Kwame Kilpatrick has a new job, but he has shown he prefers thrills to paying his bills

Kwame Kilpatrick's new boss says he's a changed man, whose incredible skills include engaging with communities and attracting the spotlight.

It's tough to argue with that last point, since Hizzoner makes headlines with the ease of Kim Kardashian, whom he met last June on his birthday.

I doubt Alice Marie Johnson who, like Kilpatrick, had her prison sentence commuted by Donald Trump when he was president, consulted with Kilpatrick's previous employers before tapping him to lead Taking Action for Good, the Memphis, Tennessee, nonprofit she created to advocate for prison reform. Entrepreneur Peter Karmanos Jr. has said he would hire Kilpatrick as a salesman again. The Good People of the Great City of Detroit, who first hired Kilpatrick as a state representative and then as mayor, may be less enthusiastic, given that he ripped us off while working in Lansing and after he moved into the Manoogian Mansion. But it's tough to get 600,000 people to agree on anything. And memories of Kilpatrick's mendacity and misappropriations are fading, even among the 32,000 retired city workers whose pensions were slashed as a result of Hizzoner's crooked deals and the mismanagement that contributed to Detroit's dubious distinction as the largest city in American history to declare bankruptcy.

I haven't spoken to Kilpatrick since 2013, when one of the most diverse juries you'll ever see convicted him on 24 criminal counts ranging from racketeering to extortion to bribery to fraud to income tax evasion. A federal judge sentenced him to 28 years in prison, but Trump let him out after seven years. Since then, we've all seen plenty of stories indicating the high-living former mayor never lost his taste for the finer things in life — as long as someone else picks up the tab. He alternately claims he has apologized to us — yes, I voted for him in 2001 — then goes on TV and says he didn't break any laws.

With a potentially lucrative new job pending, and millions of dollars in restitution, judgments and back taxes outstanding, this past week seemed like a good time to catch up with my ol' City Hall pal. Alas, after I enlisted a mutual acquaintance to ask Kilpatrick if he would speak to me, he told me: "Kwame said no rather emphatically."

When it comes to predicting what someone will do, actions speak louder than words. So, before we take a refresher course on the laws Kilpatrick absolutely did break and try to add up all the money he still owes Detroiters and every other taxpayer in the United States, I'm going to share a few stories you haven't heard that may provide insights into whether one of the most talented and charismatic cats I've ever met really is the rare leopard who has changed his spots.

Telling tales

In the 15 years since fellow Free Press journalist Jim Schaefer and I exposed Kilpatrick's incriminating text messages, many people have approached me to share their Kilpatrick story.

One of my favorites, which I believe but haven't verified, involves a young researcher in the Michigan House of Representatives. Kilpatrick reportedly asked the state house aide to prepare a dossier on an issue that interested him. It's worth noting that Kilpatrick, like many lawmakers before him, used some of his time at the state Capitol to attend a nearby law school. Time passed, but the staff member didn't see any proposals related to the work he had done. Curious, he said he asked Kilpatrick what he thought of his research. Kilpatrick, as the story goes, replied: "It was great; I got an 'A!'"

I've collected more stories since Trump commuted Kilpatrick's sentence in January 2021, just before leaving the White House. One of the traits that got Hizzoner locked up was his love of luxury, from tailor-made suits to custom-made golf clubs, to trips to posh places. I believe the three stories I'm about to share provide some insight into whether Kilpatrick has changed since he got sprung. In each case, I verified elements of the story, know the person who shared the story, or have seen documentary evidence that supports the story. To me, the newsman who knows Kilpatrick better than any other reporter, they have the ring of truth. I present them for your consideration in the order in which they reportedly occurred.

Shortly after Kilpatrick returned to metro Detroit from Georgia, where he stayed with family after his release from federal prison, Kilpatrick began shopping in Lathrup Village at DXL, a store for big and tall men.

"Mr. Kilpatrick shopped in the store several times. He was always pleasant, and acknowledged the staff and other guests respectfully," Jeff Fleming, a former DXL employee wrote in an email to the Free Press. "He also spent a great deal of money on the higher end garments we had available. It was not unusual for him to spend a thousand dollars or more during each visit."

Fleming contacted the Free Press last February, on the day we reported that U.S. District Court Judge Nancy Edmunds sternly rejected Kilpatrick's bid to end his probation a year early. Kilpatrick's lawyer told Edmunds, who presided over Kilpatrick's 2013 trial on public corruption charges, that Hizzoner "has matured and learned from his mistakes" and "unequivocally accepts responsibilty for his criminal conduct."

"Today, he understands and has made a conscious decision to prove to this Honorable Court and all affected by his actions that he has taken the necessary steps to rehabilitation," attorney Brandon Byrd wrote to Edmunds.

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Unfortunately for Byrd, Kilpatrick's conduct contradicted his attorney's eloquent appeal for leniency.

Federal prosecutor David Gardey pointed out in his response to Byrd's plea that Kilpatrick had made virtually no effort to pay off the millions in restitution he owed as a result of his crimes, and instead tried to raise $800,000 to buy a home in a luxurious gated community in Florida.

"Instead of living modestly, with the goal of paying off his obligations, Kilpatrick appears ready and willing to resume his jet-setting lifestyle, with no intention of paying his debt owed to the taxpayers stemming from his own tax evasion," Gardey wrote.

That wasn't all.

"Kilpatrick's attorney claims that the former mayor 'unequivocally accepts responsibility for his criminal conduct,'" Gardey wrote. "However, based on Kilpatrick's own statements in the media during a recent publicity tour, nothing could be further from the truth."

Gardey pointed out that when asked on Fox 2 Detroit in January 2022 about the crimes that landed him in federal prison, Kilpatrick replied: "Well, I didn't do it." Three months later, Hizzoner went on the NBC "Today" show and, when asked if he was guilty of public corruption, answered: "Absolutely not."

In ruling against Kilpatrick, Edmunds cited his "history of spending his money on a lavish lifestyle rather than paying off his obligations."

Around the same time Edmunds was criticizing Kilpatrick's spending habits, Kilpatrick was buying the biggest and best TV available at Costco, according to an employee there who I've known for years.

My man told me he was working the entrance just before the Super Bowl when a woman asked him to let her enter the members-only warehouse. She said her husband had their membership card and pointed to a large fellow at the service desk. It was Kilpatrick, who he says was arguing that he should not have to pay sales tax because he is a minister and that, because churches are nonprofits, the purchase was exempt.

A few months after hearing this tale of Hizzoner's high living in high definition, a gent introduced himself during the Detroit Regional Chamber's annual policy conference on Mackinac Island and said he had just been on a cruise with Kilpatrick. He showed me photos of Kilpatrick working out in the cruise ship's gym. After I politely said that could be a gym anywhere, he said the ship stopped at Catalina Island and showed me a photo of Kilpatrick pushing a stroller on a gorgeous southern California day while walking under a banner advertising the upcoming Catalina Wine Mixer.

During this period, according to court records, Kilpatrick did not a pay cent toward the $854,062.60 in restitution he owes to the City of Detroit.

But that shouldn't surprise you.

The last time Kilpatrick made a payment on that obligation was Feb. 20, 2013, when he plunked down $500 at the Frank Murphy Hall of Justice.

A deep debt

Calculating Kilpatrick's debt to society isn't easy.

He betrayed the people he pledged to serve by extorting contractors, demanding bribes, steering work to one of his best friends and accepting lavish gifts and trips, often involving free rides on private jets.

His failure to adjust the city's budget to its revenues during lean times helped drive the city into bankruptcy, forcing retirees to accept less in pension payments, requiring employees to surrender tens of thousands they socked away in retirement annuity accounts, gutting health care for retirees and depriving Detroiters of the right to govern ourselves while an emergency manager called the shots.

His penchant for hiring unqualified friends and family, tendency to over promise and under deliver, and appeal to older voters to trust him as if he were their grandson returning to a look after them undermined confidence in the next generation of young leaders.

His desperate attempt to play the race card in his last-ditch effort to cling to power undermined the plight of real victims of racism and gave racists ammunition to justify their warped world view.

It isn't even easy to determine in dollars and cents how much Kilpatrick owes.

But let's try anyway.

Of the $1 million in restitution he agreed to pay the City of Detroit as part of his plea deal to resolve perjury and obstruction charges brought against him for lying during a whistle-blower trial, he still owes more than $854,000.

Of the $1.5 million in restitution he owed for rigging Detroit Water and Sewerage Department contracts, he still owes more than $193,000 — and the only reason he doesn't owe nearly the full amount is because the feds seized money from one of his cronies and used it to pay down the restitution bill.

Kilpatrick also owes $634,000 in unpaid income taxes.

And he owes more than half a million dollars in penalties and interest for a judgment on a U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission lawsuit (more on that in a minute).

Oh, and he and some confederates owe about $7.5 million to a Black Detroit-based contractor who won a default judgment in a lawsuit accusing Kilpatrick & Co. of squeezing his business out of water department deals by forcing contractors to hire one of Kilpatrick's best friends.

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Finally — I think — there's the $240,000 four wealthy businessmen "lent" Kilpatrick in 2008 to encourage him to quit and leave town after city government was plunged into chaos while Hizzoner coped with the fallout from the text message scandal. Using text messages between Kilpatrick and others, the Free Press revealed the mayor lied about an affair with his chief of staff, ruined the careers of three cops who accused him of covering up misconduct by members of his police security team, was involved in public corruption, and spent more than $8 million in taxpayer money to cover it all up. I reached out to Dan Gilbert, Roger Penske, James B. Nicholson and Karmanos to find out whether Kilpatrick has made any effort to pay them back. None of them answered my questions.

The forgotten betrayal

Since I met Kilpatrick in 2001, when he first ran for mayor, I've written so much about him it's hard to believe there's a case I didn't cover.

But it wasn't until I began doing research for this column that I reviewed a lawsuit the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission filed in 2012 against Kilpatrick and Jeffrey Beasley, the college frat brother Kilpatrick hired as Detroit's treasurer in 2006. The case succinctly summarizes how Kilpatrick did business as mayor, and debunks the perception he has been working hard for to turn into reality that his only transgression was having an affair.

Federal prosecutors said they filed the lawsuit "to remedy the brazen influence peddling and betrayal of the public trust" Kilpatrick and Beasley perpetrated. The college cronies' city positions gave them votes on two pension fund boards where they helped decide how to invest assets set aside for 20,000 retired city workers and 12,000 retired police and firefighters. Together, the funds were worth $9 billion.

Those billions intended to benefit 32,000 Detroit retirees generated millions in fees for investment firms and asset managers. One of those companies, Mayfield Gentry Realty Advisors, lavished more than $125,000 on Kilpatrick, Beasley and their friends so they could take a private jet to Las Vegas where they played golf, had VIP hotel rooms at a top casino, attended concerts by Prince and Toni Braxton and luxuriated with massages at the Canyon Ranch Spa. Other graft included private jets to Tallahassee and Bermuda for Kilpatrick's and Beasley's families. Those trips occurred after Kilpatrick's re-election.

The feds said Mayfield Gentry, which supported Kilpatrick in 2001, got squeezed after supporting Kilpatrick's opponent in 2005. During the Bermuda trip in October 2007, Kilpatrick and his father Bernard played golf with comedian Steve Harvey. The mayor and his then-wife Carlita attended a music festival where they met members of Earth, Wind and Fire and took pictures with actresses Regina King and Gabrielle Union. Kilpatrick and Beasley subsequently voted to invest $115 million in pension funds with Mayfield Gentry. That work generated $3 million in management fees for the company.

Kilpatrick didn't respond to the lawsuit, and a default judgment was entered against him. He later claimed he was too busy preparing his defense in the federal public corruption case to deal with the SEC charges. So he essentially argued he couldn't refute one allegation of public corruption because he was too busy getting ready to refute another allegation of public corruption. That may be true, but it's not the kind of alibi that inspires much sympathy.

Perhaps the latest stories about Kilpatrick's taste for the finer things aren't as similar to stories about his taste for the finer things that caused him to receive one of the longest sentences in U.S. history for public corruption.

Perhaps, as his new boss says, Kilpatrick has changed.

For Johnson's sake, and for the very worthy cause she is championing, I hope so. If she's going to pay Kilpatrick what one of his predecessors as executive director was paid, she is investing a lot more than hope in our former mayor. In 2021, according to records provided to the IRS, Taking Action for Good paid its executive director $123,550.

Even at twice that salary, it's unrealistic to expect Kilpatrick to pay off everything he owes.

But is it unreasonable to expect him to make at least a symbolic payment more than once every 10 years?

That kind of good faith gesture might, finally, be proof he's a changed man.

M.L. Elrick is a Pulitzer Prize- and Emmy Award-winning investigative reporter and host of the ML's Soul of Detroit podcast. Contact him at mlelrick@freepress.com or follow him on Twitter at @elrick, Facebook at ML Elrick and Instagram at ml_elrick.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Kwame Kilpatrick prefers thrills to paying his restitution bills