FILE - Kelly Campbell, one of the 21 people convicted for their involvement in the $17 million Loomis Fargo heist, awaits sentencing for her part in the theft at her mobile home near Mount Holly, N.C. on Aug 16, 1999. (John D. Simmons/The Charlotte Observer via AP)

CHARLOTTE, N.C. (AP) — During one overnight shift, a bumbling conspiracy of thieves just west of Charlotte stole more than $17 million from Loomis Fargo.

Paying the money back has taken a lot longer, and time is running out for the U.S. government to collect.

Turns out, most of the thieves and their accomplices have been about as effective coming up with their court-ordered restitution as they were hiding their original crimes.

Twenty people were convicted of roles big and small in the massive 1997 armored-car warehouse heist in west Charlotte. Fourteen defendants were ordered to make restitution payments to Loomis Fargo totaling almost $19 million.

Only a nickel on every dollar have been collected so far.

Loomis has received $978,983.79, according to Sally Butcher, an assistant clerk in the federal courts of the Western District of North Carolina who specializes in criminal debt. More than half of the amount came from the seizure of a luxury home purchased by husband-and-wife defendants during their post-heist spending spree.

That sounds like a lot of money — until it’s compared to the $18,930,201.26 the group was ordered to pay.

Restitution is a familiar part of sentencing in federal court. The figures can be astounding. In 2017, for example, Paul Burks of Lexington was ordered to pay $244 million to the victims of his worldwide Ponzi scheme, Zeek Rewards. Burks was also ordered to serve 15 years in prison, limiting his ability to balance his books.

A report by the General Accounting Office found that as of budget year 2016, $110 billion in restitution ordered by the federal courts was outstanding and that more than 90% of the amount had been classified as “uncollectible.”

The Loomis case is another example where the amount of restitution ordered vs. what is actually paid are two dramatically different numbers.

“That’s pretty standard in restitution matters. Some of that money is just gone. It’s in the ether. There’s no way to get it back,” Butcher told The Charlotte Observer. “And with Loomis, we’re looking at only one case. There are multiples of thousands of these things coming every year. We don’t have the manpower to track all that (restitution) money down … I pay (restitution to) thousands of people, but it’s in drips and drabs.”

On Oct. 5, the Loomis heist celebrates its 25th birthday. The theft — at the time the second-largest cash robbery in U.S. history — has been the brunt of mocking movies and books, mostly on how the thieves, who had little money to begin with, could not control their spending habits once they did.

The case resurfaced in the federal courts on Thursday, Sept. 1, when the U.S. Attorney’s Office in Charlotte posted a public reminder in the case file of Loomis defendant Kelly Campbell that she had fallen behind in her restitution. Campbell, a former Loomis employee and one of the original masterminds of the caper, has paid off less than $21,000 of the $4,701,694.18 she was docked.

According to Butcher, Campbell’s last official payment came in June 2021 when the government appears to have seized a tax refund of $81.24.

Jim Gronquist, Campbell’s defense attorney during the Loomis case, says the financial penalties levied against his client and her co-defendants are grossly excessive and unjust, particularly since most of the stolen Loomis money was actually recovered.

“Anybody who gets caught up in the system is getting chewed up by it,” the now-retired Gronquist told the Observer. “Why do we feel it’s so necessary to treat people like this, to say, ‘OK, we’ll just ruin the rest of your life because you made a bad decision.’

“Punishment should not last a lifetime. Punishment needs to be fair and realistic. You cannot fine low-income people millions of dollars. What purpose does that serve other than to denigrate that person into abject poverty?”

One number is working in Campbell’s favor. Federal law stops government collection efforts 20 years after a defendant leaves prison. Campbell was released from federal custody in 2004 after serving five years, meaning her collection case will age out in December 2024.

A few of the Loomis restitution cases have already been closed either because the amount was paid in full or because the 20-year clock wound down.

Many of the lesser players in the conspiracy have been the most effective in paying their debts. Thomas Grant, who served three years in prison for bank larceny, paid off restitution of $70,000; brother Eric Grant paid all of his $26,000; as did David Craig, $40,000; and Dennis and Sandra Floyd; $27,000.

The bigger the amount, however, the bigger the damages to victims that likely will never be repaid:

â-ª Amy Payne’s collection account was closed in 2020 with her having paid $53,000 of the $274,000 she owed.

â-ª Jeffrey Guller, who at 81 is by far the oldest of the Loomis defendants, still owes almost $1.1 million on his original court debt of $1.14 million and will remain on the government’s books for another four years. Records show the government has garnished his Social Security checks. Guller was the attorney for Steven Chambers, who came up with the original idea for the Loomis theft.

Some of the biggest numbers remaining on the Loomis collection board, as is the case with Campbell, belong to those who played the biggest role in the crime:

â-ª David Ghantt, the Loomis employee who loaded all that money — 2,800 pounds in all — into the back of a company van before escaping to Mexico, has paid just under $50,000 of the $3.81 million he was assessed. His collection case closes in two years.

â-ª Husband and wife Steven and Michelle Chambers, whose conspicuous consumption of a luxury home, a BMW convertible, breast implants and a $600 wooden Indian, among other purchases, helped the FBI solve the crime, were assessed $3.81 million and $4.8 million, respectively. His collection case, which closes in November 2026, got credit for the couple’s $540,000 house on Cramer Mountain in Gaston County, Butcher says. Michelle Chambers paid off only $27,000. Her case closes in 2025.

The Loomis defendants face no additional legal jeopardy for not paying off their debts. The government does not run debtors prisons, says U.S. Clerk of Court Frank Johns of Charlotte.

“You can garnish wages. You can seize property. But you can’t get blood from a stone,” Johns said. “Criminals don’t usually get high-paying jobs after leaving prison. Getting restitution, it’s like pulling teeth.”

Butcher says the federal courts in the Western District of North Carolina have never handled a case quite like Loomis. The biggest restitution numbers for victims of financial crimes generally involve Ponzi schemes or sweepstakes fraud, not cash thefts.

“White-collar criminals are pretty good at hiding their money,” she said. “These (Loomis) guys, not so much.”

In one case, the restitution for a Loomis defendant may be a moving target. Eric Payne got out of prison in 2006 for his role in the heist and has since paid $11,357 on his $292,000 debt. Next month, Payne will back in the Charlotte federal courthouse, this time to be sentenced from weapons and methamphetamine trafficking charges.

In Campbell’s case, Gronquist says his client was buried in court-ordered debt despite the fact that she took responsibility for what she had done and cooperated with prosecutors and the FBI. He says the Loomis case shows how the criminal justice system and the courts treat lower-income people differently.

“You’re supposed to get less time for cooperating, a lesser penalty, and instead, you see what she got hit with.” Gronquist said. “She will never get beyond the debt. What that says is, ‘We will never forgive you for what you’ve done.'”