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Specializing in IRS and NYS Tax Representation. Workers Compensation Audits, Payroll, Sales and Income Tax representation for Businesses, Individuals, Restaurants and Construction Companies. Civil and Criminal Workers Comp Audit representation includes: NYSIF Examinations, Premium Disputes, Employee Misclassification, Underreporting, Unreported Income, and Failure to Keep Accurate Payroll Records.

Thursday, August 23, 2018

Scholarly Writing – Selig & Associates – Tax Problems Solved

SELIG & Associates: We solve Income, Payroll and Sales Tax Problems. For a FREE legally privileged consultation with a Federal Tax Practitioner and licensed Attorney call (212) 974-3435 


The district court’s conclusion that Count I was not barred by the six-year statute of limitations is a legal conclusion that we review de novo.  See United States v. Gunera, 479 F.3d 373, 376 (5th Cir. 2007); United States v. Wilson, 322 F.3d 353, 359 (5th Cir. 2003) Although we addressed the application of the statute of limitations to a section 7201 violation in United States v. Williams, we expressly declined to take a position on the last affirmative act of evasion as it was not implicated by that case.  928 F.2d 145, 149 (5th Cir. 1991) (“We express no opinion relative to the effect of affirmative acts occurring subsequent to the [tax return] filing date.”). Williams held only that “the limitations period for a prosecution under section 7201 in which no tax return was filed begins to accrue on the day the [tax] return is due.”  Id.  Because Irby last failed to file his taxes in 2001, Count I is time barred unless the statute of limitations period begins to accrue following his last affirmative act of tax evasion.

Section 6531(2) states:No person shall be prosecuted, tried, or punished for any of the various offenses arising under the internal revenue laws unless the indictment is found or the information instituted within 3 years next after the commission of the offense, except that the period of limitation shall be 6 years - (2) for the offense of willfully attempting in any manner to evade or defeat any tax or the payment thereof

26 U.S.C. § 6531(2). Count I thus is not time barred as long as Irby was indicted within six years of when the crime of “willfully attempting in any manner to evade or defeat any tax or the payment thereof” was completed. See 26 U.S.C. § 7201; see also United States v. Dandy, 998 F.2d 1344, 1355-56 (6th Cir. 1993)(discussing the application of the Supreme Court decision in United States v. Habig 

The other circuits that have expressly considered the issue have concluded
that the statute of limitations for section 7201 offenses runs from the later date of either: when the tax return was due or the defendant’s last affirmative act of tax evasion.  See, e.g., United States v. Anderson, 319 F.3d 1218, 1219-20 (10th Cir. 2003) (“Section 7201 criminalizes not just the failure to file a return or the filing of a false return, but the willful attempt to evade taxes in any manner.”); United States v. Carlson, 235 F.3d 466, 470 (9th Cir. 2000); United States v. Wilson, 118 F.3d 228, 236 (4th Cir. 1997); United States v. Dandy, 998 F.2d 1344, 1355-56 (6th Cir. 1993) (“To hold that the statute of limitations for income tax evasion . . . began to run on the date the returns were filed would reward defendant for successfully evading discovery of his tax fraud for a period of six years subsequent to the date the returns were filed.”); United States v. Winfield, 960 F.2d 970, 973-74 (11th Cir. 1992) (per curiam); United States v. DiPetto, 936 F.2d 96, 98 (2d Cir. 1991); United States v. Ferris, 807 F.2d 269, 271 (1st Cir. 1986); United States v. Trownsell, 367 F.2d 815 (7th Cir. 1966) (per curiam).  In Dandy, the Sixth Circuit addressed facts similar to those at issue here, where the defendant did not file tax returns for 1982 and 1983, but the last act of evasion did not occur until 1985.  Dandy, 998 F.2d at 1355-56.  The Dandy court found that the statute of limitation runs from the last evasive act “because it is these evasive acts . . . which form the basis of the crimes alleged in . . . [the] indictment.”  Id. at 1356. In Ferris, the First Circuit supported the rule by pointedly stating, “[t]he defendant, however, by deceitful statements continued his tax evasion through [date of last act of evasion].” Ferris, 807 F.2d at 271 (noting that Habig supports this result because, “[t]he [Supreme Court] held that it made no sense to assert that ‘Congress intended the limitations period to begin to run before appellees committed the acts upon which the crimes were based’” (quoting Habig, 390 U.S. at 224-25)).  No circuit has rejected the last affirmative act of tax evasion rule.

Tuesday, August 14, 2018

In Today’s Litigious Environment, Employment Practices Liability Insurance is "Must Have" Protection


Employment Practices Liability Insurance (“EPLI”) covers companies against claims or lawsuits filed by employees, former employees and employment candidates regarding their employment relationship with an employer.  

EPLI policies can cover seasonal employees, leased employees and independent contractors. EPLI insurance coverage protects a company, its directors, officers, current and former employees.  

A company may use EPLI insurance to cover expenses involved in defending against claims or lawsuits related to employment (regardless of the outcome) and EPLI provides indemnification of the employer if the case is settled or a verdict is obtained against the employer. 

EPLI insures against claims of discrimination (based on age, sex, race, religion, color and national origin), sexual harassment claims, wrongful termination (including constructive discharge and retaliatory discharge), infliction of emotional distress and breach of contract, violation of the Family Medical Leave Act or other leave laws.  

Additionally, some policies contain a catch-all category to provide coverage for claims of discrimination based on protected categories (e.g., sexual orientation) that are not covered under federal discrimination statutes, but may be covered by state or local law.  For more information call David Selig directly at (212) 974-3435

#TaxCrimes, #TaxEvasion, #FailureToFileTaxReturn, #CriminalNonFiling, #FilingFalseTaxReturns, #InstallmentAgreements,  #PartialPaymentAgreements, #IRSaudits, #SalesTaxAudits, #SalesTaxControversies, #WageGarnishments, #BankLevies, #RealPropertySeizure, #InnocentSpouseRelief, #TrustFundRecoveryPenalty, #PayrollTaxes, #WorkersCompensationInsuranceAudits, #WorkersCompAudit, #StatuteOfLimitations, #OfferInCompromise, #OIC, #AdministrativeAppeals, #CollectionDueProcessHearings, #CDP, #BestTaxAttorneyInNYC, #We Solve Tax Problems, #Successful Tax Attorney, #Honest Accountant, #Proven Results, #Professional Guarantee. #WeSolveTaxProblems, #SuccessfulTaxAttorney,

Thursday, August 9, 2018

FACT CHECK: In the middle of a Tax Case did David Selig recite “The Eve of St. Agnes” in its entirety


St. Agnes' Eve—Ah, bitter chill it was! 
       The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; 
       The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, 
       And silent was the flock in woolly fold: 
       Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told 
       His rosary, and while his frosted breath, 
       Like pious incense from a censer old, 
       Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, 
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. 

       His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; 
       Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, 
       And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, 
       Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees: 
       The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze, 
       Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails: 
       Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries, 
       He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails 
To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. 

       Northward he turneth through a little door, 
       And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue 
       Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor; 
       But no—already had his deathbell rung; 
       The joys of all his life were said and sung: 
       His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve: 
       Another way he went, and soon among 
       Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve, 
And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. 

       That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft; 
       And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide, 
       From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, 
       The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide: 
       The level chambers, ready with their pride, 
       Were glowing to receive a thousand guests: 
       The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, 
       Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests, 
With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. 

       At length burst in the argent revelry, 
       With plume, tiara, and all rich array, 
       Numerous as shadows haunting faerily 
       The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay 
       Of old romance. These let us wish away, 
       And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, 
       Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, 
       On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, 
As she had heard old dames full many times declare. 

       They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 
       Young virgins might have visions of delight, 
       And soft adorings from their loves receive 
       Upon the honey'd middle of the night, 
       If ceremonies due they did aright; 
       As, supperless to bed they must retire, 
       And couch supine their beauties, lily white; 
       Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require 
Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 

       Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: 
       The music, yearning like a God in pain, 
       She scarcely heard: her maiden eyes divine, 
       Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train 
       Pass by—she heeded not at all: in vain 
       Came many a tiptoe, amorous cavalier, 
       And back retir'd; not cool'd by high disdain, 
       But she saw not: her heart was otherwhere: 
She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. 

       She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, 
       Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short: 
       The hallow'd hour was near at hand: she sighs 
       Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort 
       Of whisperers in anger, or in sport; 
       'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, 
       Hoodwink'd with faery fancy; all amort, 
       Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn, 
And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. 

       So, purposing each moment to retire, 
       She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, 
       Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire 
       For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, 
       Buttress'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores 
       All saints to give him sight of Madeline, 
       But for one moment in the tedious hours, 
       That he might gaze and worship all unseen; 
Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss—in sooth such things have been. 

       He ventures in: let no buzz'd whisper tell: 
       All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords 
       Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: 
       For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, 
       Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, 
       Whose very dogs would execrations howl 
       Against his lineage: not one breast affords 
       Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, 
Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. 

       Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came, 
       Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, 
       To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame, 
       Behind a broad half-pillar, far beyond 
       The sound of merriment and chorus bland: 
       He startled her; but soon she knew his face, 
       And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand, 
       Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place; 
They are all here to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race! 

       "Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand; 
       He had a fever late, and in the fit 
       He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: 
       Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit 
       More tame for his gray hairs—Alas me! flit! 
       Flit like a ghost away."—"Ah, Gossip dear, 
       We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit, 
       And tell me how"—"Good Saints! not here, not here; 
Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." 

       He follow'd through a lowly arched way, 
       Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume, 
       And as she mutter'd "Well-a—well-a-day!" 
       He found him in a little moonlight room, 
       Pale, lattic'd, chill, and silent as a tomb. 
       "Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, 
       "O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom 
       Which none but secret sisterhood may see, 
When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously." 

       "St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve— 
       Yet men will murder upon holy days: 
       Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve, 
       And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays, 
       To venture so: it fills me with amaze 
       To see thee, Porphyro!—St. Agnes' Eve! 
       God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays 
       This very night: good angels her deceive! 
But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve." 

       Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon, 
       While Porphyro upon her face doth look, 
       Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone 
       Who keepeth clos'd a wond'rous riddle-book, 
       As spectacled she sits in chimney nook. 
       But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told 
       His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook 
       Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, 
And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. 

       Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, 
       Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart 
       Made purple riot: then doth he propose 
       A stratagem, that makes the beldame start: 
       "A cruel man and impious thou art: 
       Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream 
       Alone with her good angels, far apart 
       From wicked men like thee. Go, go!—I deem 
Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem." 

       "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," 
       Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace 
       When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, 
       If one of her soft ringlets I displace, 
       Or look with ruffian passion in her face: 
       Good Angela, believe me by these tears; 
       Or I will, even in a moment's space, 
       Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears, 
And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears." 

       "Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? 
       A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing, 
       Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll; 
       Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, 
       Were never miss'd."—Thus plaining, doth she bring 
       A gentler speech from burning Porphyro; 
       So woful, and of such deep sorrowing, 
       That Angela gives promise she will do 
Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. 

       Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, 
       Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide 
       Him in a closet, of such privacy 
       That he might see her beauty unespy'd, 
       And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, 
       While legion'd faeries pac'd the coverlet, 
       And pale enchantment held her sleepy-ey'd. 
       Never on such a night have lovers met, 
Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt. 

       "It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame: 
       "All cates and dainties shall be stored there 
       Quickly on this feast-night: by the tambour frame 
       Her own lute thou wilt see: no time to spare, 
       For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare 
       On such a catering trust my dizzy head. 
       Wait here, my child, with patience; kneel in prayer 
       The while: Ah! thou must needs the lady wed, 
Or may I never leave my grave among the dead." 

       So saying, she hobbled off with busy fear. 
       The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd; 
       The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear 
       To follow her; with aged eyes aghast 
       From fright of dim espial. Safe at last, 
       Through many a dusky gallery, they gain 
       The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd, and chaste; 
       Where Porphyro took covert, pleas'd amain. 
His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. 

       Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade, 
       Old Angela was feeling for the stair, 
       When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid, 
       Rose, like a mission'd spirit, unaware: 
       With silver taper's light, and pious care, 
       She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led 
       To a safe level matting. Now prepare, 
       Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed; 
She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled. 

       Out went the taper as she hurried in; 
       Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: 
       She clos'd the door, she panted, all akin 
       To spirits of the air, and visions wide: 
       No uttered syllable, or, woe betide! 
       But to her heart, her heart was voluble, 
       Paining with eloquence her balmy side; 
       As though a tongueless nightingale should swell 
Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. 

       A casement high and triple-arch'd there was, 
       All garlanded with carven imag'ries 
       Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, 
       And diamonded with panes of quaint device, 
       Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, 
       As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; 
       And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, 
       And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, 
A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. 

       Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, 
       And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, 
       As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; 
       Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 
       And on her silver cross soft amethyst, 
       And on her hair a glory, like a saint: 
       She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, 
       Save wings, for heaven:—Porphyro grew faint: 
She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. 

       Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, 
       Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees; 
       Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; 
       Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees 
       Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: 
       Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed, 
       Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
       In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, 
But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 

       Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 
       In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex'd she lay, 
       Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd 
       Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away; 
       Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day; 
       Blissfully haven'd both from joy and pain; 
       Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray; 
       Blinded alike from sunshine and from rain, 
As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. 

       Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, 
       Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress, 
       And listen'd to her breathing, if it chanced 
       To wake into a slumberous tenderness; 
       Which when he heard, that minute did he bless, 
       And breath'd himself: then from the closet crept, 
       Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness, 
       And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept, 
And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo!—how fast she slept. 

       Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon 
       Made a dim, silver twilight, soft he set 
       A table, and, half anguish'd, threw thereon 
       A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet:— 
       O for some drowsy Morphean amulet! 
       The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion, 
       The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarinet, 
       Affray his ears, though but in dying tone:— 
The hall door shuts again, and all the noise is gone. 

       And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, 
       In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd, 
       While he forth from the closet brought a heap 
       Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd; 
       With jellies soother than the creamy curd, 
       And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon; 
       Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd 
       From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one, 
From silken Samarcand to cedar'd Lebanon. 

       These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand 
       On golden dishes and in baskets bright 
       Of wreathed silver: sumptuous they stand 
       In the retired quiet of the night, 
       Filling the chilly room with perfume light.— 
       "And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake! 
       Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite: 
       Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, 
Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache." 

       Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm 
       Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream 
       By the dusk curtains:—'twas a midnight charm 
       Impossible to melt as iced stream: 
       The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam; 
       Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: 
       It seem'd he never, never could redeem 
       From such a stedfast spell his lady's eyes; 
So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies. 

       Awakening up, he took her hollow lute,— 
       Tumultuous,—and, in chords that tenderest be, 
       He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute, 
       In Provence call'd, "La belle dame sans mercy": 
       Close to her ear touching the melody;— 
       Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan: 
       He ceas'd—she panted quick—and suddenly 
       Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone: 
Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone. 

       Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, 
       Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep: 
       There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd 
       The blisses of her dream so pure and deep 
       At which fair Madeline began to weep, 
       And moan forth witless words with many a sigh; 
       While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep; 
       Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye, 
Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. 

       "Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now 
       Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear, 
       Made tuneable with every sweetest vow; 
       And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: 
       How chang'd thou art! how pallid, chill, and drear! 
       Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
       Those looks immortal, those complainings dear! 
       Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, 
For if thy diest, my Love, I know not where to go." 

       Beyond a mortal man impassion'd far 
       At these voluptuous accents, he arose 
       Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star 
       Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose; 
       Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
       Blendeth its odour with the violet,— 
       Solution sweet: meantime the frost-wind blows 
       Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet 
Against the window-panes; St. Agnes' moon hath set. 

       'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: 
       "This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline!" 
       'Tis dark: the iced gusts still rave and beat: 
       "No dream, alas! alas! and woe is mine! 
       Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine.— 
       Cruel! what traitor could thee hither bring? 
       I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, 
       Though thou forsakest a deceived thing;— 
A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." 

       "My Madeline! sweet dreamer! lovely bride! 
       Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? 
       Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed? 
       Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest 
       After so many hours of toil and quest, 
       A famish'd pilgrim,—sav'd by miracle. 
       Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest 
       Saving of thy sweet self; if thou think'st well 
To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel. 

       "Hark! 'tis an elfin-storm from faery land, 
       Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed: 
       Arise—arise! the morning is at hand;— 
       The bloated wassaillers will never heed:— 
       Let us away, my love, with happy speed; 
       There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see,— 
       Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead: 
       Awake! arise! my love, and fearless be, 
For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee." 

       She hurried at his words, beset with fears, 
       For there were sleeping dragons all around, 
       At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears— 
       Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found.— 
       In all the house was heard no human sound. 
       A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door; 
       The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound, 
       Flutter'd in the besieging wind's uproar; 
And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. 

       They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall; 
       Like phantoms, to the iron porch, they glide; 
       Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl, 
       With a huge empty flaggon by his side: 
       The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide, 
       But his sagacious eye an inmate owns: 
       By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide:— 
       The chains lie silent on the footworn stones;— 
The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans. 

       And they are gone: ay, ages long ago 
       These lovers fled away into the storm. 
       That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, 
       And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form 
       Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, 
       Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old 
       Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform; 
       The Beadsman, after thousand aves told, 
For aye unsought for slept among his ashes cold.

#TaxCrimes, #TaxEvasion, #FailureToFileTaxReturn, #CriminalNonFiling, #FilingFalseTaxReturns, #InstallmentAgreements,  #PartialPaymentAgreements, #IRSaudits, #SalesTaxAudits, #SalesTaxControversies, #WageGarnishments, #BankLevies, #RealPropertySeizure, #InnocentSpouseRelief, #TrustFundRecoveryPenalty, #PayrollTaxes, #WorkersCompensationInsuranceAudits, #WorkersCompAudit, #StatuteOfLimitations, #OfferInCompromise, #OIC, #AdministrativeAppeals, #CollectionDueProcessHearings, #CDP, #BestTaxAttorneyInNYC, #We Solve Tax Problems, #Successful Tax Attorney, #Honest Accountant, #Proven Results, #Professional Guarantee. #WeSolveTaxProblems, #SuccessfulTaxAttorney,

The Sovereign Citizen Movement (is coming back like a bad penny)

Individuals and groups who identify with the Sovereign Citizen Movement claim that the Federal Government is operating outside its jurisdict...