certainly were in love, so it worked.

For a while.

And then I had a daughter.

We had houses, dogs, a parrot, and a decent life that resembled what one might dream a good marriage should be.

Sixteen years went by, and to make a long story short, we fell out of love.

So would I have married her if she allowed me to go many more years before we tied the knot?

My assumption now is probably not.

But considering how appealing I may have looked as a young, handsome, strong man with a good business and a great educational foundation, I understand why she did it.

I didn’t even disrespect it.

I just had a problem with it.

And in the long run, I suppose we fell out of love.

That’s one of the reasons why I never believed, even before this, that formal marriages with written agreements of promising to love, and all that legal stuff, was something I ever wanted to do.

I was always against it.

That did not mean I didn’t want to be married, per se.

No, I simply didn’t like the legal context of it.

I don’t like signing something and promising to love somebody.

I always knew that’s impossible.

But I did it anyway.

That’s what she wanted.

So I gave it to her.

She knew darn well that I didn’t believe it.

She also knew that I absolutely loved her.

So it worked.

And I believe that our divorce was not so abnormal at all.

In fact, it was quite a reasonable, peaceful divorce, all things considered.

I was even wanting to have a divorce party, just like a marriage except the other way around.

To me, we built a beautiful family, which still is operational today.

We all have a lot of respect for each other, and my children are absolutely gorgeous.

In every emotional and physical way!

That’s also why I could not necessarily blame my fiancée at that time from trapping me with pregnancy.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 5

So how did this lead to me scamming and me doing stupid things like calling 911 a murder into the police to get out of a traffic ticket?

I simply took out my anger on things like that, especially that one with the police who gave me a false speeding ticket which, as I said before, was dropped by the judge.

Why?

I wasn’t speeding!

And, as a motorcyclist and a guy who drives a lot, to say the least, and the educated street person that I am, I have problems with speed traps, which was what this was about.

So I was innocent.

And why did I call 911 a murder in?

To give the police officer something better to do than screw me over with a ticket I didn’t deserve.

That actually is an old biker thing to do, except you’re supposed to be doing that on the highway and not in your neighborhood, where you’re known.

Like I was.

Being Jewish also didn’t help with a name like Lupowitz.

There was definitely prejudice against Jewish people where I lived in Melbourne, Florida.

Being an assertive New Yorker also probably didn’t help.

But my high-paid, excellent criminal attorney did help.

It’s just that although I was found not guilty of speeding, calling 911 was not innocent even though I had my reasons to justify it.

The main one: there wasn’t a murder in that neighborhood since 1971.

This episode happened around 2014. The only reason police were in that neighborhood was to trap people and give them citations to earn revenue.

That always bothered most neighbors and me.

Doesn’t make it right, though.

While my powerful criminal attorney and our DA made deals, our friendly judge provided my community service with a misdemeanor plea.

The community service literally required me to go wakeboarding at least two times a week.

Orlando Watersports Complex is a wakeboarding facility.

The judge understood I was probably innocent but impulsive.

That loving punishment really was quite enjoyable.

And helpful.

And as far as scamming my clients?

Those were the clients I found annoying—a tiny percentage of the thousands I actually satisfied.

Of course, that doesn’t matter either, right?

I know.

Also, regarding my less-than-lucky net reputation, there were wacky behaviors going on in Florida at the time by another man.

This man was doing all kinds of weird things and got caught.

It had nothing to do with me, but the media picked it up as “Florida Man” and “The World’s Worst Super Hero.”

The Florida Man part, its title, at that time, unfortunately hung onto my absurd-looking action with 911.

And my name.

Therefore, I’ve learned in time I was simply taking out my anger on the common schmuck and some of my customers.

All that, unfortunately, blew away my reputation online because of how stupid, especially the 911 incident, looked.

You Google my name, you can easily find a mug shot photo of me along with about 15 or so other links about this nutty guy who calls 911 to get out of a traffic ticket.

Oh well!

That’s done.

Along with scheming my otherwise innocent clients.

Now, before going to jail for that scheme and paying lawyers a small fortune, I also had an issue with my divorce attorney who really did screw me.

Completely, legally, etc.

That’s an interesting thing.

He would not refund me even though he knew that he did not follow his own contract, which I had in writing.

What did it say?

That he was supposed to submit my financial offer to my wife so that we could get divorced quickly.

That is what he promised, and that was in writing.

But he didn’t.

There was no proof he sent anything to my wife’s attorney.

That means that he was trying to make the case not go into mediation.

That was the agreement to get accepted quickly and go into mediation.

There were more issues behind that, like the fact that I tried to convince my wife that we didn’t need a lawyer at all, but her annoying, if not narcissistic, sister said that she needed an attorney because she didn’t trust me.

The reality was, I was offering my wife more than she even asked for.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 6

That is the same sister-in-law who I used to call, “the lead narcissist” of that family.

She was the one who led the campaign when her son, my nephew, while we were married, was on my motorcycle years before that, and a car hit my motorcycle.

I was not speeding.

There was no proof of me speeding.

In fact, I didn’t even want to ride him on my motorcycle, especially my sport bike.

I would’ve taken him on what I called my marriage machine, which was a cruiser.

He demanded to go on my sport bike.

He got permission from, guess who?

His mother.

That was my sister-in-law.

We went for the ride, and it was Father’s Day. It was traffic. I’m not really a short-distance rider. It is the exact reason why I preferred to ride long tours with my buddies and not really short rides—mostly.

After the car hit me and a helicopter took us away, and we both almost died, especially me since I got hit in the head and smashed into the gas tank of the sport bike, which looked like a bowl when I saw it once I got out of the hospital, I went into a depression while I was recovering.

That may also be behind my actions of scamming or impulsively calling 911 like that.

Or, for that matter, even legally or illegally extorting that divorce lawyer who screwed me.

I was, in fact, on a medication all these years later called Effexor.

It’s very possible I was somewhat manic during all these years.

My gut tells me that was behind it also.

But back to this divorce lawyer.

I thought that I checked laws but missed one of them.

I wanted my money back because he would not or did not submit my offer to my wife’s attorney.

So I tried taking him to the bar.

The bar would not get my money back.

They said, fight it out in court.

I knew I could not fight him in court because he’s a lawyer and I’m not.

Am I going to buy another lawyer for this?

I decided to do what I knew I could do:

Threaten his reputation unless he pays me back in full.

And was I allowed to do that?

Yes.

Completely legally.

So what happened?

It was one part of the law of Florida that I didn’t know after he would not refund me.

I literally bankrupted him, which was not my intention at all.

After building a Facebook page, website, pages, and public complaints against him, it knocked him out of business.

And that absolutely was not the goal.

My goal was just to get my money back and not to hurt him in any other way.

So what was the little thing I did that was considered illegal?

I demanded triple damages after a while.

In Florida, you’re not allowed to do that unless you are a judge.

Whoops!

The police came to my house.

At that time, my ex-wife, using my money, bailed me out of temporary holding jail.

I paid my usual criminal attorney, which I used for a whole bunch of things at that time, and got out of it.

But I had to take down the website and the Facebook page and the stuff that I could take down that were against him.

Interestingly, the group of my, at that time, criminal lawyer, all were really proud of me that I knocked him out of business.

He was supposedly not liked in those courts and that area anyway.

And I explained to them, although it’s cool that you’re applauding me, that was not my intention in the least.

I just wanted my FKG money back.

We can say, without a shadow of a doubt, that professional courtesy in the legal system absolutely does exist.

So?

What does that have to do with this street kid who rebuilt himself as a teenager, ran a beautiful business for 38 years, and then screwed it all up?

Exactly what you read above.

I was pissed off at all this “legitimate society.”

The same thing went with marriage, the institution itself.

Not the love.

Not the children.

Not the family!

Just the institution, legally speaking, of marriage.

I was pissed off.

And this day, I believe I had a right to be.

But what I didn’t have was the right to do the things that I did in the criminal sense.

DIARY OF A SCAM ARTIST: DETAILED SUMMARY OF THE BOOK TO BE PUBLISHED — PART 7

And that includes the fact that of the 49 victims, almost half of them actually made a profit from my theoretical scheme.

And some of them still know me now and, uncomfortable as it is, understand what I did and understand that they were being selfish with me in the first place.

Doesn’t matter.

It was illegal.

It took over 12 years for me to realize it was just my anger at marital issues then especially losing my family at that time that inspired all this. A very controlled anger which, when released was quite organized but intense….. Recall all those KO’s I instigated I wrote about before? Very parallel; they started (in theory) and I finished em.

Actually of those 2 semi-viral via net crimes that 911 thing was done numerous times before getting snagged and my corp scheme went over 12 years… So these were only endpoints to many other episodes included in this book to be published ASAP… Some known by my family are just seen as silly. They were. Lastly a sadly fair bunch of people, friends, family, business relations, acquaintances, etc became more than distanced from me, mainly because of witnessing that classless, devious looking viral content sitting on the net.

Because some of those stories, to this day, are within the family, witnessed by my kids too, and my wife at the time are they’re considered funny, they vindicate my true person. Why? Because these 2 episodes have easily disguised the actual complex, sometimes overzealous, positive, conscientious ball of energy Jules always was and still am.

*** Those facts about me, especially the 99% of good deeds I’ve done in my life, for others in business let alone all relations should verify as my reasoning for going into these various forms of coaching and reputation management and repair. You get it?

And as far as the self-destruction, that ended very quickly.

It ended before I even went to jail.

It ended as soon as I saw the FBI in my house with, at that time, my girlfriend after I got divorced.

We were certainly in love and planning for probable FOREVER togetherness.

Whether it would’ve been married or not didn’t matter to me.

But you can imagine why I didn’t want to actually sign anything this time.

But I would’ve.

In any case, that was behind it all.

And my anger, unlike most anger, as you may notice, was unnoticeable.

I was not angry in an obvious sense.

I was, in fact, as calm as a cucumber, and that includes all kinds of people I considered difficult or situations where I felt I was being challenged.

I always straightened things out or twisted them, whatever you want to call it, in a calm, collected, and actually much more dangerous way.

It’s just like the sport of boxing.

You don’t get angry.

You keep yourself under control, decide, think, counter, get even, and move ahead.

In fact, like any sport in reality, you might have anger beneath things; that’s possible, but you do not act in any obvious way on that anger.

Of course, it’s better if you’re not angry.

But I guess some of us are.

And that is the summary of what drove me to do those wrongful, hurtful, and illegal things.

I was just pissed off for a little while in my life.

Even sadder than that is how beautiful my family still is and how they all understand me.

Well, at least my immediate family that is, and the few that are close to me in my non-immediate family that actually know the truth.

In any case, trying to fix my reputation online is at issue.

Because I do have serious skill, some good talent, notwithstanding, creativity, and strength.

I know I am not just a killer salesperson and new or old-school marketer.

My pitch, especially after what I’ve been through, is nothing less than sheer, if not fanatical, honesty.

Fact.

Truth.

Accuracy.

That is what I’m all about, and that is the campaign.

It is this campaign also.

My need to help others, I hope here, you can understand.

And if that doesn’t lead to any form of revenue or profit, it’s an intrinsic need I have.

But that’s also why I believe it may lead me to not just my own business I’m good at again, but a career I’ll retire with.

I’m trustworthy beyond belief. But that’s also the problem.

The image. Online.

The viral content of my impulsive or decidedly tricky actions.

However, if God is with us all and anybody gets to know me in any sense, for real, the job will be done.

Whether it be by me, my team, or another entity.