By Dale Hoyt Palfrey
By Dale Hoyt Palfrey
Mexico—Blessed with a mild year-round climate, a picturesque natural setting and a gracious native population, Lake Chapala's shoreline has evolved over the past century into a popular vacation spot and one of the most idyllic retirement havens on the planet. It now boasts a full-time resident population of foreigners estimated at about 7,000, double that when the winter "snowbirds" flock south of the border.
The expatriate community, made up mostly of American and Canadian retirees with a mix of Europeans and other nationalities, is concentrated on the lake's north shore corridor running through a half-dozen small villages and the municipal seats of Chapala and Jocotepec. The halfway point hub is Ajijic (pronounced ah-hee-heek), a small fishing village that gained renown as a colorful international artists' colony as far back as the 1960s.
Basking in the perpetual sunshine and moderate temperatures, expats enjoy a laid-back lifestyle, hopping between the golf games, garden club meetings, little theater shows, art exhibits, concerts, volunteer charity work and a host of other clubs and activities that fill up the hours of their golden years.
Art March settled lakeside in the mid-1990s. His son, Perry March, and two young grandchildren by Janet March followed in the spring of 1999. Trouble's been brewing in paradise ever since.
While Nashvillians puzzled over the fate of Janet Levine March and Metro Police plodded on with the cold case investigation, Perry March was building a new life for himself and his children on the sun-kissed shores of Mexico's largest lake, el Lago de Chapala. Still, the mystery of his wife's disappearance trailed him across the border, shadowing the feisty lawyer-turned-murder-suspect every step of the way.
March hadn't been in Mexico more than six months before his business dealings began sparking poisonous gossip in the tight-knit international community where he, and his father before him, chose to put down roots. An underground movement sprung up among a small, multinational citizens group intent on exposing Perry as a ruthless con artist and unrepentant sociopath who should be run out of the country. Their wish came true on Aug. 3.
Art March, along with a close circle of clients and friends, has steadfastly rallied around Perry, convinced that the long list of allegations lodged against him are patently false and probably fueled by his estranged in-laws, Carolyn and Larry Levine.
Perry March blew into the area at the height of the dry season, when the sun burns hard on the sere landscape and the steady drone of cicadas fills the stifled air. Right away, he became affiliated with S. Samuel Chavez, a Mexican American schooled in the U.S. who was operating a budding business as a bilingual legal consultant out of an office at Plaza Bugambilias, a new shopping complex.
Mexico's arcane legal system is anathema to most foreigners. For English-speaking lawyers and intermediaries able to walk them through the dizzying paperwork involved in visa processes, real estate deals and other business involving Mexican law, the Chapala area is a natural market.
Sam Chavez billed himself as a graduate of Purdue and the Indiana University School of Law, well connected to Mexican authorities and specializing in handling immigration matters in association with a Guadalajara law firm. What he didn't advertise was the fact that some years earlier he had lost his license to practice law in Indiana because of felony convictions for giving false information on a loan application and, later, in a bankruptcy petition. Those who have looked into his background believe he kept a Nashville address in the mid- to late 1990s, leading to speculation that he and Perry March had ties in the past.
In May of 1999, March introduced himself to the expat community with a full-page display ad in the Guadalajara Colony Reporter, a weekly newspaper covering national and local news for English-language readers based in west central Mexico's tourist resorts and foreign enclaves. "PriMedicalTM Medical Clinic Project," the ad read, inviting readers to attend a May 22 public gathering to "Meet the administrators & developers: S. Samuel Chavez, Esq. & Perry A. March, Esq., doctrates of law."
The ad copy spelled out an ambitious project with obvious attractions for a large seniors population that depended on Guadalajara, an hour away, for top-rate health care: "Chavez & March, a private development and investment firm, wishes to announce a proposed significant investment in a state of the art clinc (sic) and emergency treatment facility."
To be funded by physicians and patient investors, the PriMedical project promised a bilingual staff, Mexico's most qualified medical professionals, affiliation with major medical centers and qualification for patient billing to most major U.S. and Canadian insurers, all big pluses for the lakeside's expats. According to the confidential prospectus, obtained by this writer, it was to be operated as an international business corporation organized under the laws of Belize. The minimum investment: $1,250,000.
Three weeks later, just as summer rains were kicking in to refresh and green up the exuberant semi-tropical foliage, Chavez and March, Ltd. ran a more discreet ad. "U.S: Doctorates of Law; Asset Protection Counseling; Protect Yourself from Judgements (sic), Creditors, Government Impositions, Divorce, Disaster, Swindles and the Unforseen (sic)...Principals are Members of the American Bar Association Asset Protection Planning Subcommittee," the text read.
Ironically, in the interim, the Tennessee Supreme Court's Board of Professional Responsibility temporarily suspended March from the practice of law. The following summer, in 2000, he was formally disbarred in conjunction with complaints that, among other things, he had pocketed fees owed to his law firm, failed to turn over records requested by a client and made false statements in support of a frivolous lawsuit. It was a pattern of behavior, Perry's detractors claim, repeated time and again in his Mexico-based activities.
By fall, splashy display ads emblazoned with a corporate coat-of-arms were showcasing multiple enterprises in a conglomerate that included Premier Properties real estate services, C&M Insurance, Guardian Security Services and C&M Development, in addition to Chavez and March Ltd. Legal and Financial Services and PriMedical HealthCare Systems. The C&M group occupied the lion's share of Plaza Bugambilias' office space.
In January 2000, PriMedical and Premiere began promoting a new project, Misty Mountain Extended Care Community, a south-of-the-border full-service gated community for seniors. The development was to be located within the confines of Chula Vista Norte, a relatively new subdivision riddled with legal problems.
By then, business dealings at C&M were starting to unravel. The community was abuzz with tales of disgruntled clients and shady practices, coupled with details of the principals' unsavory backgrounds, circulating freely via anonymous posters, Internet and word of mouth. On top of gripes about excessive fees for services poorly or never rendered, there were allegations of property and investment swindles involving off-shore accounts, phantom corporations, misuse of powers-of-attorney and contracts with onerous confidentiality clauses.
Both Chavez and March have vehemently denied any wrongdoing. Art March and the buddies he hangs out with every morning at a local doughnut shop simply qualify all allegations as "a bunch of bullshit."
On the other side, not many of those directly involved or in the know will speak openly on the subject. One exception is Esther Solano, a Mexican political activist who never hesitates to speak her mind on local issues. Another is Joel Rasmusson, a U.S. citizen and longtime lakesider who has turned into something of a crusader against predators who prey on the unwitting ex-pats.
On the other side, not many of those directly involved or in the know will speak openly on the subject. One exception is Esther Solano, a Mexican political activist who never hesitates to speak her mind on local issues. Another is Joel Rasmusson, a U.S. citizen and longtime lakesider who has turned into something of a crusader against predators who prey on the unwitting ex-pats.
Together with various unnamed collaborators, they amassed whatever papers, files and oral testimonies they could muster related not only to C&M enterprises, but also others identified as unscrupulous operators. They have fed information to appropriate Mexican and U.S. agencies and hounded authorities to take action. Solano wrote to President Ernesto Zedillo and, after he left office, to Vicente Fox.
Gayle Cancienne is one the few dissatisfied March clients bold enough to take legal action against him. She claims he bilked her out of more than $200,000 in handling the sale of various properties in the United States. As her current legal advisor Henri Loridans outlines the ploy, March offered to set up holding companies in Delaware and Belize on her behalf in a tax shelter and investment scheme intended to enhance her assets. Cancienne alleges that March attempted to steal the profits from the real estate sales by taking control of the corporations without her knowledge. She has a civil suit pending in a Chapala court claiming Perry is responsible for financial damages from theft and fraud. Even if she wins, Cancienne may have trouble recuperating her losses. "We feel certain Perry's assets are protected or hidden. His arrest further diminishes the chances of collecting," Loridans says.
Other victims who might have been willing to file official denouncements or share their experiences publicly have been hampered by a lack of solid proof. Many have moved away from the Chapala area.
Many of the cases he has looked into have been difficult to document, Rasmusson admits. "They were careful not to leave incriminating paper trails. Perry would hold on to the original paperwork, saying he needed to make copies. Clients who tried to collect their documents and files often got nothing more than a brush-off." Nonetheless, he believes the preponderance of testimonials and evidence is convincing. "It's inconceivable that so many people with no other common connection would cook up a conspiracy of this magnitude."
Solano says many of those who believe they were duped in C&M schemes have been reluctant to come forward because they were intimidated, embarrassed or worried they could be exposed for tax evasion and other transgressions. "Some people knew that the way Perry March handled their investments was not legally above board," she says. She herself believes that a dead cat was once left on her doorstep as a silent threat.
Pleased to finally see results from her efforts, she welcomed the news of March's recent deportation. "Better late than never," she says. "Up to now, he has gotten everything he wanted, repeatedly thumbing his nose at the law."
Despite March's claims to the contrary, Rasmusson and Solano deny they act as agents for the Levines. Both insist that their sole interest has been to protect the community from parasitic ne'er-do-wells. With one major mission accomplished, Rasmusson says he's had his fill of helping the gullible.
"I'm ready to retire now."
As the rumors ran rampant at the end of 1999, potential investors in the big C&M schemes became scarce. Important office records were reportedly lost in a mysterious December fire at C&M headquarters. In the aftermath, their Mexican insurance affiliate broke off ties.
With the pressure building, Chavez filed a slander and defamation suit against Don Hauser, a Baptist preacher who was said to have scared off a key PriMedical backer. Hauser responded with a counter-suit and invitation for dissatisfied clients to come forward and talk with his attorneys. He later left the country.
In the first quarter of 2000, Chavez published a series of columns in the English section of a local Spanish-language weekly, unleashing acid diatribes against "arrogant, misinformed, Alzheimered gringos," "one foot in the gravers" and "gossipmongers" who he attributed with botching the PriMedical project by disparaging him on the local grapevine.
The firm took a P.R. hit in late April 2000 when the Levines won the huge judgment in their wrongful death lawsuit (later overturned) and the story made front-page headlines in the Guadalajara Colony Reporter.
There was more bad news a couple of weeks later when Chavez was targeted in a drive-by shooting as he was chauffeuring his children to school early one morning. Though badly shaken, they escaped without serious injury. The perpetrators remain unknown.
The situation came to critical mass in June 2000 when the Levines spirited their grandchildren Sam and Tzipi March out of Mexico under the guise of instructions issued in a Chapala civil court. The Mexican judge based her ruling on an Illinois court order granting the Levines temporary visitation rights valid through July 30, but did not authorize them to take their grandchildren out of the country. March subsequently filed kidnapping charges against the Levines and their son Mark, obtaining Mexican arrest warrants that apparently remain in effect. *
The story put Perry in the headlines of the Guadalajara newspaper El Occidental. He told a reporter that corrupt officials had actively aided the Levines. The statement prompted a follow-up story in which the head officer of Mexican immigration services in Guadalajara said that the accusation could motivate a criminal charge of defamation. But no charge was ever filed and the immigration chief was replaced a short time later.
Over time, Perry has had assorted run-ins with the press. On at least three occasions, he has threatened legal action against the Guadalajara Colony Reporter for its coverage of his saga, according to editor Michael Forbes. There was never any follow-through, and he continued advertising on the weekly's pages. But his aggressive, haranguing phone calls to reporters is so notorious that common operating practice at the newspaper was to byline stories "staff reports" instead of with the names of individual writers. A laundry list of his alleged misdeeds were spelled out in a feature printed in the July 5, 2004, edition of El Informador, Guadalajara's most prestigious daily.
With March focused on legal strategies to get his children back and company ventures crumbling around C&M Ltd., the partnership was dissolved in July 2000.
Soon after, Premiere Properties closed its doors. Broker-Manager Bill Bonilla left town, never to return. Dave Johnston, a Canadian accountant, bailed out as manager of Guardian Security, packed up his family and headed north. The business folded, leaving customers and a couple of major investors in the lurch. Neither PriMedical nor Misty Mountain ever prospered beyond the planning stage. Offices at Plaza Bugambilias gradually emptied, with rent bills going unpaid.
Chavez stuck around for a few months to wrap up loose ends, moving on to new pursuits in Guadalajara, most recently as an intermediary for international adoptions. The company website pointedly states that its legal counsel is not licensed to practice in the U.S. Chavez is now listed on Nashville's prosecution witness list.
March moved on to get involved in the Chula Vista Norte subdivision business—a convoluted and salacious story in itself. He was reunited with his children in April 2001 after a U.S. federal judge ordered their return to Mexico. A few months later, he and his new Mexican bride launched the Media Luna Bistro & Café, an enterprise that has brought troubles of its own in the form of angry nearby homeowners who claim the operation violates zoning regulations.
Perry was said to be on the verge of launching a new lakeside real estate venture when he was hustled out of Mexico to meet his fate in a Nashville court.
And there he was, at 1:23 p.m. last Wednesday, walking into a crowded Davidson County criminal courtroom, his feet shackled and a cadre of his attorneys waiting. As camera shutters clicked and tight security looked on, Judge Steve Dozier asked his court officers to "bring Mr. March up." March gave Dozier his date of birth and Social Security number, entered a plea of not guilty and left the room through the defendants' entrance. March's first courtroom appearance on charges of second-degree murder, abuse of a corpse, destruction of evidence and theft was a media circus.
He now sits in a jail cell, no doubt contemplating the fact that prosecutors want to send him to prison for the rest of his life, or at least until he's a very old man.
Dale Hoyt Palfrey is a freelance journalist who contributes to the Guadalajara County Reporter. Scene staff writer John Spragens also contributed to this report.
*Â This story incorrectly stated that the kidnapping arrest warrant Perry March obtained against the Levines "apparently remains in effect." In fact, it doesn't; it was nullified and set aside because a Mexican court ruled that the transport of the kids from Mexico to Tennessee "was carried out legally and by competent authority," another point that this story got wrong. The Scene regrets the errors.
