"This attorney I found, I picked the nastiest son of a bitch
I could find," Chandler said in the recorded conversation with Schwartz. "All he
wants to do is get this out in the public as fast as he can, as big as he can, and
humiliate as many people as he can. He's nasty, he's mean, he's very smart, and he's hungry for the publicity." (Through his attorney, Wylie
Aitken, Rothman declined to be interviewed for this article. Aitken agreed to answer
general questions limited to the Jackson case, and then only about aspects that did not
involve Chandler or the boy.)
To know Rothman, says a former colleague who worked with him
during the Jackson case, and who kept a diary of what Rothman and Chandler said and did in
Rothman's office, is to believe that Barry could have "devised this whole plan,
period. This [making allegations against Michael Jackson] is within the boundary of his character, to do something like this."
Information supplied by Rothman's former clients, associates and employees reveals a pattern of manipulation and deceit.
Rothman has a general-law practice in Century City. At one time,
he negotiated music and concert deals for Little Richard, the Rolling Stones, the Who, ELO
and Ozzy Osbourne. Gold and platinum records commemorating those days still hang on the
walls of his office. With his grayish-white beard and perpetual tan -- which he maintains in a tanning bed at his house
-- Rothman reminds a former client of "a leprechaun." To a former employee,
Rothman is "a demon" with "a terrible temper." His most cherished
possession, acquaintances say, is his 1977 Rolls-Royce Corniche, which carries the license
plate "BKR 1."
Over the years, Rothman has made so many enemies that his ex-wife
once expressed, to her attorney, surprise that someone "hadn't done him in." He
has a reputation for stiffing people. "He appears to be a professional deadbeat... He
pays almost no one," investigator Ed Marcus concluded (in a report filed in Los
Angeles Superior Court, as part of a lawsuit against Rothman), after reviewing the
attorney's credit profile, which listed more than thirty creditors and judgment holders
who were chasing him. In addition, more than twenty civil lawsuits involving Rothman have
been filed in Superior Court, several complaints have been made to the Labor Commission
and disciplinary actions for three incidents have been taken against him by the state bar
of California. In 1992, he was suspended for a year, though that suspension was stayed and
he was instead placed on probation for the term.
In 1987, Rothman was $16,800 behind in alimony and child-support
payments. Through her attorney, his ex-wife, Joanne Ward, threatened to attach Rothman's
assets, but he agreed to make good on the debt. A year later, after Rothman still hadn't
made the payments, Ward's attorney tried to put a lien on Rothman's expensive Sherman Oaks home. To their surprise, Rothman
said he no longer owned the house; three years earlier, he'd deeded the property to Tinoa
Operations, Inc., a Panamanian shell corporation. According to Ward's lawyer, Rothman
claimed that he'd had $200,000 of Tinoa's money, in cash, at his house one night when he
was robbed at gunpoint. The only way he could make good on the loss was to deed his home
to Tinoa, he told them. Ward and her attorney suspected the whole scenario was a ruse, but
they could never prove it. It was only after sheriff's deputies had towed away Rothman's
Rolls Royce that he began paying what he owed.
Documents filed with Los Angeles Superior Court seem to confirm
the suspicions of Ward and her attorney. These show that Rothman created an elaborate
network of foreign bank accounts and shell companies, seemingly to conceal some of his
assets -- in particular, his home and much of the $531,000 proceeds from its eventual
sale, in 1989. The companies, including Tinoa, can be traced to Rothman. He bought a
Panamanian shelf company (an existing but nonoperating firm) and arranged matters so that
though his name would not appear on the list of its officers, he would have unconditional
power of attorney, in effect leaving him in control of moving money in and out.
Meanwhile, Rothman's employees didn't fare much better than his
ex-wife. Former employees say they sometimes had to beg for their paychecks. And sometimes
the checks that they did get would bounce. He couldn't keep legal secretaries. "He'd
demean and humiliate them," says one. Temporary workers fared the worst. "He
would work them for two weeks," adds the legal secretary, "then run them off by
yelling at them and saying they were stupid. Then he'd tell the agency he was dissatisfied
with the temp and wouldn't pay." Some agencies finally got wise and made Rothman pay
cash up front before they'd do business with him.
The state bar's 1992 disciplining of Rothman grew out of a
conflict-of-interest matter. A year earlier, Rothman had been kicked off a case by a
client, Muriel Metcalf, whom he'd been representing in child-support and custody
proceedings; Metcalf later accused him of padding her bill. Four months after Metcalf
fired him, Rothman, without notifying her, began representing the company of her estranged
companion, Bob Brutzman.
The case is revealing for another reason: It shows that Rothman
had some experience dealing with child-molestation allegations before the Jackson scandal.
Metcalf, while Rothman was still representing her, had accused Brutzman of molesting their
child (which Brutzman denied). Rothman's knowledge of Metcalf's charges didn't prevent him
from going to work for Brutzman's company -- a move for which he was disciplined.
By 1992, Rothman was running from numerous creditors. Folb
Management, a corporate real-estate agency, was one. Rothman owed the company $53,000 in
back rent and interest for an office on Sunset Boulevard. Folb sued. Rothman then
countersued, claiming that the building's security was so inadequate that burglars were
able to steal more than $6,900 worth of equipment from his office one night. In the course
of the proceedings, Folb's lawyer told the court, "Mr. Rothman is not the kind of
person whose word can be taken at face value."
In November 1992, Rothman had his law firm file for bankruptcy,
listing thirteen creditors -- including Folb Management -- with debts totaling $880,000
and no acknowledged assets. After reviewing the bankruptcy papers, an ex-client whom
Rothman was suing for $400,000 in legal fees noticed that Rothman had failed to list a $133,000 asset. The former client threatened to
expose Rothman for "defrauding his creditors" -- a felony -- if he didn't drop
the lawsuit. Cornered, Rothman had the suit dismissed in a matter of hours.
Six months before filing for bankruptcy, Rothman had transferred
title on his Rolls-Royce to Majo, a fictitious company he controlled. Three years earlier,
Rothman had claimed a different corporate owner for the car -- Longridge Estates, a
subsidiary of Tinoa Operations, the company that held the deed to his home. On corporation
papers filed by Rothman, the addresses listed for Longridge and Tinoa were the same, 1554
Cahuenga Boulevard -- which, as it turns out, is that of a Chinese restaurant in
Hollywood.
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