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It's an entire city of John Dillingers, feeling guiltless for stealing from the banks. Boemio is well aware that short selling isn't ethical and is exacerbating Vegas' economic problems. People, she believes, should make their payments, accept their paper losses and ride out the crash. "Guess what, a______s of Las Vegas. That's what gambling is about. That's what investing is about," she says. "It's greedy. But we're all doing it. Because why not?" It's very hard, she says, to suffer as the one honest person in a town of successful con artists.
In fact, last year Boemio and her new husband did it themselves, paying $279,000 for a house nicer than their old one, which cost nearly twice as much. They stopped making payments on the old one as soon as they signed their new mortgage. "I make people happy all day with foreclosures. Now I want to be happy too," she says. The new house, like so many she deals with, was trashed by the previous owners, who were angry at being foreclosed on. The doorknobs, hinges and copper wiring were stolen, as were the appliances and carpet. The owners even left their dogs behind. (Abandoned pets have become a huge problem for local shelters.) "You couldn't walk into that house without holding your nose to keep you from vomiting," Boemio says. She and her husband had to spend $7,000 on appliances and carpet to qualify for a Fannie Mae loan.
She's driving this morning to try to sell an apartment, with her husband along as protection. He's been accompanying her into potentially shady situations ever since she entered a for-sale house with a key only to be greeted by a squatter with a gun who fired a warning shot.
The apartment she's trying to sell today is in Newport Lofts, a doorman building with a pool, gym and clubhouse on the roof, which, the custodian tells us, haven't been used by anyone in months. Newport Lofts is one of a cluster of several luxury condos that were supposed to be part of a revitalization of the downtown area. Apartments in Newport Lofts--Boemio's client, an out-of-town investor, paid $600,000 for one--are now listed for as little as $179,000. And this particular apartment isn't exactly in great shape. A squatter slipped past the doorman and, even more impressively, got a locksmith in to switch the lock and give her keys.
The squatter left behind no bed, but she did leave stained bath mats, towels, flip-flops, Chinese-takeout remnants, Sunkist soda cans, prescription medicine, old mail and some used airline tickets to Miami. Boemio casually walks around all of it, occasionally laughing. The buyer's agent--a woman in a Gucci scarf and sunglasses--is a little more freaked out, trying to figure out how much this mess will cost to clean up. Which is strange, since she's offering $250,000 on behalf of her overseas client--$70,000 more than the asking price. There are no other buyers. Boemio goes over the offer three times with the Gucci lady to make sure she understands exactly what is going on. Gucci lady, she figures out, is just trying to score an extra $2,100 in commission and is screwing over her client for $70,000.