Tom Goldstein — once a towering figure in the nation’s appellate circles and long associated with the highest court in the land — now finds himself arguing a far more personal case: the right to sell his own house so he can fund his defense as a tax-evasion trial draws near.
What began as a financial-crime prosecution has mutated into a strange, high-stakes dispute sitting before the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. At the center of it all is a nearly 5,000-square-foot property in Washington’s Wesley Heights, a home Goldstein bought for $2.65 million, financed by money from a major litigation-funding firm.
Goldstein, who has pleaded not guilty to a raft of tax-related charges connected to both his legal work and his lucrative side life as a serious poker player, insists the government has no business blocking the sale of the house. He argues the property is “untainted” and that preventing him from using it to pay for his defense violates his constitutional rights.
The government says absolutely not.
Prosecutors claim the home is steeped in the alleged wrongdoing, pointing to what they say were false statements on loan documents — including omissions of more than $15 million in debts and overdue taxes. They also argue that the house is currently tethered to Goldstein’s bail conditions, acting as collateral because a federal judge considered him a flight risk.
Goldstein, now representing himself in the appellate fight, says legal fees have soared into the millions. His brief names Parabellum Capital — a heavyweight in the litigation-funding world — as the firm that issued him more than $5.6 million after a failed traditional loan attempt. He says the money came with no restrictions, that he used part of it for taxes, and that the government is mischaracterizing the transaction.
Parabellum, now a witness in the criminal case, has emphasized that it is not accused of wrongdoing and that its involvement in the matter is limited.
The battle is uphill, according to white-collar experts, who note that the government typically wins when it stakes a claim that property is tied to alleged criminal conduct. Goldstein is asking the appeals court either to green-light the sale or to order an evidentiary hearing to determine whether the house is truly “tainted.”
Meanwhile, the case continues spinning off its own side dramas.
A fierce dispute over attorney fees in a major California tech case has one group of lawyers calling their victory “trailblazing,” while Google counters that the settlement barely moved the needle and the requested fees are wildly inflated. That debate will land before a judge early next year.
Further east, a judge in Philadelphia has refused to remove himself from long-running thalidomide litigation despite an aggressive challenge from a plaintiffs’ firm that claimed improper communication between the judge and a court-appointed official. The attempt at recusal was brushed off as “absurd,” especially in light of a stinging report accusing the firm of falsifying evidence — allegations the firm continues to contest.
Across these battles runs a single, unmistakable thread: in the world of high-stakes litigation, money, power, and professional reputation collide in ways that are anything but quiet.
Goldstein’s fate — and the fate of the mansion that now shadows his defense — will soon be in the hands of the appellate judges. Whether they see his home as a sanctuary or as a suspect asset may well shape the rest of his fight.
