Hollywood & Crime - Billionaire Boys Club | Boy Genius | 1

Episode Date: September 29, 2024

It’s the 1980s-- the “decade of greed”. Capitalism is king, and young upwardly mobile professionals are on the rise. In Los Angeles a small group of college grads band together to form an elite investment group called The Billionaire Boys Club. They have a simple mission, get to the top no matter what it takes. Their leader, Joe Hunt, is a master of mind games who will stop at nothing on the road to success. But when one of their clients vanishes, Joe and the boys need to scramble to cover their tracks.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

You're listening to the first episode of Billionaire Boys Club. To continue the journey, you can binge episodes two through seven exclusively with Wondery Plus. Start your free trial today in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. A quick warning, this series contains adult language and content. It's a warm evening in Los Angeles on June 6, 1984. The tall windows in Ron Levin's impressive Beverly Hills duplex are wide open, welcoming any breeze Los Angeles has to offer on this balmy summer night.

It's around 7 p.m. when the doorbell rings. Levin clocks the time. The kid's early, he thinks. But then again, Joe was never one to follow directions. As Levin crosses his sunken living room, he readies himself. He should be the hospitable host when he greets Joe at the door. Ron Levin is used to stalling angry business associates, but Joe is relentless. Joe reminds Levin of a young version of himself, confident, arrogant,

able to talk anyone into anything. But lately, Joe's been a pain in the ass. He hasn't stopped phoning and coming over unannounced since Levin told him he made $10 million off a bogus trading account. But Levin's aware that Joe is skeptical about whether the money ever existed at all. Smart kid. He can smell a liar. Of course he can. He's a liar too. Now Joe's at his door. You're early. Joe holds up a bag from La Scala's. I brought dinner. You packed? Joe asks.

He moves toward the kitchen to get plates and a bottle of wine. Joe doesn't drink, but he knows what Levin likes. Levin is leaving on a long business trip in the morning. Joe wanted to treat him to dinner before he went. But Levin knows why Joe is really here. The money. Hey, kosher. Joe's as excited to see Levin's Shetland collie as he is to see Joe. Joe is a heartbreaker.

Tall and slender. Joe towers over most people at 6'5". The 24-year-old is dark and handsome with jet black hair and deep-set dimples. Joe is 20 years younger than Levin. He smiles, and Levin can't help but smile back. Levin has a reputation for surrounding himself with handsome young men.

Rumor has it he's gay. But as far as anyone knows, he never puts the moves on anyone. The two men sit down on Levin's white couch. Levin lights two candles on his glass and chrome coffee table and Joe pours him a glass of wine. Levin seizes the conversation, talking about his art collection,

his pending business trip to New York, upcoming appointments in Italy and Switzerland. Anything to avoid talking about the money. Tonight it seems to work. Joe plays along with idle chit-chat. This is unusual. Levin has never known Joe to willingly relinquish control. It's always about the money.

But tonight, they're talking as friends? Joe smiles when Levin points out his latest acquisition, a Picasso. Levin almost relaxes. Joe holds out a piece of chicken for Kosher. Kosher is the light of Levin's life, and possibly the only true friend he has. Then Joe makes the move Levin's been waiting for.

He shifts the conversation to money. Levin, I need you to pay me my share of our profits. This has gone on too long. Nobody moved. This is a man Levin's never seen before. African-American, built like a linebacker. Who the hell are you? Levin demands. Joe springs up from the couch.

There's real fear in his eyes. Joe's voice is shaking. They're gonna kill me, Joe says. I owe them money. The intruder, still silent, whips out a.25 caliber pistol and points it at Levin. Levin's heart jumps into his throat. Joe tells Levin he owes money to the mafia, and that since Levin owes him money,

Joe told the mafia they'd get paid when Levin paid him. Levin is incredulous. The mafia, Joe? Really? The large man with the gun reaches in his jacket pocket. He slowly screws a silencer to the barrel of his pistol as he stares Levin down. Levin can't feel his body. All he knows is fear. How much is in your Swiss bank account, Joe demands. Levin regrets ever telling him about it at all. About 1.7 million.

Joe tells him to write a check for 1.5 million to be sure it clears. Then Joe turns to the man with the gun. Is that enough? Yeah, yeah, it's fine, says the gunman. It's brief, but Levin catches Joe's furrowed brow. Joe shoots the gunman a look that says, wrong answer. Levin doesn't like having a gun pointed in his face any more than the next guy.

But he also wasn't born yesterday. Where's your checkbook, Joe asks. Levin leads them into his bedroom and then Joe hands Levin a contract. What's this, Levin demands. It's a purchase contract for Microgenesis, Joe says. Levin remembers Joe trying to sell him on it a few years ago. Joe, what are you playing?

The gunman has kosher by the scruff of his neck, gun pressed to his little head. No, no, don't shoot him. Joe just stands there. This is not a game, Ron. Okay, put the dog down and I'll do whatever you say. The gunman drops the dog. Levin signs the contract. Then he writes a big fat check to Joe for 1.5 million dollars. I've done what you want. Now get the fuck out. Joe just looks at him for a moment, his face completely void of any emotion. He tells Levin to lie face down on the bed.

He's calm when he tells the gunman to handcuff Levin. And when Levin starts to whimper and beg for his life, Joe says nothing. The gunman shoves the.25 caliber into the back of Levin's head. Levin can hear his suitcase unzipping and see Joe packing out of the corner of his eye. He can see Kosher on the other side whimpering and peeing on the carpet. The gunman turns to Joe and says, No. Joe says nothing.

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Up First from NPR makes each morning an opportunity to learn and to understand. Choose to join the world every morning with Up First, a podcast that hands you everything going on across the globe and down the street, all in 15 minutes or less. Start your day informed and anew with Up First by subscribing wherever you get your podcasts. From Wondery, I'm Tracy Patton with Timothy Olyphant, and this is Hollywood and Crime,

Billionaire Boys Club. Let's make America great again. Sound familiar? It was the slogan of Ronald Reagan's 1980 presidential campaign. After a decade of recession and war, Americans wanted change. Former movie star and 33rd governor of California, Reagan won the presidency.

Twice. And his trickle-down economics changed the country forever. The yuppie became a symbol of the 1980s. The baby boomer with a college education, a well-paying job, and very expensive taste. With them came greed, excess, materialism, and in Los Angeles, a city already run by the wealthy and ambitious, a group of young men came to embody these ideals better than almost anyone.

What they wanted was simple. The riches and status they'd been promised since birth. And they'd stop at nothing to get it. Not deception. Not embezzlement. Not even murder. This is the story of the Billionaire Boys Club and its charismatic leader, Joe Hunt. This is the first episode in our six-part series,

Boy Genius. Here's my co-host, Timothy Oliphant. It was beautiful spring days like today that lured all the UCLA undergrads out of their dorm rooms and into the sunshine of Westwood Village in West Los Angeles. It was March 1980, and Dean Carney was riding high. Dean was a junior, but definitely had senioritis. He wanted to be done with school, be in the real world.

It was great being a guy like Dean at a place like UCLA. He was slim, beach blonde, with a great sense of style. Some called him a pretty boy. Dean had plans to meet up with his friend, Ben Dosti, at Ackerman Union on campus. Ben and Dean had been best friends since they were 14. They met as freshmen at the Harvard School in Beverly Hills. Ben was shorter and stockier than Dean, but he was handsome and easygoing. Together they were known around campus for being especially good with the ladies.

No one could resist these two. L.A. born and bred, good looks, and family money. It was Dean who saw Joe first. He lowered his Versace sunglasses and squinted through the crowd of students. What are you looking at? Ben asked. Is that Joe Gansky? If Dean hadn't seen Joe for himself,

he wouldn't have believed it. The last time Dean saw Joe was at high school graduation. Now he looked like a completely different person. Joe must have grown six inches in the past three years, and he filled out into his long face and high cheekbones. Joe might have been mistaken for a movie star, except for his ill-fitting JCPenney suit. His jacket was clearly too small, pants too short.

He still doesn't have a clue how to dress, Dean said, but he finally sprung for a good haircut. He still doesn't have a clue how to dress, Dean said, but he finally sprung for a good haircut. When Joe Gamsky had been their high school classmate in the exclusive Harvard school, Joe knew he didn't fit in. The other boys showed up in BMWs and Mercedes wearing Italian loafers and blazers. Joe rode his Schwinn to school and dressed in worn vans and faded Levi's. Harvard was the best prep school in L.A., and it cost more than most colleges.

The city's elite sent their young men there to be educated. Joe's mom was the one who suggested he apply for Harvard. He tested at genius levels, and he wasn't being challenged at his high school. He won a full scholarship, but once he was in, he faced challenges. Joe was the smartest kid in the room, but now the poorest kid in the room. At Harvard, it was real competition, and they had money and cars and looks. The only thing that gave him any confidence was his intellect, and he showed it off whenever he could.

Joe played by his own rules. Competition fueled his ego. And now, seeing him again three years later, reminded Dean of Joe's desire to win at all costs. Like when he was accused of cheating during a debate tournament. Debate was a requirement for every student at Harvard School. But for Joe, debate was a calling. He was a natural, able to talk his way out of any situation. The more he did it, the better he got. He stopped relying on facts and social niceties.

He would raise arguments just to see if he could win them. He usually won, but not always. Like in his final competition in 74. Joe was fuming. How dare this kid? No, this punk from Sacred Heart called him out. He was the best debater on the stage that day and everyone knew it except this one kid

who had the nerve to claim that Einstein never compared religion to science. I challenge Mr. Gamsky's Einstein quote. I believe he's falsified his evidence. How did he know? Did he read everything Einstein had ever written? It was a risky move to make up a quote by someone famous to bolster your argument.

It was also cheating. It usually worked for Joe, but not this time. The judges confirmed the accusation, the quote was made up, and the coach cut Joe from the team. Then shit really hit the fan. Joe stormed out of the gym and never looked back. The other boys just watched. Dean had never really given Joe Gamsky another thought, until now.

Well, if it isn't Dean Carney and Ben Dostey, Joe called out. Still best buds, I see. Joe walked over and stuck out his hand. It wasn't just the difference in Joe's appearance that struck Dean. It was his demeanor, his self-confidence. Ben asked Joe what he was doing there. They'd never seen him on campus before. Joe told him he worked at a commodities firm nearby. What about you? Joe asked. Dean said they go to school at UCLA. Ah, I graduated early. USC. After chatting a bit, Joe offered to take the guys to dinner. Ben and Dean agreed to come. Never in a million years would they have imagined that Joe, the poor, angry kid from high school,

would be taking them out to dinner. This Joe was affable, friendly even. Dean and Ben couldn't say no. Detective Les Zoller pours himself a third coffee around 11 a.m. He's rationing. He tries to limit his intake to eight a day. It's his job as a keeper of the peace for the Beverly Hills Police Department to be alert and ready at all times. To tend to the emergencies called in each day.

A cat in a tree, a towed car. This morning, Zoller is hot on the case of the missing patio furniture. Zoller likes Beverly Hills. It's a safe community, steady work, and the pay's okay. On the morning of July 7th, however, an unusual call comes in. It's an older woman. Says her name is Carol Levin. Says her son is missing.

Carol says she spoke to her son early last night. She talks to him every day. They're very close. But this morning, he didn't answer the phone. He was supposed to leave for a business trip to New York, and he always calls her before he travels. Then his maid called her and said he didn't pack. In a panic, she rushed to his condo.

His suitcases were still here, even his wallet. I'm telling you, this is not like Ronnie at all. He always calls. Zoller tries to calm Carol down. I'm sorry, ma'am, but I can't file a report on an adult until they've been missing for at least 48 hours. This only makes Carol more distraught. She knows her son.

He calls before he gets on a plane. She insists there's been foul play. I'm sorry, Mrs. Levin. If you still haven't heard from him in two days, call me back. Zoller. Okay, I'll be right there. Another day, another barking dog complaint. Zoller grabs his keys and stops to check his reflection on the way out. He's 30 years old with five years of service under his belt. The locals like Zoller. He's got boyish charm and untidy red hair and a

bushy mustache he's been trying out. He straightens his Kmart tie in the mirror. The name Ron Levin rolls around in his head. It sounds familiar, but he can't place it. The dog can wait, Zoller decides. He puts Ron Levin in the system and gets back a rap sheet as long as the phone book. He's got felony charges for theft and fraud and a bad habit of opening bank accounts all over Los Angeles.

He uses six-figure checks drawn on other accounts as initial deposits and cancels the account as soon as the checks bounce. But Levin collects passbooks showing large amounts with no withdrawals. He uses these to borrow money and move it around between fake shell companies. He's always 10 steps ahead of everyone.

When he does get caught, his fancy lawyers get him out of it. Levin is an infamous con man at the Beverly Hills PD. Maybe now he's got his mom in on a scam, Zoller thinks. What are you up to, Levin? They say Hollywood is where dreams are made, a seductive city where many flock to get rich, be adored, and capture America's heart. But when the spotlight turns off, fame, fortune, and lives can disappear in an instant.

When TV producer Roy Radin was found dead in a canyon near L.A. in 1983, there were many questions surrounding his death. The last person seen with him was Lainey Jacobs, a seductive cocaine dealer who desperately wanted to be part of the Hollywood elite. Together, they were trying to break into the movie industry. But things took a dark turn when a million dollars worth of cocaine and cash went missing. From Wondery comes a new season of the hit show Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder.

Follow Hollywood and Crime, The Cotton Club Murder on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can binge all episodes of The Cotton Club Murder early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus. I'm Jake Warren, and in our first season of Finding, I set out on a very personal quest to find the woman who saved my mum's life. You can listen to Finding Natasha right now exclusively on Wondery Plus. In season two, I found myself caught up in a new journey to help someone I've never even met. But a couple of years ago, I came across a social media post

by a person named Loti. It read in part, Three years ago today that I attempted to jump off this bridge, but this wasn't my time to go. A gentleman named Andy saved my life. I still haven't found him. This is a story that I came across purely by chance, but it instantly moved me. And it's taken me to a place where I've had to consider some deeper issues around mental health. This is season two of Finding and this time, if all goes to plan, we'll be finding Andy. You can listen to Finding Andy and Finding Natasha exclusively and ad-free on Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify. Joe winked as he slipped the hostess a crisp 20.

The Westwood Village restaurant was packed, but Joe, Dean, and Ben were seated right away. They passed a long line of rich college kids and young professionals, girls in the latest Calvin Klein knit dresses, guys in Ralph Lauren summer sweaters loosely tied around their necks. The three boys caught up about what they'd been doing since high school. Dean and Ben ordered Long Island iced teas. What are you drinking, Joe? Dean asked. Just mineral water. I don't drink. In fact, he didn't do drugs or smoke cigarettes or drink coffee.

He said his mind has to be at peak performance at all times. Dean and Ben talked about their classes and how they both wanted to go to law school. Joe liked the law just fine, but he said that commodities trading was where the action was, and he had a knack for it. He wasn't bragging, simply stating the facts. Joe took a long sip of mineral water and looked over his glass at Ben and Dean. They were impressed. Another round, boys? Joe said.

Remember, dinner's on me. Over dessert, Joe told the guys that he'd been kicking around an idea. He wanted to form an exclusive club, a consortium of companies, actually. He wanted to gather the best and brightest guys he can find. Attorneys, accountants, architects. Everyone would bring their individual talents to the table. With Joe's skills in commodities trading, they would build capital to fund the consortium. They'd buy up or create multiple businesses, each member in charge of their own business. But they'd all work under one umbrella. They'd be their own bosses. They'd share

the profits from all the companies. It's as if Joe found the one thing Dean and Ben had been missing. We wouldn't have to climb the corporate ladder. No ass-kissing. No one telling us what to do, Joe said. We'd start at the top. That sounds awesome, Dean said. Joe picked up the $288 tab. Dean watched Joe slip a crisp $100 bill on top of the check.

Dean was blown away by who Joe had become in three short years. Dean could only imagine what he might learn from Joe. The idea of a company where they could make their own money playing by their own rules was intoxicating. The three young men made plans to meet again. It's a Wednesday morning. Joe Hunt takes a sip of tea as he waits for the elevator in the marble lobby of the Wells Fargo building in Beverly Hills. His office is on the fifth floor.

He can see the ocean from his window. It's been a week since Joe paid his last visit to Ron Levin's condo. Joe takes another sip of tea, but it spills. Damn, he thinks. On the Armani, too, his favorite suit. It's not the start to his morning he was hoping for. Hey, Joe, need a hand?

Over the last few years, Dean Carney has become Joe's shadow, his best friend and business partner. Whenever Joe moves, Dean is right there. I'm glad I ran into you, Joe. I have some bad news. Not here, Dean. Let's wait till we're in the office. Joe pushes through the walnut doors of the BBC. He named their company after his favorite bar in Chicago, the Bombay Bicycle Club. But it's taken on a new meaning with the coterie of wealthy young men the company attracts. It's jokingly referred to as the Billionaire Boys Club.

Joe loves it. He nods to the receptionist. He takes a seat behind his imposing desk and puts his feet up. Dean begins pacing around Joe's office. Dean says this morning he got a call from the World Trade Bank. The $1.5 million check that Levin gave Joe, the one he gave him at gunpoint, was just refused by the Swiss bank. Dean's cursing to himself.

Maybe they should have marched Levin to the bank and withdrawn the cash. Dean's starting to panic, but Joe remains unaffected. Dean wishes he could channel Joe's calm. Is there not enough money in the account, Joe asks. Dean takes a breath. He says it didn't clear because Levin gave the bank instructions not to pay any check that's not signed in the upper left-hand corner. Fucking Levin, Joe says. He screws me, even from the grave. There is one more thing,

Dean says, still pacing. It's a long shot, but the bank will accept a new check. He can see the wheels turning in Joe's head. I still have Levin's keys, he says. We go get blank checks. They'll throw a signature party, Joe says. Whoever can forge Levin's signature the best will get Joe's BMW for a month. We need that 1.5 million, Joe says, picking up the phone to call and back up to get a new check. This isn't over yet. Of course it's not. With Joe, it seems like it never ends. it seems like it never ends. August, 1980. Joe collected the dirty dishes from the outdoor dining table at the Carney house

as the sun set over Los Angeles. He brought the dishes into the kitchen where Dean's mother was washing them. Dinner was delicious, Mrs. Carney, Joe said. Thank you for having me. He was in the habit of staying over with Dean and his family more nights than not, and in a lot of ways, the Carney's felt more like a family than Joe had ever known. The back deck was Joe's favorite spot.

The house sat high in the Hollywood Hills in outpost estates. The neighborhood was home to some of Hollywood's richest and most famous since the 1920s. Joe had been spending a lot of time with Dean since he ran into him in Westwood Village four months ago. They'd become close. Dean looked up to Joe, and his parents, especially Dean's mother, adored him. They thought he was ambitious and enterprising and a good influence for Dean. He had a way of making everyone he met

feel like they were the center of the universe. He pushed Dean to work harder, be kinder to his parents and more thankful for everything he had. Dean's parents began to treat Joe like their own son. Joe even had his own bed in Dean's parents began to treat Joe like their own son. Joe even had his own bed in Dean's room. At night, Joe liked to read thick books. Dean preferred to listen to music. What are you listening to?

Dean clicked off his Walkman. Depeche Mode, he said, pulling his headphones down around his neck. It'd be so rad to see them in concert. Joe nodded and picked up his book again. That book is huge, Dean teased. It could do some serious damage if you wanted to hurt someone. Joe smiled. It's Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. It's my favorite book. It's about a dystopian America. Private businesses suffer under restrictive laws and regulations. Then there's a rebellion. A bunch of people stage a coup and basically blow everything apart to get

their way. Rand believed that everyone should do their own thing, exist for themselves only. She said no one should sacrifice themselves to others or sacrifice others to themselves. Joe said that's the kind of club he wants to form. Self-interest is the key. Joe says that they would make the rules, they would do whatever it takes to succeed, and they'd make a shitload of money doing it. Joe always got excited when he was talking about the club,

and it was infectious. Dean didn't know if it was the summer nights, Joe's conviction, or the wine he had with dinner. But Dean felt like his life was changing right before his eyes. He went to sleep dreaming of power and success. It's June 1984. Joe sits alone in his office and stares at the blank page in his typewriter.

He's supposed to be composing a letter to investors of the BBC. But he can't just say, Dear investors, I lost all your money and need more. Some people might, but not Joe.

He knows you have to tell people what they want to hear. The skills he honed on the debate team in school are still serving him well. Although he was young and hot-headed back then, now he's learned to stay cool and composed as he convinces people. It turns out people have more respect for quiet, calm authority. Then again, it's hard to stay calm when the BBC is bleeding cash. Joe's trading skills aren't as foolproof as he led people to believe. Joe is excellent at raising money from investors, and they think he's a wizard at trading their money on the market.

But his results are inconsistent. He sends out doctored statements and pays investors quarterly profits so they believe his trading methods are winning. Quarterly profits also keep them investing. Basically, it's a Ponzi scheme. But Joe needs money now. Money for operating costs, overhead, and those quarterly profits. Joe was counting on the $1.5 million from Ron Levin to be the BBC's tourniquet.

But if they can't cash Levin's check, they're screwed. It's just like Levin to screw him out of his own money, Joe thinks. I write this letter to announce wonderful news from the BBC group, Joe types. My trading methods require the cloak of anonymity, and we are approaching the threshold of notoriety in certain professional circles. The BBC is in danger of saturating the liquidity of the markets. Joe's good at a lot of things, but he excels in spitting bullshit. With this letter, Joe's giving his investors a deadline. As of the end of the month, there will be no additional

investments accepted and all profits will be dispersed to investors. He sends the letter to 60 investors. And it works. Within the next month, investors scramble to give as much last-minute money to the whiz kid as they can. An elderly physician who already invested $15,000 scrapes together more. He mortgages his office building in Beverly Hills and throws in another $140,000. Joe's letter brings in the biggest single influx of investor money yet, almost $300,000. That should tie Joe over till the 1.5 million comes in. Just then, the phone rings.

It's the Swiss bank. Levin's $1.5 million check, the new one they forged, has bounced. His Swiss account has a balance of 34 francs, not even 50 bucks. Fuck you, Ron Levin. On the last day of summer 1980, Dean pulled up to the valet at Old World on Sunset Strip. He tossed his BMW keys to the attendant.

Old World was Joe's new favorite restaurant. He reserved one of the dark-paneled booths in the back so they could talk. Joe and Ben were already deep in conversation when Dean sat down. Paradox, Joe argued, is the secret to the human condition. He said that life's lesson

was that reality was situational. Morality, too. Thou shall not kill is a given, right? Yet even homicide can be justified by self-defense. Ben nodded. Dean just drank his wine. Joe loved to talk over people's heads. Sometimes Dean followed. Other times, he just admired Joe's intellect. Now, Joe turned the conversation to what he really wanted to talk about. His idea for a private club of entrepreneurs, his consortium of businesses. Joe wants his club to operate on this paradox principle. He said, paradox is a path to liberation. Human actions often have unintended consequences, so why let the outside world dictate what you do? Instead, we should do whatever we must to succeed.

Joe really believed that the ends always justify the means. Dean and Ben were riveted by Joe's conviction. It was just one thing they needed, Joe said, money. And there was enough of that in the world to go around. How much do you think we'll need? Dean asked. Joe said one million would be a nice start. They all agreed that their strongest viable asset was Joe's ability to trade commodities. He'd been doing so successfully in his current job. He volunteered to move to Chicago

for a year or two to trade on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange. They'll still need some seed money to set him up. No problem. I can get an investor, Dean said, closing his menu. Now, where's that waitress? I'm starving. Two weeks later, Dean hugged Joe as he dropped his friend off at LAX. A family friend of Dean's agreed to finance Joe's move to Chicago. Joe left LA with $200,000 to get an apartment and begin trading. Call me as soon as you get settled, Dean said. I'm going to miss you. Joe was going to the trading floor in Chicago to quintuple that $200,000

and come back with the million dollars they needed to start their company. Hello, ladies and germs, boys and girls. The Grinch is back again to ruin your Christmas season with Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast. After last year, he's learned a thing or two about hosting, and he's ready to rant against Christmas cheer and roast his celebrity guests like chestnuts on an open fire. You can listen with the whole family as guest stars like Jon Hamm, Brittany Broski, and Danny DeVito try to persuade the mean old Grinch that there's a lot to love about the insufferable holiday season. But that's not all. Somebody stole all the children of Whoville's letters to Santa, and everybody thinks the Grinch is responsible.

It's a real Whoville whodunit. Can Cindy Lou and Max help clear the Grinch's name? Grab your hot cocoa and cozy slippers to find out. Follow Tis the Grinch Holiday Podcast on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts. Unlock weekly Christmas mystery bonus content and listen to every episode ad-free by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app, Spotify, or Apple Podcasts. It's June 1984, and Dean's been pacing in his office for the last half hour,

sweating over the BBC books. He's already thrown up twice. It's not good. In just one month, Joe burned through nearly all the $300,000 he collected from his recent letter to investors. And now, without Levin's $1.5 million on the horizon, things are looking bleak. Dean knows that Joe can fix this.

But how? He needs to just go in and talk to Joe one-on-one. Come on in. Joe calls out. Dean peeks his head in. Joe beckons him to come and sit. We're out of money, Joe. He nods at Dean.

Yeah, I know. Dean stares at his hands in his lap. It's not just the money, he tells Joe. It's about morale. Members are talking about leaving the BBC. He convinces Joe to tell the group about what he did to Levin. Levin's murder is still Joe and Dean's secret. Telling all the members could be a bonding experience and pull the group together, Dean says. You said it yourself. The ends justify the means.

The BBC was founded on this philosophy. The boys just need a reminder of how far their leader will go to protect them. Joe started trading in Chicago on November 3, 1980, the day before Ronald Reagan was elected president. An auspicious start, he thought. He passed the mercantile's written test with a perfect score. Joe would call Dean from Chicago almost every day. Joe's profits were in the five figures by the end of his first week. Everything Joe touched seemed to turn to gold.

Dean's parents were impressed, too. Dean's father threw money at Joe to trade, and he urged family friends to do the same. Cash started rolling in. $100,000 here, $150,000 there. Dean pitched in his entire $4,000 savings. Ben matched Dean's investment. Dean's mother threw in $150,000 of her own savings. Joe would report to Dean every night on the phone.

He was making a killing in Chicago. Joe loved the thrill of high-risk trading. He made a lot of money. And he lost a lot of money. But trading commodities is a crapshoot, even for people who know what they're doing. For Joe, it was like a weekend in Las Vegas. He was calling the shots, so he figured why not play by his own rules? Joe figured he could make more if he traded more, so he used other people's money to trade on the

floor. This was technically illegal at the mercantile. But Joe never paid much attention to laws. The president of the exchange found out. Joe met with him and tried to charm him, then intimidate him. It backfired. The board of governors kicked Joe out of the Chicago mercantile on September 9th, 1981,

nearly one year after he first arrived on the trading floor. He was forbidden to trade there for 10 years. When Dean picked him up from LAX a few days later, Joe said he was broke. He told Dean he lost everything trading on the Chicago mercantile. He didn't mention being kicked out. Dean was silent. Joe insisted it wasn't his fault,

but he lost half a million dollars of other people's money. Dean furrowed his brow. How would he tell his parents? Joe and Dean sat on the deck of Dean's parents' house. They dangled their legs off the edge of the deck, and Dean got high. They looked out over Los Angeles. This is just one obstacle, Joe told Dean. Are they going to let just one setback stop them? No way. They're destined for greatness.

If he can just raise a little capital, Joe said, he planned on trading commodities again in L.A. Either way, Joe thinks they should start the club they talked about, even without capital. They know a ton of rich guys that went to school with them. They just need to recruit wealthy members who can solicit investors. I want to call the club the BBC, Joe said. There was a bar in Chicago I hung out at, the Bombay Bicycle Club. I had my fair share of bad days in Chicago, but more good days than bad. I felt like I had a purpose there.

I want our new club to feel the same. Oh, and by the way, I changed my last name to Hunt. When? A few days ago. Why? The name Hunt sounds important. He hoped people might mistake him for a member of the H.L. Hunt family, one of the wealthiest oil dynasties in history. What Joe didn't tell Dean is that he needed to distance himself from the fiasco in Chicago. Getting kicked out of the mercantile and banned from trading there for 10 years was something he wanted to forget. And wanted other people to forget, too. On the evening of June 24, 1984, Joe calls a meeting for ten members of the BBC.

Hands selected for their loyalty and trustworthiness, Joe knows that this meeting will mark a turning point. It's crowded in the living room of Joe and Dean's posh Beverly Hills condo. Dean stands off to the side and watches as all the boys mingle. Jim Graham, the BBC's bodyguard, is whispering something to Joe. Jim's a big guy, African-American, built like a linebacker. But he's only 5'8", Joe's 6'5". He almost looks small. Joe clears his throat and waits for the room to quiet.

We'll be discussing some very serious matters today. Joe makes eye contact with each boy one at a time, as if daring them to flinch. He reports on the BBC's current financial condition. Their commodity accounts are depleted. Joe says he took high risks with his trading in an attempt to cover their losses from some of their companies.

I have not given up on the BBC, Joe says, and neither should you. We've discussed many times how we achieve greatness. We take risks. We do what's necessary to succeed. Now what you're about to hear is difficult. Dean holds his breath. With his higher level of information comes responsibility. Joe takes a pause to let his words sink in. It's so quiet in the room, Dean can hear the refrigerator humming from the kitchen. Anybody who does not want to take on this responsibility can leave the room right now. does not want to take on this responsibility can leave the room right now. No one even thinks about moving.

No one questions their devotion. Then you've sealed your fate. There's no going back. The silence is so loud, Dean feels like his head will explode. Jim and I knocked off Ron Levin. He won't be bothering us again. No one breathes.

Joe's words hang in the air. Someone asks Joe how he got Levin to sign the check. Let's just say Levin was under a little duress at the time. Joe says Levin was a bad character who cheated them out of millions of dollars. Someone else asks how they knocked Levin off. Joe tells them not to worry about the gory details. But I'll tell you this, it was the perfect crime. And there's no way we'll get caught.

We, someone asks, we're all part of the murder now, Joe says, and we have a responsibility to keep our mouths shut. Dean looks around at the group gathered in his living room. He feels an immense sense of relief now that this secret is out. This was an act of self-preservation. If you truly believe in the BBC's philosophy, Joe said, you already understand that. Next time on Billionaire Boys Club, Joe and Dean lead recruiting efforts and land on a new target, Hadeat Eslaminia, an Iranian government official who escaped an oppressive regime with a huge nest egg. And lucky for Joe, Hadeat's son is desperate to join. Unlucky for Joe, his son

doesn't have access to any of his father's money. They come up with a plot to force it out of him or die trying. This is episode one of six in Billionaire Boys Club from Hollywood and Crime. If you like what you've heard, be sure to tell your friends and fans of true crime. I'm your host, Tracy Patton. This episode is written by Michael Seldich and produced and edited by Leah Sutherland. Recorded by Julian Nicholson

at the Invisible Studios West Hollywood. Sound design by James Morgan and Kyle Randall. Hollywood and Crime was co-created by Rebecca Reynolds, Tracy Patton, and Jim Carpenter. Executive producers are Marshall Louis, Stephanie Jens, and Hernan Lopez for Wondery. He was hip-hop's biggest mogul, the man who redefined fame, fortune, and the music industry. The first male rapper to be honored on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, Sean Diddy Combs. Diddy built an empire and lived a life most people only dream about.

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