Detroit Riverfront Conservancy requests maximum prison sentence for ex-CFO
The Detroit Riverfront Conservancy is requesting a judge issue a maximum 20-year prison sentence for its former CFO who was convicted in connection with stealing $44 million from the nonprofit, arguing his purported cooperation with investigators and a promise to pay restitution should afford him no leniency.
William Smith is to be sentenced Thursday following his guilty plea in November to wire fraud and money laundering. Prosecutors have recommended he serve 18 years, while Smith's lawyers are seeking a sentence of 12.5 to 15.5 years.
'Smith did not simply steal money from a non-profit; he stole from volunteers and used that money for excess, flamboyance, and greed,' conservancy lawyer Matthew Schneider – himself a former top federal prosecutor – wrote in a letter Monday to U.S. District Judge Susan DeClercq.
More: Feds seek 18-year prison term for ex-Detroit Riverfront CFO William Smith
More: 'Ashamed' and 'remorseful': Lawyers for ex-Detroit Riverfront CFO ask court for leniency
Smith began siphoning money from the nonprofit, which was tasked with renovating the Detroit riverfront, in 2012. That was shortly after his promotion from fiscal analyst to CFO. The theft continued into March 2024, when the nonprofit's leaders said they first noticed cash flow issues.
Prosecutors have detailed lavish spending by Smith including $3.7 million in wire transfers to a mistress, $500,000 in Pistons floor tickets, and nearly $200,000 to charter a private jet and yacht.
Schneider's letter to DeClercq details additional alleged spending that includes the laundering of $4.3 million to Smith's now shuttered night club, Duo Restaurant and Lounge, in Southfield. According to the letter, Smith used conservancy funds for restaurant supplies, work uniforms, and bulk liquor orders in the thousands of dollars.
Smith also donated to community causes and GoFundMe campaigns with conservancy money, the letter says. "In what can only be described as the ultimate act of hubris," he made one donation to the conservancy itself, contributing $10,000 to the 2017 Shimmer on the River gala via an American Express card whose balance he later paid with a wire transfer from the nonprofit. Smith even sent himself a thank you letter for the donation, Schneider said, 'presumably so he could claim his payment as a charitable donation on his tax filing.'
Funds for the nonprofit come from philanthropic, public and private sources.
In requesting a lighter penalty for Smith, defense attorneys have said he's remorseful and they highlighted his cooperation with investigators.
But Schneider rejects that characterization, alleging that when confronted about the missing money in March 2024, the then-CFO lied about his involvement for weeks – first to board chair Matt Cullen, then an outside consultant the nonprofit hired to investigate, and, finally, an 'extremely upset' major donor whose organization had given the conservancy millions.
By late April, Smith took a leave of absence and started transferring assets, prompting a judge to eventually freeze them.
Smith has agreed to pay at least $44.3 million in restitution, but prosecutors expect to recoup as little as $2 million from all of his seized assets, per a February court filing.
Schneider's letter also includes comments from about a dozen anonymous "victims" affiliated with the conservancy.
One, from an unnamed board member, says the actions of Smith, who is Black, will prevent other Black people from succeeding.
'I can only begin to tell you the negative impact that has resulted in the Black community,' the statement says. 'Mr. Smith's actions give those who want to find a reason not to provide equal opportunity an excuse to avoid providing access to executive positions, jobs, contracts.'
Another anonymous board member statement says Smith 'has single handedly diminished Detroit's and the Conservancy's reputation.'
'Just when Detroit is getting accolades as the No. 1 Riverwalk in the United States three years in a row, for the revitalization of the city, and for the NFL draft, Mr. Smith's scandal has put us in a negative light,' it says.
The more than 40-member conservancy board is made up of the region's top political, business and philanthropic leaders. After details of the theft were revealed last year, nonprofit governance experts highlighted a range of apparent red flags at the organization, including Smith's sole access to a conservancy checking account, a lack of board scrutiny of his business dealings, and the board's use of the same auditor for more than a decade.
More: Experts review how Detroit Riverfront Conservancy could have missed alleged $40M fraud
Violet Ikonomova is an investigative reporter at the Free Press focused on government and police accountability. Contract her at vikonomova@freepress.com.
This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Detroit Riverfront Conservancy seeks max sentence for stealing CFO
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Indianapolis Star
an hour ago
- Indianapolis Star
Low-head dams can be 'drowning machines.' Awareness and safety urged for summer outings
Amanda Malott's son Andre "AJ" Edwards Jr. was 14 when he went down to play near the Silver Creek dam with some friends last year. A large billboard loomed over the creek where the boys were headed, encouraging southern Indiana locals to 'Check out New Albany's Silver Creek Landing.' It depicted several people standing above a small dam, and one figure dangling their legs over the edge. The waterway empties into the Ohio River just less than a mile from Silver Creek Landing and was one of AJ's favorite spots to play outside, Malott said. Less than an hour after AJ left home, two police officers were knocking on Malott's door. They told her AJ hadn't resurfaced after jumping off the low-head dam into Silver Creek, which divides New Albany and Clarksville. First responders and volunteers found AJ's body after a lengthy search into the night. AJ's story is part of a growing number of tragic incidents involving low-head dams across Indiana and the United States. Around 170 low-head dams in various states of disrepair sit in Indiana's rivers and creeks, and many have deadly currents that can trap even the strongest swimmers. At least 28 people in the state drowned in these underwater currents since 2010. Victims included a conservation officer with nearly three decades of experience who died in 1998 during a practice-rescue operation on the White River. AJ's tragedy pushed Malott to file a lawsuit, adding to the growing legal debate over low-head dam safety in Indiana. In March, the family of two kayakers who drowned at the Emrichsville Dam last year sued Indianapolis, alleging city officials knew about the 'lethal danger' of the dam but failed to place proper warning signage. Malott hopes her suit will help provide accountability and raise awareness around low-head dams, which Ken Smith, DNR's assistant director of the Division of Water, called 'drowning machines' in a 2016 PBS documentary. AJ's sister has set up a GoFundMe to support the family. Thousands of low-head dams were built across the U.S. in the 19th and 20th centuries. They typically aren't higher than 15 feet, yet they're capable of altering habitats and raising water levels. By creating slower pools of water upstream, low-head dams allowed industrial, municipal and agricultural entities to easily divert water. But many of these structures have outlived their purpose. They sit abandoned in streams and rivers because they're tricky and expensive to remove — sometimes costing nearly a million dollars — and ownership is not always clear. These outdated dams are still posing a risk for Hoosiers today. From the water, they can look small and unassuming, but they've continually proven to be deadly to swimmers and kayakers. As water flows over the crest of the dam, it can form deadly hydraulic currents. This phenomenon can trap swimmers in a sort of sideways vortex that experts say is almost impossible to escape. 'It's basically a cyclone or a whirlpool turned on its side,' said Scott Salmon, the former executive director of Friends of the White River. 'Once you get stuck in there, whether you're a person or you're a tree or you're a boat, the chances of you getting out of that … is very, very low.' Low-head dam safety boils down to three points: Wear a life jacket for the entirety of your trip on the water, don't go paddling when the water level is abnormally high, and figure out in advance where you will low-head dams and other potential threats. Hoosiers should always wear life jackets while recreating in a body of water, according to the Indiana Department of Homeland Security. The jackets should be in working condition, fit properly, and United States Coast Guard approved. Wearing a life jacket isn't a guarantee of safety in the face of low-head dams, but 'it won't hurt,' Salmon said. Capt. Jet Quillen, with DNR's Law Enforcement Division, advised boaters to 'always avoid elevated water levels and fast-moving water' in an email to IndyStar. Boaters can check the National Water Dashboard for safety information about Indiana waterways. And lastly, creating a float plan can mitigate danger. Prior to departure, Quillen recommended noting any nearby hazards, like low-head dams, and planning for where you will put in and take out. There are low-head dams across the state without proper signage, so the Indiana Low-Head Dams map is one of the most comprehensive resources for finding existing dams that might intersect your float. The dam on Silver Creek was embroiled in disputes and lawsuits even before AJ's death. One of the ongoing fights started in 2021 after DNR issued a permit to Ecosystems Connections Institute to remove the dam. New Albany pushed back. In a legal filing, the city said destroying the dam 'constitutes an unlawful and unconstitutional taking of property.' A judge let the removal permit move forward, and New Albany filed an appeal. The city has since claimed, in a 109-page document Director of City Operations Michael Hall shared with IndyStar, that no one knows who owns the dam and "DNR refused any ownership or responsibility." The document also claimed removing the dam would 'severely impact the recreation opportunities available in the creek, such as fishing and wading." After AJ's death, New Albany Mayor Jeff Gahan declared a State of Emergency and the city attempted to make the dam safer by adding stones on the downstream slope to eliminate the hydraulic current. The action resulted in the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers ordering the removal of the rock because the city did not acquire a permit. The DNR filed a separate legal proceeding over the lack of a similar permit. Neither case has been resolved. The dangers of low-head dams — and their deadly currents specifically — have been known for years, according to Malott's lawsuit, which cites evidence from the dam removal case. Mallott accuses officials of New Albany, Clarksville, Clark and Floyd counties and the DNR of negligence for failing to post warning signs about the danger posed by the dam. 'How can you have something that the Indiana government acknowledges as a perfect drowning machine available for the public, small children, to recreate around?' said Jon Noyes, the attorney representing Malott. New Albany denied all counts in Malott's suit including that it owned, operated or controlled the dam, according to documents filed with the Marion Superior Court on June 5. Clarksville and Floyd County did not respond to IndyStar requests for comment, while Clark County and DNR said they do not discuss pending litigation. Malott's suit claims New Albany officials were notified in 2021 the dam is "dangerous to humans," and urged the city to "see the human safety value of removing this structure ..." The same year, Clarksville officials passed a resolution stating the dam was an "acknowledged 'attractive nuisance'" during high-water flows. Despite those concerns, the suit alleges the public was encouraged to recreate at the dam. The lawsuit said the Silver Creek Landing billboard was in place on May 27, 2024, when AJ and some friends went to the landing to explore and play. There were no signs warning them of the danger of what the boys called a waterfall, just the billboard. "As A.J. and his friends were jumping off the 'waterfall,'" the lawsuit says, "A.J. slipped and landed in deadly hydraulic currents, which took his life." Low-head dam removal provides safety for Hoosiers spending time outdoors and also bolsters wildlife habitat along Indiana waterways, especially for fish, according to Jerry Sweeten, a stream ecologist at the Ecosystems Connections Institute. Silver Creek feeds into the Ohio River, which allows fish to swim upstream from the larger water body — until they reach the dam. 'We know that 85 percent plus species of fish in Indiana need to move upstream and downstream as a part of their life history. That's just biology,' Sweeten said. 'Low-head dams can have a severe effect on that movement.' Sweeten's research found 15 fish species downstream of the dam, but only four species directly upstream. Throughout his career, he has noticed more invasive carp in the pools above low head dams and fewer smallmouth bass, which are a prized species for many local anglers. 'The science of all of this strongly suggests that the best thing you can do for the stream is to get that concrete out,' he said. Advocates of the dam say the structure creates more opportunities for recreation but Sweeten said that dam removal is almost always the best option. It can improve fishing, vitalize ecosystems, and most importantly, eradicate danger for Hoosiers outdoors. 'One of the saddest things I've ever heard in my entire career is listening to a mom or a sibling of a young person who needlessly lost their life at one of these dams. Why they're there is bewildering to me,' said Sweeten. 'How someone can justify leaving something that would cause someone else to get hurt like that is, it's just bewildering. It's hard to understand.' The Silver Creek area was AJ's favorite place to hang out with friends. He didn't know it was dangerous, Mallot said. AJ would never spend a sunny day inside, even during the winter, his mom said. He would go outside and meet up with friends every chance he could. The 14-year-old was a ball of light making friends wherever he went, Malott said. He wasn't just her son, he was her best friend, too. A few summers ago, Malott remembers AJ would take six or seven water bottles with him when he went outside to play with his friends. It turns out he was taking those bottles to some of the homeless community who lived out in the woods, she said. 'That kid would give you the shirt off his back and had a smile that lit up a room,' Malott said. A year later, Malott said her son's death at the dam still doesn't feel real. 'I'm still waiting," she said, "for him to come through the door.' IndyStar's environmental reporting project is made possible through the generous support of the nonprofit Nina Mason Pulliam Charitable Trust. Karl Schneider is an IndyStar environment reporter. You can reach him at Follow him on BlueSky @
Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
Woman and family members kill her husband in self-defense at Buckhead apartment complex, police say
Atlanta police are investigating a fight between a husband and wife that turned deadly in Buckhead. At about 11:30 p.m. Wednesday, police responded to the Cortland Peachtree Battle apartment complex at 2420 Peachtree Road in Atlanta to reports of shots fired. When they arrived, they found a man dead in a hallway. Atlanta Police Homicide Commander Andrew Smith said a man in his mid-30s entered the apartment building, approached the apartment of his wife, also in her mid-30s, and fired two shots. Smith said the man and woman were in the process of getting a divorce. [DOWNLOAD: Free WSB-TV News app for alerts as news breaks] After the man began firing the shots, the woman and two of her family members attacked the man in self-defense and killed him. Police aren't sure at this time how he was able to enter the building and have not revealed how the woman and her family members killed the man. Investigators are collecting evidence and interviewing witnesses. It is unclear if charges will be filed. Police urge anyone with information about this shooting to call Atlanta Crime Stoppers at 404-577-TIPS (8477). Tipsters can remain anonymous. TRENDING STORIES: Manhunt underway for GA man accused of ramming truck into patrol vehicle, leaving deputy injured PHOTOS: These people vanished in Georgia. Now, the GBI is searching for them 'Senseless': Brothers, ages 13 and 14, accused of Clayton party shooting, posting it to social media [SIGN UP: WSB-TV Daily Headlines Newsletter]

Business Insider
3 hours ago
- Business Insider
An LA couple moved to Mexico to avoid deportation. They racked up $20K in debt, but are feeling more hopeful they can build a life together.
Alfredo Linares moved to Mexico with his wife Raegan Kline due to deportation fears in the U.S. The couple left Los Angeles with $20,000 in debt after closing their Japanese barbecue pop-up restaurant. After several months of instability, the two are finally finding some footing in Puerto Vallarta, Jalisco. When Raegan Kline and Alfredo Linares married last summer, their dream felt straightforward and simple: start a Japanese barbecue pop-up restaurant in Los Angeles and live happily ever after. But all of that changed in the fall when President Donald Trump, who had promised mass deportations on the campaign trail, won reelection. Linares, who had worked his way up in fine dining to become a cook in a Michelin Star restaurant, arrived in the US as a teenager at 19 with his family and has lived here illegally ever since. Kline, a US citizen, was stricken with worry that at any moment, her husband could be arrested and deported. "I really didn't feel safe," Kline said. "Every morning I would wake up saying, 'If we don't go and something happens to him, I'll never be able to forgive myself.' " In March, the couple moved from Culver City to Linare's birth country of Mexico in hopes of improving their chances of building a future together. "I lived in the shadows for 20 years," Linares said. "I'm 38 years old, so I don't think I have 10 more years of living in the shadows when I'm trying to build a business and grow as a family, as an entrepreneur." Do you have a story to share about moving or immigration? Reach out to this reporter at jdeng@ Going into debt to move to Mexico The couple received around $10,000 in cash from their parents as a wedding gift. They had originally hoped to use the money to hire a lawyer to help Linares gain citizenship, but they wrestled with the best way to use the money to secure a future together. "Do we really go ahead and gamble and trust this administration with this $10,000 that our parents gave us for our wedding gifts, or do we use that $10,000 to move to Mexico?" Kline said of their dilemma. But even the wedding gift wasn't enough to help them break even and start fresh in Mexico. The pair took on debt to start their Japanese barbecue business last spring. While they tried to get it off the ground, their bills ballooned to over $20,000. They raised over $4,000 online through GoFundMe to help them with their relocation. Since the move, they've attempted to find jobs in hospitality, but because Linares doesn't have an identification card and Kline doesn't have work authorization as a temporary resident, it's been difficult to pay the bills. "We're not earning an income," Kline said. "We have all of that stress and try to keep our credit card in a reasonable place and keep ourselves on a budget." Adjusting to life in a new country The biggest hurdle for them has been navigating the deluge of paperwork and bureaucracy in a new country. "I'm very Americanized," Linares said. "Yes, I'm Mexican, but I haven't been here for 20 years. It's totally different from the Mexico I left." From needing a physical copy of a birth certificate to struggling to establish Linares' permanent residence, it's been hard for him to get an ID card when they were first living in Airbnbs in Mexico City. "I need my ID, but I cannot have an ID because I don't have a home address. And I can't get a home address because I don't have a job, because I don't have an ID," Linares said of the frustrating situation. Now they are renting an apartment in Puerto Vallarta in the state of Jalisco, where they've been finally settling in over the past three weeks. "I feel like myself a little bit more," Kline said of the stability. "I'm realizing that this is where we live, this is our home. We're not on vacation." Kline is now able to see past the trials of the past few months and look toward the future with more hope. They've since brought down their rescue dog Dolly Love from Los Angeles to live with them in Mexico. "I do believe we made the right choice," Kline said. "I do believe that there's opportunity here. I do believe in my husband and his talents and his skills." The move to Mexico has tested their relationship and challenged them in many different ways, but Linares said the core of their bond hasn't been shaken. They keep a routine of checking in with each other over coffee every morning. "She makes things easier, and it's because of the communication that we have," Linares said of his wife.