Con Artist's Number Is Up Today
D.C. Prosecutors Seek Long Sentence in Fraud Case

By Del Quentin Wilber
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, September 18, 2008

Robert Franklin Miller greeted his victims in a swank office just blocks from the White House. It looked high-class, with its spiral staircase, appealing artwork, leather furniture, flat-screen televisions and seemingly busy employees.

Wearing a crisp suit, Miller promised potential investors quick and hefty profits. He showed them photographs of investment properties, displayed financial records and played a slide show celebrating the promise of American Funding and Investment Corp.

This was a company, according to Miller, that got homes on the cheap through foreclosures, then rehabilitated them for sale to buyers with bad credit histories.

Brenda Alston, 61, was among those who fell for the pitch. She gave Miller a check for $3,000 and eagerly awaited a dividend payment that never came. "I just feel violated all over," Alston said.

The cash vanished in the hands of a man who authorities say is one of the region's most prolific and indefatigable con artists. Citing his refusal to give up the con game, prosecutors are seeking a 130-year prison term at Miller's sentencing on fraud charges today at the federal courthouse in Washington. By contrast, former Enron chief executive Jeffrey K. Skilling got a 24-year term in one of America's most infamous scandals.

In his latest, biggest scam, Miller cheated Alston and others of almost $500,000 in 10 months, prosecutors said. Authorities estimate that he stole at least a million dollars over the years from at least 50 victims in the Washington, Baltimore, Pittsburgh and Atlanta areas.

A smooth talker who drove a Corvette loaded with radar detectors and a police scanner, Miller has falsely claimed over the years to be a real estate investor, banker, lawyer, chiropractor, reggae record producer and police officer to impress his victims, authorities said.

Miller, 54, stole as easily from a former American Express business manager ($133,000) and an analyst for Freddie Mac ($25,000) as he did from a convenience store clerk ($30,000) and a struggling janitor at Verizon Center hoping to buy her first home ($7,200).

Even after his conviction last year on 11 counts of fraud -- his 17th conviction in almost 60 arrests -- Miller allegedly has continued his swindling ways from his jail cell. Authorities said he has tried to obtain millions in credit lines through false pretenses and befriended women through ads in tabloid magazines, promising marriage, jewelry and homes. He persuaded one to run a retail Web site for him and asked another to consider refinancing her home to help him raise cash, they said. He even tried to con a corporate loan broker over a D.C. jail phone line, they said.

"Like the calculation of Pi, Miller's criminal history has been endless," prosecutors John D. Griffith and Michael K. Atkinson wrote in court documents.

Miller's attorney, Jonathan Jeffress, a federal public defender, has asked U.S. District Judge Richard J. Leon to impose as little as six years and five months behind bars. Jeffress argued at trial that Miller was a businessman, not a crook. He "was trying to build something, not steal it," Jeffress told the jury.

Miller did not respond to two letters seeking comment. But in a letter to the judge, he said prosecutors misled jurors. Then he went into a treatise on the art of lying.

"Like music, lying requires exquisite timing, a consistent beat and a melodic quality designed to soothe the most cynical beast," Miller wrote. "Like painting, lying requires varying shades of color, depending on the visual or intellectual effect desired. Like poetry, lying has to be precise, measured, lyrical and appealing."

* * *

Miller possesses a whirlwind of energy, persistence and charm, as well as a con artist's biggest skill: turning a shred of truth into a massive scam, according to investigators, former prosecutors, his victims and others who knew him.

He was born in New Jersey and left high school to join the U.S. Army, where he later obtained a diploma, court records show. He received an honorable discharge in 1974. He was arrested for the first time in 1976 on charges of resisting arrest in Louisiana. A few years later, he moved to London, where he claimed to be a master of Hap Ki Do, a little-known martial art.

Starting in those early years, Miller was an energetic promoter. Five-foot-nine and wiry, he got publicity after smashing through 780 slabs of concrete in less than five minutes during a demonstration. That led to an interview with Karate and Oriental Arts magazine about his hopes to establish Hap Ki Do studios in Great Britain. The story caught the attention of authorities, and Miller got into trouble for working without a proper permit. He left the country.

Fred Adams, president of the International Hapkido organization in Great Britain, recalled meeting Miller in London and realizing that the supposed master, despite skills in martial arts, didn't understand the nuances of Hap Ki Do or have the proper certificates.

"You couldn't believe a word he said," Adams said.

Back in the United States, Miller had repeated brushes with the law. In 1992, he pleaded guilty in Venango County, Pa., to impersonating a lawyer after taking $29,000 to represent a man in a criminal case.

Then it was on to Annapolis, where he bought a share of a restaurant in nearby Eastport. He falsely claimed to be a chiropractor and gave massages to waitresses or customers, according to those who knew him and a former state police investigator. He became known around town as "Dr. Bob."

Financial trouble ensued, and Miller turned over ownership of the business. It wasn't a happy parting. He was convicted in 1994 of breaking into the place and stealing food, dishes, furniture and other items. The next year, he pleaded guilty in a scam involving used cars in Baltimore County.

* * *

After spending a few years in a Maryland prison for the used-car case, Miller met Deborah Kolodner. She, too, had a checkered past, having been convicted twice in Maryland on federal fraud charges. They married in 1999 but split; as things unraveled, each called the other's probation officer to report alleged misdeeds, according to court filings. They later divorced.

By 2001, Miller was placing ads in newspapers soliciting people with poor credit to give him several thousand dollars as down payments for homes. Authorities and victims said he didn't deliver.

"I was naive and excited and anxious to buy my first home," said one victim, Brenda Beyer, a clerk at a Baltimore area convenience store. Beyer, 47, estimated that she lost $30,000, adding, "I gave this man everything I had."

Miller refined the scam and moved its base to the $20,000-a-month office on Pennsylvania Avenue NW in the District, prosecutors said. His most recent convictions stem from this period, July 2003 through April 2004.

Now he was taking money from investors who thought they were putting up cash to buy and sell foreclosed properties. And he was taking deposits from people who wanted to buy the homes.

The scheme picked up, prosecutors said, after Miller stumbled upon the Queen Anne Corp., which owned 65 homes in the Baltimore area. Queen Anne was looking to unload the properties, and Miller expressed interest, getting a portfolio loaded with documents.

The deal went nowhere. Still, Miller kept the paperwork and used it as his own to lure investors, according to prosecutors.

To make his company seem real, Miller hired more than 40 employees. Many left because of payroll problems or the lack of legitimate work, prosecutors said in court papers. Prosecutors declined requests for interviews and would not say whether they thought any employees were in on the scheme.

During Miller's trial last year, former employee Richard A. Chisholm recalled quitting after just three months. "I personally didn't see Mr. Miller purchase anything other than, you know, like, beers and stuff," he said.

But money was rolling in. A business analyst at Freddie Mac gave Miller $25,000, and a real estate agent handed over $60,000, trial testimony revealed. Then there were the struggling home-buyers, including the Verizon Center janitor who lost $7,200 and the security guard who lost $4,500.

Robert Debnam, a former manager at American Express and a full-time real estate investor, testified that he handed over $100,000 after meeting Miller and learning about the Queen Anne properties. Miller promised a 100 percent profit in 90 days, Debnam testified.

A month later, in February 2004, Miller asked for more cash. Debnam testified that he was reluctant to dig deeper because he hadn't received any money yet from his first investment. But Miller was persistent. " 'If you do it, then I will give you an even greater return,' " he quoted Miller as saying. Debnam gave Miller $43,000 more.

Debnam, who got back $10,000 from Miller after threatening to go to the media, declined to comment.

Lawrence Haye was a 25-year-old Mitchellville resident running his family's small investment firm when he met Miller for lunch at a French restaurant. Miller told Haye he was a lawyer, a former investment banker and a real estate tycoon operating a large investment fund that targeted residential property. Miller said his firm expected to generate $40 million in revenue in 2004, Haye testified.

Haye gave Miller a check for $15,000. Miller wanted more. After reviewing a thick binder detailing the Queen Anne properties, Haye turned over an additional $25,000. Miller soon stopped meeting Haye and other investors or even returning phone calls, Haye said.

"I am angry about it," Haye said in a recent interview. "I am embarrassed by it. I just felt so stupid. . . . But it has taught me to be much, much more careful about investments, especially in real estate."

* * *

The scheme came crashing down in April 2004, when the Secret Service and D.C. police arrested Miller on state charges in Maryland. Miller, who has been locked up ever since, pleaded guilty to theft charges and was sentenced to 12 years in prison.

That same year, a federal grand jury indicted Miller in the District.

Prosecutors can't say for certain where all the money went. Miller returned about $88,500 to early investors, whom he sometimes used to promote the business. Prosecutors know he never bought a single piece of property, and they think he lived in his office.

Even behind bars, Miller hasn't given up the con game, prosecutors said, and he has sent people correspondence on letterhead that says "From the Desk of Robert Miller Mail ID #," never mentioning that the address is the D.C. jail.

Staff researchers Meg Smith and Magda Jean-Louis contributed to this report.