King Larry

by James D. Scurlock

  On the opposing side, David Lujan remained a roadblock. The other attorneys had all agreed to accept $10–$15 million apiece long ago, but Lujan had refused to go along, demanding $150 million for Junior and claiming he had 140 witnesses lined up to testify that Larry was Junior’s father. Why $10 million wasn’t enough for any child anywhere blew Kennedy’s mind. (He was familiar enough with David Lujan’s response: Because the law allows it.) If Lujan walked away from these talks, as he had all of the others, Kennedy had let it be known that the law also allowed filing a malpractice suit to punish Guam’s boonie dog for refusing a patently generous offer.

  On August 8, 1997, the last day of the final settlement conference, Kennedy stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Diamond Hotel, out of its air-conditioned chill and into a stale heat. The trial had been scheduled to begin in Courtroom A of the CNMI Superior Court, across the street. God knows how long that would take, he thought to himself. Then the appeal would be heard next door, in the Supreme Court building, sometime next year or beyond. The appeal of that appeal would be tossed across the Pacific Ocean to the Ninth Circuit in San Francisco. . . .

  Kennedy watched the sun beginning to lower across the Philippine Sea. Coley Fannin was standing a few feet away at that very moment, locked in conversation with one of the children’s attorneys about The Number. Three of the children were now onboard for a 50/50 split: half for medical research and half for the kids—and their attorneys, of course. But David Lujan and Barry Israel were demanding 63 percent and the trust refused to give more than 58. There was only one possible solution left.

  Kennedy straightened his tall frame in the hot sun.

  “Hiya, Judge,” he said, interrupting. “What’s the latest?”

  “Next stop, mutually assured destruction,” Fannin deadpanned. “We’ve been discussing whether or not it’s time to present a mediator number* before I leave tomorrow.”

  “To be frank,” Kennedy replied, “we’re at the point where I think you’ve got to earn your money and put that number on the table. Somebody’s got to cut through this Gordian knot or we’ll be here forever.”

  “Some of the attorneys are worried that it may be premature.”

  “I’m worried that it’s long overdue,” Kennedy retorted. “And if you do give us a number, remember that you’ve only got one shot. It’s like firing a Derringer. You can’t come back tomorrow and it’s a new Nixon.”

  Fannin nodded. He’d known Kennedy for a quarter century and appreciated his candor. But the judge also got the hint about earning his fee; you didn’t want to disappoint a client, at a rack rate of $20,000 a day, which is what the estate was paying. “Let’s go back inside,” Fannin said after a long pause. “I’ll give you both a number to take to your constituents. I’ll be on-island for another day or so. After that, you can reach me in San Francisco by telephone.”

  Kennedy and the other attorney followed Fannin slowly down the Diamond’s driveway, past several gargantuan orange-and-white tour buses, through the hotel’s open lobby, teeming with Japanese newlyweds wrapped in monogrammed towels, and finally into the conference area they’d left five minutes ago. By the time Fannin reached his makeshift desk, the number was engraved in his mind. He pulled a hotel pen from his pocket and scribbled two numbers onto one of his term sheets: 60/40–60 percent for the children and 40 percent for the Hillblom Charitable Trust. After a tense conference call with Patrick Lupo, Peter Donnici, and the Hillblom brothers, Fannin announced that it was a done deal.

  Epilogue

  Phan Thiet

  The only life worth living is the adventurous life . . . of such a life the dominant characteristic is that it is unafraid. It is unafraid of what other people think . . . it does not adapt either its pace or its objectives to the pace and objectives of its neighbors. It thinks its own thoughts, it reads its own books, it develops its own hobbies, and it is governed by its own conscience. The herd may graze where it pleases or stampede when it pleases, but he who lives the adventurous life will remain unafraid when he finds himself alone.

  —From the Kingsburg memorial service program, May 1995

  At the heart of Larry was a deep patriotism, and it’s proved by the very things that people use to suggest he’s not patriotic.

  —Steve Kroll

  The woman in the photograph is short, though no longer slight; her designer jeans hug curves that most Vietnamese women will never know. She is not ugly, as a waitress at the Dalat Palace once told me, probably out of jealousy, though pretty might be an overstatement. Considering the beauty of many women here, I can easily imagine her being the one not picked, the one standing awkwardly in the second-floor hallway of Villa No. 1 until an oversexed Larry calls from his bedroom that he will take her. There is an independence to her that I wonder if he could have felt from that distance, a look in her eyes that borders on stubborn that he probably would have found sexy. Or maybe the woman from the photograph is just angry right now.

  “How did you know I was here?” she demands on the doorstep of her family’s hut outside Phan Thiet, the pungent odor of fish sauce from the nearby factories punctuating her breath. I tell her that I didn’t know; my translator found her address and we decided to pay a visit, then her father told us that she was coming very soon and invited us to stay for tea.

  She doesn’t believe me, of course, nor should she, even though this unlikely story happens to be true. “Why should I tell you anything?” is her next question, and my response is that I don’t know. That I am so unprepared for her interrogation seems to soften her gaze just a little. Rather than order me to leave, she says that she’s writing a book herself, with the help of a friend in suburban Virginia, which is where she and her son, Be Lory, moved after the case, because it is close to the guardian hired by her attorneys. When she says that her book will be a romance, based on the Hillblom probate, I offer to help her find a publisher or a literary agent; after all, there’s no chance of our books competing with one another. I have come to believe what one of Hillblom’s friends told me long ago: Larry was incapable of love. The idea of romance was too nuanced for a man with such outsize ambitions and such insatiable appetites. Of course, I don’t tell her this.

  Thi Be asks me why she shouldn’t kick me off her parents’ property. Then, almost as quickly, she invites me to stay for lunch. At the back of the hut is a long dining table, on which her mother has laid out a spread of dragon fruit and unfamiliar vegetables, mostly raw. A few moments later, she is telling me that she not only fell in love with Larry in that one night but later also with her young American attorney, John Veague, who could pass for a J.Crew model. So maybe her weakness for Caucasian men has inspired her to tolerate me. The talk veers from Larry Hillblom to other things as she scolds me for not eating enough.

  After the meal, we walk through the small rice paddies next door, where a couple of old women in pointed hats squat in waist-deep brown water, swatting strands of rice with machetes. There are thousands of strands, which must be stripped of the rice kernels and dried out on blankets—typically laid out on the side of the road—but the old women stop their work for several minutes to acknowledge Thi Be and smile wide, toothless grins as she says something in Vietnamese that makes them both laugh.

  Our destination is a large shade tree that rises out of the marsh maybe a hundred feet from the rice. “This,” Thi Be says, “is where I gave birth to Lory. Under the tree.”

  There is no hint of bitterness in the remark, no suggestion of anything inappropriate in the fact that the heir of Larry Lee Hillblom, near-billionaire globalizer and onetime king of Saipan, arrived on this earth in the midst of such poverty, amid air that stinks of fish sauce, to a plain farmer’s daughter. Thi Be seems to think that this is where Lory should have been born, among the poor and on the soil where Larry expected to build his last empire.

  Lory does not remember a doctor taking a sample of his blood when he was less than three years old. Nor was he anywhere near Berkeley, California,
in September 1997, when a quirky forensic mathematician named Charles Brenner determined that he and three other children, all of whose mothers had been lovers of Larry Hillblom but none of whom had ever met one another, were related. Like his three half siblings, Be Lory’s share of his father’s empire totaled just under $100 million. Even after attorneys’ fees and taxes, this made him one of the wealthiest people in the country. But it should have been more than that. Pat Lupo groans that several of the estate’s larger assets were sold at fire-sale prices, including the ranch in Half Moon Bay, though none more so than the one Lupo helmed at the time: DHL, International. DHL ultimately paid $140 million for Hillblom’s 24 percent of the company; less than a year later, DHL would flip it to Deutsche Post, the German postal monopoly, for more than three times that amount.

  Lupo has never met Thi Be, and Thi Be’s son has never met his grandmother Helen, although he, along with the other children, agreed to pay her a million dollars for a drop of her blood, money that Lupo helped to make. Hillblom’s children—through their guardians and attorneys—also agreed to donate a sum in the low six figures from their inheritance to establish the Larry Lee Hillblom Law Library on Saipan and to pay $3 million to Josephine and $4 million to each of the “phantom children.” They also bought a $30 million insurance policy in case any more potential siblings came forward.* After the first agreements were signed, their guardians and lawyers received extra-large T-shirts printed with cartoon effigies of themselves, hand in hand, circling the globe. Underneath were the words Everlasting Peace.

  Hillblom on his powerboat, in a rare moment of contemplation. He is probably in Palau, a favorite getaway and a paradise where he had hoped to build a tourism empire. (Courtesy of Michael W. Dotts)

  Standing under the shade tree, Thi Be appears to be living that peace. I assume the same of her son, who attends a prep school on the East Coast. For the others, however, everlasting has proved temporary. At the behest of their attorneys, Jellian Cuartero and her parents moved from Saipan to the Cayman Islands and back—supposedly to avoid paying taxes. Last year, Julie Cuartero complained that her attorneys have plundered Jellian’s trust fund for luxury travel, among other things, while they are not only broke but unable to work because of the constant moving. Allegations have surfaced that most of Mercedes’s inheritance has been spent funding a lavish lifestyle for her extended family, who have all moved into her home in a posh gated community in Manila. And Junior Larry Hillbroom, who has bounced in and out of rehab for crystal meth addiction, is back in federal court at the moment, suing his attorneys David Lujan and Barry Israel for changing the terms of his contingency agreement retroactively in order to grab nearly 60 percent of his inheritance—plus millions more in fees. Bad investments have also taken their toll, though it’s impossible to know how much. Junior’s trust is based in the Cook Islands, a notoriously opaque tax haven.

  But there is more to peace than financial security, of course; there is also identity and there is trust. As they grow older, Hillblom’s children are confronting the endless, unanswerable questions of their father’s life: Why didn’t he change his will? Why didn’t he buy a decent plane? Why didn’t he acknowledge them? Why didn’t he tell the truth? Was he in the pilot’s seat? Was he a criminal? A murderer? A monster? Is he still alive? Was he ever a billionaire? They will be largely alone as they seek to answer these questions; Hillblom’s family does not acknowledge them. Only two—Junior and Jellian Cuartero—have even met each other in the fifteen years since their father’s death. Yet Hillblom has left his mark on them, as he has everyone.

  Nine thousand miles west, in the conference room that overlooks the charming suburban marina, Peter Donnici tells me that his secretary regularly receives calls and e-mails denouncing Larry as a pedophile and the Hillblom Foundation as a disgrace, even as it doles out millions of dollars to fund important medical research on aging and diabetes. Well, no one remembers Howard Hughes for making the largest gift to medical research in history, do they? They remember the women and the long toenails and speculate that the wasted, disease-ridden body his Mormon handlers flew in from Mexico wasn’t really him. The old law professor doesn’t want to talk about the salacious stuff, though, so it’s time for me to leave after a few more stories from the good old days. On my way out, Donnici shrugs his shoulders, as though he, too, has become one of Larry’s abandoned children, trapped in the shade of his infamy. Trapped no matter how many millions of dollars are spent trying to escape it, no matter how much good his fortune may do.

  Timeline

  1969 Larry Hillblom, Robert Lynn, and Adrian Dalsey incorporate DHL.

  1971 DHL Philippines is incorporated.

  1973 Joe Waechter is hired by DHL while a student at San Francisco State.

  DHL is ordered to “cease and desist” by the U.S. District Court in Honolulu.

  Hillblom meets Peter Donnici at USF Law School.

  Hillblom and Po Chung found Mattawan, later DHL, International.

  1975 Donnici wins appeal of “cease and desist.”

  Hillblom’s DHLI shares are given to Po Chung as nominee.

  1976 Citizens of the Northern Mariana Islands ratify the Covenant.

  1977 Hillblom testifies before the Subcommittee on Aviation of the House Committee on Public Works and Transportation in favor of airline deregulation.

  1978 CNMI becomes a self-governing commonwealth.

  1979 U.S. Postal Service relinquishes its monopoly on letters.

  DHL is operating in 120 countries.

  1980 Hillblom quits DHL.

  1981 Hillblom moves to Saipan.

  1982 Hillblom files will; DHL shareholders sign pledge agreement.

  Hillblom buys 90 percent of Bank of Saipan.

  1983 Joe Waechter becomes president and CEO of DHLC.

  Hillblom and Donnici travel to Palau for the 34th APPU Council meeting as part of the CNMI delegation—Hillblom as special senate counsel and Donnici as special counsel to the CNMI Legislature.

  Hillblom meets Kaelani Kinney at the Nanyo Ocean Club, Palau.

  Larry incorporates San Roque Beach Development and Saipan Cattle Company, owner of the Cowtown rodeo-brothel.

  1984 Junior Larry Barusch is born on Palau.

  Continental Airlines sues Larry in FSM Supreme Court.

  1985 Larry (POM) sues Continental in U.S. District Court on Saipan.

  Larry runs for CNMI Legislature.

  1986 Joe Waechter is fired by Pat Lupo.

  Ronald Reagan terminates the Trust Territory of the Western Pacific.

  1988 DHL starts negotiations with JAL and Nissho Iwai.

  Joe Lifoifoi becomes a consultant for UMDA.

  Hillblom is issued a student pilot certificate.

  1989 Hillblom agrees to sell Po Chung his stake in Mattawan (DHLI) for a $200 million note.

  Larry becomes a special justice of the CNMI Supreme Court.

  1990–2 DHL’s original shareholders receive $250 million in cash plus 42.5 percent of a restructured DHL, International, under the terms of a two-phase deal with Japan Airlines, Lufthansa, and Nissho Iwai.

  1990 UN Security Council formally terminates the Trust Territory.

  Joe Waechter moves to Saipan to run UMDA.

  Hillblom’s student pilot certificate expires.

  1991 Danao and Lamdong Provincial Government sign 40-year joint venture to develop properties in Dalat, including the Palace Hotel.

  Danao announces a 30-year joint venture with Vietnamese government for an apartment development near Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon).

  1992 Ted Mitchell files his first Article XII lawsuit vs. Hillblom.

  Larry testifies before congressional “sweatshop” hearings.

  DHL shareholders sign share pledge agreement, guaranteeing that no outsiders are able to buy stock without their consent.

  12/1992 CNMI taxpayers file Article XII lawsuit.

  Ted Mitchell files second Article XII lawsuit against Hillblom.

  1993 Larry
invests $8.7 million in Air Partners, the general partner of Continental Airlines.

  Peter Donnici files Hillblom v. Mitchell.

  Danao signs 50-year joint venture with Binh Thuan Tourist to open the Hotel Mercure Phan Thiet in Binh Thuan, Vietnam.

  Larry crashes his Cessna single-engine aircraft on Tinian.

  Governor Larry Guerrero signs SB 8-124 into law. The law places caps on contingency fees lawyers charge in Article XII cases and shortens the time in which Article XII cases can be brought by original landowners; it also limits fees to 20 percent or $700.

  1994 Nguyen Be Lory is born.

  Vietnam embargo is lifted.

  Po Chung agrees to give Larry 90 percent of Danao in settlement of the $200 million note.

  Joe Waechter moves to Vietnam to become chairman of Danao.

  1995 The Palace Hotel Dalat opens.

  5/4/95 Julie Cuartero gives birth to Jellian Cuartero in Manila.

  5/21/95 Larry dies in plane crash.

  5/26/95 Carlsmith looks into ways to take control of Bank of Saipan.

  5/28/95 Hillblom memorial service in Kingsburg.

  5/31/95 Hillblom memorial service in Saipan.

  6/5/95 CHC files articles of incorporation.

  6/24/95 Waechter is hired as VP of Trusts and Fiduciary Affairs of Bank of Saipan.

  6/27/95 Hillblom’s death certificate issued by Judge Alex Castro.

  6/30/95 IRS issues DHL tax deficiency of $194,534,167; plus penalties totaling $74,777,222.

  7/28/95 Joe Hill makes first request for Hillblom’s DNA on behalf of Kaelani Kinney.

  9/15/95 Waechter files first inventory of estate at $422 million.

  9/28/95 Rex Kosack is appointed special master.

  Fennel is retained to represent Julie and Jellian Cuartero.