This is the confidential Pet, Inc.1 memorandum2 given to my father on September 2, 1980 that placed him on notice that there were extensive fraudulent activities conducted by Haig Berberian, et al. in connection with our erstwhile family business known as, “Haig Berberian (a limited partnership).” My father showed the memo to me that evening, which, in turn, placed me on notice of “fraud,” and this whole legal nightmare began.
The motive for passing the memorandum on to my father is unknown. It is my counterintuitive belief that providing it to my father was not as great a concern to those close to Haig and his attorneys, as said “leak” would seem on the surface. I do not know if Haig himself knew that the memorandum had come into my father’s possession. I only know that Haig, my father’s older brother, knew post-September 2, 1980, that my father learned about some of the contents of the memo and the financial misdeeds perpetrated on him by Haig and his depraved wretched amoral evil accountant, Peter B. Jeppson.3 As I just said, seemingly counter to reason, I do not believe that it was that big of a deal that the memo had fallen into my father’s hands, because the former Pet, Inc. employee who “leaked” it, continues to this day to work with Haig Berberian-related entities.4 This is what he told me as of a couple of years ago when I happened to bump into him, i.e., that he was still working with “Haig Berberian.” I choose not to divulge the man’s name, because the memorandum was given to my father “confidentially” and I don’t know for sure whether or not the memo was passed on to my father for nefarious reasons. I do find it laughable, however, that my former business counsel, Rudy Bilawski, advised an attorney who had called him from a law firm that I had solicited for my case after Bilawski’s withdrawal, that my father decided not to pursue his legal matter because the identity of the confidential memo “leaker” would come out in court, and my father had promised not to tell.5 I do not scoff at Bilawski, for he had understandably tactfully (and tactically) humored my father by accepting my father’s rationalization for (allegedly) turning away from his case and the millions of dollars involved with it, such that my father could save face.6 I just find it amusing because my father was truly thoroughly capable of trying to cover up with such a pretense, his cowardice to face his brother’s wrath and power. This despite the fact that Rudy Bilawski was as good as they come, a scary smart attorney. My father was stuck on stupid and there was nothing that anyone could do about it. No one could square that circle. (Not me, not his lawyers, not even the great Arnold Aaron Sheuerman, Jr., M.D., also known throughout this story as, “The Doctor”7)8 I was present during that meeting.9 And my father did indeed use the aforementioned “reason” for shelving his case with the proviso that he may pick it up again sometime down the line. This transparent lie by my father goes to show what an easy mark he was, not only by the lie itself, but his believing that other people are dumb enough not to see through him.10 When it came to my father, Haig and his slimy greasy fat-assed diabolical accountant, Peter Jeppson, were looking at easy pickings, low-hanging fruit, taking candy away from a baby.11
On the evening that my father showed me the memorandum and asked if I wanted to pursue the matter (I said, “yes, I do,” and he eventually said, “no, you don’t”), we decided to call Peter Jeppson in order to ask him about the main transgression indicated in the memo. That is, real property having been transferred solely into Haig’s name, his various wholly-owned (by Haig and his immediate family) subsidiaries, and other entities unknown, real property that his limited partners should have shared in. (This is called fraud. It is also called illicit “greed”) When we called, he wasn’t at home. But his wife provided the number where he could be reached. I do not recall just what was said during that phone conversation (disclosed, I was on a second line), but I do remember my father calling Jeppson, “pal,” at the end.10 I had the idea to call right back to see if the phone was busy. It was. (There was no “call waiting” in those days) Most likely, the Devil’s spawn had immediately called another crook regarding our phone call. (Storied story continued throughout Berberian Mystery Theatre)12
Like I said at the outset, coming into possession of the confidential Pet, Inc. memorandum is what precipitated this thirty five-plus year span of agony and torment for me. I’m not so sure that I’m glad that I learned of the memo’s contents. I am very sure, however, that my father wished that he had not.13 For me, in my mind, there would be no question about it at all had my lawyers been serious and honestly prosecuted my case, and had the defendants not continued the wrong that warranted my suing them after three years of waiting on them to do the right thing. Had they done so, there would be no Berberian Mystery Theatre.14
1 Pet, Inc. is the St. Louis-based corporation which purchased our family business, “Haig Berberian, a Limited Partnership,” in 1972.
2 There are two copies of the memorandum in the attached pdf file. The first one is my retyped cleaned-up version, more readable, the text and content remaining exactly as it is in the frayed original which follows.
3 I don’t think that Haig would have looked at any discrepancies as “fraud,” but rather misunderstandings about who should have gotten what. On second thought, forget what I just said. He knew that it was fraud. It is my belief, however, that Haig had no clue that I knew about the confidential memo and its contents. Had he become cognizant of this, it would have sent him to an early grave. This, I say, because he knew that he couldn’t manipulate me with his health issues and his money and his “almighty” power like he could with regard to his younger brother, “Vasken,” my father, the little mouse that he was. Most importantly, I knew that Haig knew that he had nothing on me and I knew that Haig knew that I had nothing to lose. That is, no reputation and ego issues at stake, and those things that most business people worry about if their legal cases go public. Haig was the one who had to worry about that. I myself could not be embarrassed and I’m pretty sure that Haig and his big fat greasy accountant, Peter Jeppson, were well-aware of this, the latter’s religious hypocrisy looming large over his satanic Mormon head. In fact, Jeppson fled to Bedford, Texas when this whole brouhaha was cranking into second gear. (Sorry Bedford for that horrific Modesto, California pig smell that wafted into town. My condolences, Texas, as I know that his stench permeated your entire state as well)
4 There are other ways of interpreting the matter. The common assumption of them all is that the memo was leaked for some other reason than helping my father, righting a wrong, and thereby cleansing the leaker’s soul.
5 The attorney who advised me of this was Robert E. Fremlin of the firm then known as Lillick, McHose & Charles in San Francisco. With a mutual wink and a nod between Fremlin and Bilawski, the Lillick law firm eventually passed on my case. I knew that this would happen before I walked through his door and handed Mr. Fremlin a $5,000 check (which I really couldn’t afford) to consider legal representation. (Mr. Fremlin is since deceased)
6 My father had been deceased for about four years at the time. However, I believe that Bilawski or any other lawyers with whom my father came into contact regarding his legal matter, probably went along with my father’s masquerade for his weakness for not only the sake of obtaining and keeping the case, but more importantly, keeping his case alive. They had to work around my father’s cowardice. My father had to save face or he would have abandoned his case in a nanosecond. As anyone can see in this website, I am the polar opposite of my father in the ego department.-The good, the bad, and the ugly, I let it all hang out.
7 Also known as, “The Hypocratic Doctor.” (See Timeline at 07-06-96, “The Hypocratic Doctor”)
8 What would have spared me thirty-five plus years of agony is the following scenario. To recap some history, my father came into possession of the confidential memo, clandestinely met with Rudy Bilawski or some other lawyer that Rudy referred him to, and was eventually told (by Rudy or someone affiliated with him) that he had a killer case. There was so much fraud perpetrated on my clueless father that Haig Berberian did not have a legal leg to stand on. All my father had to do was decide whether or not he wanted his money and whether or not he had the will to recoup what was stolen through fraud. This would require him to give his deposition to some attorneys who would grill him real good. It would be painful, because such a deposition would dredge up times and matters that he had wanted to bury forever. My father would be told that he would be interrogated completely, thoroughly, through and through, with no holds barred. The reason for such a thorough interrogation is that the attorneys have the best possible hand when there are no surprises about my father’s knowledge, actions and activities sprung on them by the other side (be they inside or out of a court setting). Of course, any surprises potentially sprung would be information provided to opposing counsel by Haig’s degenerate morally-depraved accountant, Peter Jeppson, as Haig would be spared the discomfort of fessing up to all of the “fraud,” and being restricted to some “misunderstandings” (relatively small amounts of money) and “mistakes” (again, small numbers) in the finances that his attorneys would also know about from Jeppson. Had Haig been required to spill all the beans, including the vilest things that he and Jeppson did to my father, Haig’s emaciated ego would have killed him. The luciferian Jeppson sufficed, because he knew full-well about all of the skeletons in the closet and where all of the bodies were buried. The diabolical Jeppson had, in fact, been head coroner throughout the life of my family’s slow death-ownership interest in the business. What I have said so far, I believe has actually been the case. It is/was true and in fact, happened as far as my educated guess is concerned after more than three decades of thinking about and studying the matter. The scenario continues from there as follows. My father provides answers to each and every last, front-and- center question that his lawyers ask him. Additionally, my father upchucks every deep dark secret that he can retrieve from wherever those are stored. He provides his power of attorney to his lawyers devoid of provisos (including any bar to filing suit against Haig Berberian if ultimately necessary). Thereafter, by himself, he gets into his car. (Here comes my dream-chasing and wish-making) He drives to San Francisco and meets with Haig Berberian’s lawyers. He does not sit down. He looks them straight in the eye and says: “I am no longer afraid of my brother and I am not afraid of you. I have given my deposition to my attorneys and I have told them every last single thing I know of that was of interest to them. I have also given them my complete durable ‘power of attorney, coupled with an interest’ in the matter and a ‘special contract of employment’ on top of that. They are now walking in my legal shoes and negotiating for me. And you’d better deal with them if you want to settle the matter out of court on behalf of your client.” Vasken turns around and walks out the door. That would have scared the shit (but not the Devil) out of the evil-oozing Peter B. Jeppson, Mormon scumbag accountant, because said degenerate was their star witness, Haig’s henchman. It would not have scared Haig, because, as I have already said, his lawyers would never have told him about the gravity of the situation. (Haig was told that there was a problem and his brother wants to keep it private. And it doesn’t involve fraud and it doesn’t involve big numbers. That is what Haig was told. No mention of me) Had my father executed the scenario above (and it could have, in fact, realistically been carried out without the drama or personal appearance at Titchell, Maltzman in SF), the matter would have been settled within a few years of its inception and my father would have lived to see the results of his heroism. Unfortunately, my father didn’t even have it in him to entertain the notion to begin with. But I’m a different story. I do have the necessary will. Notwithstanding, like Larry Drivon once said to me: “I’ll sit down and talk to anyone about this matter.” Of course, Larry meant then and I mean now, talk to anyone worth talking to. Someone point the way and I’m there. But I’m not holding my breath. Now excuse me please as I get back to work on Berberian Mystery Theatre. It never ends. (“What do I remember about this. What do I remember about that. What do I say here about this. What do I say there about that. What sounds stupid. What does not sound stupid. How do I improve what I have said here, there, and everywhere?”)
9 Prior to our trip to Stockton for that meeting, my father had assured me that he wouldn’t be dropping his case. I had told him that I would not attend if that was his intention. Nevertheless, dropping his case turned out to be his exact purpose in going and bringing me along, thereby setting the foundation for our legal relationship. I saw what a man of his word he was. And I did not believe another word that he said in this matter. Dishonesty would be the foundation between me and him when it came to Berberian v. Berberian. Oh I did try to get him to pick his case up again during the course of the next couple of years. But he would blow his top at the very mention of the matter. You see, he was waiting for something to happen during that two years. (There was some kind of a proceeding taking place, a “hidden agenda,” as I try my best to define throughout this website) But the only thing that happened thereafter with any teeth (albeit false ones, dentures, as it were), was the institution of a (make-believe) suit by me. I did this without his prior knowledge and against his wishes once I told him about it. He’d made his bed and he had to sleep in it. He’d given me no choice. I remember Rudy Bilawski telling me that should I proceed with my case, it would be hard on my father. My response: “That’s his problem now.”
10 My father was indeed a mouse. I tried my very best to stay out of the way, giving that mouse more than enough room to roar. Ultimately, I failed miserably. This is why I had to file suit and did so with conviction when the time came.
11 Peter B. Jeppson, CPA is a sociopath. Regarding Haig Berberian, it is harder to make the same case, because “sibling rivalry” and Old Country, older brother/younger brother-issues, complicate the picture. But I can and will “diagnose” both men in reference to their treatment of my father. The two men were a team and they did their dirty deeds in unison. My psychiatrist back in the day, Dr. Arnold A. Sheuerman, Jr., once said that Haig had to have help with the fraud and looting of partnership assets. He was mostly referencing Peter Jeppson, because that’s who I was talking about at the time of his comment. But that comment was not restricted to Jeppson. Jeppson and Haig also had help from their co-conspirators, Wells Fargo Bank (named as such in my lawsuit), Haig’s lawyers, and Haig’s San Francisco accountants, Arthur Andersen & Co., and others. With regard to Haig and Jeppson, they shared many character traits of a sociopath. Those characteristics are as follows: Glibness and superficial charm. Both men were glib, easily offering themselves as righteous, having strong moral values. Charming? Nope. Not even superficial. Manipulative, conning and cunning. All of the bells and whistles are sounding on these for both men, though most fitting for Jeppson. A perfect fit for him, in fact. Haig simply imposed his will over my father. Grandiose sense of self. Haig all the way. Jeppson does have a grandiose uncommonly large-in-scope exaggerated mass of smelly flabby flesh. Pathological lying. Both men fit the bill. Both men, per se, were frauds thoroughly, through and through. Fraud coursed their veins. Especially when it came to their “religion.” Lack of remorse, shame or guilt. I wouldn’t be building this website if either or both men showed me in their actions any one of the three. Shallow emotions. Never saw either man laugh or cry. But I do know that the love both men had for others was “skin-deep.” (Get it?- Kind of shaky) Incapacity for love. Except for themselves. Butt together, they screwed my father with lustful love in their eyes. They embraced their “schädenfreude” as one. Need for stimulation. Well, being that my father was being screwed every day that the business was in operation, this makes the list for both men (or both men make the list). Callousness/ Lack of empathy. Goes without saying. Poor behavioral controls/Impulsive nature. Such behavior is a symptomatic indication of a belief that they are all-powerful, all-knowing, entitled to every wish, no sense of personal boundaries, no concern for their impact on others. All of this fits Haig to a tee regarding his brother. Having no concern for their impact on others is, of course, applicable to Jeppson, a religious con-artist whose behavior has caused untold grief to me and my family. May he stick his “god” up his big fat f-ing Mormon ass. I’m gonna end on that high note. There are other character traits of a sociopath. But that’s enough. Both men can be found in the American Psychiatric Association’s DSM manual under “sociopath” and/or “psychopath.” (Yes, I was looking at it while diagnosing and psychoanalyzing both sick and evil clinical head-cases) However, it is clear to me beyond any reasonable doubt and to a moral certainty that, clinically-speaking, both Haig Berberian and Peter B. Jeppson can be diagnosed as “ethically insane.”
11 How sweet. With the palsy-walsy way my father looked to Jeppson for help, and as the satanic Mr. Jeppson was licking his chops, my father was taking his first step in the matter toward grabbing his own ankles once again. I saw through this relationship then and I remember it well. But this is not to say that Jeppson wasn’t running scared. He knew that I was now involved. And he knew that I was smarter than my father when it came to reading other people, because that is and was Jeppson’s own game. Reading people and screwing them, that is. He was and is a confidence man. I saw through his phony Mormon front many moons before. With continuously batting-blinking eyes (a tick of habitual liars), Peter B. Jeppson was a degenerate reprobate. And either of his own volition or through the insistence by the Mormon Church (ala, the Catholic Church and pedophile priests), Jeppson fled Modesto, relocating to Bedford, Texas after this legal matter shifted into a forward thrust. But not before he torched his accounting office, later used by his firm as an excuse for not producing some records in my legal matter. Yes, there was a fire of “suspicious origin” at the accounting offices of Atherton, Ludlow & Schonhoff in Modesto before Jeppson fled town. (This scum-bag con-artist hustler never became a named partner in that accounting whorehouse because his partners knew exactly who he was, and if he got caught, they didn’t want their firm name so nominally associated with this deceptive/deceitful degenerate filthy big fat pig.-And now I’ll tell you what I really think about the man)
12 I do not know where Mr. Jeppson is today. He may still be stinking up the planet. Every time I smell a foul odor, I wonder if it’s him. (The stench wafts up even if he’s six feet under) Wherever he is, he is still a thief, a low-life reptilian scumbag con-man who gets in between two parties engaged in commerce and, for remuneration, helps the side which might be stealing. Jeppson’s moral compass could even very well prompt him to instigate and encourage the original idea of doing so. Why? Because Mr. Jeppson’s life is all about money and he is not satisfied by the mere income of an accountant. He deserves so much more, the holy roly-poly Mormon that he is (or was, and if so, good riddance).
13 I remember my father telling me at one point that he wished he’d never shown me the confidential memo. I also remember my erstwhile psychiatrist (since deceased-Arnold A. Sheuerman, Jr., M.D. of Stockton, CA) asking, after I told The Doctor that the matter was causing my father some hefty stress: “Does your father want some money?” I answered in the affirmative. He responded: “Then it’s going to be hard.” I know now that this piece of advice was directed toward me as well, if not more so. But I had no clue at the time how all-encompassing “hard” was in the context of the case, aside from how big money cases obviously mean a “hardball” matter. What I now read into The Doctor’s words and what I have since learned is that Haig Berberian (with the help of Peter B. Jeppson, Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes) was stealing money and land for decades. And Haig had decades to plan with his lawyers (and Peter B. Jeppson, Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes) how to cover it up and set up long-range plans for how long, arduous, and torturous it would be for my father to recover that which was stolen from him through fraud, were my father to try to do so. (“Don’t give my brother a penny. And make it painful”) Unfortunately, those plans included me. And I was the one Haig (and Peter B. Jeppson, Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes) mostly feared. From the get-go, the very first day that Haig hired him, Haig knew that he could and would buy Peter B. Jeppson, CPA (Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes), in order to get him to not think twice about screwing my father year after year after year. Haig executed that purchase with no effort. And if Haig (and Peter B. Jeppson, Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes) got caught for the fraud, Haig knew that in one way or another, he could buy my father, the lawyers, the judges, and everyone else involved.-Except me. I, “the one they never talk about,” the “black sheep” of the Berberian family, and yours truly, moi, was who Haig and his lawyers (and Peter B. Jeppson, Haig’s vile depraved big fat flabby accountant with continuously batting-blinking eyes), thought they could not buy. How wrong they were. They could have bought me off by simply giving back to me every last fucking penny they stole. Is that a penny too much?
14 To me, this matter is not solely about money. (See Berberian Mystery Theatre) But to many, I’m sure that it appears that way. For just a moment, let’s say that this matter is about money when it comes to me. I would not be involved with this matter about money if money wasn’t the most important matter of all to Haig Berberian and that load of blubber/tub of lard with dollar signs in his continuously-batting/blinking-eyes accountant, Peter B. Jeppson, both men looting partnership assets and defrauding my family every single day throughout the twenty-five years of the family business’ existence. And all I have to do to prove it is to point once again to Berberian Mystery Theatre. The evidence is all herein, plain as day. (And dark as night) Money is and was God Almighty to Haig Berberian and Peter B. Jeppson, C.P.A. There is no mystery about that.