|
Did credit-card companies collude to
force arbitration?
Thursday,
September 01, 2005 By Carrick Mollenkamp, The Wall Street Journal
Many of the largest U.S.
credit-card companies require customers to sign away their ability to
take disputes to court and instead settle disagreements in arbitration.
Now that practice itself is
under attack in court. A lawsuit filed recently in federal court in New
York City alleges the credit-card companies held secret meetings where
they colluded to promote arbitration, in violation of federal antitrust
laws.
The complaint alleges that eight
of the nation’s biggest card issuers -- Bank of
America Corp., Capital One Financial Corp., J.P. Morgan Chase &
Co.,
Morgan Stanley’s Discover unit, Citigroup Inc., MBNA Corp.,
Providian Financial
Corp. and HSBC Holdings PLC of the United
Kingdom—“combined, conspired and agreed to implement and/or
maintain mandatory arbitration.”
Some of the banks named
allegedly convened a group in 1999 called the “Arbitration
Coalition” or “Arbitration Group,’ the complaint says.
The suit, which was filed last
month and is seeking class-action status, claims that bank
representatives spoke or met at least 20 times from 1999 to 2003 to
share experiences from arbitration as well as advice on how to set up
arbitration agreements with consumers that would withstand challenges
in court.
In general, it is illegal under
federal antitrust law for competitors in any industry to secretly
collude to restrict trade or commerce.
A spokeswoman for Capital One
said in a statement that the company doesn’t comment on pending
litigation but added that its “arbitration clause allows either
party involved in a dispute to have the case considered by an impartial
arbitrator to determine a final and binding resolution to the
problem.”
Representatives of the other
banks either declined to comment or couldn’t be reached. The
financial firms named in the case have yet to respond to the substance
of the allegations in court.
The case, filed on behalf of
seven plaintiffs who live in California, Pennsylvania, New York,
Illinois and New Jersey, comes as mandatory arbitration clauses are
becoming increasingly common in industries ranging from cable
television to Wall Street brokerage firms.
Companies have argued that
arbitration provides a speedy and fair alternative to litigation and
prevents disputes from escalating into class-action complaints that can
cost them and their shareholders dearly.
Consumer-rights advocates claim the practice unfairly removes
consumers’ right to pursue a class-action complaint or a jury
trial over such things as late-payment penalties while also allowing
companies to settle claims with little publicity.
A recent study by Ernst
& Young, citing criticism of arbitration, reported that while
consumers often can opt out of mandatory arbitration clauses, they
rarely know such an option exists and that it can be buried in a card
agreements fine print. The study found consumers prevailed more often
than businesses in an arbitration. Ernst & Young said it was
engaged by the law firm Wilmer Cutler Pickering Hale and Dorr, which
has worked with card companies.
The case against the credit-card
companies also gives details on the practices of a Minneapolis-based
group called National Arbitration Forum, one of several national
arbitration panels that hear disputes between companies and customers
across a wide range of industries.
According to the complaint, NAF
billed itself in one solicitation as “the alternative to the
million-dollar lawsuit.” The complaint doesn’t specify who
the solicitation was aimed at, but says: “The clear implication
of this appeal to corporate clients is that arbitration through NAF
will effectively eliminate any significant remedy in a consumer
dispute, whatever the underlying merits.”
The complaint also alleges the
group said that its rules provided for “very little, if any,
discovery” -- the legal term for fact-finding once a case has
been filed. NAF isn’t named as a defendant in the suit.
Curtis Brown, the general
counsel for NAF, said in an emailed response to questions: “Since
we are not a party to the lawsuit, I would direct you to the parties
and their lawyers for a comment.” He said NAF provides unbiased
arbitrators and he cited past court decisions establishing that the NAF
treated consumers fairly.
The central allegation in the
case concerning arbitration clauses is that the defendant banks worked
together to create or maintain mandatory arbitration clauses as a way
to thwart class-action lawsuits brought by consumers. The plaintiffs,
represented by Berger & Montague of Philadelphia and other
firms, are seeking to have the mandatory arbitration provisions in the
complaint declared void.
According to the complaint, two
prominent law firms advised the banks in creating the arbitration group
or attended meetings where strategies for discussing arbitration were
discussed. Those firms, not named as defendants in the suit, are Wilmer
Cutler, of Boston and Washington, D.C., and Ballard Spahr Andrews
& Ingersoll of Philadelphia.
Representatives of Wilmer Cutler were unavailable for comment. Ballard
Spahr declined to comment.
The complaint alleges that the
banks began discussing the issue of mandatory arbitration clauses in
the late 1990s, the same time that the clauses were introduced in the
industry. The agenda for the first Arbitration Coalition meeting, held
in the summer of 1999, outlined how the group could work together on
promoting mandatory arbitration, the complaint alleges.
Among the proposed steps were
“sharing best practices” and drafting enforceable
arbitration clauses,’ the complaint alleges. Two additional
groups were formed: the “Consumer Class Action Working
Group” and the “In-House Counsel Working Group,” the
complaint says.
For a conference call in the
summer of 2001, bank representatives were given the access-code word,
‘arbitration,’ the complaint alleges. The agenda, according
to the complaint, included seeking ways to protect the banks from
plaintiff lawyers and ways to create an informal
“’information please’ email network.”
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Detroit Free Press
Consumers relying
more on plastic
BY VINCENT DEL
GLUDICE
BLOOMBERG
August 8, 2006
Consumer borrowing unexpectedly
accelerated in June as Americans used credit cards to finance more of
their purchases, Federal Reserve report showed Monday.
Consumer credit, or non-mortgage
loans to individuals, rose $10.3 billion to $2.19 trillion following a
revised $5.89-billion increase in May. The two-month gain was the
biggest since September-October 2004.
Americans are relying more on
credit-card debt because rising interest rates and a cooling housing
market make it harder or them to take out home-equity loans. Higher
prices at filling stations also are prompting consumers to borrow more,
economists said.
The jump in consumer credit
coming at a time when consumers are hard hit by soaring gasoline costs
could indicate some financial woes on the part of borrowers,”
said Chris Rupkey, an economist at Bank of Tokyo-Mitsubishi UFJ Ltd. in
New York. ‘It looks as if consumers are relying more on credit
cards now that other avenues of credit such as mortgage refinancing
have been shut off to them.’
Consumer credit was expected to
rise $3.6 billion in June following an originally reported $4.4 billion
increase in May, according to the median forecast in a Bloomberg survey
of 36 economists.
Revolving debt, such as credit
cards, rose by $6.65 billion in June after rising $7.42 billion,
Monday’s report showed. Non-revolving debt, such as loans to buy
cars and mobile homes, rose by $3.62 billion in June after declining
$1.54 billion a month earlier. Overall consumer debt rose at an annual
rate of 5.7% in June.
The Fed’s campaign to
quash inflation has driven up the cost of credit-card borrowing. The
average rate on a credit card increased 13.14% in May 2006 from
12.76%ayear earlier, according to Federal Reserve statistics.
Fed policy makers, who are to
meet today, will probably leave their benchmark interest rate at 5.25%,
according to a Bloomberg survey of economists.
The economy expanded at a 2.5%
annual pace in the second quarter, down from 5.6% in the previous three
months.
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Zombie debt collectors dig up your old
mistakes
There's a
hot new growth industry: companies that buy bad debts for pennies and
squeeze you to pay in flagrant violation of federal law. Here's how to
get them off your back.
By Liz Pulliam
Weston
Debbie made a mistake when she
was in college.
As a student in Fort Worth,
Texas, she maxed out a Citibank credit card with a $300 limit and never
paid the bill. Debbie said Citibank charged off the debt sometime
between 1987 and 1989, and the liability has long since disappeared
from her credit report.
Besides that, the statute of
limitations -- the amount of time a creditor can sue over an old
debt--expired in the early 1990s. Both her old home state of Texas and
her current state of California generally prohibit creditors from suing
once a debt is more than four years old.
That’s why she was stunned
when a collection agency called her last summer, demanding she pay the
17-year old bill. The calls have continued off and on since then, along
with monthly bills listing varying amounts that the collection agency
wants her to pay.
“The last time [they
called], I told them the statute of limitations had run out on the debt
and to stop harassing me,” Debbie said. “They said it
hadn’t. I finally had to hang upon the man.”
There’s money in
old debt
A decade ago, most people who reneged on debts could rest easy after
several years passed, since few creditors tried to collect on old
bills, particularly for small amounts.
Today, however, collecting on
old debts is a rapidly expanding industry. Aggressive companies can buy
charged-off credit card accounts from the original lenders for pennies
on the dollar. Then, they use credit scoring and other new technologies
to identify which debtors are most likely to pay. The players in this
“junk debt” market range from fly-by-night well established
companies funded by Wall Street investors.
It’s a business that
barely existed 10 years ago. In the last three years, it’s been
growing at a 30% annual rate, according to credit industry analyst Sean
McVity of Keefe, Bruyette & Woods. Among the signs of the
industry’s maturity:
- Four debt-buying companies
have gone public in recent years, including Asset Acceptance of Warren,
its $150 million IPO in February.
- Some buyers have attracted
major funding from investment banks such as Bear Stearns and Goldman
Sachs.
- Last year, more than $75
billion in old debts were sold.
The biggest debt buyers
| Debt buyer |
Headquarters |
2002 revenue |
Debt purchased* |
| Sherman
Financial Group |
New York |
$325 million |
$7
billion |
|
Risk Management Alternatives |
Duluth, Ga. |
$295 million |
not available |
| Arrow
Financial Services |
Niles, Ill. |
$156 million |
$2.9 billion |
| Asset
Acceptance |
Warren, Mich. |
$101 million |
$5.2 billion |
| OSI
Portfolio Services |
Duluth, Ga. |
$100 million |
$3 billion |
Figures are
self-reported for 2002
*Debt purchased” is the face value of the accounts bought in
2002. Source: Credit & collections World |
|
The amount that companies pay
for bad debt depends on the type of account and its age. In general,
McVity said:
- Debts that have recently been
charged off: 6 to 7 cents on the dollar.
- Accounts that are slightly
older and on which a collection agency or two has already taken a
whack: 1.5cents to 2 cents on the dollar.
- Years-old, out-of-statute
debts: A penny or less.
A growing number of companies
are discovering that these very old accounts, once thought to be
uncollectible, are just the opposite. Squeezing even a small payment
from these debtors can make collection activities worthwhile.
“The economics are pretty
simple. For $100 of (old debt), you pay 25 basis points--a shiny
quarter,” said McVity, whose investment banking firm tracks
debt-buying trends. “If you get (the debtor) to pay you $1, you
got your money and covered your costs.”
Opportunity frequently
turns into abuse
Where some are finding profits,
though, others are spotting abuses. Consumer attorneys say the
explosive growth of this industry has led to widespread violations of
the federal Fair Credit Reporting Act and the Fair Debt Collection
Practices Act.
“I don’t advocate
people not paying their bills,” said Shreveport, La., lawyer
David Szwak who specializes in consumer law. “But there’s
an element of the debt collections field that is rabid.” Some
collectors, he said, “will go to any lengths to harass people and
defraud them.”
Among the worst practices
attorneys have seen:
- Suing or threatening to sue
over debts even though the statute of limitations has long expired.
- Illegally 're-aging" debts on
credit reports. The collectors tell credit bureaus that an old debt is,
in fact, a new one. The goal: To extend the seven-year limit on
reporting negative items and put more pressure on the consumer.
- Promising to delete a
negative mark from the consumers credit report in exchange for a token
payment. Not only does the collector fail to follow through, but the
payment can revive the statute of limitations and lead to a lawsuit.
Even if the collector does back off, the unpaid debt could be sold to
another company that might renew collection activity.
- Bait-and-switch credit cards.
Some credit card companies have offered borrowers low-rate credit cards
and then tacked old, charged-off debts--often purchased from other
lenders -- onto the balance. The card issuers typically insist they
disclosed that the old debts would come with the cards, Szwak said, but
the borrowers say no such disclosure was made.
- Verbally abusing and
harassing consumers. My readers have reported being cursed, berated and
called repeatedly despite requests to stop -- all violations of federal
laws.
Mickey, a Virginia resident,
said he was the target of “colorful words” when he told a
collection agency to cease bothering him about an old debt. Mickey
stopped paying on his $4,000 Discover card balance in 1994; the account
no longer appears on his credit report and the statute of limitations
ended years ago.
“They would usually start
out with a normal tone. . . . It went downhill fast,” Mickey
said. “They were calling a couple of times a day for
awhile.”
Sometimes, it’s
smarter just to hang up
Consumer advocates say this is
exactly the kind of behavior Congress and state lawmakers were trying
to prevent they put curbs on collection behaviors such as statutes of
limitations, the seven-year credit reporting limit and prohibitions
against abusive collection practices.
“We don’t have
debtors’ prisons,” Szwak said. “We have laws to
protect people from being harassed by debt the rest of their
lives.”
In fact, paying these old debts
-- or even talking to the collection agency about them -- can make a
bad situation worse.
As mentioned above, the smallest
payment can revive the statute of limitations in some states, leading
to more aggressive collections and lawsuits. Even acknowledging that
the debt is yours can restart the clock in some jurisdictions.
That’s why Robin Leonard,
author of the “Money Troubles: Legal strategies to Cope
with Your Debts,” advises consumers simply to put the
phone down and walk away if collectors call about an out-of-statute
debt. (This chart at Bankrate.com summarizes state
statutes of limitations, but details can vary by state.)
Paying off can hurt your
credit score
What’s more, paying an old
debt potentially can wreak havoc on a consumer’s credit score, as
I discussed in “When paying bills can hurt your credit.”
Such a payment can update a delinquency so that it looks more recent
and takes a heavier toll on a credit score.
Paying the debt is also no
guarantee that the nightmare will stop. The collector may decide that
if you’re willing to pay at all, you could be made to pay more.
Settling a debt for a smaller amount than the collectors says you owe
could result in another agency trying to collect the unpaid portion. Or
the collector might inform the Internal Revenue Service you’ve
received “income” in the form of forgiven debt. (Yes, there
are tax consequences to forgiven debt. See my colleague Jeff
Schnepper’s article “5 truly nasty tax surprises.”)
Even if you manage to wrangle
written promises from the collector that none of the above will happen,
you would have to be willing to go to court if the agency reneged --
and possibly face an unsympathetic judge or one who doesn’t about
know much about collections law.
If you’re being contacted
about an old debt, here’s what consumer attorneys advise:
Know the statute of
limitations. If you racked up a debt in another state, you
might want to check the statue of limitations there as well. But
generally, it’s the statute of your current state that applies.
If the statute has expired, the collection agencies’ legal
remedies are limited.
Know your rights.
Credit and debt collections can be an extremely complicated area of the
law. Consider arming yourself with a book such as Leonard’s
‘Money Troubles” and -- if the amounts at stake are
considerable or the level of harassment unbearable--consider contacting
an attorney. The National Association of Consumer Advocates
can provide referrals.
Consider ignoring the
call. If the statute of limitations has expired, Szwak said,
put the phone down and walk away. There’s little to gain and a
lot to lose if you keep talking. You could inadvertently extend the
statute of limitations or find yourself roped into a repayment
agreement that might not be in your best interest. “The debt
collector is a lot smarter than (consumers) are, a lot more
savvy,” he said, “They don’t have any obligation to
tell you your rights.”
Write them. If
ignoring them isn’t working, consider writing a letter demanding
the agency stop contacting you. Send it certified mail, return receipt
requested. Federal law requires them to comply with your request. Make
sure in the letter you specifically say that you aren’t
acknowledging you owe the debt.
Negotiate carefully.
If the statute of limitations hasn’t expired, you may want to
negotiate a settlement rather than risk a lawsuit. (Again, a
lawyer’s advice could come in handy here.) Read “12
tips for negotiating with debt collectors.”
Keep an eye on your credit
report. If a collection agency tries to repost an old debt or
lie about the date it went delinquent, you’ll need to fight back
vigorously. Dispute the entry with the credit bureaus and with the
collection agency.
If the collector persists in its
deception, you can demand that the collector produce a copy of the
documentation that created the debt, such as the credit card agreement
you originally signed, along with an account history, said consumer
attorney Daniel Edelman of Chicago. Chances are the collector
won’t have this documentation, and continuing to report without
providing proof that you owe the money is a violation of the Fair
Debt Collection Practices Act, Edelman said.
Again, an attorney experienced
in debt collection law might prove helpful in particularly difficult
cases.
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Debtors’ Hell - Part I
– The Boston Globe
No mercy for consumers
Firms’ tactics are one mark of system that penalizes those who owe
By The Boston Globe Spotlight Team - July 28, 2006
This stay was reported by
Spotlight team members Michael Rezendes, Beth Healy, Francie Latour,
Heather Allen, and editor Walter V. Robinson. It was written by
Rezendes and Latour
It was just before 6 a.m. on a
Saturday in the fall of 2002, when Marie-Colette Dimanche woke to a
loud rapping at the door of her Mattapan duplex. With her night robe on
and her two daughters still sleeping, she rushed down the stairs and
peered out the window.
Outside, a tow truck blocked her
driveway and her 1996 Chevy Blazer. A man and a woman with a court
order told the single mother they had come to take her car for
nonpayment of an old credit card debt. With interest and legal fees,
the bill totaled more than $2,000, and it came from a company called
Commonwealth Receivables. They gave her a choice: Pay the money now, in
cash, or hand over the keys.
Dimanche had never heard of
Commonwealth and believed the debt had been paid by a social services
agency. “I just said, ‘You guys must be insane,” she
recalled.
She had reason to be stunned:
The debt was at least five years old. And shed never gotten notice of
the lawsuit against her: When Commonwealth, a local debt collector,
went after Dimanche, the address it supplied the court was one where
she hadn’t lived for more than a decade.
But Dimanche didn’t have
the paperwork to prove the debt had been paid off, and she didn’t
have $2,000.
‘What could I do?”
she said. “I gave them the key.”
Dimanche is one of thousands of
Massachusetts residents who have had their cars seized and lives
upended by a pair of debt collection companies, Commonwealth
Receivables Inc. of Watertown and Norfolk Financial Corp. of West
Roxbury. Run by two brothers, one of whom was disbarred this year for
his business practices, Norfolk and Commonwealth have become two of the
state’s most litigious and aggressive collectors, a Globe
Spotlight Team investigation of the debt industry has found.
In America’s
debt-saturated culture, Chad E. and Daniel W. Goldstone are among the
clear winners. They are perhaps the most active local players in a
nationwide debt collection industry that has exploded in size and
profits, inundating court systems in Massachusetts and across the
country with collection lawsuits seeking tens of billions of dollars in
debts that are often purchased for collection by the Goldstones and
hundreds of other firms for just pennies on the dollar.
The success of such firms is a
measure of how dramatically the world of consumer debt in America has
changed. It isn’t just that consumers lean too heavily on credit
cards to get by. It is that, almost unnoticed by policy-makers, many
millions of Americans have slid, or been pushed, into a debtors hell
where bank accounts are drained, wages are attached, property
confiscated, and threats of jail are an everyday occurrence.
A fate once reserved for the
worst deadbeats has become commonplace. The losers are the friends,
neighbors, or relatives of just about everyone - people who generally
owe the money collectors are after but don’t deserve what comes
next. People such as Ana R. Rios, a 40-year-old Maynard woman whose car
was hooked near midnight even though her debts had been erased through
bankruptcy. Or Thomas S. Jessamey, a 45-year-old Saugus man who spent
six months struggling to get his car back after it was seized for an
old credit card bill.
An estimated one of every 11
consumers has at least one credit card that is more than 90 days past
due, according to nationwide data provided to the Globe by the
credit-reporting agency Experian. Many are already being pursued by
debt collectors, or someday will be. And it is a vast army coming after
them: In the last decade, the ranks of debt collectors have doubled to
162,000, making debt collection among the fastest-growing sectors of
the financial services industry.
In Massachusetts, a Spotlight
review of records in all 70 district courts, and interviews with court
officials and collection attorneys, found that professional collectors
filed an estimated 575,000 lawsuits between 2000 and 2005 - about one
lawsuit for every 11 Bay State residents. The vast bulk of those were
filed as small-claims actions in the district courts, where debt
collectors always have lawyers and the debtors almost never do.
At nearly every stage, the Globe
found, the debt collection system in the state is stacked against the
average consumer:
- Many small-claims courts have
effectively become accomplices of collection firms, routinely giving
them the upper hand in court cases while casually disregarding the
rights and dignity of ordinary citizens.
- Collectors almost always win
the lawsuits they file, without being asked for evidence that the debts
they are chasing are actually owed.
- Like Dimanche, debtors
frequently receive no notice of the lawsuits against them because debt
collectors provide courts with outdated addresses for the people they
are suing.
- The disabled, the elderly,
and the working poor are often talked into repaying their debts from
their monthly government checks, which by law are protected from legal
judgments.
- And an obscure posse of law
enforcement agents - constables and deputy sheriffs - operate freely as
the blunt instrument of collection firms, with neither their steep fees
nor their sometimes heavy-handed tactics regulated.
It is, in short, a system made
safe - and very profitable - for Massachusetts collectors like such as
Commonwealth and Norfolk, and for others like them across the country.
“The creditors are all
repeat players. They know exactly how the game works said Elizabeth
Warren, a Harvard Law School professor who studies consumer debt.
“ Were watching a fight between two players, one a skilled repeat
gladiator, and one who’s thrown into the ring for the first time
and gets clubbed over the head before they even get a sense of what the
rules are.
Commonwealth and Norfolk have
built a reputation for operating at the hard edge of this increasingly
aggressive and methodical trade.
It is a business with many
reputable players; firms that collect money zealously but rarely cross
the line of fairness. And then there are those that seem to live by
another set of rules.
Commonwealth, owned by
41-year-old Chad Goldstone, and Norfolk, owned by his brother Daniel,
who is 44, are among the most active users of the state’s
small-claims courts, where lawsuits are limited to $2,000 or less.
Together, the two firms have filed about 12,000 lawsuits in each of the
last four years in all but two of the state’s 70 local courts,
according to records examined by the Globe. That is more than 10
percent of the state’s small claims caseload.
And as for car seizures, a
tactic many collectors consider harsh and unseemly, the Goldstones have
made it an everyday practice.
“The way he handles cases
offends us,” said Richard S. Daniels Jr., the owner of a large
Boston collection law firm, speaking of Daniel Goldstone. “His
practice is abusive.”
Seizing cars to collect old
debts is lawful in Massachusetts. But time and again, those working on
the Goldstones’ behalf have turned it into an excruciating ordeal
for consumers, making dark-of-the-night collection visits, and holding
cars hostage until debtors can scrounge up the cash to pay down a
past-due amount.
Almost always, debtors who have
their cars towed wind up paying far more than their original debt. Part
of that is interest, of course. But it is also the result of hefty fees
charged by the people who work on the Goldstones’ behalf, the
kind of people Dimanche found knocking at her door just after dawn -
locally appointed constables, deputy sheriffs, and tow lot operators.
And in cases where debtors are
unable or unwilling to pay the debt, plus the high seizure, towing and
storage fees, their cars are often auctioned for a fraction of their
market value. Or they are junked, leaving the debtors without
transportation and still liable for most, or all, of the debt.
The sight of a tow truck at the
door is unsettling enough. But for some debtors chased by Norfolk and
Commonwealth, it is literally the first they have heard that they are
being sued. In several lawsuits examined by Globe reporters,
Dimanche’s among them, the two companies provided incorrect
addresses to the courts, with the result that judgments were issued
without the knowledge of the debtors. But finding the right address is
seldom a problem for the constables and sheriffs Norfolk and
Commonwealth hire to seize debtors’ cars.
As Dimanche said in a
hand-written plea to the court days after her car was taken: “I,
Marie Dimanche, was never notified of any court hearing, and a judgment
was passed without my presence to defend myself.”
But no court motion could fully
describe what Dimanche had lost, The day she handed over her keys - her
only means to get to work and her children to school - was the last day
she would ever see her car.
Leaders in car seizures
How many others sued by the
Goldstones have had their cars seized? The courts, which authorize the
actions, don’t keep records that would allow such a tally.
But other official documents
strongly suggest that the two firms have been seizing thousands of cars
a year. For example, in affidavits filed in a lawsuit involving Norfolk
Financial, Chad Goldstone and an employee of Daniel Goldstone estimated
that, four years ago, a single constable company was hooking about
1,200 cars a year for the two brothers. In a two-year period,
2004-2005, deputy sheriffs in four counties - Plymouth, Norfolk,
Bristol, and Worcester - seized 1,073 cars just for Norfolk Financial,
a Globe review found.
That volume makes the two firms
the dominant players in car seizures statewide.
Both brothers and their lawyer,
John J. O’Connor of the Boston law firm of Peabody & Arnold,
defend the propriety of their business practices. ‘We work hard
to handle all mailers with courtesy and fairness, and in compliance
with all legal requirements,” they said in a written statement.
Only Chad Goldstone spoke to the
Globe at any length; Daniel Goldstone agreed to a sit-down interview,
but then cancelled it, The Goldstones cited state privacy laws and
federal statutes that protect debtors as justification for declining to
answer most questions about their businesses, or to discuss lawsuits
they have filed.
The Goldstone brothers run
separate companies, but that wasn’t always the case. In 1992,
Daniel Goldstone purchased a defunct collection law firm, renaming it
Goldstone & Sudalter, and for several years Chad worked for Daniel,
proving especially adept at managing computer systems that have made
debt collection a highly efficient business. But in 1997 Chad Goldstone
left the business to form Commonwealth Receivables. By then, Goldstone
& Sudalter had been sued for bilking its largest client, Sears,
Roebuck and Co. out of more than $800,000 - a case that would
eventually lead to Daniel Goldstone’s disbarment. Daniel
Goldstone established Norfolk Financial in 1999.
Even though they parted ways,
the brothers remain alike in many respects as businessmen. Both buy
delinquent credit card debt. Both employ similar collection tactics.
Both work with small staffs from offices so poorly marked and
out-of-the-way that they are difficult to find.
And though they are among the
top filers of collection lawsuits in Massachusetts, neither company is
registered as required by law with the state Division of Banks, which
is charged with oversight of debt collection companies. Through their
attorney, the Goldstones claim they are exempt because they purchase
the debts they try to collect, and do not collect debts for other
creditors, But David J. Cotney, chief operating officer for the
Massachusetts Division of Banks, said every company in the state that
collects defaulted debt, including Norfolk and Commonwealth, must be
licensed. “I don’t know what basis they would use to
exclude themselves,” he said.
The Goldstones, as debt buyers,
are part of a growing trend that has transformed the collection
industry. As the number of deeply indebted consumers has climbed,
credit card companies and banks have become increasingly likely to sell
off their uncollected accounts in bulk. Purchased by large debt-buying
companies, the accounts are then repackaged and re-sold to smaller and
smaller firms.
By the time local companies such
as Commonwealth and Norfolk pick up this kind of “stale”
debt, they are buying it on the cheap from firms that have tried and
failed to collect. It is their opportunity to make a profit but it also
presents a challenge. “How can [they] be successful where those
who went before weren’t?” said Nicholas F. Ortiz, a
consumer lawyer with a lawsuit pending against Norfolk Financial.
“That’s where we come to seizing cars.”
Chad Goldstone said the debts he
buys are typically one or two years old, although Commonwealth lawsuits
examined by the Globe were often for credit card debt that was four or
even five years old. Goldstone said he pays 6 or 7 cents on the dollar
for the accounts he buys -$60 or so for a $1,000 debt - and generally
collects 18-20 cents on the dollar.
Both brothers file nearly all
their lawsuits in small claims because the filing fee is capped at $40
and judgments come with greater speed and ease. Chad Goldstone, with a
staff of only six, estimated he sues as many as 7,800 people a year and
almost always prevails - largely because more than 80 percent of the
people he sues don’t show up in court. “People ignore the
letters and the phone calls, and then we get a default judgment.
That’s an ostrich mentality,” he said.
Or, he added, it’s a
“game of chicken,” in which Commonwealth keeps up the
pressure until the holdouts give in, scraping together a negotiated
amount, to avoid having their cars taken, or to get a vehicle back.
Daniel Goldstone has filed
nearly as many lawsuits as his brother - about 22,000 over the last
four years. And he appears to have resorted to car seizures at least as
often.
Daniel Goldstone did tell the
Globe last year that he takes no pleasure in hooking cars: “I
find it distasteful, seizing cars….It is an avenue of last
resort,” he said.
That claim would come as a
surprise to many of the debtors he has sued.
Driven to the brink
At 48, Joanne M. Johnson has
been disabled with severe depression for five years. She gets by,
barely, on a $739 disability payment. The one thing the Leominster
resident owns of any monetary value is her midsize sedan, a 1996
Plymouth Breeze. It is her only means of transportation to medical
appointments and to the thrift shops and food banks she visits when she
can’t make ends meet.
In 2001, when Johnson became
ill, she lost her job as a supervisor in the packing department of a
local manufacturing firm, then defaulted on a credit card with a $500
limit. Norfolk stepped in, bought the debt, and in 2004 filed a lawsuit
against her for $1,035- the debt plus three years’ interest.
That’s when the process
went awry. When Norfolk sued, it supplied the Leominster District Court
with an address where Johnson had never lived. The court put a hold on
the suit when the notices came back undelivered. But for reasons court
officials would not explain, the suit was then allowed to go forward
after another notice was sent to Johnson - at the same wrong address.
And when Johnson didn’t show up for her court date, Norfolk
automatically won.
Then, with a judgment in hand,
Norfolk phoned Johnson and told her to appear in court in early
February 2005 to work out a payment schedule, according to Johnson.
When she arrived, an attorney was there to answer questions. Johnson
said she assumed he was a legal aid lawyer. In fact, he was a lawyer
for Norfolk Financial who, Johnson said, never identified himself.
The lawyer asked her to fill out
a financial statement and then, before she could figure out what was
happening, she found herself before a judge.
“I told the judge that
once my car was paid off, I could pay $10 a month,” she said.
“All he said was, ‘OK.’ He stamped the paper and
said, ‘You’re finished.’ Nobody looked at me and
said, ‘We’re going to take your car.”
But that’s what happened.
On April 1 2005, less than two months after her court hearing,
Worcester County sheriffs deputies, who had no trouble finding
Johnson’s correct address, appeared at her home at about 8 a.m.
and took her car. To get it back, Johnson would have had to pay a
sheriffs fee, towing, and storage charges and interest, in addition to
the $1000 court judgment. The tally: $1,380.
With the help of a legal aid
lawyer, Johnson filed for bankruptcy. But it was not until three months
later, after a bankruptcy court judge threatened to jail the tow lot
owner, that her car was returned - damaged, says Johnson.
The trauma of losing her car
sent Johnson into a downward emotional spiral. Within a week, she
became suicidal, and checked in at the emergency room at the Health
Alliance hospital in Leominster. Then she was transferred by ambulance
to a psychiatric ward, where she spent two nights under a suicide watch.
While the record is clear that
court papers were not sent to Johnson’s correct address, Daniel
Goldstone said that his company had met the legal requirements for
serving notice. As for the seizure, he said: “Norfolk provided
the court’s execution to the office of the county sheriff, who
caused Ms. Johnson’s car to be seized.”
Left in humiliation
For Audrey E. Anderson, a
71-year-old retired Wellesley College teacher, dealing with Chad
Goldstone’s company, Commonwealth Receivables, turned into an
annual nightmare, with Commonwealth seizing her car three times - in
2001, 2002, and 2003.
But what the collection firm
took from Anderson wasn’t just her 1995 Toyota Camry, she said,
It was a retiree’s sense of independence. Because her car was
seized, Anderson had to lean on her 85-year-old husband, Ezra, and
friends, in ways she often found humiliating. “When you’re
a strong person and you have your car taken, that’s like losing
your right arm,” she said, ‘You can’t do
anything.”
Unlike Joanne Johnson, Anderson
did receive a notice from Framingham District Court to appear for her
initial hearing, on a debt of $2,019. But she also received a letter
from Commonwealth saying, “Our representatives are willing to
work with you on this matter so that your appearance in court may not
be necessary.” (Norfolk sends debtors letters with nearly
identical language.)
Anderson said she called to
negotiate, started making $50 monthly payments, and was again told she
might not need to appear in court. But when she didn’t show,
Commonwealth won its case against her by default. And when Anderson
missed a payment several months later, Commonwealth, armed with its
court judgment, sent constables and a tow truck for her car.
If Anderson couldn’t
afford to pay off her remaining debt, she also couldn’t afford
the $600 fee charged by the constable for taking her Camry, she said.
To get the car off the tow lot, Anderson paid a $135 towing and storage
fee, and entered into two monthly payment plans: One to Bay State
Constable Service Inc. and another to Commonwealth, making an initial
payment of $110 to each firm.
Anderson’s records show
she made some of those monthly payments. But with a limited income
based largely on Social Security benefits, Anderson said, she fell
behind. And once again, Commonwealth had her car towed.
Anderson managed to retrieve her
car a second time, scraping together a payment of $1,075 and entering
into another agreement to make monthly payments to Commonwealth, But
when she fell behind a third time, the company took her car for good -
along with, she said, medication for her asthma, diabetes, and high
blood pressure that she had left in the vehicle. “Can you
re-seize this one?” the fax from Commonwealth to Bay State read.
“You should have the original [documents]. Thanks!”
Even though Anderson shelled out
a total of $2,741 in debt payments, constable fees, and other charges -
more than the original debt - she would never see her car again. Three
years later, she still doesn’t know what happened to it. When the
Globe asked about its whereabouts, O’Connor, Commonwealth’s
lawyer, would only say that the Camry had been lawfully seized.
Yvonne W. Rosmarin, an Arlington
attorney who has sued both Goldstone brothers on behalf of other
consumers, said she believes it is unfair and misleading for the
Goldstones to suggest to debtors that they do not have to go to court,
without telling them that they will automatically lose their cases if
they do not appear.
“The debtors work out
payment plans, then there are default judgments issued against them and
their cars are hooked,” Rosmarin said. “It seems to me
outrageous.” Rosmarin also said she believes the tactic is a
violation of the federal Fair Debt Collection Practices Act.
O’Connor, the
Goldstones’ lawyer, insisted that the letters are “in no
way” deceptive and that they comply with federal law.
Lives disrupted
Losing a car is bad enough. But
losing a car, a house, and a job was what faced Michaelyn S. Rackley
and her husband, Raheem R. Weldon, in 2001, after Norfolk Financial
filed a lawsuit against Rackley - and sent notice of the suit to the
wrong address, She lives in Athol. Norfolk sued her at an address in
Waltham.
Unlike Chad Goldstone, Daniel
Goldstone often goes after debtors’ homes, as well as their cars.
Real estate records examined by the Globe show that, over the last four
years, Norfolk has put liens on more than 1,000 homes throughout the
state, Once a lien is placed on a home, it cannot be sold or even
refinanced unless the lien holder is paid.
Norfolk filed its lawsuit
against Rackley on May 1,2001, for a $543 credit card debt, Court
records show that the notice sent to Waltham was returned undelivered -
which should have prompted the Waltham District Court to demand a
correct address from the collector, or dismiss the lawsuit.
Nonetheless, on Aug. 13, 2001, Norfolk won an automatic judgment
against Rackley because Rackley did not appear for a hearing she knew
nothing about.
Then last summer, Norfolk first
came after Rackley’s car, and then her home.
The Worcester County deputy
sheriffs and a tow truck hauled away her 1998 Subaru Forester in June.
As a consequence, Rackley had to quit her job delivering newspapers for
the Worcester Telegram & Gazette.
In July, Daniel Goldstone placed
a lien on the couple’s Athol home. In October, Rackley had no
choice but to pay off the debt - $1,038, with accumulated interest -
when the couple went to refinance their home.
But Rackley never got her Subaru
back. After it was seized, the storage charges mounted daily - all the
way to $5,600 by October. In December, Direnzo Towing & Recovery of
Millbury sold the vehicle to recoup its costs, according to the
Worcester County Sheriffs office.
Rackley has since filed a
federal lawsuit against Norfolk. And Norfolk has moved to have the suit
dismissed, asserting that all of Rackley’s claims, “are
merit less as a matter of law.”
Rackley said she’s found
the experience frustrating. Norfolk, she said, is “very
underhanded, It’s almost like they get a list of names and pick
one out of a hat and say, ‘Okay, OK, were going after that
one.’
And then there was the case of
Marie Dimanche, the Mattapan mother who awoke to a 6 am, visit from
constables working for Commonwealth Receivables.
Dimanche thought the debt
Commonwealth was trying to collect had been paid by Travelers Aid
Family Services, an agency for the homeless that had once helped
Dimanche find a place to live. An official with the agency said it
often provides financial assistance to clients, paying off old debts
and restoring credit.
When Commonwealth rejected her
explanation, Dimanche’s effort to keep her car off the auction
block became a race against time. Scrambling to understand the legal
actions that had been taken against her, she filed a motion in November
2002 in Boston Municipal Court, asking to have the court’s
judgment against her lifted.
Dimanche, in her motion, said
she never received notice of Commonwealth’s lawsuit because of
the outdated address the firm provided to the court. She emphasized the
urgency of her case: her car was to be auctioned on Nov. 22.
The court responded by
scheduling a hearing for Dec. 5- more than a week after the scheduled
auction. And on Nov. 22, her car was sold for $2,197 -about a third of
the vehicle’s market value, according to the National Auto
Dealer’s Association Used Car Guide.
Days later, on Dec. 5, a judge
lifted the judgment against Dimanche. But by then it was too late.
Dimanche resigned herself to bumming rides and using the MBTA to get to
work and take her daughters to school. It was two years before she
could afford to buy another car.
But a reliable means of
transportation wasn’t the only thing Dimanche and her children
lost: Without her car, Dimanche was unable to make use of a City of
Boston scholarship for computer training courses in Quincy - training
that Dimanche said would have qualified her for a better-paying job at
Sears, her employer.
‘They don’t
understand that they’re altering people’s lives,”
Dimanche said of Commonwealth. “It’s not like you can just
catch a ride and go on like normal.”
Go To Top
Debtors’ Hell Part 2 -- A
court system compromised - Boston.com
Dignity faces a steamroller
Small-claims proceedings ignore rights, tilt to collectors
By The Globe Spotlight Team l July 30, 2006
The line for the metal detector
crept slowly at Brockton District Court on the morning of April 12,
2005. Peter Damon waited anxiously. He didn’t want to be late.
Finally, he hoped to face down
for good the debt collector who had been hounding him and his mother
for more than two years over a $980 credit card bill. He’d had to
miss his first scheduled hearing in small-claims court a year earlier,
and a note in his file explained why: “Phone call from defendant
- he is in the Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, D.C.,
upon return from Iraq and losing both arms.”
A lot of things could have gone
Damon’s way in the wake of that phone call. None did.
The clerk who took the call
could have advised Damon that, under federal law, he could delay the
case while he recovered.
The court could have challenged
the debt collector, Norfolk Financial Corp., about the claim in its
lawsuit that Damon was not a soldier - a claim made under penalties of
perjury.
And a clerk should have simply
dismissed the case when Damon, having recovered sufficiently to take a
$400 flight home from the hospital, arrived for a hearing in September
of 2004, only to find the collection lawyer unprepared.
But such simple justice was
denied Damon, as it is thousands of other debtors when they come up
against the lowest level of the state court system.
The “people’s
court’ has become the collectors’ court, a Globe Spotlight
Team investigation has found, It is a de facto arm of a fast-growing
and aggressive industry that has swamped court dockets with lawsuits -
cases that often lead to threats of jail for debtors.
Created to provide a low-cost,
level playing field for citizens with disputes of $2,000 or less, the
small-claims courts have mutated into a system that often ignores
individual rights and shows favoritism toward collectors and their
lawyers. On some days, indeed, collection lawyers appear to be in
charge - with no oversight by judicial officials.
Debtors often feel intimidated
in this arena, and with reason. The system is tilted against them. And
150 years after the state’s last debtors prison was shuttered,
some, even now, find themselves locked up for failing to pay. A
Brockton man, for example, was imprisoned for four weeks over last
Christmas.
More commonly, the threat of
jail is a scare tactic, another way to force quick results in this
rubber-stamp system, where the supreme priority in many courts is to
move the flood of collection cases along - with little regard for the
merits, or the dignity of individual defendants.
Peter Damon is one whose dignity
took a considerable beating.
As he reached the head of the
security line that April day, Damon’s new prosthetic arms,
clearly visible in his Johnny Damon baseball shirt, set off the metal
detector. By the time the 33-year-old veteran got to the hearing room,
he was two minutes late. Tentatively, he approached the desk of the
assistant clerk-magistrate.
“Yes?” said the
clerk, William J. Martin 3d. Damon stammered out his name, at which
Martin snapped, “This is not the time for that,’ and then
scolded, “Have a seat. I don’t know what possessed you to
do that,”
Damon ultimately won that day,
when Norfolk’s lawyer suddenly offered to dismiss the case.
Martin obliged: “Dismissed,” he said, never glancing up
from his desk.
In his victory, Damon was one of
the lucky ones. A Globe review of proceedings and records in 20 of the
states 70 small-claims courts found that court officials and collection
lawyers routinely break court rules, almost always to the detriment of
the defendant. Collectors are almost never asked to prove the debts
they claim; defendants are rarely informed of their rights. And
debtors, usually too strapped to afford a lawyer, must contend with
this legal mismatch alone.
Russell Engler, a professor at
the New England School of Law who studies the way people are treated in
civil court, said unrepresented parties often get steamrolled. While it
can be tricky for clerk-magistrates and judges when only one side has a
lawyer, he said, those are precisely the cases in which court officials
should act to redress the imbalance.
You have a system that is
supposed to be accessible to ordinary people, Engler said.
“Instead, its operating as a swift tool for corporations with
power and with lawyers.”
The chief justice of the
district court system, Lynda M. Connolly, expressed surprise, during a
February interview with the Globe, at the extent to which corporate
debt collectors have come to dominate small-claims sessions. Some of
the abuses described to her by the Globe were, she said later,
“horrific.”
Diane Albertson’s
experience in court was nothing short of humiliating.
A 50-year-old mother and nursing
student, Albertson stood before Judge Thomas Barrett in Brockton
District Court on Feb. 7, called to account for a $438 oil bill which
she believed, mistakenly, she had paid. She admits she had been sloppy
about the matter, missing court dates twice, in the crush of family and
school obligations. And after an initial court judgment against her,
she sent a check to satisfy the debt, but stopped payment on it.
That made the plaintiff, Stanley
Litchfield of Scudder Fuel, angry - and understandably so. The firm had
waited more than a year to be paid. But even he was shocked at what the
judge did that day.
‘Take your rings
off,” Barrett said, according to the court’s audio
transcript of the hearing.
“All of my jewelry?” Albertson replied in dismay. “I
can’t give you my wedding ring.”
‘Let me see it,”
Barrett said, ordering her to approach the bench and splay her hands
before him. He then told her sternly to remove the other rings,
including her diamond and amethyst engagement ring, and her earrings.
“Are you serious?”
Albertson asked, near tears.
‘We’ll hold them
until the debt’s paid,” Barrett said. “Either that or
I’ll incarcerate you. Do you want me to incarcerate you?”
Albertson handed over her
jewelry, keeping only the thin gold band on her left ring finger. A
bailiff sealed them in a plastic bag, where they would stay for a month.
Engler, the law professor,
called Barrett’s behavior “outrageous.”
“Litigants are supposed to
be able to be heard and be treated with respect, Engler said.
“The judge sets the tone for everything.”
Barrett declined to be
interviewed.
Humbling experiences
Humiliations large and small are
an everyday reality in many Massachusetts small-claims courts. Often,
debtors are treated with less courtesy than the accused felons in the
criminal court across the hall, and their rights are less respected.
Examples abound:
- In Quincy District Court, a
clerk-magistrate barks at defendants packed into a cramped room if they
don’t reply loudly enough to the call of their names. In New
Bedford, collection lawyer Martin Odstrchel calls the name of an older
woman who has been waiting in line for two hours; as she hobbled toward
him, leaning on her cane, he admonishes, “Hurry up.”
- In Worcester, more than 60
people summoned for civil debt collection cases sit in a large
courtroom that says “Criminal” over the door. The noise
from the adjacent lockup is so loud it drowns out the magistrate as she
calls out the list of lawsuits. Angrily, she shouts for quiet, not
realizing the noise is coming from the prisoners; the cowed debtors on
the benches before her are silent.
- And in Lowell District Court,
on the Tuesday before Christmas, an assistant clerk-magistrate calls
debtors up to her desk, one by one, to review their promises to pay.
She then warns every one: “If you don’t pay, you could be
found in contempt, and you could go to jail.”
Connolly, the district court
chief, said it’s reasonable for court officials to inform debtors
of the worst-case scenario. But pressed as to whether the courts ought
to issue jail threats, Connolly said, “Let’s be very clear:
It is not appropriate for anybody to threaten anybody, in small claims
or any place else.”
Yet such threats are a common
tool, both in small-claims court and in the district court civil
sessions, which handle debt cases between $2,000 and $25,000.
Last year, Jack Fraioli, the
owner of a small, struggling cleaning enterprise, was called before a
judge in Dedham District Court after falling behind on payments
he’d promised to make to a vendor. His $9,000 debt had ballooned
to nearly $12,000, with interest and fees. Fraioli’s wife was ill
and the family’s cars had been towed three times by debt
collectors. After being badgered in the court corridor by a collection
lawyer, Hindell S. Grossman, he agreed to pay $250 a month, even though
he knew that would be a stretch.
In the courtroom, Judge Sarah B.
Singer reviewed the agreement and warned Fraioli of the serious import
of his promise to pay.
“It’s not a promise
to get this lady off your back,’ she said, referring to Grossman.
“Pay the money or go to jail.” She added,
“That’s a result no one in this room wants to see.”
Judges regularly hear debt cases
in civil court, but in 1993, the responsibility for small-claims cases
was turned over to clerk-magistrates. Today, judges get involved in
small claims mainly when people ignore judgments against them. That can
make cases sent to judges more highly charged, observed Jason David
Fregeau, a consumer lawyer in Longmeadow. Some judges, he said,
“tend to treat people who owe debts like criminals.”
The sheer volume of cases seems
to encourage rough or dismissive treatment of defendants, the Globe
found. There were nearly 122,000 small claims filed in 2005 in
Massachusetts, marking an 11 percent rise over the past decade.
Meanwhile, court budgets have been slashed and court staff reduced by
14 percent since 2000. Officials say there’s barely time to get
through the docket, much less attend to the considerations behind each
claim.
“It is not unusual, given
the extraordinary number of cases before our district courts, that the
urgent overwhelms the important,” Connolly said. “We can do
better.”
Connolly, after the February
interview with the Globe, appointed a panel to review the small-claims
courts, convened a training session for clerks and judges, and is
studying ways to make defendants more aware of their rights and to curb
the influence of collection lawyers. One early change: Court officials
have been told to be sure debtors do not agree to make payments out of
their government assistance checks.
‘If we see areas that we
can improve, then we will make those improvements,” said
Connolly, who became chief justice two years ago. “I am committed
to doing that.”
A bargain for big
collectors
The courts don’t track the
number of cases filed by debt collectors. But the Globe, after
hand-counting cases in the state’s computer system, interviewing
numerous clerks and judges, and attending dozens of hearings,
determined that at least 60 percent of all cases funneled through the
civil courts are brought by professional collectors. One credit card
firm, Capital One Financial Corp., filed more than 38,000 small-claims
lawsuits against Massachusetts consumers in the last four years.
At Boston Municipal Court, the
state’s busiest small-claims court, roughly 85 percent of the
lawsuits are brought by companies collecting old debts, according to
Kevin F. Callahan, first assistant clerk-magistrate for the civil
division. The downtown court has handled 40,000 small claims in five
years; it gets so many suits from Norfolk Financial, Commonwealth
Receivables Inc., Filene’s, and NStar that it had ink stamps made
for each one.
At a cost of just $40 to file a
lawsuit for any amount up to $2,000, debt collectors find a bargain in
Massachusetts small claims. A victory in court lets them pursue a debt
for up to 20 years, and earn 12 percent annual interest on it - a rate
that’s matched or exceeded in only five states. The Legislature
hasn’t adjusted that rate since the 1980s.
“We’re sophisticated
collection agencies for these people,” Callahan said. “This
is a lucrative business for some…...I hate it.”
It isn’t just the
indulgence of court officials that makes winning these cases so easy
for debt collectors. The defendants also do their part: About 80
percent of people sued for debts in Massachusetts courts fail to show
up at all, according to the estimates of clerks and lawyers and the
Globes observation.
There are many reasons for that.
Some people ignore letters from collectors and the court, the sort of
carelessness that got them in trouble in the first place. Others know
they owe money, but can’t easily get time off work.
Still others never receive
notice of the court date. In Massachusetts, notices of lawsuits are
sent by first-class mail to the address supplied by collectors. Often
these addresses are out of date, yet the courts assume the defendant
was notified unless the letter is returned. This is a flawed system,
the Globe found in a test: Of 100 letters sent to the same person at
incorrect addresses across the state, just 52 came back marked
“return to sender” by the post office; the other 48 simply
went missing. A backup requirement that debtors receive notice by
certified mail was dropped two years ago as a cost-saving measure.
Even when properly delivered,
the notice sent to defendants would confuse almost anyone. The
debtor’s instructions are listed in tiny, faint type on the back
of the form, and are in many ways misleading. For example, they say
that plaintiffs must prove their claims - something that never occurred
during the many hearings attended by the Globe. They also fail to warn
defendants of the serious consequences of failing to appear: The
collector automatically wins, gaining the right to seize property,
garnish wages, put a lien on a home, or get a civil arrest warrant to
have the defendant hauled into court.
Even defendants who do show up
tend to lose most of the time, and for a simple reason - they owe the
money, or at least part of it. But many cases that could be contested
are not. With a little information, and pluck, lawyers say, many
defendants could turn the tables against the collectors by demanding
that they produce evidence of the debt.
“You have rights, too.
It’s not just the creditor,” said Joseph B. McIntyre, a
collection lawyer in New Bedford. “But you’ve got to be
brave enough to vindicate your rights.”
Most people simply settle, he said, and the work flow of the court
system is built on that assumption. “They’d have a problem
if everybody wanted a trial,” he said.
Margaret A. Donnelly, an
85-year-old widow from Duxbury, is one who fought back.
Living on Social Security and
suffering from congestive heart disease, Donnelly was barely making
ends meet in the summer of 2004. Struggling to cover the cost of her
medications and her electric bills, she said she was stunned when a
Plymouth County deputy sheriff appeared at her door with a warrant for
her arrest. He said she had been sued for $1,471 and had missed her
court date.
It was an old fight with Chase
Manhattan Bank over a Visa card coming back to haunt her, one she
thought had long since been resolved. Determined to set the matter
straight, she went to Plymouth District Court on June 1, 2004, and, on
her own, filed a motion to remove the judgment against her, despite
pressure from court officials to get it over with and pay.
“It’s absolutely
appalling,” Donnelly said. “The people who tell you to
‘Just pay it.’
At a July hearing, the
collection law firm Lustig, Glaser & Wilson asked the court for
more time to gather evidence to support its claim — a common
request as debt collectors often start with limited information about
the debt owed. In the meantime, the court allowed the firm to put a
lien on Donnelly’s condominium.
Nearly a year and two trips to
court later, Donnelly was still demanding proof and Lustig, Glaser
could produce none- Finally, in June 2005 the law firm threw in the
towel and the case was dismissed.
The managing partner of the law
firm, Kenneth C. Wilson, said he could not comment on the Donnelly
matter because federal and state laws bar discussion of debt cases with
outside parties.
Clerks routinely give plaintiffs
the benefit of the doubt. And basic questions of fact are rarely asked
or answered: Might the plaintiffs claim be false or overstated? Might
they be after the wrong person?
Yes, they might. George
Rodrigues of New Bedford twice had to go to court over a $1,665 NStar
bill that was not his. Both times, the DHL driver had to take time off
work, costing him $200 a day, to convince the court it had the wrong
guy.
The NStar debt belonged to a
different George Rodriguez - ending with a z. The fellow NStar was
after was 21; Rodrigues is twice his age. But in court, it was
Rodrigues who faced the burden of proving he was innocent. ‘How
many times can I show them my information?” Rodrigues asked.
The clerk would not accept
Rodrigues’s proof of his identity; he insisted on a hearing, at
which NStar’s lawyer finally dropped the case.
A tipped scale
This is the way it was meant to
be in small-claims courts: two people without lawyers facing one
another. But reality has outstripped that notion. Defendants hardly
ever have lawyers, while the corporate plaintiffs always do.
And the collection lawyers
sometimes seem to direct the sessions.
In Framingham District Court
last Sept. 14, the clerk’s chair sat empty for 15 minutes after
the scheduled 1:30 start of the session. Two collection attorneys moved
to fill the gap, starting at 1:20. With clipboards and stacks of
paperwork, they stood at the front of the courtroom, calling out
defendants’ names and asking them to come forward, They
negotiated some cases and scheduled others for future dates, with no
clerk present.
One defendant, Loretta Jenkins,
was there on her lunch break. She discussed her debt with a lawyer, who
she thought was a district attorney. The lawyer told her not to bother
waiting for the magistrate, but to “get this over with and get
back to work.” So she signed a payment agreement and left.
By the time clerk-magistrate
Thomas J. Begley entered the courtroom, the majority of the cases had
been dispensed with. There was no one to ensure that the defendants had
not been pressured into payments they could ill afford.
Judge Connolly, speaking
generally, defended the right of litigants at any level of the court
system to settle their differences without the supervision of a clerk
or judge.
But Engler, the New England
School of Law professor, said lawyers too often take advantage of
debtors in such unsupervised conversations. It is, he said, ethically
improper for plaintiff lawyers to advise debtors what to do. And
it’s up to the courts to monitor this behavior. “The court
has to give it something other than a rubber stamp,” he said.
Begley, in an interview, said he
didn’t know that defendants were confused about the role of the
lawyers. Subsequently, on April 25, he posted a letter to attorneys in
his court, telling them not to speak to defendants before the start of
hearings and requiring all parties to stay until their payment deals
are reviewed. “We won’t accept any further agreements until
we see both parties,” he said.
But when it comes to
specifically informing debtors of their rights, most clerks say they
want to avoid any appearance of advocacy. They therefore feel its not
proper to tell debtors they can dispute a debtor demand documentation
of it. Or that if they are on public assistance, they can’t be
forced to use that money to satisfy a judgment.
Only at the Boston Municipal
Court did the Globe observe a clerk carefully questioning defendants
about their ability to pay. At one session, assistant clerk-magistrate
Patrick F. Mullaney asked each debtor whether he or she had a job and
could truly afford the payments they were agreeing to make. He asked if
they were on any kind of public assistance, and if so, told them the
case would be dropped for a year.
“One part of the
government is giving them something to get by,” Mullaney said.
“It doesn’t seem to make sense that another part of the
government is ordering them to pay money.”
Even the plaintiffs’
lawyers at Boston Municipal ask defendants if they have the means to
pay, because Mullaney requires them to do so.
Connolly said the courts must
rely on the “good faith” of the lawyers who appear before
them to uphold the rules. But, with so many unrepresented debtors going
up against lawyers, she acknowledged, “There’s an imbalance
there. There’s no ifs, ands or buts about it.”
That imbalance is exacerbated by
another widespread practice in debt cases - the use of
“covering” attorneys.
These are legal practitioners
who are paid small sums by collection firms to raise their hand and say
“here” when a case is called. They appear at courts around
the state, often representing as many as a dozen plaintiffs in a single
session. And they typically know only the barebones facts of a given
case, a name and the sum that’s supposedly owed,
Covering lawyers usually
don’t need to know more; they’re simply there to collect
default judgments against people who don’t show up. On a busy day
last September in Lowell, for instance, a handful of covering lawyers
had only to say “plaintiff’ for the record 132 times. Their
work was done in 90 of those cases, because the defendants did not
appear.
In a system where defaults are
rampant, and where debtors in many courts are presumed to owe the
money, some clerks make it part of their job to assist plaintiffs -
even those who skip hearings — in ways that flout court rules.
It is a common scene in the
windowless, basement room in New Bedford District Court, where
assistant clerk-magistrate Thomas W. Alfonse often runs overflowing
small-claims sessions. When a plaintiff fails to respond to the call of
a lawsuit. Alfonse routinely prompts Joseph McIntyre, New
Bedford’s lead covering lawyer, to pick up the case - even
though, under the rules, such cases should be dismissed.
During one busy session last
fall, Alfonse asked, “Anyone want to answer for Mr. Bakst?”
referring to a lawyer not present that day. McIntyre said he would pick
up the case. When no one spoke up to cover a Sovereign Bank lawsuit,
McIntyre jumped in: “I’ll answer for them.”
Similarly, on a Bank of America case, Alfonse coached,
“That’s Daniels’s office.” Again, McIntyre
obliged. And when a lesser-known firm, Natco, had its suit called, and
no one responded, Alfonse asked McIntyre to represent the no-show
plaintiff.
“My incentive is
volume,” said McIntyre, a former state legislator, in an
interview. He answers for up to 10 plaintiffs a day and makes $15 to
$20 per case.
The Natco case illustrates two
common abuses of the system. First, the case should have been dismissed
when the plaintiff did not appear. Second, Alfonse violated court rules
when he granted McIntyre a postponement, because the lawyer was, not
surprisingly, unprepared to try the case.
Clerks routinely grant these
delays, called continuances, when plaintiff lawyers say they need time
to prepare. Defendants are almost never shown such deference.
Kiriakos Stergiotis and his
wife, Phyllis, owners of a pizza shop, who had been sued by Natco, were
outraged that the case was postponed: “If they want to bring you
to court and they expect you to be there, they should be here
too,” Phyllis Stergiotis said.
Asked in an interview why he
didn’t dismiss cases when neither the plaintiff nor its lawyer
appeared, Alfonse said, “It’s more paper, more court dates.
It’s better if we work it out today, for everybody.”
In the case of Damon, the Iraq
veteran, the court allowed Norfolk’s covering lawyer a
continuance even after Damon had flown home from Washington for the
2004 hearing. When the Globe asked Martin, the clerk in the case, why
he allowed the delay, he said, “If Peter Damon had no idea that
he could object to a continuance, it’s not the clerk’s
responsibility to tell him.”
Judge Connolly, in a letter to the Globe, pointed to the text of the
state standards for small-claims proceedings, which strongly discourage
such continuances. It says; ‘If the attorney isn’t prepared
to prove his or her case, the matter should be dismissed...unless there
is a showing of good cause.”
Martin also said it was not his
job to question why Norfolk had, under oath, indicated to the court
that Damon was not in military service.
Norfolk President Daniel WY
Goldstone, in a letter to the Globe, said he did not know Damon was in
the Army. But Damon and his mother say they told Norfolk debt
collectors many times that he was deployed to Iraq and then in a
military hospital.
Paying with freedom
The ultimate threat in debt
cases is jail time for failure to pay. It is a threat routinely used by
court officials, lawyers, and constables to force compliance by
defendants.
At New Bedford District court
last November, a constable who had brought debtors in under threat of
arrest was haranguing several of them in the hallway. One woman,
Deborah Medeiros, owed $700 to an auto salvage company. The constable,
Trent Roderick, told her to come up with the money, or he’d send
her before a judge who might lock her up.
“I’m going to
jail,” Medeiros sobbed, tears flowing down her face. In a panic,
she called her father, who came to court with the cash.
Paul A. Fournier, a covering
lawyer in several western Massachusetts courts, warns debtors in the
hallway in Springfield District Court that they’ll be
incarcerated if they lie on court forms. And, he said, jail threats can
be effective. Some judges, if they have trouble with debtors, he said,
“will put the cuffs on them and make a big show of it, and the
money comes out from everywhere. The relatives come out and
everything.”
Marc Marcelin, a 53-year-old
Haitian immigrant, didn’t get to his relatives in time.
On the morning of Dec. 13, two
constables arrived at Marcelin’s home in Brockton. They
handcuffed him and drove him to Ouincy District Court, where he sat in
the lock-up of one of the state’s dingiest courthouses for nearly
six hours. About 3p.m., he was called before Judge Mark S. Coven.
“So, you haven’t
come up with the money?” Coven asked.
Marcelin was being sued by
Madeline Cordon of Randolph, for failing to do a contracting job. She
had paid him $2,000 to put vinyl siding on her house. He did two
days’ work but then didn’t return her calls for six days -
facts that Marcelin, in an interview, did not dispute. Cordon sued him,
and Marcelin twice failed to show up for court.
Marcelin was no stranger to the
court system, having faced charges years earlier for using drugs. But
that was not the matter before the court on this day. Indeed, he had no
idea how high the stakes were when he left home that morning. Standing
before Coven, Marcelin told the judge his sister was supposed to be
coming to court with money.
“Is she coming
today?” Coven asked twice, according to an audiotape of the
session. Marcelin was not sure. Coven told him he was being found in
contempt of court and ordered, “that you be held at the Dedham
House of Correction to be released upon payment of $2,300.”
including fees and interest.
After a long silence, Coven
asked, “Do you understand that?”
Under the law, a judge can fine
a debtor $200 for contempt, or put him in jail for up to 30 days. Coven
did not give Marcelin a chance to contact a lawyer, as the
Massachusetts court standards recommend. There is no constitutional
right to a lawyer in civil cases.
When Marcelin’s sister
called the court that day to arrange payment to free him, she said, a
clerk told her “not to bother,” because he also owed money
in Brockton District Court. The clerk made the same comment about
Marcelin’s situation to a Globe reporter that day.
Marcelin was locked up for 28
days.
Coven defended his ruling.
“He had the keys to the jail cell,” Coven said. “All
I was trying to do was get a court order satisfied.”
Go To Top
The Boston Globe
Debtors Hell Part 3 -- Behind the badge
Enforcers’ might goes unchecked
By The Globe Spotlight
Team l July 31, 2006
They have the power to take your
car, your money, and sometimes your freedom. And they bring some
uncommon credentials to the job.
Consider these resume
highlights:
Kenneth J. Dorsey: Manager of a
Jamaica Plain gin mill. Ran illegal gaming operation. Busted by Boston
Police. Rifle and shotgun confiscated. Guilty plea, 1994.
Kevin J. Dalton: Plymouth County
deputy sheriff until 2001. Fired after State Police probe into alleged
shakedown of a company seeking a contract with the sheriffs department,
an accusation he denies.
Constance M. Sorenson: Filed for
bankruptcy in 2003 with $47,000 in delinquent credit card debt. Fined
for punching a woman in the mouth outside a bar. Arrest warrant pending
for failure to pay $100 fine in another case. Along with that baggage,
Sorenson, Dalton, and Dorsey also carry badges - as officers in the
murkiest backwater of the Massachusetts law enforcement community. They
earn their keep as constables, independent operators appointed by
cities and towns to serve court papers and execute court orders.
In Boston alone there are 186 of
them, and Mayor Thomas M. Menino has given arrest powers to every one,
including Dorsey and 87 others with criminal arrest records for
offenses including firearms violations, indecent assault and battery on
a child, and impersonating a police officer. Seven have been appointed
in spite of guilty verdicts, among them one convicted twice in the last
four years of beating his wife.
Constables are an odd,
anachronistic leftover from colonial days. No training is required, no
oversight is provided, and no state agency keeps track of their
identities, much less their numbers - an estimated 1,500 to 2,000
statewide.
Yet many among them, including
Dorsey, Dalton, and Sorenson, are foot soldiers for the most aggressive
debt collectors in Massachusetts. They make their money by night, or at
first light, with a frightening thump on the door, seizing cars by the
thousands from intimidated debtors who have missed, or ignored, court
orders to pay their creditors.
Most constables prefer to knock
politely during daylight hours to deliver subpoenas and the like for
their $35 or $40 fee.
But their more aggressive
colleagues do much, much better than that, thanks to a 1990 amendment
to state law that allows them to charge whatever they like for auto
seizures. The result is price gouging: Constables charge debtors
between $600 and $900 to accompany the tow truck that arrives to hook a
car. The fee used to be capped at $25.
When debtors cannot raise the
cash to pay the debt and the seizure fees, their cars are sold at
auction. Here again the constables are part of the game: Proceeds of
the auction are split among the constable, the tow lot, and the
creditor. Almost always ignored, the Globe found, is a state law
requiring that the first $700 of the sale proceeds be returned to
debtors.
In this obscure trade,
constables have some well-armed competitors; the county deputy
sheriffs, who sit one short rung up the law enforcement ladder and have
grabbed an increasing share of the business. For sheriffs, too, the
pursuit of a payout can sometimes take precedence over fairness. In one
case earlier this year, two deputy sheriffs in Worcester County
threatened to arrest a woman who stood between them and her car -
waving bankruptcy papers that should have exempted it from seizure.
Nonetheless, she lost her car for 10 weeks.
Since 2001, sheriffs departments
in just five counties - Worcester, Norfolk, Bristol, Plymouth, and
Middlesex - have seized about 2,500 cars for debt collectors, most
often for a fee of $600 per car. And like constables, they rarely tell
debtors they are entitled to the first $700 from the sale of a seized
auto.
‘Don’t argue
with us’
Marie LoConte had her close
encounter with constables shortly after midnight on July 28, 2004, when
her doorbell rang. LoConte, 41, made her way down the stairs from her
second-floor apartment and found three men wearing blue uniforms and
badges- “They looked like police officers. I thought they
were,” LoConte said. One of them, she recalls, was tapping his
nightstick in the palm of his hand while another informed her they were
there to seize her 1997 Ford Thunderbird for an unpaid credit card debt.
‘Don’t argue with
us,” she heard him say.
Terrified, Loconte said, she
called Taunton police, who offered little sympathy. The constable
brandishing the nightstick was playing by the rules, she says she was
told, as long as he didn’t hit her with it. “I didn’t
sleep all that night. I couldn’t stop crying. I was
shaking,” Loconte said.
Loconte is disabled as a result
of lupus and Crohn’s Disease. She lost her cleaning business more
than a decade ago, and, by 2000, had stopped making payments on a $430
Providian credit card balance. She wound up paying $1,758, draining her
savings and borrowing from a friend, to erase the debt and get her car
back.
Of that, $158 went to the tow
lot, which kept her car for a day, and $800 to the constables,
dispatched by Sorenson’s firm. To ransom the car, Loconte had to
drive 70 miles to Sorenson’s office in Chelmsford to pay her
bill, then another 55 miles to a Bridgewater tow lot.
For Jeanmarie Fitzpatrick, the
constable’s visit was even more costly. An $800 constable’s
fee would have seemed a bargain to her.
When Dorsey, the former bar
manager turned constable, arrived at her door last Dec. 14, he demanded
$1,250 in fees for seizing her 2000 Dodge Neon.
Fitzpatrick, a 37-year-old
single mother who lives in South Boston’s D Street public housing
project, was about to drive her three children to school when Dorsey
drove up and blocked her car. Fitzpatrick figured it must be something
to do with unpaid parking tickets; she said she had no idea there were
court judgments against her for two delinquent credit card accounts,
totaling $3,800. That’s because Norfolk Financial Corp., the debt
collector who sued Fitzpatrick, had given the court the wrong address.
She says she was never notified of the lawsuit, and a Globe check of
court and public records shows she’s right.
“They went out of their
way to find my car but they didn’t go through the trouble to find
my address” to notify me about the lawsuit, Fitzpatrick said.
“That’s what kills me.”
Dorsey, she said, turned aside
her tearful plea that he wait to take her car until she could drop the
children at school.
Dorsey’s fee for having
her car hauled away: $625. But since he was holding two pieces of legal
paper for taking just one car, he demanded $1,250. The car was sold at
auction for just $1,000, even though it had a resale value of about
$4,000. ‘It’s a week before Christmas. I have three
kids,” Fitzpatrick said. “These people have absolutely no
heart.”
Dorsey asked in an interview why
he demanded twice the normal $625 fee, said: “It was two
different cases,” If he had handled them separately, Dorsey
contended, he would have been justified in seizing her car twice.
“I explained everything to
her,” Dorsey said. “I’m not out to screw
people.”
A badge without scrutiny
The office of constable is as
ancient as it is obscure, governed in Massachusetts by laws that date
back to the 1600s, One power of the office - never repealed - is to
“take due notice of and prosecute all violations of law
respecting the observance of the Lord’s day, profane swearing and
gambling.”
Nowadays, constables, and the
deputy sheriffs who perform parallel work, busy themselves delivering
subpoenas and other court papers, placing liens on real estate, and
seizing personal property to satisfy court judgments - in the case of
constables, judgments of no more than $2,500.
Where they differ is in
accountability. Constables, for example, can legally operate only in
the communities that license them. But that restriction, the Globe
found, is often ignored.
Constables also largely operate
in secret. There is no requirement for them to keep, or submit to
scrutiny, records of their seizures. When the Globe set out to
determine how many cars constables across the state have seized from
debtors, almost all those asked refused to say. Records held by county
sheriffs, by contrast, are public.
But what is clear, by the
account of sheriffs, debt collectors, and constables themselves, is
that it is constables who handle the bulk of the car seizures. Court
records suggest their total runs to several thousand cars a year,
across the state.
Sorenson’s firm alone was
seizing between 80 and 100 cars a month for two debt collection
companies, according to affidavits filed in a court case involving the
companies. And Dalton, who owns South Coast Legal Services, told the
Globe he uses constables around the state as subcontractors to seize
vehicles, though he refused to say how many cars they hook for him. One
of his subcontractors, Dorsey - who took away Fitzpatrick’s car -
said he seizes between 12 and 30 cars a month.
And no one monitors their work.
So little scrutinized are constables that some work with impunity in
communities where they have no jurisdiction.
Sorenson, for example,
represents herself as a constable, but her license, in Salem, expired
in 2003. In an interview, Sorenson, 37, claimed to be a constable in
Lynn and Medford, in addition to Salem, But officials in Lynn and
Medford said they have no record she has ever been licensed to serve in
either city. Sorenson has also been embroiled in legal disputes for
dispatching constables to do seizures in communities where they are
unlicensed.
And some constables who worked
for her have been criticized for over-the-top tactics. One allegedly
identified himself as a State Police officer, according to court papers
filed in a 2001 lawsuit against a debt collector. Another constable
allegedly threatened a debtor with criminal sanctions, even though debt
collection is a civil matter.
“There’s not one
heavy-handed constable that I’ve ever worked with,”
Sorenson insisted. She reached a confidential settlement in the 2001
case, which she declined to discuss with the Globe.
She said she’s now stopped
seizing cars altogether. But in June, Sorenson identified herself as a
constable when she seized two cars from a Grafton businessman.
Sorenson defended the work of
constables. She said consumers who ignore court orders to pay their
debts have no right to complain when the constables come calling, no
matter the hour. She described her own workday as
“nine-to-five”, meaning 9 at night until 5 in the morning.
“I think you should pay
those debts - especially consumer debt. You can’t take a credit
card and go buy yourself a new television and expect to never have to
pay for it, but people do,” Sorenson said. “I think
everyone should be responsible - I do. I’m responsible.”
Not quite. A Globe review of
federal bankruptcy files showed that Sorenson has twice filed for
bankruptcy, most recently in 2003, when her credit card debts alone
exceeded $47,000. After that, her lawyer sued her for not paying his
fee and won a court judgment - along with authorization to have her car
seized. But he decided against taking that step.
Sorenson sidestepped questions
about her own financial problems, except to say: “Defendants
aren’t all bad. They’re like me and you.”
Checkered pasts
Dalton, who owns the South Coast
Legal Services constable business, changed careers in 2001 after 16
years as a Plymouth County deputy sheriff. But he didn’t go
willingly.
He and two other cashiered
deputies filed a federal lawsuit claiming they had been unjustly fired.
At the trial, the county introduced evidence from a State Police
investigation in 2000 that Dalton had allegedly sought cash payments
from a Brockton moving company trying to obtain county work in
court-ordered eviction cases.
The federal jury upheld the
dismissals. In an interview, the 60-year-old Dalton said the
allegations were false but refused to discuss the issue further. He was
never charged criminally in the case,
As for the $625 fee he charges
for each car seizure, Dalton was hardly defensive about his price; he
said he is considering an increase to offset the higher cost of
gasoline. “I have a lot of guys burning up gas, looking for
cars,” he said.
State law requires cities and
towns to “investigate the reputation and character “of all
constable applicants, as well as their fitness for office. But the law
sets no specific criteria. In some communities, a police criminal
background check is required. But in some cases the background checks
appear to be cursory.
In Boston, police do background
checks before Menino appoints constables. But Dorsey, the constable who
demanded $1,250 for seizing Fitzpatrick’s car, was appointed by
Menino even though he listed his criminal record on his application. On
Super Bowl Sunday in 1994, according to court records, Boston police
raided the Old Stag Tavern in Jamaica Plain, which Dorsey managed,
arrested Dorsey for running a betting operation and confiscated the two
firearms. He was found guilty of a misdemeanor for possessing gaming
materials and was fined $300. Dorsey, who is 50, also had a prior
arrest for failure to make child support payments.
Boston Police Sergeant Raymond
Mosher, who oversees criminal background checks for prospective
constables, said he could not discuss Dorsey’s case because of
privacy restrictions.
Like Sorenson, both Dalton and
Dorsey have had financial struggles not unlike those of some of the
debtors whose cars they seize. A decade ago, Dalton had one
small-claims judgment and two federal tax liens against him, according
to court records reviewed by the Globe. And Dorsey says his own
struggles help him empathize with the people who are his quarry.
“I’ve hid from bill
collectors. I’ll be honest,” he said.
Restraint among sheriffs
Unlike constables, for whom no
one sets standards, Massachusetts’s county sheriffs have to face
the voters every six years. That can work as a check on overzealous
collection work.
“We do not want people
saying, ‘The elected sheriff took my car and then junked
it,’” said Jeffrey R. Turco, the chief deputy to Worcester
Sheriff Guy W. Glodis. After receiving inquiries from the Globe, the
Massachusetts Sheriffs Association is reviewing the fees they charge
hooking cars for debt collectors.
No sheriffs department has
seized more autos than Worcester County’s - more than 1,000 since
January 2002. And for Glodis, who took office in 2005, some of those
seizures could prove to be politically embarrassing.
Take the case of Marlene Cote,
of Leominster, who last December filed for bankruptcy - a step that
legally protects assets from seizure. Or so Cote thought, until the
evening of Jan. 13, when two of Glodis’s deputy sheriffs banged
on her door at 8:30 p.m. and said they were seizing her 11-year-old
Jeep.
By Cote’s account, the
deputies were undeterred when she showed them her bankruptcy filing.
They even threatened to arrest her when she stood between the tow truck
and her vehicle.
Gate’s debt, an old $300
bill from a local dentist, barely topped $600 with accumulated
interest. The fee charged by the deputies added another $600. And the
towing company wanted $310. The total - for a car that could not
legally be seized -was $1,530.56.
When the Globe first raised
Cote’s case with Deputy Turco in mid-March, he acknowledged that
the deputy sheriffs should have checked with his office when they were
presented with the bankruptcy documents. According to his office
records, Cote’s car was returned within a few days when the error
was discovered.
In fact, the car was still being
held, two months after it was towed away, by Direnzo Towing &
Recovery, which had added another $1,200 in storage fees in the interim.
Finally, at the end of March,
Cote’s car was returned and all the charges were waived. But Cote
paid dearly for the episode as she struggled to regain her financial
footing.
During the 10 weeks she had to
get by without her Jeep, Cote said, she spent between $600 and $800 to
commute by taxi to her $8-an-hourjob as a cashier at Kohl’s
department store in Leominster. During that period, she also had to
abandon a second job, caring for mental health patient’s in-group
homes in Athol and Gardner.
It felt to her, as to many who
lose their cars to unpaid debts, like a prison term for a traffic
offense. And such penalties are far from rare: A review of Worcester
sheriffs office records released by Turco showed numerous instances of
debt collectors engaging deputy sheriffs to seize cars from people with
small unpaid debts, Often, the fees associated with seizure doubled or
even tripled the amount of the original debt.
Uxbridge collection lawyer
Richard R. Hubbard is the source of many of those cases. He has had
hundreds of cars hauled away, mostly by the Worcester County Sheriffs
Department, from families whose unpaid - or disputed - debts to
dentists, doctors, and local heating oil companies were just a few
hundred dollars.
For its part, the Worcester
Sheriffs Department has made one change in the wake of Globe inquiries:
They had been charging $600 for all car seizures, whether the car is
towed or the debtor pays the amount owed on the spot. Now, those who
pay their debt to avoid a tow are charged $300.
In some other jurisdictions,
sheriffs and constables have gone even further. In fact, most decline
to seize autos. And the vast majority of debt collectors likewise frown
on the practice.
In Suffolk and Barnstable
counties, for example, the sheriffs departments rarely seize
automobiles. And in the few instances when Barnstable deputies seize a
car, they charge just $40 an hour for a deputy’s time, according
to Barnstable Chief Deputy Sheriff Brad Parker. When asked about
constables who charge between $600 and $900 to seize a car, Parker
said, “That’s gouging.” As for his peers in other
sheriff departments, who charge up to $600, Parker chose his words
carefully: “That sounds high.”
Parker said his office was
approached two years ago by Norfolk Financial Corp. and Commonwealth
Receivables Inc., two collection agencies that have seized thousands of
cars, and asked to do their seizure work on Cape Cod, but he refused.
Too often, Parker said, such
cases “are against a single mother with kids and a beat-up old
car, and no other transportation.”
Go To Top
The Boston Globe
Debtors’ Hell – Part 4
Regulators, policy makers seldom intervene
By The Globe Spotlight Team I August 1, 2006
LAS VEGAS - For their annual industry gatherings, those who sell, buy,
and collect on bad debts are drawn to this glittering mecca for fortune
seekers, with its sparkling pools, lush golf courses, and
round-the-clock entertainment. It’s always an upbeat crowd - the
odds, after all, are in their favor.
The debt business, as Donald
Friedman, the chief operating officer of debt-buyer Liberty Point
Corp., told hundreds of his assembled peers at their March 2005
gathering, is “one of the sexiest, one of the most financially
lucrative businesses you can get into.”
Boastful? Yes. Overstated?
Hardly.
That year, businesses that
specialize in debt for collection would purchase $66 billion in
delinquent bank credit card accounts alone, paying just pennies on the
dollar for the right to press consumers to pay up. That $66 billion
represented a golden opportunity for them, and sudden vulnerability for
an estimated 8 million card holders - all of them earmarked for
repeated phone calls, dunning letters, lawsuits, wage garnishment,
property seizure, and sometimes even arrest.
They generally owe the money but
seldom anticipate the consequences. A Spotlight Team investigation,
which concludes today, found a system where debt collectors have a
lopsided advantage; where debtors frequently face high-handed
treatment; and where excessive fees can swiftly turn a small
delinquency into a life-upending financial crisis.
Yet, in spite of all this, there
is an eerie silence among regulators, policy makers, and legislators.
Those who could intervene to right the balance between collectors and
consumers are either unaware of the debt collection free-for-all, and
the tens of millions of consumers caught up in it. Or they are simply
unwilling to act.
In Massachusetts, for example,
almost 600 complaints about debt collectors flow each year into the
office of Attorney General Thomas F. Reilly, whose state website
declares that he is on the front line working for consumers. Yet since
Reilly took office in 1999, he has initiated legal action against just
one collection agency, a Danvers company that paid a $100,000 fine two
years ago.
When Reilly’s office
announced that settlement with Schreiber & Associates, it called it
just the start. “This investigation is part of a larger
initiative aimed at protecting consumers from unfair debt collecting
practices.’
No legal actions have been
announced since then, though a spokesman for Reilly said last night
that five investigations of debt collectors are underway.
Similarly passive is the
Massachusetts Division of Banks, which also has regulatory authority
over collectors. The banking regulators do little more than warehouse
required annual filings by 410 debt collection companies - haphazardly,
as the Globe discovered when it sought access to the divisions records.
Meanwhile, the Federal Trade
Commission, which is charged with enforcing a federal law that
regulates the behavior of debt collectors, has done little in the face
of an explosion of consumer outrage. From 1998 to 2005, the number of
consumer complaints about debt collectors soared tenfold, from 6678 to
66,627. Yet, in the last six years, the FTC has taken enforcement
action against just 10 companies.
This year, an estimated 20
million Americans are three months or more past due on credit card
accounts alone, according to data given to the Globe by Experian, one
of three national credit reporting agencies. Yet it appears no one in
government is keeping track of this alarming trend, not even the
Federal Reserve Board, which in June assured Congress that bank credit
card delinquency rates are “not high by historical
standards.” But omitted from that calculation are the tens of
billions of dollars that are ‘written off’ the books by the
credit card giants and sold to debt buyers for collection.
Court administrators who are
most likely to be aware of the tidal wave of lawsuits against debtors
have not, for the most part, raised concerns about credit caseloads
that have turned many courtrooms into de facto subsidiaries of the
collection business.
Meanwhile, Congress and many
state legislatures have acquiesced to the politically powerful banking
industry, which issues much of the credit that goes sour, The laws
regulating debt collection predate, by a generation, the current boom
for debt collectors. Their ranks have doubled in the last decade.
Frustrated regulators say the
result is that many of the roughhouse tactics employed by collectors
are legal.
Jesse Caplan, the chief of
Reilly’s Consumer Protection and Antitrust Division, said the
vast bulk of complaints to his office about debt collectors are
“not actionable,” but amount to a misunderstanding of what
consumer laws protect against. Caplan said his office informs consumers
of their rights, and sometimes mediates disputes between consumers and
debt collectors.
That would come as a surprise to
Roberta Andresen of Raynham.
She felt she had nowhere to turn
but the attorney general after a debt collector sued her in 2003 for a
credit card debt she says she had long since settled. Reilly’s
office, she said, seemed uninterested in her complaint:
“They said they
couldn’t do anything for me, and told me to post a complaint on
the Internet,” Andresen said.
At the Division of Banks, the
authority to audit debt collection firms is infrequently used because
the law doesn’t require it. “We’re not under any
statutory requirement to examine debt collectors,” David J.
Cotney, chief operating officer for the division of banks, said.
And at the Federal Trade
Commission, the senior enforcement official acknowledged that the
agency has not kept pace with consumer complaints, even though debt
collection generates far more complaints than any other activity in the
marketplace. “Clearly, the trend is not good, and we’re
quite concerned about that” said Peggy Twohig, the associate
director of the Federal Trade Commission’s Division of Financial
Practices.
Twohig said her agency is
planning to increase its enforcement of federal debt collection laws.
Asked about the tenfold increase in complaints, and the tiny number of
FTC enforcement actions, Twohig replied, “It’s a fair
point. The record is what it is.”
Becoming a target
This government inaction has
left millions of people feeling they have nowhere to turn, and no one
on their side, when debt collectors come calling.
Manuela Cormier is one among the
millions. Waiting with 100 other forlorn debtors in a three-hour queue
at the New Bedford District Court last Nov. 30, Cormier stood convicted
of misfortune: Five years ago, the 45-year-old single mother lost her
job, and had no money to make payments on a $1,000 credit card bill.
The combination of a 29 percent interest rate, penalty fees, and
court-imposed costs have since pushed the bill close to $4,000. Cormier
was told she would be jailed if she did not pay.
She agreed to pay $25a month
from her $10.25-an-hour salary as a home health aide - not even enough
to cover the $36 monthly interest on the debt. “I’ll be
paying until the day I die,’ Cormier lamented.
Her’s is the grim face of
a growing crisis for Americas middle- and working-class families - a
crisis that has hardly entered the national conversation.
The 20 million consumers
seriously behind on credit card payments were delinquent on some 36
million individual accounts, as of January. And there were an estimated
40 million people three months or more behind on other kinds of
accounts, according to Samah Haggag, manager of analytics at Experian.
Those include home, car, and student loans, utility and medical bills,
and, increasingly, bills from cell phone carriers and health clubs.
People with accounts that far in
arrears almost always end up in default and become potential targets
for debt collectors.
And they feel like targets. A
survey of 1,300 consumers released last December by the National
Opinion Research Center at the University of Chicago found that 15.8
percent say they had “been pressured” during the prior 12
months by stores, creditors, and debt collectors to pay past due bills.
“The great American middle
class is fighting a battle for survival - and losing,” said
Elizabeth Warren, a Harvard Law professor who specializes in consumer
law. “Millions are in financial free fall, wondering whether
every ring of the phone or knock on the door will bring more bad
news,”
Even leaders in the debt
collection industry find it remarkable that the scope of the problem
remains largely unseen. Rozanne Andersen, the general counsel for ACA
International, the trade association for most debt collectors, says
reliable information on the number of consumers in serious debt
“is horribly deficient.”
Often what follows for debtors
in such straits is a date in court. The Spotlight investigation found
that between 2000 and 2005, there was one debt collection lawsuit for
every five Massachusetts households. Numbers provided to the Globe by
debt collectors show that eight of the busiest firms file 90,000 debt
collection lawsuits a year in Massachusetts district courts - most of
those in small-claims sessions, where consumers are pitted against
collection lawyers.
And the pattern appears to hold
nationwide.
In states where records are
available, such as Iowa, Michigan, Maryland, Indiana, South Dakota, and
Florida, the caseload of debt collection lawsuits is as high or higher.
In Allen County, Ind., which includes Fort Wayne, debt collectors filed
20,000 lawsuits in 2004- one for every six households, In Maryland,
judges in the Baltimore City District Court approve an estimated 300
judgments against debtors each day, on the say-so of debt collectors
who are almost never asked - in Maryland or any other state - to
provide evidence that the debt is owed or that they have the right to
collect.
Even in some affluent counties,
court dockets are crowded with debt collection lawsuits,
In Montgomery County, Maryland,
where per capita income is among the highest in the nation, the courts
are swamped with such cases. In 2005, debt collection firms filed about
21,000 lawsuits, according to Bonnie Bell, the county court’s
civil clerk, Bell said her court grants debt collectors attachments on
wages or bank accounts at the rate of 1,000 a month. To keep the
caseload under control, Bell segregates mass filings by debt collectors
for hearings in a separate court session, where judges speedily process
the claims. They call that session the “rocket docket” -
for the way it speeds judgments against debtors,
Thanks to the proliferation of
debt collection cases, Bell said wryly, “We’ll never be out
of a job here,”
In next-door Prince Georges
County the courts have been so inundated with suits against debtors
that it also channels large volume debt collectors into one special
court session. “We handle 600 cases in one court in one
day,” Kathleen Schnobrich, the civil clerk, said.
To be sure, creditors have the
legal right to collect what is due. And consumers generally owe what
collectors are after, though they often dispute the exorbitant fees and
interest that have been added on. Among the scores of debtors
interviewed for this series, all but a handful admitted as much. Often,
too, they acknowledged spending beyond their means - out of
carelessness, misplaced optimism about how much debt they could carry,
or dire need.
But most often, their debts
became overwhelming after one of life’s unanticipated setbacks:
the death of a family member, a divorce, an illness, unanticipated
medical bills or the loss of a job. Some debtors paid the rent and heat
and ignored the credit card bill. Others used the cards for food and
gasoline until their credit was cut off.
“Ninety-nine percent of
the debtors I dealt with are good people. They just ran into a spell of
bad luck,” says Tony Clawson, a Connecticut attorney who pursued
credit card collection cases for two years for Lindner &
Associates, a debt collection law firm in Needham, “Too many of
them got into trouble because they were gullible to offers from credit
card companies who give out cards too easily.”
Cormier, whose $1,000 debt
became a $4,000 millstone, is Exhibit A. Eight years ago, she was a
part-time nanny, struggling to support her developmentally disabled
daughter with government assistance, and scraping by without a credit
card. Then came the enticement from card issuer Discover, which is now
owned by Morgan Stanley, the investment banking powerhouse. “I
got the [credit card] offer in the mail. It said I was
pre-approved,” Cormier recalls. “Getting that card was the
stupidest thing I ever did.”
Low income, high profits
And Cormier did not get that
card by accident. Since the 1990s, credit card vendors have
aggressively courted customers among lower-income, higher-risk
consumers. It is the industry equivalent of tobacco companies marketing
to minors.
In 2005 alone, credit card
issuers blanketed the country with 6 billion offers for new credit
cards, with most of those aimed at people of modest means and modest
credit ratings - people most likely to carry balances at high interest
rates that generate enormous profits for banks.
With profits so high, card
issuers consider it an acceptable cost of business that about 5 percent
of those customers, unable to keep up with minimum payments, will
tumble into default.
“The higher-risk customers
are actually more profitable, especially if you can get them to
pay,” said Matthew S. Melius, the former chief of operations at
Metris Cos., the former parent company of Direct Merchant Credit Card
Bank.
But, speaking at a debt
collection conference in Orlando last year, Melius said pushing credit
on higher-risk customers can backfire. The granting of credit, he said,
is “a drug, if you will….If we give it to them,
they’re going to use it.”
He laid the blame for the
practice at the industry’s doorstep.
Furthermore, boosting interest
rates to 30 percent or more and slapping those who make late payments
with hefty penalties is “probably the worst thing you can do to a
customer who is struggling,” he said.
It is the explosion of credit
card availability, combined with the need of companies like Metris to
swiftly off-load customers who fall into delinquency, that has fueled
the astonishing growth of the debt buying business. Since 1995, bank
credit card issuers have sold off $390 billion in past due debt. The
annual sales have grown from $4.4 billion in 1995 to $66.4 billion in
2005.
Debt buyers - many of whom also
collect debt - work in different ways. The largest purchase huge
portfolios of debt written off the books by major credit card
companies. They then break up the debt into smaller blocks for resale.
Companies that buy this debt first try to collect the money, then
re-sell uncollectible accounts to others further down the collection
food chain.
Evidence of the untrammeled
nationwide growth of the business is hard to mistake. Recent press
releases tout the expanding fortunes of debt collectors across the
country: a new 21,000-square-foot facility in Chicago for collectors to
make calls demanding payment; 300 new positions in Mobile, Ala.;
official congratulations from New York Governor George E. Pataki for
the creation of 450 jobs for debt collectors in Batavia, N.Y.
On Wall Street, debt-buying
firms have become coveted investment targets. One publicly traded
company in Norfolk, Va., Portfolio Recovery Associates Inc., collected
$10.9 million from debtors as recently as 1998. Last year, it took in
$191.4 million - annual revenue growth of 55 percent. Portfolio
Recovery’s profits, which were $402,000 in 1998, soared to $36.8
million in 2005.
The firm’s results also
illustrate how the industry turns pennies into millions.
In its first decade of
operation, Portfolio Recovery purchased 658 debt portfolios with a face
value of $16.4 billion - at a cost of only $415.4 million. That’s
about 2.5 cents for each dollar of debt purchased. It collects, on
average, 7.5 cents per dollar.
The extraordinary expansion of
the debt sold off for collection is one powerful force behind some of
the collection abuses documented in the Spotlight investigation.
As debt is sold and re-sold,
companies that buy the right to collect it often know little about the
debtor: name, last known address, card issuer and account number, and
amount due. That limited picture can cause problems for everyone
involved,
Sean McVity, managing partner at
Garnet Capital Advisors, a New York investment banking firm that
brokers the sale of debt portfolios, said many large banks selling off
debt have a “buy-it-as-is” attitude, providing only minimal
data when they sell accounts, and charging buyers hefty fees if they
come back for more documentation. He called it a
“dangerous” practice.
Sparse data makes for major
miscues: Outdated addresses mean that many consumers get no notice that
they have been sued. And, with increasing frequency, the wrong person
is targeted.
Collectors, too, are
disadvantaged. Often, they have little evidence to support their claim
on a past-due amount.
Michelle A. Weinberg, a legal
aid lawyer in Chicago noted that, in Illinois as in Massachusetts, debt
collectors have to file an affidavit with their lawsuits attesting to
the legitimacy of their claims. “But the affidavits are plainly
false,” Weinberg said. “If the plaintiff has anything, it
is only a computer printout.” In every case she has taken,
Weinberg said, she has challenged the veracity of the affidavit, and
‘in every instance, the debt collector has dropped the case.
Federal banking regulators have
set no rules for how much data the banks should provide when they sell
a customer’s debt.
Some states, however, have moved
to fill the void. Maine, West Virginia, and Minnesota, for instance,
are developing reputations for aggressively regulating debt collection
agencies that mistreat consumers.
And judges in a handful of states, including New Jersey, Maryland and
Michigan, have found the imbalance between collectors and debtors so
troubling that they are looking for change.
In Michigan, the three justices
of the Southfield District Court in suburban Detroit, citing widespread
abuses by debt buyers, want to update court rules to curb what they
describe as “predatory” practices, “particularly for
the majority of defendants who are not familiar with the court system
and who cannot afford an attorney.”
The judges complain about
numerous practices, many of which, the Globe found, are also
commonplace in Massachusetts courts. In Michigan, the judges wrote:
- The sale and resale of
uncollected debts often leads to cases involving outdated addresses, so
debtors receive no notification they have been sued,
- Suits are mistakenly filed
against the wrong consumers, or against people who have already repaid
a debt.
- Debt collectors seldom have
evidence of the original debts they are claiming.
- Debt collectors often
misrepresent the amount owed by adding unwarranted interest charges
Even consumers who pay off their
debts have no guarantee the matter ends there. In Massachusetts and
other states, collectors who win court judgments are required to notify
the court when a judgment is paid. But many do not - leaving consumers
powerless to erase black marks on their credit reports when they go to
buy a car or refinance a home. They are often forced to take on higher
interest rates, and with them larger payments and a greater likelihood
they will slip back into financial trouble,
Cheryl[ Cook, a clerk in civil
court in Orange County, Calif., said her court spends a lot of time
fielding calls from people who are trying to clear up an old judgment
that they paid. ‘It’s just crazy,” Cook said.
“It’s an extremely frustrating thing for anybody to go
through.”
And among those who collect
debts, some express growing unease about the way debtors are treated,
One is Richard S Daniels Jr., a
Boston lawyer whose firm has been collecting debts on behalf of clients
for nearly 30 years and files about 20,000 small-claims lawsuits a year
- more than any other debt collector in the state. And yet Daniels said
the current practices of the credit card industry have left a sour
taste in his mouth.
“Any system that puts
people’s backs up against the wall doesn’t work,” he
said in an interview. Daniels described the penalties and fees that
credit card companies tack onto consumer bills as
“usurious” and “totally unconscionable,” making
it impossible for people to get out of debt. Such charges, Daniels
declared, amount to “classic abuse I wish to hell Congress would
do away with,”
“This used to be an
honorable business,” Daniels said, when discussing collections
for credit card companies- “Now, the guys on the other side are
thieves.”
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The New York Times
An Outcry Rises as Debt Collectors Play Rough
By SEWELL CHAN
July 5, 2006
The rise in American consumer
debt has been accompanied by a sharp increase in complaints about
aggressive and sometimes unscrupulous tactics by debt collection
agencies, a phenomenon that has government regulators increasingly
concerned.
In April, the Federal Trade
Commission, which enforces the federal law that governs debt collection
practices, reported that it received 66,627 complaints against
third-party debt collectors last year — more than against any
other industry, and nearly six times the number in 1999.
The agencies often buy the debt
from more established companies for pennies on the dollar and seek to
collect even if the debt has been paid or was never valid to begin
with. Sometimes, consumers pay up simply because they are worn down by
threats from the companies and fear damage to their credit rating.
One New York City victim, Judith
Guillet, complained and filed a police report in 2003 after receiving a
Chase credit card bill for $2,300, including five charges from Amoco
gasoline stations in the Bronx. She has never owned a car or had a
driver’s license.
The bank agreed that the charges
were not valid, but the debt case hung on because the bank turned it
over to a collection agency. Last November, that agency obtained a
court order allowing it to freeze Ms. Guillet’s bank account even
though it could not demonstrate that the debt was valid.
“I felt helpless, said Ms.
Guillet, a nurse who is retired on full disability. “I
couldn’t pay my rent, buy food or pay my electricity bills.”
Officials in New York City,
which has some of the most stringent consumer protection laws in the
country, said the number of local complaints about debt collectors more
than doubled in three years — to 900 in the 2006 fiscal year,
which ended on Friday, from 774 in 2005, 509 in 2004 and 422 in 2003.
The city’s Department of
Consumer Affairs recently subpoenaed records from eight companies with
the most complaints and is considering whether to propose tougher
regulations. And last month, New York’s attorney general, Eliot
Spitzer, sued a national debt collection company, accusing it of trying
in thousands of cases to collect on debts that could not be verified.
The Federal Trade Commission
enforces the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act, the 1977 law that
prohibits abusive, deceptive and unfair tactics by collection agencies.
Last July, the commission won 10.2 million — its biggest judgment
for illegal collection practices in a case against National Check
Control of Secaucus, N.J. The company, now out of business, overstated
the amounts consumers owed and threatened them with arrest and
prosecution.
‘We’re very
concerned about the increase in complaints about debt collection, and
we are stepping up our enforcement against the debt collection
industry,’ said Peggy L. Twohig, who directs the F.T.C’s
Division of Financial Practices.
In its most recent annual report
on the act, the commission identified tactics that have become
particularly common: misrepresenting the nature, size and status of a
debt; making constant harassing and abusive phone calls at all hours;
contacting a debtor’s relatives, employers and neighbors; failing
to investigate claims by consumers that a debt is paid, expired or
fraudulent; and threatening to sue or seek prosecution. (Such threats
are illegal unless the collector has both the legal basis and the
intent to take such action.)
In addition to filing complaints
with regulators, a growing number of consumers are suing over debt
collection abuses, according to the National Association of Consumer
Advocates
Stephanie M. Clark, 36, and her
husband sued the Triad Financial Corporation of Huntington Beach,
Calif., and Verizon Wireless in Federal District Court in Santa Ana,
Calif., in August 2004. After they fell behind on their car payments,
the suit alleged, Triad hired a collector who threatened them with
arrest, posed as a Verizon Wireless employee, changed the password on
their cellphone account and obtained their cellphone records. According
to the suit, the collector called dozens of the couple’s
relatives, friends and business associates, posing as a law enforcement
officer and telling them that there was an arrest warrant for the
Clarks.
“They contacted former and
future employers,” said Ms. Clark, who now lives in Healdsburg,
Calif. “It was very stressful. We felt completely violated.
Humiliated.” In June 2005, before the case was to go to trial,
the companies settled with the Clarks for an undisclosed sum. (Both
companies said they could not discuss the settlement, which also
resolved the original debt, because of a confidentiality agreement.)
Last July, Leigh A. Feist, 39,
of Minneapolis, took out a cash-advance loan of around $570. From
September to April, a collection agency, Riscuity, called Ms. Feist
constantly on her cellphone and at her job at a health insurer,
according to a suit that her lawyer, Peter F. Barry, filed on May 25.
The calls were so frequent, Ms. Feist said, that her supervisor
examined the record of incoming calls and reprimanded her.
Edward Chen, president of
Riscuity, based in Marietta, Ga., said that he was not aware of the
suit but that the company stops calling debtors at work at their
request.
Regulators and consumer
advocates say many creditors prefer to hire collection agencies or sell
bundled debts to debt buyers because of the expense of litigation.
Robert J. Hobbs, the deputy
director of the National Consumer Law Center, an advocacy organization
based in Boston, attributed the rise in complaints about abusive
collection practices to three broad trends: the rapid growth in the
number of collection agencies, the tightening of bankruptcy-protection
laws last year and the record level of consumer debt, now totaling $2.2
trillion, complicated by rising interest rates and stagnant personal
incomes. Identity theft and Internet fraud are also cited as factors.
Rozanne M. Andersen, the general
counsel at ACA International, which represents 3,6oo debt collection
agencies, more than half of the estimated 6,ooo to 7,000 such companies
in the United States, said its members adhere to a rigorous code of
ethics. “To the extent there are abusive practices taking place
in the industry, ACA International absolutely denounces those practices
that fall outside of the law,” she said.
Eric M. Berman, a lawyer in
Babylon, N.Y., and an officer of the National Association of Retail
Collection Attorneys, whose members represent creditors, said
complaints filed with the government were not always legitimate. For
example, he said, some debtors complain when debt collectors will not
accept partial payments on the same installment terms that the original
lender provided, a practice that may be frustrating to the debtor but
is legal.
“People need to get much
more education about credit accounts and what they’re getting
into,” Mr. Berman said. “In addition, there are a small
minority who are scammers — people who will run up credit with no
intent of paying it and then try to negotiate their way out of
it.”
While consumer advocates say
that abusive collection practices have a disproportionate effect on
poor people, the elderly, immigrants and people with limited English,
the rise in complaints seems to span the social and economic spectrum.
Mary H. Monroe, 71, a retiree in
Williamsburg, Brooklyn, received repeated calls last year from
Diversified Collection Services, part of the Performant Financial
Corporation of Livermore, Calif., insisting that she owed more than
$8,000 in tuition and fees at a beauty school that she had never
attended. “I thought they had to be kidding,” she said.
She said the calls continued,
despite her protests that the collectors had the wrong person. “I
finally got a lawyer to write to them, and they haven’t bothered
me since,” she said.
Maria Perrin, a senior vice
president at Performant, said the company halts its efforts when it
learns of cases of mistaken identity. “Honestly, we don’t
want to spend time with the wrong person,” she said.
James M. Rhodes, 65, was not as
lucky as Ms. Monroe. In November, Mr. Rhodes, a commercial lawyer and
arbitrator on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, received the first of
three letters from Midland Credit Management, part of the Encore
Capital Group of San Diego. The company insisted that he pay 82,800 on
a MasterCard he never had.
Mr. Rhodes repeatedly insisted
that the debt was not his, and then wrote to state and city officials.
In April, the city’s Department of Consumer Affairs got Midland
to acknowledge that the debt was erroneous. But that was not the end of
it, because in the meantime, in March, Mr. Rhodes heard from a second
collection agency, Phillips & Cohen Associates of Westhampton,
N.J., demanding payment on the same account, this time for $1,900. Mr.
Rhodes sent letters of protest and contacted the city again.
J. Brandon Black, the chief
executive of Encore, said, “The vast majority of fraud or
mistaken-identity complaints and concerns are taken care of at the
level of the issuer.” Matthew A. Saperstein, a vice president at
Phillips & Cohen, said it closed the account on May 12 after
receiving a letter from Mr. Rhodes.
Ms. Guillet, the Bronx woman
with the gasoline charges, spent two years insisting that her credit
card charges were not valid. Finally, lawyers for New Century Financial
Services of Cedar Knolls, N.J., which had bought the debt, obtained a
judgment in New York City Civil Court that led Emigrant Savings Bank to
freeze her account. Ms. Guillet, who has fibromyalgia, a muscle pain
and fatigue disorder, lives on $1,324 a month in Social Security
Disability Insurance.
Although companies must serve
notice before getting permission to freeze a bank account, such notices
are often misdirected or, as in Ms. Guillet’s case, ignored by
people who are fearful or confused.
A nonprofit legal clinic, MFY
Legal Services, got the account unfrozen in January and, after
providing extensive documentation that Ms. Guillet had saved over two
years, reached a settlement with New Century, which agreed to stop
contacting her and dropped the case. (A company official, Jeff
Esposito, said he could not discuss the case.)
“It stressed me out so
bad,” Ms. Guillet said of being pursued for a debt she did not
incur. “I wondered what else might be out there that I
don’t know about.”
Karen James
contributed reporting for this article.
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