Deducting a Divorce

I am looking at two points on a case:

(1)  The IRS wanted $1,760,709; and

(2)  The only issue before the Court was a deduction for legal and professional fees.

That is one serious legal bill.

The taxpayer was a hedge fund manager. The firm had three partners who provided investment advisory services to several funds. For this they received 1.5% of assets under management as well as 20% of the profits (that is, the “carry”). The firm decided to defer payment of the investment and performance fees from a particular fund for 2006, 2007 and 2008.

2008 brought us the Great Recession and taxpayer’s spouse filing for divorce.

By 2009 the firm was liquidating.

The divorce was granted in 2011.

Between the date of filing and the date the divorce was granted, taxpayer received over $47 million in partnership distributions from the firm.

You know that point came up during divorce negotiations.

To be fair, not all of the $47 million can be at play. Seems to me the only reachable part would be the amount “accrued” as of the date of divorce filing.

He hired lawyers. He hired a valuation expert.

Turns out that approximately $4.7 million of the $47 million represented deferred compensation and was therefore a marital asset. That put the marital estate at slightly over $15 million.

Upon division, the former spouse received a Florida house and over $6.6 million in cash.

He in turn paid approximately $3 million in professional fees. Seems expensive, but they helped keep over $42 million out of the marital estate.

He deducted the $3 million.

Which the IRS bounced.

What do you think is going on here?

The issue is whether the professional fees are business related (in which case they are deductible) or personal (in which case they are not). Taxpayer argued that the fees were deductible because he was defending a claim against his distributions and deferred compensation from the hedge fund. He was a virtual poster boy for a business purpose.

He has a point.

The IRS fired back: except for her marriage to taxpayer, the spouse would have no claim to the deferred compensation. Her claim stemmed entirely because of her marriage to him. The cause of those professional fees was the marriage, which is about as personal as an event can be. The tax Code does not allow for the deduction of personal expenses.

The IRS has a point.

The tax doctrine the IRS argued is called origin-of-the-claim. It has many permutations, but the point is to identify what caused the mess in the first place. If the cause was business or income-producing, you may have a deduction. If the cause was personal, well, thanks for playing.

But a divorce can have a business component. For example, there is a tax case involving control over a dividend-paying corporation; there is another where the soon-to-be-ex kept interfering in the business. In those cases, the fees were deductible, as there was enough linkage to the business activity.

The Court looked, but it could not find similar linkage in this case.

In the divorce action at issue, petitioner was neither pursuing alimony from Ms [ ] nor resisting an attempt to interfere with his ongoing business activities.

Petitioner has not established that Ms [ ] claim related to the winding down of [the hedge fund]. Nor has petitioner established that the fees he incurred were “ordinary and necessary” to his trade or business.

While the hedge fund fueled the cash flow, the divorce action did not otherwise involve the fund. There was no challenge to his interest in the fund; he was not defending against improper interference in fund operations; there was no showing that her action led to his winding down of the fund.

Finding no business link, the Court determined that the origin of the claim was personal.

Meaning no deduction for the professional fees.

NOTE: While this case did not involve alimony, let us point out that the taxation of alimony is changing in 2019. For many years, alimony – as long as the magic tax words were in the agreement – was deductible by the payor and taxable to the recipient. It has been that way for my entire professional career, but that is changing. Beginning in 2019, only grandfathered alimony agreements will be deductible/taxable, with “grandfathered” meaning the alimony agreement was in place by December 31, 2018.

Mind you, this does not mean that there will be no alimony for new divorces. What it does mean is that one will not get a deduction for paying alimony if one divorces in 2019 or later. Conversely, one will not be taxed upon receiving alimony if one divorces in 2019 or later.

The Congressional committee reports accompanying the tax change noted that alimony is frequently paid from a higher-income to a lower -income taxpayer, resulting in a net loss to the Treasury. Changing the tax treatment would allow the Treasury to claw back to the payor’s higher tax rate. Possible, but I suspect it more likely that alimony payments will eventually decrease by approximately 35% - the maximum federal tax rate – as folks adjust to the new law.

Our case this time was Sky M Lucas v Commissioner.

Do You Have to Disclose That?

I was recently talking with another CPA. He had an issue with an estate income tax return, and he was wondering if a certain deduction was a dead loser. I looked into the issue as much as I could (that busy season thing), and it was not clear to me that the deduction was a loser, much less a dead loser.

He then asked: does he need to disclose if he takes the deduction?

Let’s take a small look into professional tax practice.

There are many areas and times when a tax advisor is not dealing with clear-cut tax law.

Depending upon the particular issue, I as a practitioner have varying levels of responsibility. For some I can take a position if I have a one-in-five (approximately) chance of winning an IRS challenge; for others it is closer to one-in-three.

There are also issues where one has to disclose to the IRS that one took a given position on a return. The concept of one-in-whatever doesn’t apply to these issues. It doesn’t have to be nefarious, however. It may just be a badly drafted Regulation and a taxpayer with enough dollars on the line.

Then there are “those” transactions.

They used to be called tax shelters, but the new term for them is “listed transactions.” There is even a subset of listed transactions that the IRS frowns upon, but not as frowny as listed transactions. Those are called “reportable transactions.”

This is an area of practice that I try to stay away from. I am willing to play aggressive ball, but the game stays within the chalk lines. Making tax law is for the big players – think Apple’s tax department – not for a small CPA firm in Cincinnati.

Staying up on this area is difficult, too. The IRS periodically revises a list of transactions that it is scrutinizing. The IRS then updates its website, and I – as a practitioner – am expected to repeatedly visit said website patiently awaiting said update. Fail to do so and the IRS automatically shifts blame to the practitioner.

No thanks.

I am looking at a case involving a guy who sells onions. His company is an S corporation, which means that he puts the business numbers on his personal return and pays tax on the conglomeration.

His name is Vee.

He got himself into a certain type of employee benefit plan.

A benefit plan provides benefits other than retirement. It could be health, for example, or disability or severance. The tax Code allows a business to prefund (and deduct) these benefits, as long as it follows certain rules. A general concept underlying the rules is risk-taking and cost-sharing – that is, there should be a feel of insurance to the thing.

This is relatively easy to do when you are Toyota or General Mills. Being large certainly makes it easier to work with the law of large numbers.

The rules however are problematic as the business gets smaller. Congress realized this and passed Code Section 419A(f)(6), allowing small employers to join with other small employers – in a minimum group of ten – and obtain tax advantages  otherwise limited to the bigger players.

Then came the promoters peddling these smaller plans. You could offer death and disability benefits to your employees, for example, and shift the risk to an insurance company. A reasonable employer would question the use of life insurance. If the employer needed money to pay benefits, wouldn’t a mutual fund make more sense than an illiquid life insurance policy? Ah, but the life insurance policy allows for inside buildup. You could overfund the policy and have all kinds of cash value. You would just borrow from the cash value – a nontaxable transaction, by the way – to pay the benefits. Isn’t that more efficient than a messy portfolio?

Then there were the games the promoters played to diminish the risk of joining a group with nine others.

Vee got himself into one of these plans.

He funded the thing with life insurance. He later cancelled the plan, keeping the life insurance policy for himself.

The twist on his plan was the use of experience-rated life insurance.

Experience-rated does not pay well with the idea of cost-and-risk sharing. If I am experience rated, then my insurance cost is based on my experience. My insurance company does not look at you or any of the other eight employers in our group. I am not feeling the insurance on this one.

Some of these plans were outrageous. The employer would keep the plan going for a few years, overpay for the insurance, then shut down the plan and pay “value” for the underlying insurance policy. The insurance company would keep the “value” artificially low, so it did not cost the employer much to buy the policy on the way out. Then a year or two later, the cash value would multiply ten, twenty, fifty, who-knows-how-many-fold. This technique was called “springing,” and it was like finding the proverbial pot of gold.

The IRS had previously said that plans similar to Vee’s were listed transactions.

This meant that Vee had to disclose his plan on his tax return.

He did not.

That is an automatic $10,000 penalty. No excuses.

He did it four times, so he was in for $40,000.

He went to Court. His argument was simple: the IRS had not said that his specific plan was one of those abusive plans. The IRS had said “plans similar to,” but what do those words really mean? Do you know what you have forgotten? What is the point of a spice rack? Does anybody really know what time it is?

Yea, the Court felt the same way. The plan was “similar to.” They were having none of it.

He owed $40,000.

He should have disclosed.

Even better, he should have left the whole thing alone.

Getting ROBbed

I was skimming a Tax Court decision that leads with:

“… respondent issued a notice of deficiency … of $249,263.62, additions to tax … of $20,228.76 and $22,476.41, respectively and an enhanced accuracy-related penalty … of $63,918.33”

It was Roth IRA decision.

We have spoken before about putting a business in an IRA, and a Roth is just a type of IRA. This tax structure is sometimes referred to as a “ROBS” – roll-over as business start-up. 

Odds are the only one who is going to get robbed is you. I had earlier looked into and decided that I did not like the ROBS structure. There are too many ways that it can detonate. I do not practice high-wire tax.  

I have also noticed the IRS pursuing this area more aggressively. There often is complacency when a “new” tax idea takes, as the IRS may not respond immediately. That lag is not an imprimatur by the IRS, although self-interested parties may present it as such. I have been in practice long enough to have heard that sales pitch more than once.

Let’s discuss Polowniak v Commissioner.

Polowniak had over 35 years of marketing experience with Fortune 500 companies, including Proctor & Gamble, Johnson & Johnson and Kimberly Services. In 1997 he formed his own company – Solution Strategies, Inc. (Strategies). He was the sole shareholder and its only consultant.

In 2001 he received a nice contract - $680,000 – from Delphi Automotive Systems – which had him travel extensively to Europe, Asia and South America. 

Now the turn. His financial advisor recommended an attorney who pitched the idea of “privately owned Roth IRA corporations,” also known as PIRACs. These things are not rocket science. In most cases an individual already has an existing company, likely profitable or soon to be. Said individual sets up a Roth IRA. Said Roth purchases the stock of a new corporation (NewCo), which amazingly does exactly the same thing that the existing corporation did, and likely with the same customers, vendors, employee, office space and so on.

The idea of course is that NewCo is going to be very profitable, which allows the opportunity to stuff a lot of money into the Roth in a very short period of time.

So Polowniak sets up a NewCo, which he names Bevco Investments, Inc. (Bevco). There is a little flutter in the story as Bevco selects a January year-end, meaning that a sharp tax advisor may have the opportunity to move things back-and-forth between a calendar-year taxpayer and an entity that doesn’t file its tax return until a year later.

This is fairly routine tax work.

Polowniak owned 98 percent and his administrative assistant owned 2 percent.  His wife later purchased 6% of Bevco.

Strategies and Bevco entered into an agreement whereby it would receive 75% of Strategies revenues for 2002.

By the way, Delphi was never informed of Bevco. Neither was the administrative assistant.

The years passed. Polowniak let the subcontract with Bevco lapse.

And he started depositing all the Strategies revenue from Delphi into Bevco. There was no more pretense of 75 percent.

Bevco was finally dissolved in 2006.

And then came the IRS.

It went after Solutions, which did not report the $680,000 from Delhi. You remember, the same amount it was to share 75% with Bevco.

Sheesh.

It also came after Polowniak personally. The IRS wanted penalties for excess funding into a Roth.

Huh?

There are limits for funding a Roth. For example, the 2015 limit for someone age-50-and-over (ahem) is $6,500. If you go over, then there is a 6% penalty. Mind you, the 6% doesn’t sound like much, but it becomes pernicious, as it compounds on itself every year. Tax practitioners refer to this as “cascading,” and the math can be surprising.

How did he overfund?

Simple. He took existing money from Solutions and put it into Bevco. It is the equivalent of you depositing money at Key Bank rather than Fifth Third.

Polowniak’s job right now was to convince the Court that was a substantive reason for the Solutions –Bevco structure. If Bevco was just an alter ego, he was going to lose and lose big.

He trotted put Hellweg, a tax case featuring Roth IRAs and Domestic International Sales Corporations (DISCs). Whereas the taxpayer won that case, there was some arcane tax reasoning behind it, likely exacerbated by those DISCs.

The Court did not think Hellweg was on point. It thought that Repetto was much more applicable, pointing out:

·        All the services performed by Bevco had previously been performed by Polowniak through Strategies

·        Polowniak performed all the services under the contract with Delphi

·        Since he was the only person performing services, the transfer of payments between Strategies and Bevco had no substantive effect on the Delphi contract

·        Delphi did not know of the contract with Bevco; in fact, neither did the administrative assistant

·        The business dealing between Strategies and Bevco were not business-normative. For example, Bevco never kept time or accounting records of its services, nor did it ever invoice Strategies.

The Court decided against Polowniak. It did not respect the PIRAC, and as far as it was concerned all the Delphi money put into Bevco was an overfunding.

And that is how you blow through a third of a million dollars.

Is there something Polowniak could have done?

He could of course have respected business norms and treated both as separate companies with their own accounting systems, phone numbers, contracts and so forth. It would have helped had Strategies not been depositing and withdrawing monies from Bevco’s bank account.

Still, I do not think that would have been enough.

There are two major problems that I see:

(1) There was an existing contract in place with Delphi. This is not the same as starting Bevco and pounding the streets for work. There is a very strong assignment of income feel, and I suspect just about any Court would have been disquieted by it.

(2) There were not enough players on the field. If I own a company with 75 employees, I may be able to take a slice of its various activities and place it inside a PIRAC or ROBS or whatever, without the thing being seen as my alter ego. Polowniak however was a one-man show. This made it much easier for the IRS to argue substance over form, which the IRS successfully argued here.

 

My advice? Leave these things alone. There are a hundred ways that these IRA-owned companies can blow up, and the IRS has sounded the trumpet that it is pursuing them.

Vanguard's Whistleblower Tax Case

Can the IRS go after you for not making enough profit?

There is a whistleblower case against Vanguard, the mutual fund giant. Even though there is a tax angle, I had previously sidestepped the matter. Surely it must involve some mind-numbing arcana, and –anyway- why enable some ex-employee with a grudge? 

And then I saw a well-known University of Michigan tax professor supporting the tax issues in the whistleblower case.

Now I had to look into the matter.

My first reaction is that this case represents tax law gone wild. It happens. Sometimes tax law is like the person looking down at his/her cell phone and running into you in the hall. They are too self-absorbed to look up and get a clue.

What sets this up is the management company: Vanguard Group, Inc. (VGI). Take a look at other mutual fund companies and you will see that the management company is separately and independently owned from the mutual funds themselves.  The management company provides investment, financial and other services, and in turn it receives fees from the mutual funds.  

The management company receives fees irrespective of whether the funds are doing well or poorly. In addition, the ownership of the management company is likely different from the ownership of the funds. You can invest in the management company for T. Rowe Price (TROW), for example, even if you do not own any T. Rowe Price funds.

Vanguard however has a unique structure. Its management company – VGI – is owned by the funds themselves. Why? It goes back to Jack Bogle and the founding of Vanguard: he believed there was an inherent conflict of interest when a mutual fund is advised by a manager not motivated by the same financial interests as fund shareholders.  Since the management company and the funds are essentially one-and-the-same, there is little motivation for the management company to maximize its fees. This in turn has allowed Vanguard funds to provide some of the lowest internal costs in the industry

My first thought is that every mutual fund family should be run this way.

VGI and all the funds are C corporations under the tax Code. The funds themselves are more specialized and are “registered investment companies” under Subchapter M. Because the funds own VGI, the “transfer pricing” rules of IRC Section 482 apply.

COMMENT: The intent of Section 482 is to limit the ability of related companies to manipulate the prices they charge each other. Generally speaking, this Code section has not been an issue for practitioners like me, as we primarily serve entrepreneurs and their closely-held companies. This market tends to be heavily domestic and unlikely to include software development, patent or other activity which can easily be moved overseas and trigger transfer pricing concerns. 

Practitioners are however starting to see states pursue transfer pricing issues. Take Iowa, with its 12% corporate tax rate as an example. Let’s presume a multistate client with significant Iowa operations. Be assured that I would be looking to move profitability from Iowa to a lower taxed state. From Iowa’s perspective, this would be a transfer pricing issue. From my perspective it is common sense.

Section 482 wants to be sure that related entities are charging arm’s-length prices to each other. There are selected exceptions for less-than-arm’s-length prices, such as for providing routine, ministerial and administrative services. I suppose one could argue that the maintenance and preparation of investor statements might fit under this exception, but it is doubtful that the provision of investment advisory services would.  Those services involve highly skilled money managers, and are arguably far from routine and ministerial.

So VGI must arguably show a profit, at least for its advisory services. How much profit?

Now starts the nerds running into you in the hall while looking down at their cell phones.

We have to look at what other fund families are doing: Janus, Fidelity, Eaton Vance and so on. We know that Vanguard is unique, so we can anticipate that their management fees are going to be higher, potentially much higher. An analysis of Morningstar data indicates as much as 0.5 percent higher. It doesn’t sound like much, until you consider that Vanguard has approximately $3 trillion under management. Multiply any non-zero number by $3 trillion and you are talking real money.

It is an interesting argument, although it also appears that the IRS was not considering Vanguard’s fact pattern when it issued Regulations. Vanguard has been doing this for 40 years and the IRS has not concerned itself, so one could presume that there is a détente of sorts. Perhaps the IRS realized how absurd it would be to force the management company to charge more to millions of Vanguard investors.

That might attract the attention of Congress, for example, which already is not the biggest fan of the IRS as currently administrated.

Not to mention that since the IRS issued the Regulations, the IRS can change the Regulations.

And all that presumes that we are correctly interpreting an arcane area of tax law.

The whistleblower is a previous tax attorney with Vanguard, and he argues that Vanguard has been underpaying its income taxes by not charging its fund investors enough.

Think about that for a moment. Who is the winner in this Alice-in-Wonderland scenario?

The whistleblower says that he brought his concerns to the attention of his superiors (presumably tax attorneys themselves), arguing that the tax structure was illegal. They disagreed with him. He persisted until he was fired.

He did however attract the attention of the SEC, IRS and state of New York.

I had previously dismissed the whistleblower argument as a fevered interpretation of the transfer pricing rules and the tantrum of an ex-employee bent on retribution.  I must now reevaluate after tax law Professor Reuven S. Avi-Yonah has argued in favor of this case.

I am however reminded of my own experience. There is a trust tax provision that entered the Code in 1986. In the aughts I had a client with that tax issue. The IRS had not issued Regulations, 20 years later. The IRS had informally disclosed its internal position, however, and it was (of course) contrary to what my client wanted. I in turn disagreed with the IRS and believed they would lose if the position were litigated. I advised the client that taking the position was a concurrent decision to litigate and should be addressed as such.

I became extremely unpopular with the client. Even my partner was stressed to defend me. I was basing professional tax advice on chewing gum and candy wrappers, as there was nothing else to go on.

And eventually someone litigated the issue. The case was decided in 2014, twenty eight years after the law was passed. The taxpayer won.

Who is to say that Vanguard’s situation isn’t similar?

What does this tax guy think?

I preface by saying that I respect Professor Avi-Yonah, but I am having a very difficult time accepting the whistleblower argument. Vanguard investors own the Vanguard funds, and the funds in turn own the management company. I may not teach law at the University of Michigan, but I can extrapolate that Vanguard investors own the management company – albeit indirectly – and should be able to charge themselves whatever they want, subject to customary business-purpose principles. Since tax avoidance is not a principal purpose, Section 482 should not be sticking its nose under the tent.

Do you wonder why the IRS would even care? Any income not reported by the management company would be reported by fund investors. The Treasury gets its pound of flesh - except to the extent that the funds belong to retirement plans. Retirement plans do not pay taxes. On the other hand, retirement plan beneficiaries pay taxes when the plan finally distributes.  Treasury is not out any money; it just has to wait. Oh well.

It speaks volumes that someone can parse through the tax Code and arrive at a different conclusion. If fault exists, it lies with the tax Code, not with Vanguard.

Then why bring a whistleblower case? The IRS will pay a whistleblower up to 30% of any recovery, and there are analyses that the Vanguard management company could be on the hook for approximately $30 billion in taxes. Color me cynical, but I suspect that is the real reason.