When news of the Panama Papers broke, everyone’s focus went to the 12 current or former heads of state who are accused of laundering money and evading taxes through the offshore bank accounts set up by the Panamanian law firm, Mossack Fonseca. Not me. My eyes went right to Jeremy.

Jeremy is my freelance-wedding photographer of a roommate who “couldn’t” pay his rent in March and I had to cover. I knew he was lying through his teeth and now I have proof. Within the 2.6 terabytes of data released, I discovered that Jeremy took the $730 he owed me, and used it to set up a series of shell companies with bogus beneficiaries, false nominees and multiple bank accounts in American Samoa and the British Virgin Islands.

A shitty photo Jeremy took.

A shitty photo Jeremy took.

I’ve turned over everything I’ve found on Jeremy’s illicit activities to the IRS and to our landlord both of whom promised to, “look into it if we have time.”

When I confronted Jeremy with the copies of the emails between him and Mossack Fonseca he laughed and told me, “I thought it’d be funny and would help me get chicks.” He has been having slightly more sex, but was it worth it to count himself among the likes of Vladimir Putin?

This roommate/journalist thinks not.

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