When The IRS Says Loan Repayments Are Taxable Wages

Here is a common-enough fact pattern:

(1) You have a company.

(2) You loan the company money.

(3) The company has an unprofitable stretch.

(4) Your accountant tells you to reduce or stop your paycheck.

(5) You still have bills to pay. The company pays them for you, reporting them as repayments of your loan.

What could go wrong?

Let’s look at the Singer Installations, Inc v Commissioner case.

Mr. Singer started Singer Installations in 1981. It was primarily involved with servicing, repairing and modifying recreational vehicles, although it also sold cabinets used in the home construction.

After a rough start, the business started to grow. The company was short of working capital, so Mr. Singer borrowed personally and relent the money to the company. All in all, he put in around two-thirds of a million dollars.

PROBLEM: Forget about the formalities of debt: there was no written note, no interest, no repayment schedule, nothing. All that existed was a bookkeeping entry.

The business was growing. Singer had problems, but they were good problems.

Let’s fast-forward to 2008 and the Great Recession. No one was modifying recreational vehicles, and construction was drying up. Business went south. Singer had tapped-out his banks, and he was now borrowing from family.

He lost over $330 grand in 2010 and 2011 alone. The company stopped paying him a salary. The company paid approximately $180,000 in personal expenses, which were reported as loan repayments.

The IRS disagreed. They said the $180 grand was wages. He was drawing money before and after. And – anyway – that note did not walk or quack like a real note, so it could not be a loan repayment. It had to be wages. What else could it be?

Would his failure to observe the niceties of a loan cost him?

Here is the Court:

We recognize that Mr. Singer’s advances have some of the characteristics of equity – the lack of a promissory note, the lack of a definitive maturity date, and the lack of a repayment schedule …”

This is going to end poorly.

 … but we do not believe those factors outweigh the evidence of intent.”

Wait, is he going to pull this out …?

 … because intent of parties to create [a] loan was overwhelming and outweighed other factors.”

He won …!

However, we cannot find that all of the advances were loans.”

Then what would they be?

While we believe that Mr. Singer had a reasonable expectation of repayment for advances made between 2006 and 2008, we do not find that a similarly reasonable expectation of repayment existed for later advances.”

Why not, Sheldon?

 After 2008 the only source of capital was from Mr. Singer’s family and Mr. Singer’s personal credit cards.”

And …?

No reasonable creditor would lend to petitioner.”

Ouch.

The Court decided that advances in 2008 and earlier were bona fide loans. Business fortunes changed drastically, and advances made after 2008 were not loans but instead were capital contributions.

This “no reasonable creditor would lend” can be a difficult standard to work with. I have known multimillionaires who became such because they did not know when to give up. I remember one who became worth over $30 million – on his third try.

Still, the Court is not saying to fold the company. It is just saying that – past a certain point – you have injected capital rather than made a loan. That point is when an independent third party would refuse to lend money, no matter how sweet the deal.

Why would the IRS care?

The real-world difference is that it is more difficult tax-wise to withdraw capital from a business than it is to repay a loan. Repay a loan and you – with the exception of interest – have no tax consequence.

Withdraw capital – assuming state law even allows it – and the weight of the tax Code will grind you to dust trying to make it taxable – as a dividend, as a capital gain, as glitter from the tax fairy.

It was a mixed win for Singer, but at least he did not have to pay taxes on those phantom wages.

RERI-ng Its Ugly Head - Part Two

Let’s continue our story of Stephen Ross, the billionaire owner of the Miami Dolphins and of his indirect contribution of an (unusual) partnership interest to the University of Michigan.

What made the partnership interest unusual was that it represented a future ownership interest in a partnership owning real estate. The real estate was quite valuable because of a sweet lease. When that ship came in, the future interest was going to be worth crazy money.

That ship was a “successor member interest” or “SMI.”

We talked about the first case, which went before the Tax Court in 2014 and involved legal motions. The case then proceeded, with a final decision in July, 2017.

COMMENT: Yes, it can take that long to get a complex case through Tax Court. Go after Apple, for example, and your kid will likely be finishing high school before that tax case is finally resolved.

The SMI was purchased for $2.95 million.

Then donated to the University of Michigan for approximately $33 million.

COMMENT: This is better than FaceBook stock.

After two years, the University of Michigan sold the SMI (to someone related to the person who started this whole story) for around $2 million.

OBSERVATION: Nah, FaceBook stock would have been better.

Now RERI was in Court and explaining how something that was and will be worth either $2 or $3 million is generating a tax deduction of $33 million.

And it has to do with the SMI being “part of” of something but not “all of” something.  SMI is the “future” part in “all of” a partnership owning valuable leased real estate in California.

The concept is that someone has to value the “all of” something. Once that is done, one can use IRS tables to value the “part of” something. Granted, there are hoops and hurdles to get into those tables, but that is little obstacle to a shrewd tax attorney.

Ross found a shrewd tax attorney.

Virtually all the heavy lifting is done when valuing the “all of” part. One then dumps that number into the IRS tables, selects a number of years and an interest rate and – voila! The entrée round, my fellow tax gastronomes, featuring a $33 million tasty secret ingredient.

The pressure is on the first number: the “all of.”

This will require a valuation.

There are experts who do these things, of course.

Their valuation report will go with your tax return.  No surprise. We should be thankful they do not also have to do a slide presentation at the IRS. 

And there will be a (yet another) tax form to highlight the donation. That is Form 8283, and – in general – you can anticipate seeing this form when you donate more than $5,000 in property.

There are questions to be answered on Form 8283. We have spoken about noncash donations in the past, and how this area has become a tax minefield. Certain things have to be done a certain way, and there is little room for inattention. Sometimes the results are cruel.

Form 8283 wants, for example:

·      A description of the property

·      If a partial interest, whether there is a restriction on the property

·      Date acquired

·      How acquired

·      Appraised fair market value

·      Cost

I suspect the Court was already a bit leery with a $3 million property generating a $33 million donation.

And the Court noticed something …

The Form 8283 left out the cost.

Yep, the $3 million.

Remember: there is little room for inattention with this form.

Question is: does the number mean anything in this instance?

Rest assured that RERI was bailing water like a madman, arguing that it “substantially complied” with the reporting requirements. It relied heavily on the Bond decision, where the Court stated that the reporting requirements were:

“… directory and not mandatory”

The counterpunch to Bond was Smith:

“ the standard for determining substantial compliance under which we ‘consider whether … provided sufficient information to permit … to evaluate the reported contributions, as intended by Congress.’”

To boil this down to normal-speak: could RERI’s omission have influenced a reasonable person (read: IRS) to question or not question the deduction. After all, the very purpose of Form 8283 was to provide the IRS enough information to sniff-out stuff like this.

Here is the Court:

“The significant disparity between the claimed fair market value and the price RERI paid to acquire the SMI just 17 months before it assigned the SMI to the University, had it been disclosed, would have alerted respondent to a potential overvaluation of the SMI”

Oh oh.

“Because RERI failed to provide sufficient information on its Form 8283 to permit respondent to evaluate its purported contribution, …we cannot excuse on substantial compliance grounds RERI’s omission from the form of its basis in the SMI.”

All that tax planning, all the meetings and paperwork and yada-yada was for naught, because someone did not fill-out the tax form correctly and completely.

I wonder if the malpractice lawsuit has already started.

The Court did not have to climb onto a high-wire and juggle dizzying code sections or tax doctrines to deny RERI’s donation deduction. It could just gaze upon that Form 8283 and point-out that it was incomplete, and that its incompleteness prejudiced the interests of the government. It was an easy way out.

And that is precisely what the Court did.

RERI-ng Its Ugly Head - Part One

Here is the Court:

The action involves RERI Holdings I, LLC (RERI). On its 2003 income tax return RERI reported a charitable contribution of property worth $33,019,000. Respondent determined that RERI overstated the value of the contribution by $29,119,000.”

That is considerably more than a rounding error.

The story involves California real estate, a billionaire and a university perhaps a bit too eager to receive a donation.

The story is confusing, so let’s use a dateline as a guide.

February 6, 2002 

Hawthorne bought California real estate for $42,350,000. Technically, that real estate is in an LLC named RS Hawthorne LLC (Hawthorne), which in turn is owned by RS Hawthorne Holdings LLC (Holdings).

Holdings in turn is owned by Red Sea Tech I (Red Sea). 

February 7, 2002 

Red Sea created two types of ownership:

First, ownership for a period of time (technically a “term of years,” abbreviated TOYS).

Second, a future and successor interest that would not even come into existence until 2021. Let’s call this a “successor” member interest, or SMI. 

QUESTION: Why a delayed ownership interest? There was a great lease on the California real estate, and 2021 had significance under that lease.

March 4, 2002     

RERI was formed.

March 25, 2002

RERI bought the SMI for $2,950,000.

August 27, 2003

RERI donated the SMI to the University of Michigan.

A key player here is Stephen Ross, a billionaire and the principal investor in RERI. He had pledged to donate $5 million to the University of Michigan. 

Ross had RERI donate the SMI. 

The University agreed to hold the SMI for two years, at least, before selling.

Do you see what they have done? Start with a valuable piece of leased real estate, stick it in an LLC owned by another LLC owned by another … ad nauseum, then create an LLC ownership stake that does not even exist (if it will ever exist) until 2021.

What did RERI donate to the University of Michigan?

You got it: the thing that doesn’t exist for 18 years.

I find this hard to swallow.

“Successor” LLC interests are sasquatches. You can spend a career and never see one. The concept of “successor” makes sense in a trust context (where they are called “remaindermen”), but not in a LLC context. This is a Mary Shelly fabrication by the attorneys.

So why do it?

Technically, the SMI will someday own real estate, and that real estate is not worth zero.

RERI hired a valuation expert who determined it was worth almost $33 million. This expert argued that the lease on the property – and its reliable series of payments – allowed him to use certain IRS actuarial tables in arriving at fair market value (the approximately $33 million).

Wait. It gets better.

The two years pass. The University sells the property … to an entity INDIRECTLY OWNED by Mr. Ross for $1,940,000.

This entity was named HRK Real Estate Holdings, LLC (HRK).

More.

HRK had already prearranged to sell the SMI to someone else for $3 million.

Still more.

That someone donated the same SMI and claimed yet another deduction of $29,930,000.

REALITY CHECK: This thing sells twice for a total of approximately $5 million but generates tax deductions of approximately $63 million.

Yet more.

Who did the valuation on that second donation? Yep, the same guy who did RERI’s valuation.

The IRS disallowed RERI’s donation to zero, zip, zilch, nada. The IRS was clear: this thing is a sham.

And there begins the litigation.

How something can simultaneously be worth $33 million and $2 million?

This is all about those IRS tables.

Generally speaking, the contribution of property is at fair market value, usually described as the price arrived at between independent buyers and sellers, neither under compulsion to sell or buy and both informed of all relevant facts.

Except …

For annuities, life estates, remainders, reversions, terms of years and similar partial interests in property. They are not full interests so they then have to be carved-out and adjusted to present value using IRS-provided tables.

OBSERVATION: Right there, folks, is why the attorneys created this Frankenstein. They needed to “separate” the interests so they could get to the tables.

RERI argued that it could value that real estate 18 years out and use the tables. Since the tables are concerned only with interest rates and years, the hard lifting is done before one gets to them.

Not so fast, said the IRS.

That real estate is in an LLC, so it is the LLC that has to be valued.  There are numerous cases where the value of an asset and the value of an ownership interest in the entity owning said asset can be different – sometimes substantially so. You cannot use the tables because you started with the wrong asset.

But the LLC is nothing but real estate, so we are back where we started, countered RERI.

Not quite, said the IRS. The SMI doesn’t even exist for 18 years. What if the term owner mortgages the property, or sells it, or mismanages it? That SMI could be near worthless by the time some profligate or incompetent is done with the underlying lease.

Nonsense, said RERI. There are contracts in place to prohibit this.

How pray tell is this “prohibited?” asked the IRS.

Someone has to compensate the SMI for damages, explained RERI.

“Compensate” how? persisted the IRS.

The term owner would forfeit ownership and the SMI would become an immediate owner, clarified RERI.

So you are making the owner of a wrecked car “whole” by giving him/her the wrecked car as recompense, analogized the IRS. Can the SMI at least sue for any unrecovered losses?

Uhhhh … no, not really, answered RERI. But it doesn’t matter: the odds of this happening are so remote as to not warrant consideration.

And so it drones on. The case goes into the weeds.

Who won: the government or the billionaire?

It was decided in a later case. We will talk about it in a second post.

Almond Not-Joy

How much do you know about almond trees?

I know they are water-intensive and they come from California. I am uncertain whether they can be used for furniture. I presume they make good firewood.

So what would be a tax angle to this topic?

Growing almond trees.

Which gets us to farm taxation.

Farmers want (usually) to be cash-basis. This means that they report revenue when they receive cash and deduct expenses when they pay cash. It makes for relatively easy accounting, as one can almost get to a tax return from adding together 12 bank statements.

Then there are those issues.

I will give you one:

You buy a tractor-trailer load of seed and fertilizer late in December. Can you deduct it?

The issue here is whether you have incidental or nonincidental supplies. Incidental supplies (think printer paper to an accountant’s office) is deductible when purchased. Nonincidental supplies (think refilling an underground fuel tank of a trucking company) might be deductible only when used and not before.

Spend some big bucks on that fuel and the trucking company is keenly concerned about the answer.

Likewise, spend big bucks on seed and feed and the farmer is also keen on the answer.

Farmers have some nice tax bennies in the Code, and a large one is being able (in many cases) to use the cash basis of accounting. The Code furthermore allows farmers to deduct that year-end seed-and-feed (with some limitations) when purchased.

Nice.

That covers a lot of tax territory for row crops (that is: one growing season).

Let’s go next to orchards. Apples. Pears.

Almonds.

What new issue do we have here?

For one, orchards take years to become productive. There is no crop in the early years.

Is there any difference in the tax treatment?

Yep. It’s a sneaky one, too.

Let us talk about “uniform capitalization.” We have touched on this topic before, but never concerning almond trees. I am pretty sure about that.

The idea here is that the tax Code wants one to capitalize (that is, not immediately deduct) certain costs associated with inventory, self-produced assets any certain other specialized categories.

Almond trees are sort-of, kind-of “self-produced.”

Here is the fearsome tax beast in its canopied jungle home:

26 U.S. Code § 263A - Capitalization and inclusion in inventory costs of certain expenses

            (a) Nondeductibility of certain direct and indirect costs

(1) In general In the case of any property to which this section applies, any costs described in paragraph (2)—

(A) in the case of property which is inventory in the hands of the taxpayer, shall be included in inventory costs, and

(B) in the case of any other property, shall be capitalized.

I would argue that almond trees are “other property” per (a)(1)(B) above.

(2) Allocable costs The costs described in this paragraph with respect to any property are—

(A) the direct costs of such property, and

(B) such property’s proper share of those indirect costs (including taxes) part or all of which are allocable to such property.

Any cost which (but for this subsection) could not be taken into account in computing taxable income for any taxable year shall not be treated as a cost described in this paragraph.

The (B) above worries me. If this applies, then we have to “capitalize” real estate taxes on those trees.

Let’s look further at the definition of “property”:

(b)Property to which section applies Except as otherwise provided in this section, this section shall apply to—

(1) Property produced by taxpayer

Real or tangible personal property produced by the taxpayer.

(2) Property acquired for resale

(A) In general

Real or personal property described in section 1221(a)(1) which is acquired by the taxpayer for resale.

OK, I am getting worried. That (b)(1) sounds a lot like the almond trees. They are being “produced” (I guess) while they are growing and nonproductive.

Is there an out?

Here is something:

            (d)Exception for farming businesses

(1) Section not to apply to certain property

(A)In general This section shall not apply to any of the following which is produced by the taxpayer in a farming business:

(i) Any animal.

(ii) Any plant which has a preproductive period of 2 years or less.

I am zeroing-in on (d)(1)(A)(ii).

What is the growing (“preproductive”) period for almond trees?

Google says more than 2 years.

We are hosed.

We have to capitalize real estate taxes. 

COMMENT: Folks, that means “not deduct.” It gets expensive fast.

You know what else gets pulled-in via the gravitational pull of Sec 263A(a)(2)(B) above?

Interest.

We better not have any bank debt.

Arrggghhh! We have bank debt, meaning we have interest. We are going to have to capitalize that too.

The way this is going the only thing we are going to be able to deduct is the postage for the envelope in which we are sending a big check to the IRS.

We began the discussion by talking about how the cash basis of accounting lets farmers deduct stuff when they pay for them. Then we marched through the Code to find another section that tells us that we cannot deduct what we could deduct only a moment before.

COMMENT: I have heard a common lament over my years in practice: when to stop researching? There is no hard answer, but this case is an example of why tax practitioners fear and ask the question.

Our case this time was Wasco Real Properties I, LLC et al v Commissioner, for the home gamers.

Marty McFly and Future Interests In A Trust

Let’s talk about gift taxes.

Someone: What is an annual gift tax exclusion?

Me: The tax law allows you to gift any person on the planet up to $14,000 a year for any reason without having to report the gift to the IRS. If you are married, your spouse can do the same – meaning you can team-up and gift up to $28,000 to anybody.

Someone: What if you go over $14,000 per person?

Me: It is not as bad as it used to be. The reason starts with the estate tax, meaning that you die with “too many” assets. This used to be more of an issue a few years back, but the exclusion is now north of $5.4 million. There are very few who die with more than $5.4 million, so the estate tax is not likely to impact ordinary people.

Someone: What does the gift tax have to do with this $5 million?

Me: Congress and the IRS saw gifting as the flip side of the coin to the estate tax, so the two are combined when calculating the $5.4 million. Standard tax planning is to gift assets while alive. You may as well (if you can) because you are otherwise going to be taxed at death. Gifting while alive at least saves you tax on any further appreciation of the asset.

Someone: Meaning what?

Me: You will not owe tax until your gifts while alive plus your assets at death exceed $5.4 million.

Someone losing interest: What are we talking about again?

Me: Riddle me this, Batman: you transfer a gaztrillion dollars to your irrevocable trust. It has 100 beneficiaries. Do you get to automatically exclude $1,400,000 ($14,000 times 100 beneficiaries) as your annual gift tax exclusion?

Someone yawning: Why are we talking about this?

Me: Well, because it landed on my desk.

Someone: Do you make friends easily?

Me: Look at what I do for a living. I should post warnings so that others do not follow.

Someone looking around: How about hobbies? Do you need to go home to watch a game or anything?

Me: There is a tax concept that becomes important when gifting to a trust. A transfer has to be a “present interest” to qualify for that $14,000 annual exclusion.

Someone resigned: And a “present interest” is?

Me: Think cash. You can take it, frame it, spend it, make it rain. You can fold it into a big wad, wrap a hundred-dollar bill around it and pull the wad out every occasion you can.

Someone: What is wrong with you?

Me: Maybe it’s just me that would do that.

Me: I tell you what a “present interest” is not: cash in a trust that can only be paid to you when some big, bad, mean trustee decides to pay. You cannot party this weekend with that. You may get cash, but only someday … and in the future.

Someone: Hence the “future?”

Me: Exactly, Marty McFly.

Someone surprised: Hey, there’s no need ….

Me: Have you ever heard of a Crummey power?

Someone scowling: Good name for it. Fits the conversation.

Me: That is the key to getting a gift to a trust to qualify as a present interest.

Someone humoring: What makes it crummy?

Me: Crummey. That’s the name of the guy who took the case to court. Like a disease, the technique got named after him.

Someone looking at watch: I would consider a disease right about now.

Me: The idea is that you give the trust beneficiary the right to withdraw the gift, or at least as much of the gift as qualifies for the annual exclusion. You also put a time limit on it – usually 30 days. That means – at least hypothetically – that the beneficiary can get his/her hands on the $14 grand, making it a present interest.

Someone: I stopped being interested ….

Me: Have you heard of a “in terrorem” provision?

Someone: Sounds terrifying.

Me: Yea, it’s a great name, isn’t it? The idea is that – if you behave like a jerk – the trustee can just cut you out. Hence the “terror.”

Someone: I cannot see a movie coming out of this.

Me: Let’s wait and see what Ben Affleck can do with it.

Me: I was looking at a case called Mikel, where the IRS said that the “in terrorem” provision was so strong that it overpowered the Crummey power. That meant that there was no present interest.

Someone: Can you speed this up?

Me: The transfer to the trust was over $3.2 million ….

Someone: I wish I could meet these people.

Me: The trust also had around 60 beneficiaries.

Someone: 60 kids? Who is this guy – Mick Jagger?

Me: Nah, his name is Mikel.

Someone: I was being sarcastic.

Me: Mikel was Jewish, and he put a provision in the trust that beneficiary challenges to a trustee’s decision would go to a panel of 3 persons of Orthodox Jewish faith, called a beth din.

Me: I suppose if the beth din sides with the trustees, the beneficiary could go to state court, but then the in terorrem provision would kick-in. The beneficiary would lose all rights to the trust.

Someone: So some rich person gets cut-off at the knees. Who cares?

Me: The IRS said that the in terrorem provision was strong enough to make the gift a future interest rather than a present interest. That meant there was no $14,000 annual exclusion per beneficiary. Remember that there were around 60 beneficiaries, so the IRS was after taxes on about $800 grand. Not a bad payday for the tax man.

Someone: Sounds like they can afford it.

Me: No, no. The Court disagreed with the IRS. The taxpayer won.

Someone backing away: What was the court’s hesitation?

Me: The Court felt the IRS was making too many assumptions. If the beneficiaries disagreed with the trustees, they could go to the beth din. The beth din did not trigger the in terrorem. The beneficiaries would have to go to court to trigger the in terrorem. The Court said there was no reason to believe the beth din would not decide appropriately, so it was unwilling to assume that the beneficiaries were automatically bound for state court, thereby triggering the in terrorem provision.

Someone leaving: Later Doc.

A Tax Shelter In The Making

Have you ever heard of a “captive” insurance company?

They have become quite cachet. They have also drawn the IRS’ attention, as people are using these things for reasons other than insurance and risk management.

Let’s walk through this.  

Let’s say that you and I found a company manufacturing sat-nav athletic shoes

COMMENT: Sat-nav meaning satellite navigation. That’s right: you know you want a pair. More than one.

We make a million of them, and we have back orders for millions more. We are on the cover of Inc. magazine, meet Jim Cramer and get called to the White House to compliment us for employing America again.

Sweet.

Then tax time.

We owe humongous taxes.

Not sweet.

Our tax advisor (I am retired by then) mentions a captive.

LET’S EXPLAIN THIS: The idea here is that we have an insurable risk. Rather than just buying a policy from whoever-is-advertising-during-a-sports-event, we set up our own (small) insurance company. Granted, we are never going to rival the big boys, but it is enough for our needs. If we can leap through selected hoops, we might also get a tax break from the arrangement.

What risks do you and I have to insure?

What is one of those shoes blows out or the satellite-navigation system shorts and electrocutes someone? What if it picks up contact from an alien civilization – or an honest political journalist? We could get sued.

Granted, that is what insurance is for. The advisor says to purchase a policy from one of the big boys with a $1.2 million deductible. We then set up our own insurance company – our “captive” – to cover that $1.2 million.

We are self-insuring.

There is an election in the tax Code (Section 831(b) for the incorrigible) that waives the income tax on the first $1.2 million of premiums to the captive. It does pay tax on its investment income, but that is nickels-to-dollars.

You see that I did not pick the $1.2 million at random.

Can this get even better?

Submitted for your consideration: the You & Me ET Athletic Shoe Company will deduct the $1.2 million as “Insurance Expense” on its business return.

We skip paying tax on $1.2 million AND we deduct it on our tax return?

Easy, partner. We can still be sued. We would go through that $1.2 million in a heartbeat.

Is there a way to MacGyver this?

Got it. Three ways come quickly to mind, in fact:

(1) Let’s make the captive insurance duplicative. We buy a main policy with a reputable insurance company. We then buy a similar – but redundant -  policy from the captive.  We don’t need the captive, truthfully, as Nationwide or Allstate would provide the real insurance. We do get to stuff away $1.2 million, however – per year. We would let it compound. Then we would go swimming in our money, like Scrooge McDuck from the Huey, Dewey and Louie comics.

(2) A variation on (1) is to make the policy language so amorphous and impenetrable that it is nearly impossible to tell whether the captive is insuring whatever it is we would submit a claim for. That would make the captive’s decision to pay discretionary, and we would discrete to not pay.

(3) We could insure crazy stuff. Let’s insure for blizzards in San Diego, for example. 

a.    Alright, we will need an office in San Diego to make this look legitimate. I volunteer to move there. For the team, of course.

The tax advisor has an idea how to push this even further. The captive does not need to have the same owners as the You & Me ET Athletic Shoe Company. Let’s make our kids the shareholders of the captive. As our captive starts hoarding piles of cash, we are simultaneously doing some gifting and estate tax planning with our kids.

Heck, we can probably also put something in there for the grandkids.

To be fair, we have climbed too far out on this limb. These things have quite serious and beneficial uses in the economy. Think agriculture and farmers. There are instances where the only insurance farmers can get is whatever they can figure-out on their own. Perhaps several farms come together to pool risks and costs. This is what Section 831(b) was meant to address, and it is a reason why captives are heavily supported by rural state Senators.

In fact, the senators from Wisconsin, Indiana and Iowa were recently able to increase that $1.2 million to $2.2 million, beginning in 2017.

Then you have those who ruin it for the rest of us. Like the dentist who captived his dental office against terrorist attack.

That nonsense is going to attract the wrong kind of attention.

Sure enough, the IRS stepped in. It wants to look at these things. In November, 2016 the IRS gave notice that (some of) these captive structures are “transactions of interest.” That lingo means that – if you have one – you must file a disclosure (using Form 8886 Reportable Transaction Disclosure Statement) with the IRS by May 1, 2017.

If this describes you, this deadline is only a few months away. Make sure that your attorney and CPA are on this.

Mind you, there will be penalties for not filing these 8886s.

That is how the IRS looks at things. It is good to be king.

The IRS is not saying that captives are bad. Not at all. What it is saying is that some people are using captives for other than their intended purpose. The IRS has a very particular set of skills, skills it has acquired over a very long career. Skills that make the IRS a nightmare for people like this. If these people stop, that will be the end of it. If they do not stop, the IRS will look for them, they will find them, and they will ….

Ahem. Got carried away there.

When this is over, we can reasonably anticipate the IRS to say that certain Section 831(b) structures and uses are OK, while others are … unclear. The IRS will then upgrade the unclear structures and uses to “reportable” or “listed” status, triggering additional tax return disclosures and potential eye-watering penalties.

In the old days, listed transactions were called “tax shelters,” so that will be nothing to fool with.