Rx for Plunder

Allegations surfaced that, on at least one occasion, Neil Leder billed for therapy when in fact he had turned on a video of The Sound of Music and left the room. Confronted by the FBI and federal prosecutors, Leder answered questions only grudgingly. Had he piped up a little bit sooner, he too might have been granted immunity from prosecution. His second meeting with the FBI, according to an agent's report, "concluded early because of Leder's evasiveness." Prosecutor Robert Nicholson advised him to seek legal counsel.

Armed with such overwhelming allegations, then-U.S. Attorney Nicholson had no qualms about charging Althea, Bernard, Yvonne, and Leder with a whopping 43 criminal counts.

Nicholson had little sympathy for the accused. Of the mansion that Bernard and Althea were building, he said, "Donald Trump would blush at the opulence of this house." Oakland had been paid nearly $10 million by Medicare over the years — but that's not even counting claims that got denied. They'd tried to get $28 million. "Fraud was pervasive in every aspect of their business activities," Nicholson says.

Was there any evidence that Leder or Yvonne profited to the same degree as Bernard and Althea? "No. But they drew salaries, made false statements, and intentionally omitted facts."

The family's actions were in line with the massive, blatant fraud Nicholson sees all the time. "A Medicare provider number is a license to steal."

Bernard and Althea chose to take plea deals. Of the 43 counts on the indictment, all were dropped except one: conspiracy to make false documents relating to health care matters.

During his sentencing hearing in July, Bernard Graves said to federal Judge William Dimitrouleas, "I stand in responsibility." He likened himself to a general in charge of soldiers on a battlefield — soldiers, that is, who failed to follow his instructions. Bernard wondered aloud why no doctor was going to jail.

Bernard was ordered to serve five years in prison. Dimitrouleas flat-out stated he would have piled on more time had the attorneys "not limited my jurisdiction to just one count." Two U.S. marshals stood up and snapped Bernard's wrists into handcuffs. He looked even more like Pootie Tang as the officers removed his belt; his power seemed to fade as they led him away. Friends and family, including Bernard's pastor, watched helplessly. Althea ran from the courtroom.

At her own sentencing several weeks later, Althea faced the judge. She wore a maroon outfit with a flower print. Her hair was pulled into a bun just as tight as her unsmiling mouth.

Several people watched from the benches, sniffling for her and making overtures to Lord Jesus. Althea's pastor spoke on her behalf, saying that she and Bernard had enrolled in the Institute of Theology by Extension, a five-year program that would allow them to get pastoral licenses. The pastor told the judge he'd pray for him.

That was nice, but Althea got four years and three months anyway.

Taxpayers had footed the bill for the Graveses' lush lifestyle and mansion. Taxpayers had shouldered the costs of their prosecution. Now, taxpayers would give the couple shelter and food — in the form of concrete walls and baloney sandwiches.

The couple had amassed a small fortune in real estate — but most properties would be foreclosed upon as part of the $5 million in restitution they were each ordered to pay. In plea agreements, the couple's defense lawyers specified that the defendants would be allowed to keep a two-story house, worth $597,350, in a gated neighborhood in Stuart — that is, if relatives pay the mortgage on it. (The couple sold the mansion.)

Neil Leder decided to cooperate with authorities — eventually. He took a plea deal and is serving 17 months in prison. According to Leder's attorney, his wife, a librarian, is trying to pay her mortgage alone, and Leder's elderly mother is kicking in to help.

Tabatha Harrell went into business with her sister selling diabetes supplies.

Mashama Brannigan found work in the funeral business.

Michael Evans still works as a biller.

U.S. Attorney Nicholson has since gone into private practice as a defense attorney.

No one could say what had happened to the patients who'd been seen at Oakland. A Medicare spokeswoman gave no specifics, saying only that the agency "always moves to protect Medicare beneficiaries when [it] hears or is notified by another agency that a provider is being closed."

When Oakland shut down, Yvonne Howell liquidated her interest in two of her nursing homes but went back to work at one. As she went about the business of dressing wounds and changing diapers, she clung to her declaration of innocence. She decided to take her chances and go to trial.

Evan Zimmer, the Oakland program's affable psychiatrist, benefited from the government's immunity deal, and he was not charged with any wrongdoing. These days, he works in the pain management field.

He didn't testify against Yvonne at trial. Sources familiar with the case said no lawyer would put Zimmer on the stand because opposing counsel would try to discredit him by bringing up a well-known incident from his past. In 1984, Zimmer fell asleep at the wheel of his convertible and crashed into the water. When police arrived, he was swimming to shore with a baggie in his mouth. It contained about 500 prescription pills, including Valium, Vicodin, and Xanax, that he had rescued from his sinking car.