Published by Tor Books on February 20, 2024
I loved this book. I recognize that I loved it because it pushed my buttons. Readers who do not share those buttons might not like it as much as I did, although it is a well told story that most fans of crime novels should appreciate. While stories about violence dominate crime fiction, I was pleased to read a book that focused both on financial crime and, even better, the dismal intersection of corporate greed and America’s prison industry.
Martin Hench is a forensic accountant. He recovers misappropriated money in exchange for 25% of the recovery. Hench first appeared in Red Team Blues. The Bezzle takes place a few years earlier. Hench is comfortable but not yet wealthy. He still needs to work from time to time to replenish his funds.
Hench hasn’t seen his friend Scott Warms in some time, so he is happy to receive Harms’ invitation to spend a long weekend on Catalina Island. Warms made a bundle of money by selling a startup to Yahoo. He knows many other wealthy people in the tech industry, some of whom vacation on Catalina. Warms and Hench plan to spend the weekend attending parties, drinking high-end alcohol, and doing drugs. Cocaine and weed, of course, but they also enjoy hallucinogens.
One of the parties is thrown by Lionel Coleman Jr. Hench learns from a driver that Coleman is importing fast food meals from the mainland, freezing them, and selling them to islanders who crave fast food because the franchises aren’t allowed to operate on Catalina. The labor is performed by people who have been recruited into a Ponzi scheme that Coleman has orchestrated. Hench convinces the driver that he will eventually lose everything he owns, as will his friends, family members, and most of the working-class island residents before Coleman disappears to the mainland with their cash.
Coleman doesn’t need the money he steals from the islanders; it’s small change to him. He steals it because he can. The novel suggests that he is representative of greedy, wealthy people around the world, people who operate fraudulent schemes of one sort or another, who dupe investors and consumers but rarely pay a price for their shameful behavior. They use campaign contributions and lobbyists to carve out loopholes in legislation that let them get away with fraud. Voters who are distracted by right wing screeds about crime and border invasions pay scant attention to the crime that actually affects them because those criminals are branded as entrepreneurs.
Hench causes Coleman’s scheme to crash before he can maximize his gains, forcing him to run back to the mainland before he is tarred and feathered. Coleman desires vengeance, a desire he satisfies when Warms is arrested for cocaine possession. The cocaine isn’t his, but Warms is a standup guy and won’t give up the person who left it in his car. He accordingly gets a monster three-strike sentence (the first two strikes being relatively inconsequential felony convictions for assault on an officer and drug possession during Warms’ youthful years).
Coleman has put together a bunch of businesses in the private prison industry that scam state government and prisoners alike. The prisons make money by cutting staff, which means cutting visitors, libraries, and efforts at rehabilitation. The evils that Doctorow writes about, including ridiculously expensive tolls that families must pay to speak to prisoners, are shockingly real, but they are a scam that most Americans don’t care about because prisoners don’t have lobbyists.
Coleman uses his leverage with the private prison system to make Warms’ life hell. When Hench starts looking into the ways that Coleman’s businesses are defrauding the government, Coleman threatens to have Warms killed if Hench doesn’t back off.
Cory Doctorow makes the point that successful businessmen confuse greed with intelligence. Hench is smarter than Coleman, leading to a relatively happy ending, assuming that anything about an unjust three-strikes imprisonment can be regarded as happy. But Warms is a likeable character who is upset when Hench seems willing to back away from Coleman just to save Warms’ skin. I always admire characters who are willing to sacrifice for the good of others.
And I admire Doctorow for telling an engaging story that spotlights the evil of private prisons. The issue doesn’t interest most people because, as Doctorow writes, “America will never make life better for the millions of souls it has imprisoned. Never. It’s not in our character.” Some sickness in the American soul causes people to believe that prisoners deserve to suffer. Americans like to feel superior to all the people we place behind bars until our children or friends join their ranks. Yet the people who really need to be in prison, the corporate fraudsters who have done much more damage than a typical three-strikes felon, never pay a price for their antisocial behavior.
Doctorow touches on other financial issues, including real estate investment schemes that profit by taking homes from underwater homeowners and the refusal of financial regulators to do their jobs because “regulation” is a dirty word to politicians who accept campaign contributions from regulated businesses. He writes about corrupt cops and a broken political system. And again touching on a neglected issue that is dear to me, he writes about the enormous profits the federal court system makes by charging the public to access supposedly “public” records — records that everyone should be able to see for free, rather than paying for the privilege of monitoring the actions of judges and lawyers in a judicial process that pretends to be open to the public.
Doctorow takes on all these issues without losing sight of the novelist’s primary goal: to tell an entertaining story. In part because the story is based on important issues that are usually ignored, in part because Doctorow’s central characters live their beliefs — beliefs that are founded in altruism rather than greed — and in part because the story is appealing, The Bezzle is a joy to read.
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