Bust Me if You Can

Livoti believes the state has a weak case. In the hearing, he pointed out the fine print on some of the documents associated with the deals Brady made. On contracts and invoices, Eddy was paid legal fees, but at least in some cases, Brady's charges were specifically for line items like "land use fee" or "lobbying" or "consulting."

Bober says Brady has owned up to some of the charges — like forgery— which gives him "a certain degree of credibility." Bober is confident that the prosecution will work with him to give Brady a reasonable plea deal — that doesn't carry a riduculous sentence.

Otherwise, Brady's guilt or innocence might depend on a jury's interpretation of the illegal practice of law. Florida statutes say that anyone who "holds himself or herself out to the public as qualified to practice law... or willfully takes or uses any name, title, addition, or description implying that he or she is qualified" commits a third-degree felony.

So long as he didn't accept fees for a lawyer's work or claim to be a member of the Bar, Livoti argued, Brady wasn't a criminal.

"Was he introduced to Fred Thompson?" Livoti asked rhetorically. "Maybe. So what?" Zachariah never claimed to lose any money to Brady. "Dr. Zachariah's trust was betrayed. My client is profoundly sorry for that. But it's not a crime."

And what kind of dummy just puts somebody on their American Express card? "There's a lot of rich people who, I'd like for me to get on their credit cards!" Livoti cried. Brady did reimburse Saddi for many of the charges and would have repaid every nickel if he hadn't been thrown in jail, Livoti claimed.

As for posing as a successful professional trying to impress a lady, Livoti pointed out, "It happens every Friday and Saturday night at the Blue Martini, every bar, and every gin joint in every town in all the world. That's not a crime."

Still, the judge ruled that Brady was enough of a menace to have his bond revoked. The 27-year-old went back into a holding cell in Pompano Beach.

Interestingly, Brady's girlfriend, a tall, thin blond, continues to visit him there. Despite prosecutors' attempts to use her as ammunition, she remains Brady's strong supporter. Without divulging too much, she shakes her head and reports that he is a kindhearted person caught in the middle of a giant misunderstanding — and that the slate of criminal cases doesn't accurately reflect upon the guy. She did have the impression he was a Harvard-educated lawyer, she admits, but that's not why she dates him.

"He's a great person. He's amazing," she says. She adds that Brady's family, including Eddy, stands steadfastly behind him and that Brady is busy and thriving in jail, helping inmates with less education to understand certain Bible readings and work toward their GEDs.

In February, Livoti withdrew as counsel for Brady — because Brady could no longer afford him — and a public defender was appointed to handle the criminal cases.

A flip through the file for one civil case filed in Miami reveals documents that Brady has submitted to the court himself. They are written in professional language; the author seems fluent in legalese. The pages stand out, however, because they are written in ballpoint pen on lined notebook paper and have been mailed from a jail cell.

In paperwork in the file, Brady is identified as a pro se litigant. In other words, he's acting as a lawyer — representing himself. And that is perfectly legal.