The conventional wisdom has held that banks that issue
credit cards must charge large rates of interest in order to cover losses on
unpaid debts. It is presumably not cost
effective to try and collect large numbers of small unpaid balances. That may have been true in the past, but
never underestimate the ingenuity of those who are after a quick buck.
As an indication that something new has been afoot in the
banking world, consider this article from Reuters (3/2013): States probing top U.S. banks over debt collection.
“The largest U.S. banks face a multi-state investigation into whether
they helped debt collectors pursue faulty judgments against credit card
customers, according to people familiar with the matter.”
“At
issue is whether weak record-keeping by banks or a failure to pass accurate
information to collection agencies harmed consumers.”
“The
allegations against the banks echo those central to last year's $25 billion
federal-state mortgage settlement to resolve charges that the banks
"robo-signed" documents and pursued foreclosures with faulty
information.”
“This
latest probe targets the same banks, including Bank of America, JPMorgan Chase,
Citigroup and Wells Fargo, said the sources who spoke on condition of anonymity
because the investigations are continuing.”
Matt Taibbi discusses the new mechanics of debt
collection in his book The Divide: American Injustice in the Age ofthe Wealth Gap. In a chapter
appropriately titled Big Frauds he
considers the practices of Chase Bank and focuses on the story of Linda Almonte
a former employee who was fired for pointing out to her supervisors that they
were distributing data to debt purchasers that was incorrect.
“The law is, of course, supposed
to be precise, and civil lawsuits are designed to be careful, evidenced-based
determinations of right and wrong, liability and no liability. But the business of credit card litigation by
its very nature has to be half-assed, brutal, reckless, and stupid. The business model just doesn’t work otherwise. The giant consumer credit merchants like
Chase who file lawsuits against card holders by the tens of thousands couldn’t
even begin to make real money, real margins, if they had to do anything like
real legal work or meet anything like a real evidentiary standard.”
Chase, and other banks, decided that by mass producing
legal motions they could do essentially no work, legal or otherwise, and still
win enough cases to turn a profit. They
could pursue this path with their own collection of collaborating law firms, or
resell the debt at a discount and let the debt purchasers play the game with
their own herd of law firms.
“The system is really a game of
mathematical probabilities that the companies have built around the high
probability of obtaining uncontested legal judgments.”
The first play in the game is to have a computer create
an affidavit form based on whatever information exists in the bank’s database.
“When a bank like Chase goes
into court to sue a credit card holder, it must formally list the facts of the
case: who owes what, how long the amount has been owed, when the account was
opened, and so on. The procedures in
every state are different, but at some point in the process, all states require
an affidavit from the bank as asserting these facts. The same process holds true, incidentally,
for foreclosure filings. The filings for
all these court actions, be they credit card default suits or home
foreclosures, include affidavits in which an ostensibly authoritative bank
executive attests to the facts of the case.”
Taibbi describes some of the things Linda Almonte learned
when she was assigned to Chase’s credit card litigation department. The first thing she noted was that the
signers of these affidavits were not high ranking bank officers, they were
low-paid employees whose main job was to falsify these affidavits by claiming
that they were accurate even no check of accuracy was ever intended to be made. They were told to assign themselves a lofty
title, but never use that title unless signing affidavits.
“She eventually learned that the
whole system operated like a factory. At
one end of the office, a paid-by-the-hour temp worker would generate an
affidavit on a computer screen, using an automated program that created the
legal document and automatically filled in the data from the customer
account. Once the document was
generated, the temp would print it out and then stick all the unsigned affidavits
in a drawer.”
“The robo-signers would then
open the drawer, pick up hundreds of affidavits at a time, head back to their
cubicles, and sign their names to them, one after another.”
Technically, signing an affidavit implies that the
information contained therein has checked for accuracy. But, of course, no checking had been done or
could have been done. Almonte recounts
the comment by one of the signers who was so proud of his productivity that he
claimed “It was a six hour flight and I signed like two thousand affidavits.”
The final step in the assembly line was for a notary to
come in and claim that he had witnessed the signatures.
“Then, once they were finished,
they would stick the stack of documents back
into the same drawer, where they would be retrieved (maybe that day, maybe
later) by a notary, who would stamp the affidavits. The notaries, according to Linda, were almost
never in the room when the documents were signed.”
How accurate might this data be that was taken from
cardholder files that were often many years old? Almonte was assigned to a project that was
intended to release a large number (23,000) of records for which a legal
finding in favor of Chase had supposedly been obtained. These would be the easiest to collect on and
could be sold to a purchaser for a significant fraction of their face
value. Since she was being asked to
attest to the accuracy of the documentation, she decided to check the files to
see if the claim of a legal finding was accurate.
“….there were many problems with
the accounts Linda was seeing flowing in from places like California and Illinois. Some were not even judgments. In some files, the cardholders were not even
delinquent. In still others, Chase actually owed the cardholders
money. In still more, there were
judgments, but the judgments weren’t against the borrower—they were against
chase itself.”
She sent the following result of her investigation to her
superiors:
“Upon completion of the
California PAN files we have 11,472 accounts (including MRA’s) with a total
balance of $110,138,641.18. Between 50-60%
of the files are missing judgments, or the judgment does not contain a date and
signature.”
She was told to not worry, it wouldn’t make any
difference. And her bosses were
right. The beauty of the system from
their point of view was that accuracy made little difference in the performance
of the project as a money maker.
Taibbi explains:
“At one point in time that process
also required significant legal due diligence and the transfer of
documentation, but executives soon realized that in the overwhelmed modern
court system, simply attesting to having the right documentation works just as
well as really having it. This is the
same realization that struck Bank of America when it found that saying it had
foreclosure documents was almost as good as having them….”
The banks also know that the probabilities are in their
favor. They know that about two-thirds
of those whose cases go to court never show up to contest the case. Since a judge is not likely to review the
bank’s records, that is an automatic win for the banks or the purchasers of
debt. Of the remainder, some will choose
to pay the supposed debt and some will contest the case. The banks win in two of the three cases. It makes no economic sense for a bank or debt
purchaser to get involved in an actual legal case, so those are usually
dropped. The profit has already been
made.
“What all this means is that the
bulk of the credit card collection business is conducted without any supporting
documentation showing up or being seen by human eyes at any part of the
process. The meat of the business is
collecting unopposed default judgments from defendants who either never receive
a summons or receive one and never appear in court.”
Defendants who never receive a summons? How could that be? Aren’t summons presented face-to-face and don’t
they require a signature from the person being served?
“Thanks to intense
state-by-state lobbying by companies like Chase and MBNA, it’s usually enough
to send a notice by mail to some old address, often the original mailing
address when the account was opened, which might have been ten years
earlier. In some states, banks and debt
buyers can even make use of an automated online summons system, in which a few
lines of customer data are entered (perhaps and perhaps not by an actual human
being), and, get this, a postcard is
then sent in the mail to whatever ancient address the company has on file.”
In some locations serving of a summons to an individual
by a live human being is still required.
“On paper, it’s a simple and
logical system, but here again the question of margin creeps in. Most of these process servers are paid bulk
rates by the lawyers and make as little as four dollars per customer to serve
notice.
“So what happens? Many process servers and law firms engage in
a wink-wink-nudge-nudge business called gutter service or sewer service, in
which the law firm hands the list of summonses to the server, and the server
simply dumps them (in the ‘gutter,’ hence the name).
“In return, the process server
hands the law firm an ‘affidavit of service,’ swearing that he properly served
the customer. Process service once required
a signature of the defendant to prove proper service; now all that is needed is
the server’s own word that he did the job.”
If this leaves you slightly incredulous, Taibbi provides
this information:
“Around the time that Chase was
obtaining judgments against those 23,000 account holders, dozens of law firms
and process servers in New York State alone were being accused of gutter
service practices. William Singler, the
head of a Long Island firm called American Legal Process, was arrested for
gutter service in the spring of 2009….”
“Later on, several states would
sue Chase, based in part upon information given by Linda, and some would
mention the practice. A suit signed and
filed by California attorney general Kamala Harris in the spring of 2013 would
make particular note of it. ‘Defendants,
through their agents for service of process,’ the state’s complaint read, ‘falsely
state in proofs of service that the consumer was personally served, when in
fact he or she was not served at all—a practice known as “sewer service”’.”
So, it becomes more understandable why two-thirds of the
people never show up in court. And what
happens to these unfortunates?
“So how do you collect money
from a cardholder who doesn’t answer his or her summons? That’s easy: you take it! The laws are different from state to state,
but in most places in America, once the bank or debt buyer has that default
judgment in hand, it can legally do just about anything to the cardholder. It can put a lien on his property, it can
attach her salary, it can even take his car or her office furniture.”
“In the state of New Jersey, for
instance, the bank or debt buyer can basically take anything the cardholder
owns, so long as it leaves him with the clothes he’s wearing and maybe a little
pocket change—technically, a thousand dollars worth of personal property. The state charges only a five-dollar fee to
green-light the attachment of a bank account or the repossession of an
automobile.”
“’There are people out there who
never knew they were served and taken to court,’ says Linda, ‘Then five years later they go to sell their
house, and they find they can’t do it because of a missed payment at Circuit
City years ago’.”
Taibbi’s book is focused on comparing the way our society
treats the wealthy and powerful as opposed to the way the poor and powerless
are treated. His chapter on massive bank
fraud is titled Big Frauds. He precedes it with a chapter called Little Frauds in which he describes how
those who apply for welfare are assumed to be guilty of fraud unless an
investigation renders them innocent. In
the case of the welfare recipient who is deemed to have misreported information,
loss of benefits and perhaps criminal charges are the options available. A simple mistake can lead to jail time. There are many people hired to search out a
few dollars of welfare fraud. Few people
seem to be concerned about bank fraud where billions of dollars are involved.
“Banks commit the legal crime of
fraud wholesale; they do so out in the open, have entire departments committed
to it, and have employees who’ve spent years literally doing nothing but
commit, over and over again, the same legal crime that some welfare mothers go
to jail for doing once. But they’re not
charged, because there is no political crime.
The system is not disgusted by the organized, mechanized search for
profit. It’s more like it’s impressed by
it.”
Chase eventually settled with Linda Almonte, and fired
some lawyers and bank employees. Taibbi
views it as mere public-relations fluff.
More information can be found here.
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