Shirley Oyer, who just did a stretch in prison for a tax-fraud scheme, finds herself again in a bind with the IRS

Longtime Pitch readers might recall the colorful tale of Shirley Oyer and her eccentric family in Kansas City.

Oyer was the matriarch of a family that included a son who thought he was the second coming of John the Baptist, a religious prophet from antiquity. Another son clashed with city officials over the custody of his pet chimpanzee.

Oyer herself was a “branch manager” in an elaborate tax-preparation service run by Gerald Poynter II, who liked to be called “Brother Jerry Love.” Together with Oyer and others, Poynter pitched a fraudulent tax scheme to clients out of a Blue Springs karate dojo. The scheme, which involved more than 100 clients, essentially resulted in tax filers getting bigger refunds than they were actually due by over-reporting their withholding on interest income.

The feds came down on Poynter, Oyer and the rest in 2011, saying that their operation was the largest false-tax claims case ever in Missouri. Oyer, a septuagenarian, got off somewhat lightly. She spent six months in prison and then time on probation.

Oyer described prison camp as a “lovely place.” When she got out, one of the things she was supposed to do was cooperate with the IRS to file tax returns that she had neglected to turn in and pay what she owed to Uncle Sam. But she found herself back in federal court today, after probation officers and IRS agents complained to federal prosecutors that she wasn’t living up to her end of the bargain. They described Oyer’s resistance to paying back taxes and refusing to sign her tax returns from the last six years.

When she did sign them, she signed them as “Shirley Oyer — Agent.” The tactic has the smell of a sovereign-citizen approach to dealing with courts. Sovereign citizens often claim that the federal government has no authority over them and make all manner of strange legal arguments in an effort to tie up court proceedings.

These types of tactics tend to piss judges off. Indeed, U.S. District Court Judge Brian Wimes wasn’t in an especially charitable mood on Thursday. It might not have helped that Oyer sued Wimes and other federal prosecutors. The Pitch made a genuine attempt to make sense of her legal argument, but found it impossible to understand.

Oyer was at risk of going back to prison for violating the terms of her supervised release. 

Oyer’s attorney said his client was making an effort to work with an accountant and her children to get her tax situation straightened out.

Oyer herself pleaded for leniency from Wimes. 

“I’ll do whatever the court wants me to do,” she said softly. “I feel very sorry that this has taken up your time.”

Wimes then let her have it.

“Don’t give me this, ‘I’ve tried to do [my] best,'” Wimes told her. “You have not done your best.”

Instead of sending her back to prison, as federal prosecutors had hoped, Wimes gave Oyer a reprieve — a month to start cooperating with the IRS. If not, Wimes warned, she’s looking at a nine-month spell in federal prison.

“I’ll be back here to impose that sentence — trust me,” Wimes bellowed.