Chapter 735: Tax Evasion!

The individual behind the wheel of the Hummer that collided with Martin was a fervent devotee of Johnny Depp, deeply ingrained in his circle. This incident was inextricably linked to Depp, no matter the angle you view it from.

Martin's perception of Depp was stained with a glaring crimson mark.

Martin inquired, "Has the confidant of Joel Mandel departed from North America?"

"He's gone," Bruce replied succinctly. "Should've vanished to Port City, assumed a new identity, and never looked back."

Martin nodded thoughtfully before pressing on, "Is he certain about Depp's tax dilemma?"

Bruce affirmed, "The tax issue is dire. Depp's financial handlers, those accountant brothers, seem to have tampered with his finances, leaving Depp solely accountable."

Only Martin, Louise, and Bruce were privy to these details.

After a pause, Martin directed, "Find a discreet way to have someone tip off authorities about Depp."

Bruce was ready with a plan, stating, "That's a breeze. Left some breadcrumbs when he skipped town."

Martin never entertained the idea of confronting Depp directly; it would be futile. "Proceed swiftly," he instructed.

Glancing at the calendar, he remarked, "The release of 'The Lone Ranger' is near. We must prepare a suitable offering for Depp."

Bruce assured, "This gift is perfect."

Martin nodded, "I believe Depp and Megan Ellison will appreciate it greatly."

Meanwhile, the media buzzed with reports of Martin's accident, with TMZ even airing footage from a dashcam capturing the moment.

The nation was captivated, recognizing this wasn't an ordinary mishap.

Rumors swiftly circulated, tying the culprit to Depp's inner circle.

The uproar was apparent, though not surprising given Depp's track record, including infamous incidents like public urination on the set of "The Martian."

The following day, LAPD summoned Depp for questioning, prompting a swarm of reporters and paparazzi upon his exit.

"Did you order the attack on Martin Davis?" they demanded.

"Was it related to conflicts during 'The Lone Ranger' filming?" another questioned.

"Are you not ashamed of your actions?"

"And the drugs, Depp? Did they cloud your judgment?"

"Have you considered retaliation from Martin Davis?" they persisted.

The entertainment reporters seem keen on rushing Depp to prison by the afternoon? Perhaps they'll arrange a duel with Martin there too.

Depp attempted to retort several times but was silenced by his vigilant bodyguards.

Accompanied by his lawyer and agent Whigham, Depp remained silent until he slipped into his car.

He'd been advised against granting interviews to the media, let alone spouting nonsense, and the lawyer made a swift exit.

The commercial nanny van pulled away from the police station.

In the car, Depp's expression soured as he turned to Whigham, asking, "Can Howard and the others be bailed out?"

"Not yet," Whigham communicated with the lawyer, "Given the current circumstances, it's best to hold off on bail."

Depp's demeanor bordered on petulance. "What if I bail them out? Afraid Martin Davis will come for me?"

With no prying ears in the car, Whigham cautiously probed, "Is this truly unrelated to you?"

Depp threw up his hands, "I didn't order it. Howard didn't even consult me. Sure, I've harbored thoughts about Martin, but I never acted on them..."

"Enough!" Whigham cut him off sternly. "Remember this for future reference. What Howard did isn't your responsibility."

Depp confessed, "I only asked Colson to rattle Martin's cage for $5 million. Didn't expect them to go all in like this."

He sighed, "They're something, those brothers of mine."

Back at the Columbia Building, the car descended into the underground parking lot. Depp alighted, instructing Whigham, "Handle it. Howard and his crew will assemble a top-notch legal team. Money's not an issue."

Whigham assured, "Consider it done."

Money, indeed, had a knack for smoothing out rough patches.

Depp added, "Settle with Martin Davis. Money talks, after all."

Whigham knew, dealing with Martin Davis wouldn't be a breeze, but he'd strive for the best outcome for Depp. He switched vehicles and sped off to attend to matters.

Back in his opulent mansion, Depp was interrupted by a call from his office.

"The situation's dire," his assistant fretted, "The tax bureau's swarmed in, citing your arrears. They've sealed the place, confiscated documents, everything."

Depp's disbelief was palpable. "Are they out of their minds? What's their game?" He turned to his concerned bodyguard.

"What's happened?" the bodyguard inquired, his brow furrowed.

"The tax bureau stormed in, sealed my office!" Depp exclaimed.

"Isn't that stuff usually handled by your tax team?" The bodyguard's concern deepened.

Depp hastily dialed his office. "You guys handle it for now. I'll sort this out," he instructed before ending the call.

Turning to the bodyguard, he ordered, "Head to the office and find out what's going on."

The bodyguard nodded and dashed off.

Meanwhile, Depp dialed Joel Mandel's number.

Before Depp could even speak, Joel's rushed voice came through, "Johnny, just about to call you. The tax bureau's on our backs, demanding your tax records and documents. What's the play here?"

Depp was dumbfounded. "But you and Robert handle all that for me. How can there be arrears? And why am I hearing about it now?"

"Isn't this what you instructed?" Joel's tone was matter-of-fact. "You even signed off on it. Said the money was temporarily diverted for other uses. You were to transfer it back later."

"That's absurd!" Depp seethed.

"Do you need copies of the contracts you signed?" Joel countered. "In 2008, tax money went into wine, 2009 saw cars for your friends, and 2010 was all about jewelry for Amber Heard..."

Depp was flabbergasted, claiming no recollection of such expenditures.

Joel continued, "Professional ethics aside, the tax bureau's delving into everything related to you. I've got to comply. Robert's negotiating, but you need your lawyer on this pronto."

Depp interjected, "Hold on..."

"Sorry, external calls are a no-go," Joel's line went dead.

Listening to the dial tone, Depp's muddled mind, influenced by alcohol and drugs, struggled to grasp the situation.

"What in the world have I gotten myself into? How did I land smack dab in the middle of this tax nightmare?" Johnny Depp muttered to himself, utterly bewildered. "There's no way I can put my signature on those papers! It's absolutely out of the question..."

As he pondered, a flood of memories rushed back to Depp. Images flashed through his mind, each one echoing a similar theme.

Whether it was Joel Mandel or Robert Mandel, every time a document or contract landed on his desk for signature in recent years, he'd skimmed through it, blindly trusting the Mandel brothers. He'd just listen to their explanations and sign away.

Little did he know, those documents were riddled with traps, and those two scoundrels had betrayed his trust.

Depp's anger surged, a fiery rush to his head. He reached for his phone, intent on dialing his lawyer. But then his eyes landed on the bottle of wine beside it, distracting him momentarily. Pushing aside the legal matters, he grabbed the bottle, twisted off the cap, and took a long swig.

As the alcohol flowed down his throat, Depp felt a jolt of clarity wash over him, his mind sharpening and his senses heightening.

"Stay calm, don't panic, we'll tackle this problem step by step," he admonished himself.

He rummaged through a drawer, retrieving a plastic bag and laying it out on the table.

Only with a lifted spirit could he muster the energy to confront these troubles head-on.

And so, Depp battled his demons first.

His phone buzzed again, but Depp felt like he was floating, too consumed to bother with the call.

When he finally stirred, the doorbell chimed insistently from the other side.

Depp called out to Amber, but there was no answer.

It dawned on him then that his wife was off hobnobbing with Silicon Valley bigwigs, dabbling in high-tech investments.

Depp's head cleared a fraction, memories trickling back. Hadn't Amber mentioned something about Elon Musk, the CEO of Tesla, recently?

With a sigh, he trudged to the door, peering through the video feed. The suits outside were unfamiliar.

"Who's there?" Depp's voice crackled through the intercom.

The leader flashed his credentials and official paperwork into the camera's lens. "I'm Paul Stone, Inspector General of the IRS Los Angeles Branch. Mr. Johnny Depp, you're under suspicion of tax evasion. Please cooperate with our investigation..."

Depp's head spun, the forgotten troubles resurfacing with a vengeance, crashing down on him once more.