The rise of Jeffrey E. Thompson,
and how his fall is rattling D.C. politics
Over two decades, the champion political fundraiser used his wealth to extend influence and power — in and out of politics.
Jeffrey E. Thompson wasn’t on the list for the private party at the Bombay Club, a refined Indian restaurant a short distance from the White House, where presidents and celebrities have nibbled on naan.
The exclusive, 21-seat event was limited to Anthony A. Williams — the District’s chief financial officer — and the top 20 fundraisers and advisers who had helped him win the Democratic primary for mayor. The victory celebration had already begun on that September night in 1998 when Williams arrived with the relatively unknown Thompson trailing behind.
The exclusive, 21-seat event was limited to Anthony A. Williams — the District’s chief financial officer — and the top 20 fundraisers and advisers who had helped him win the Democratic primary for mayor. The victory celebration had already begun on that September night in 1998 when Williams arrived with the relatively unknown Thompson trailing behind.
Above:
Jeffrey Thompson, above right, came to the District from humble beginnings, started what became one of the country’s premier African American accounting firms and became a wealthy D.C. power player. Then came revelations about a “shadow campaign” and a wide-ranging federal investigation, with Thompson at the center of the political storm. In the video, reporter Nikita Stewart explains Thompson’s significance in D.C. politics and connections to key figures. (Washington Post illustration; photo of Thompson by Jason Miccolo Johnson)
Jeffrey Thompson, above right, came to the District from humble beginnings, started what became one of the country’s premier African American accounting firms and became a wealthy D.C. power player. Then came revelations about a “shadow campaign” and a wide-ranging federal investigation, with Thompson at the center of the political storm. In the video, reporter Nikita Stewart explains Thompson’s significance in D.C. politics and connections to key figures. (Washington Post illustration; photo of Thompson by Jason Miccolo Johnson)
Max Berry, chairman of Williams’s campaign, discreetly pulled
Thompson aside before he entered the intimate dinette, somewhat hidden
to the left of the main dining room.
“I’m sorry,” Berry told him. “You’re not on the list.”
Thompson, tall and impeccably dressed, snapped back: “The mayor invited me.”
He had arrived at the table of District politics. He would not be brushed off.
“We had to add a chair,” Berry recalled.
Jeffrey Earl Thompson was already a man of many distinctions. A Jamaican immigrant who came to the District in 1975, he had co-founded one of the country’s premier African American accounting firms: Thompson, Cobb, Bazilio and Associates (TCBA).
He would go on to own D.C. Chartered Health Plan, a profitable health-care firm that managed services for 100,000 residents who were uninsured or on Medicaid.
“I always admired him,” said Williams, who describes Thompson as his friend. “He came from nothing.”
He was also a champion political fundraiser who over two decades used his wealth to extend his influence, in and out of politics. He described himself as “the Governor” of the District, even though he had never been elected to public office and few outside government knew his name.
His near-anonymity ended when federal investigators began focusing on his political spending, leading to a March 2012 raid on his homes and offices. They were on the trail of a “shadow campaign,” a hidden $653,000 operation investigators say was solely funded by an unindicted, unnamed co-conspirator to help Vincent C. Gray win the 2010 Democratic mayoral primary over incumbent Adrian M. Fenty. Court documents indicate that unnamed person is Thompson.
“I’m sorry,” Berry told him. “You’re not on the list.”
Thompson, tall and impeccably dressed, snapped back: “The mayor invited me.”
He had arrived at the table of District politics. He would not be brushed off.
“We had to add a chair,” Berry recalled.
Jeffrey Earl Thompson was already a man of many distinctions. A Jamaican immigrant who came to the District in 1975, he had co-founded one of the country’s premier African American accounting firms: Thompson, Cobb, Bazilio and Associates (TCBA).
He would go on to own D.C. Chartered Health Plan, a profitable health-care firm that managed services for 100,000 residents who were uninsured or on Medicaid.
“I always admired him,” said Williams, who describes Thompson as his friend. “He came from nothing.”
He was also a champion political fundraiser who over two decades used his wealth to extend his influence, in and out of politics. He described himself as “the Governor” of the District, even though he had never been elected to public office and few outside government knew his name.
His near-anonymity ended when federal investigators began focusing on his political spending, leading to a March 2012 raid on his homes and offices. They were on the trail of a “shadow campaign,” a hidden $653,000 operation investigators say was solely funded by an unindicted, unnamed co-conspirator to help Vincent C. Gray win the 2010 Democratic mayoral primary over incumbent Adrian M. Fenty. Court documents indicate that unnamed person is Thompson.
“It’s sad to see. It’s tragic. It’s
sad that he put himself in this position. It’s sad he got bad advice or
didn’t listen to advice.”
—Anthony A. Williams, former D.C. mayor, who describes Jeffrey Thompson as his friend
As investigators looked more closely, they uncovered additional
layers of alleged political deception by the man who publicly supported
one candidate while apparently funding another in secret. Court
documents that cite an unnamed person fitting Thompson’s profile
describe a kingmaker running an operation that delivered hundreds of
thousands of dollars in illegal “straw donor” campaign contributions to sway elections in the city and beyond.
Thompson’s rise and fall have upended D.C. politics, reordering political alliances and affecting everything from how candidates raise money to who might be the city’s next mayor.
This account is based on thousands of pages of court and city documents and more than 100 interviews, including more than a dozen with close associates and relatives of Thompson, some in his ancestral home in Jamaica.
Thompson, 58, has not been charged. His attorney, Brendan V. Sullivan Jr., declined to comment Friday and said he has a policy of not speaking to the media about pending matters. Friends of Thompson say he is holding up well under the strain, continuing to attend social events and accepting well-wishers, even as he has had to sell his accounting firm and has seen his health-care firm fall into receivership.
But the FBI has traveled as far away as Los Angeles interviewing members of Thompson’s network of a few hundred friends, associates and employees.
That group was cobbled together from Thompson’s various worlds: his mother, siblings, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews; dozens upon dozens of employees and their relatives from Chartered and TCBA; entrepreneurs who tapped him for advice and money; random producers, directors, actors and actresses in New York and Los Angeles; and close associates in the District, including his hairdresser.
Thompson’s rise and fall have upended D.C. politics, reordering political alliances and affecting everything from how candidates raise money to who might be the city’s next mayor.
This account is based on thousands of pages of court and city documents and more than 100 interviews, including more than a dozen with close associates and relatives of Thompson, some in his ancestral home in Jamaica.
Thompson, 58, has not been charged. His attorney, Brendan V. Sullivan Jr., declined to comment Friday and said he has a policy of not speaking to the media about pending matters. Friends of Thompson say he is holding up well under the strain, continuing to attend social events and accepting well-wishers, even as he has had to sell his accounting firm and has seen his health-care firm fall into receivership.
But the FBI has traveled as far away as Los Angeles interviewing members of Thompson’s network of a few hundred friends, associates and employees.
That group was cobbled together from Thompson’s various worlds: his mother, siblings, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews; dozens upon dozens of employees and their relatives from Chartered and TCBA; entrepreneurs who tapped him for advice and money; random producers, directors, actors and actresses in New York and Los Angeles; and close associates in the District, including his hairdresser.
Rarely did those worlds meet. What they had in common was Thompson’s
money. They depended on him for their livelihoods and even no-interest
loans based on little more than handshakes. Thompson depended upon the
good graces of elected city officials who approved his lucrative
contracts, which paid him millions. It was a constant circle of money,
and it had protected his interests for years.
But Thompson feared that what he had built was vulnerable under Fenty, who had succeeded Williams and refused to pay obeisance to Thompson. He feared that a Fenty reelection in 2010 would cost him his $322 million Chartered contract. That was when, friends said, he made his fatal mistake.
“It’s sad to see,” Williams said. “It’s tragic. It’s sad that he put himself in this position. It’s sad he got bad advice or didn’t listen to advice.” COPY http://www.washingtonpost.com
But Thompson feared that what he had built was vulnerable under Fenty, who had succeeded Williams and refused to pay obeisance to Thompson. He feared that a Fenty reelection in 2010 would cost him his $322 million Chartered contract. That was when, friends said, he made his fatal mistake.
“It’s sad to see,” Williams said. “It’s tragic. It’s sad that he put himself in this position. It’s sad he got bad advice or didn’t listen to advice.” COPY http://www.washingtonpost.com
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