c. 2005 Religion News Service

(UNDATED) Even on one of those almost-never, special days when everything clicks just right, it is hard to believe that any of the wizards of fiction could have come up with a story as bizarre as this one.

Two kids working as security guards figure out a con to scam $21 million from thousands of God-fearing, good Christians by selling them cars that don’t exist. Suddenly, life is very good.

If it were fiction, a lot of people would be better off. Unfortunately, John Phillips III’s story is a true and sad tale of predatory youth who steal money, faith and a belief in the goodness of others.

It is all detailed with insight and intricacy by Phillips, an editor-at-large for Car and Driver magazine. The scam-artists were Robert “Buddha” Gomez and James Randall Nichols.

Gomez, 19, was an outgoing, charming and sometimes volatile character from El Segundo, Calif., whose prevarication and exaggeration were as much a part of him as his double chin. Nichols, 18, was a well-mannered youth who lived at home in Carson, Calif., where the family was deeply involved in a Baptist church.

Late in 1997 Gomez told the Baptist congregation that he had inherited an estate worth $411 million, including thousands of late-model vehicles. Gomez said the vehicles came from John Bowers, a rich man who had adopted him long ago.

Bowers wanted to help troubled, needy “Christian men and women,” Gomez said.

The young man announced that he would give away “Miracle Cars,” charging only $1,000 for licensing and taxes. Not bad for, say, a year-old Lincoln Town Car.

Nichols recruited his reluctant mother, Rose, to take phone calls from eager members of the congregation, collect the money orders and hand them over. Word spread to other churches around the country. More buyers and local helpers were recruited. Those who paid were patient about delays getting the cars because they assumed a fellow Christian would act righteously.

When some buyers complained effectively enough, a few got refunds. Some of that money came from Rose Nichols, who took out a $59,000 home equity loan to cover the losses.

“Apart from her kids, nothing in Rose’s life was more important than her church,” Phillips writes.

Before it was over, about 4,000 people _ most of them already down on their luck and not really needing another kick in the teeth _ would hand over money to the youths.

When the feds finally got involved, even some of them were shaken. One couple told veteran investigator Steve Hamilton that they so desperately needed a car they had prayed for help, and the Lord responded with a Miracle Car.

“You’d finish an interview like that, and you’d get in your car and think you were going to cry,” investigator Hamilton told Phillips. “It was so pitiful.”

Late in 2003, Gomez was sentenced to 21 years, and Nichols got 24 years in federal prison. Neither enjoys the possibility of parole.

Nichols left behind a young wife with three small children. Meanwhile, his mother, who so cherished her church and friends, went into seclusion.

But that doesn’t quite end the story. There is still $8.7 million missing. Buddha told Phillips nobody will ever find the loot.

MO/JL END JENSEN

(Chris Jensen is auto editor of The Plain Dealer in Cleveland)