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Ibelieve it was in June of 1985 when two women, dressed in business suits, drove up bumper to bumper behind my car which was parked in front of my office. I watched as they got Qut, checked the licence plate of my new Subaru and walked towards the front door of my office. Wihen they entered, one of them asked in a loud voice, disturbing my customers, "Excuse me. Excuse me. Who owns that car out there?" "That's my car," I said. "We are with the IRS. We came to prck it up because you owe us some money." "Wait a minute. There's a mistake," I said. "Please come into my office so we can talk about it." Behind the closed door of my private office, I explained to them that under the advice of my CPA, I h!!d P\!fchased a tax shelter in '82. The IRS agents countered that my tax shelter had been "disallowed by the IRS" and that the $25,000 [ WoUld have owed had now grown to $50,000 because of penalties and interest tacked on for the last three yearsl I told them that I understood that it was being challenged, tbut that the genend partner of the tax shelter told all of the limited partners, of which I was one, that it may take two or three years before it would go to COlll1, and we were not to worry until the [mal decision was made. "If you do nol give us the keys and title of your automobile, we wiB come back tomor row and put a lock on your office door," one of the women threaten'ed. Not knowing any better, I gave them my keys and watched as tthey drove off in my car. A week later, at the very moment I was being served "lien on my property" at m.y office, my wife was receiving an exact set of papers served on her at our home. fn less than thirty days many of the people who owed us money were being told that they should send the money directly to the ~RS. That was the beginning of a downhill slide that ended in closing the doors of my busi ness and a request from my wife that I find another place to live. S.he wanted a divorce. It wasn't too long before I met a good, honest, hard-working woman who was trying to rear three children while working full time and giving piano lessons in the evening out of a mobile home. It was love at first sight. We got married, sold her mobjle home and moved into a condo. ,Everything w!!S fine again, until one day I came home and found Diane, my wife, crying in the bedroom. "The money from the sale of my mobile home is gone," she sobbed. "The IRS levied it this morning to pay the IRS debt you owe them." I was numb. "They're not going to ruin my life again!" I exclaimed. I realised there was no choice. I had to fight back. The IRS was walking allover me because I was letting them. That evening, I was on the telephone to several legal advisors. The next mom.illg I walked into the office of the Internal Revenue Service and demanded that the $10,000 taken from my wife's bank account be returned immediately or else! I explained that our funds were not co-mingled, that the debt, if valid, was mine, not hers. There were several other statements I made that I had memorised from the coaching I had received the night before. Whatever I said, something worked, because the next day Diane's banker called and informed her that .the levy had been removed from her checlc.ing account. Less than half an hour later, Diane made sure all money was removed from the bank in the form of a cashier's check. The following day I was in the library reading up on the Internal Revenue S.ervice, and what I found just made me more angry. I was mostly angry at myself for being so vulnera ble and gulHble. OCTOBER -NOVEMBER 1993 NEXUS-31