Sara King, a high powered lawyer in Orange County, had scammed investors out of $10 million. Her story splashed the headlines. But to this day, she says she’s no con artist. So what the hell happened? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
Chapter 1: What happened to Sarah King?
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I can sell anything. I can sell fire to the devil.
When I met Sarah King, she was an enigma to me. Brash, self-confident, optimistic, but also in peril. She'd gotten herself into a situation that no reasonable person would be able to fix. When I think about her, I can't help but think of the maze of traffic that is Southern California.
Four or five lanes of freeway packed tight, cars weaving in and out of lanes, searching always for the fastest path forward. We've all had our close calls. You catch an open stretch of road and some speed, and without even noticing, 65 miles per hour becomes 85. A slower car threatens to block you, and so you hang a left into the fast lane.
The road bends, the sun flashes in your windshield, and suddenly there are cars ahead of you. You don't know how you missed it, the swell of traffic, but there it is. You know that there's no way you'll be able to slow down fast enough. The lanes next to you are full. There's nowhere left to go. The split seconds before a crash feel like an eternity.
I wanted to know about Sarah King's final moments before her high-stakes joyride exploded everyone's lives.
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Chapter 2: How did Sarah King spend $10 million?
Newport Beach attorney Sarah King is now accused of living the high life and spending more than $10 million of other people's money.
November 11th, 2022 is when it all started to fall apart. Nighttime. Sara returned to her hotel room. Beautiful. One for more than 6,000 a night. Five rooms, gold, glittery, and high-end. They were like guest rooms at Versailles.
I wish I lived there now. It was all marble counters and, you know, those little round lights that you see on those makeup tables all around the mirrors. It was gorgeous.
French doors opened into a perfectly manicured lawn, a private pool, jacuzzi, sweeping views, and round-the-clock service.
The real amenity of being in a villa is the service, is the butler's service. I started with champagne for breakfast. You know, the butlers would come in with white gloves and feed my dog.
And the crown jewel of all this opulence? The bathtub.
It was like an infinity pool that would pour over and you don't know where it's going, but it's beautiful.
And it was all hers. And she saw herself as a good steward of the kingdom. She was, in her mind, royalty.
They loved me so much, I guess I took care of everyone so well, that they put a sign on my door that said the king.
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Chapter 3: What was Sarah King's life like before the scandal?
Chapter 4: How did Sarah King react when the hotel kicked her out?
The media vultures were circling. Sarah and her overnight infamy was a juicy scoop. And look, I wasn't any different as far as she was concerned, I'm sure. I hung a left on Sunset and parked in front of a fancy high rise building in Hollywood. I was in my banged up undercover Crown Vic. I turned off the engine and waited. Drank my double espresso. It was a steak out.
Then I saw what I was waiting for. One of Sarah's security guards exited the building and came out to the street. I jumped out. I handed the guard coffee and cookies. I asked if she would pass Sarah a note. The guard took the note and I waited. Hours later, I got the call.
Hi, it's Sarah King. I heard you're looking for me.
We made plans to meet at the one hotel. I sat in the lobby of the hotel, on the ground floor, the traffic on Sunset Boulevard a rumbling white noise. I was still kind of in disbelief. Why would she talk to me? I knew why I was there. To understand how she did it. To get inside her head. But how does this help her? Sarah walked in wearing Lululemon in sneakers. Casual. Classy.
But not the bombshell and head-to-toe Chanel I saw in photos. She looked a little too pretty. Perky boobs. Chestnut brown hair. Perfectly sprayed tan skin. But today she was tired, harried, a weight on her shoulders. She seemed to need my support and was hungry for validation in this way that took me aback. We sat in that hotel lobby for four hours straight.
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Chapter 5: What are the consequences of Sarah King's actions?
She was so open, ready to tell her story, to hold nothing back. Why? She had her reasons, rehabbing her image for one, a TV deal, maybe. I just wanted to know what the fuck happened. Soon I realized this was going to be harder than it looked. Her story was convoluted, slippery, like oil-slicked tires skidding after the first rain.
I was going to need something stiffer than a double espresso to untangle this mess. Orange County The sprawling metropolitan area south of Los Angeles that hugs the beach all the way down to San Diego. The cliches about this place are so worn out at this point that the treads are almost completely gone. Glittery, beachy, plastic, hot boys and beach babes.
The Real Housewives, the O.C., selling Sunset. Fake boobs in Italian sports cars. Newport Beach, where Sara grew up, is practically Mar-a-Lago West. The Orange Curtain, some say. But behind the sprawling beachfront mansions and the caviar and potato chip appetizers, there's a real darkness. Fast money, loose deals, and hustlers. That's the world that surrounded Sarah King.
A world most of us never get to see or hear about.
I often say that, like, You know, when you look around that town, the Ferrari is like the Toyota Camry of Newport Beach.
These days, that's not where Sarah is. She's living in a studio apartment next to a shopping mall in Irvine. It's more on the upscale side, the shopping mall, that is. But no Beverly Hills, that's for sure.
It's one of those condo worlds, walking distance to a steakhouse, a chain but still nice, turquoise, black and white color scheme, clean but thin carpet, a nice pool on the ground floor, but you can hear your neighbors snore. Sara lives here now with basically her whole family.
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Chapter 6: What insights can we gain from Sarah King's story?
We have my mom, my dad, myself, and my grandmother living in a studio apartment with three dogs.
Zara sleeps on the couch. Her parents sleep on the bed. And when I asked her how all that works, she had a simple answer.
Don't fucking take Prozac. That's the only way I would survive this at all. It just keeps me calm. Otherwise, I would lose my mind. I'd go insane.
Down the road past the golf course is Fashion Island, the iconic outdoor shopping center and hub of activity for Newport Beach. Think upscale shops, department stores, bars, and pricey restaurants. Sarah hung out here. She cut deals, sipped champagne, made things happen. Now things were different. Instead of shopping in the luxury section at Nordstrom's, she was working in it.
I applied for the job. I worked there for like four months in handbags. I sold handbags. And one day my manager told me, you have to go to the store manager. She wants to talk to you. I said, okay. So I go downstairs, and she told me, this is what we know about you. And I just said, yeah, that's true, but it's just the media. The case isn't even resolved yet.
I'm actually a great employee because I have to keep accountable. I have to always be here. And I was top sales, so go figure. But they decided to terminate me.
When I first met Sarah, her life was very much on the downswing. You know it's hard times when the regional manager at Nordstrom is like, bye bitch, good luck with the case. Sarah had come to believe that media reports of her had been overblown and unfair. She said she only took that job so that her mom wouldn't have to work anymore at that same Nordstrom's, which she does.
My mom had to go back to work. Mind you, she built an empire years ago.
This is a family who always lived on a golf course, belonged to country clubs. The condo world is the dumps.
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