Jerry Moore no longer works for Wells Fargo
We received a call from Wells Fargo spokeswoman Peggy Gunn yesterday informing us that Jerry Moore, the subject of this week's feature, no longer works for the bank.
Nick Vlcek John Foster and Melony Michaels are suing DFL politico Jerry Moore.
Per company policy, Gunn couldn't talk specifically about how or why Moore's employment ended, saying only, "He's no longer an employee of Wells Fargo effective earlier this month."
Melony Michaels and John Foster are suing Moore, among others, in relation to a mortgage fraud case. When investigating the complex paper trail, Michaels found a $5,000 check made out to "Jerry Moore" in closing documents for a house bought by someone using her husband's identity. Accompanying the check was an invoice from J.L. Moore Consulting stating that the seller of the house, Keith Reitman, owed him $5,000.
Moore was served with the lawsuit at the Minnetonka Wells Fargo earlier this summer. This brief exchange at Wells Fargo between myself and Jerry Moore happened in late July:
THE DIM, COOL lobby of the Wells Fargo in Minnetonka is a welcome relief from the humid weather outside. Moore is downstairs working on a project with some kids, a receptionist says, but I can wait for him if I'd like.
"Is there anything I can help you with?" asks a perky blonde teller.
"I don't think so," I say.
"Do you have an appointment with Jerry?" she asks.
We both laugh.
Suddenly, Moore walks into the lobby. He's wearing a blue blazer and a friendly smile.
"Jerry?" I ask.
"Yes?" he replies, offering a grin.
"I'm Andy Mannix with City Pages," I say.
His smile fades and he starts tiptoeing backward. "Sorry, I'm with a class right now," he says, moving away faster.
"I've left you quite a few messages," I say, "I need to talk to you." I pull a business card out of my pocket and try to hand it to him. "Can we talk later?"
Moore looks at the card as if I'm offering him a live grenade. "Sorry," he says, putting his hands up in the air defensively. He continues to back away, and turns around and heads for cover.
Just before he disappears, he looks back momentarily.
"Can you call me later?" I ask across the bank lobby.
"Sorry," Moore says one more time. Then he's gone.