Ex-TV news anchor Stephanie Hockridge convicted in massive scheme to fraudulently obtain COVID relief funds
A jury in the Northern District of Texas found Hockridge guilty on one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud. She was acquitted on four additional counts of wire fraud. Sentencing is scheduled for Oct. 10.
Hockridge's conviction was announced on Friday.
Advertisement
6 Stephanie Hockridge is a former television news anchor who worked in Phoenix.
Facebook / Stephanie Hockridge
6 Hockridge was convicted of one count of conspiracy to commit wire fraud.
Facebook / Stephanie Hockridge
According to federal prosecutors and investigative reports, Hockridge and her husband, Nathan Reis, fraudulently obtained over $300,000 in Paycheck Protection Program (PPP) loans for themselves, including one application that falsely claimed he was a veteran and an African American.
Advertisement
The couple's Scottsdale-based fintech firm, Blueacorn, which they co-founded in 2020, processed over $12.5 billion in PPP loans — with somewhere between $250 million and $300 million going to the company's ownership — including Hockridge.
Blueacorn received over $1 billion in taxpayer-funded processing fees for facilitating PPP loans but spent less than 1% ($8.6 million) on fraud prevention and only $13.7 million on eligibility verification, according to a congressional investigation.
6 Hockridge and her husband, Nathan Reis, are alleged to have fraudulently obtained hundreds of millions of dollars in PPP loans.
KPNX
The PPP was an $800 billion federal loan initiative launched in 2020 to help small businesses keep workers employed during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Advertisement
It was part of a broader effort — including grants, tax credits, and emergency loans — aimed at stabilizing the US economy and preventing mass business closures and layoffs.
Investigators alleged that the couple used the proceeds to enrich themselves personally.
Congress said it obtained a video created by Reis and Hockridge showing off large amounts of cash in a bar on Dec. 21, 2021. According to public records, Reis relocated to San Juan, Puerto Rico, which has no capital gains tax, following his work at Blueacorn.
An Oct. 8, 2021, video obtained by congressional staffers which was geolocated to San Juan showed Hockridge and Reis on the balcony of a luxury beachfront apartment.
Advertisement
According to a congressional report, Blueacorn routinely failed to properly vet applicants and charged illegal 'success fees' to borrowers — violating Small Business Administration rules.
6 The couple is alleged to have pocketed anywhere between $250 million and $300 million in profit as a result of the scheme.
Facebook / Stephanie Hockridge
The congressional report detailed how Blueacorn's leadership instructed staff to prioritize speed over accuracy.
Internal messages showed reviewers were told to 'push through' questionable applications, ignore red flags, and skip identity checks unless fraud was 'extremely obvious.' Some staff processed hundreds of loans with no training — sometimes within 30 seconds each.
6 Reis is alleged to have fraudulently obtained loans by claiming he was black.
Facebook / Stephanie Hockridge
The subcommittee also uncovered the existence of a 'VIPPP' program that allowed high-dollar clients to bypass standard review protocols. Founders dismissed smaller loan applicants with phrases like 'delete them,' 'who f–king cares' and 'they go elsewhere.'
Hockridge, 42, was once a familiar face in Arizona households. She spent seven years as an anchor at KNXV-TV, the ABC affiliate in Phoenix, and had previously worked as a reporter for CBS News Radio in London.
She was nominated for an Emmy and named 'Favorite Newscaster' by Arizona Foothills Magazine.
Advertisement
Reis is scheduled to stand trial in August 2025 on related charges. Prosecutors allege he played a lead role in directing the company's operations and handling its financial distributions.
6 Hockridge spent seven years anchoring the news at KNXV-TV in Phoenix.
Facebook / Stephanie Hockridge
Hockridge's conviction marks one of the highest-profile PPP fraud cases to date involving a public figure.
Fraud related to COVID-19 relief programs was unprecedented in US history, with losses estimated in the hundreds of billions — possibly up to $1 trillion.
Advertisement
The PPP, Economic Injury Disaster Loans (EIDL) and unemployment insurance programs were especially vulnerable — with watchdogs reporting widespread misuse, insider abuse and systemic failures in fraud prevention.
The Post has sought comment from Hockridge and Reis.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
New York Post
16 minutes ago
- New York Post
Two to tango: Dancer claims rep was ruined by NYC shrink who accused him of spiking drink
It takes two to tango but apparently just one after-party to ruin a reputation. A suburban Seattle man and tango enthusiast claims a gin-soaked late-night gathering at a California Airbnb with his fellow dance lovers left him shunned when one later accused him of spiking the drinks. Eduard Koller showed up at a small gathering after the March 2023 Southern California Tango Festival with tequila and 'a gin-based cocktail' in hand, according to a lawsuit. The party broke up without incident and Koller, 55, took an Uber back to his hotel along with four of his party guests. Eduard Koller claims he was never alone with his accuser and never spiked anyone's drink. Eduard Koller/Facebook But a year later, Koller claims he was barred from a tango marathon in Massachusetts because the co-organizer believed he'd been 'inappropriate,' he said in Manhattan Supreme Court papers. James Oh allegedly told the Redmond, Wash. man only that he'd received 'multiple credible claims of inappropriate and harmful behaviors by you. And I'm not comfortable letting you be part of any event I'm organizing or co-organizing,' according to the litigation. Nimroody and Koller only met three times, he said in court papers. Tehela Nimroody /Facebook Koller later learned Upper East Side psychologist Tehela Nimroody had accused him of tampering with her beverage during the California after-party, he said in legal papers. The pair were not alone during the party in question and 'did not share any other type of relationship or interactions' aside from meeting at three tango events between 2022 and 2024, Koller claimed. Nimroody allegedly ignored a Facebook message Koller sent seeking to clarify her claim, he noted. Koller is seeking unspecified damages and wants a court order barring Oh and Nimroody from posting any 'defamatory and injurious content' about him. Oh declined comment on the litigation. Nimroody did not respond to messages.
Forbes
an hour ago
- Forbes
This Florida Homebuilding Billionaire Doesn't Own Any Stocks Or Bonds
On an average weekday morning at 5 a.m., homebuilding billionaire Pat Neal starts readying himself for work while mulling over the stock and bond markets. 'Thought processes usually begin in the shower and are completed by 8:00 in the morning,' he says, and include asking himself: ''What is the 10-Year T-Bill going to do today?'' But Neal doesn't hold any treasury bills. In fact, he doesn't own any bonds at all—or any public stocks. He follows those markets to predict how their activities will impact the spending patterns of home buyers. As for himself, though, nearly all of his $1.2 billion fortune is parked in his homebuilding company Neal Communities, which has put up 25,000 houses, all in Florida. 'I like controlling my own future,' explains Neal, 76, who has been reinvesting in the business since founding it in 1970. 'I don't live an expensive lifestyle. And my retirement is my business. We don't need [retirement funds] because we're not going to retire.' When Neal—who pays himself a $150,000 salary—requires additional cash, he sells undeveloped home lots. He owns about 26,000, some in JVs or with his sons, and estimates their average value at $50,000 to $150,000 apiece. Neal's earliest forays into investing were more diversified. The former Florida state senator learned myriad ways to make a buck while growing up in Des Moines, Iowa in the 1950s and '60s: He bottled and sold detergent. He mowed lawns. He had paper routes. He used his truck to drive around a handful of peers and rent out their cleaning and hauling services. By the time he was in high school, he was earning thousands of dollars a year—sometimes more than his mother, a schoolteacher. He made his first investment in the mid-1960s, around age 16: 100 shares of Iowa Beef Packers, the meatpacking pioneer. He remembers buying them for about $1,500 (roughly $15,400 in today's dollars), or $15 a piece, in the mid-'60s. He held the stock until his sophomore year of college, when he estimates that he sold it for about $3,000 (around $26,900 today)—doubling his investment. His luck didn't hold. Neal's first stockbroker encouraged him to invest in the Delta Corporation of America, a mobile home loan servicer based in Florida, in the early 1970s. He purchased 100 shares at $28. After briefly hitting $34.50 in October 1971, the stock tumbled following a bad earnings report and just kept falling. The broker encouraged Neal to lean in, so he did—right up until Delta dissolved in the middle of the decade. 'He asked me to buy an average down at $14. I bought that, and I rode it down to $0.' (His broker left the business and became a butcher.) Neal says he did 'just as well' with his second broker, and so stopped buying into the market altogether after 1972. The strategy he now prefers is to invest solely in the industry that he knows best: homebuilding. 'My sons and I know more about land buying opportunities than anybody,' he says. 'We spend our days driving properties, calling friends, watching the obituaries, listening to what's happening, to make sure that we can make good land purchases. My investment strategy is to buy land ahead of growth.' That tactic brought him one of his best-ever purchases: 1,087 acres at the LeBamby Hunting Preserve in Sarasota County, which he bought in the late 1980s for about $0.10 per square foot and sold in the '90s and early '00s. 'They didn't know the interstate was coming,' he says. 'And when the adjoining roads got through, I was able to sell some of the property at $57 a square foot.' Another particularly big score came when he and his son John paid the City National Bank of Florida $6,000 an acre for a plot of land that was in foreclosure in 2014. He developed it and sold parts for $250,000 an acre last year: 'They didn't know the value of their property.' 'Investing is a knowledge business,' says Neal, who recommends the books of investors Seth Klarman and Peter Lynch for treatises supporting that motto. 'Unique knowledge should allow you to have better than average returns.' More from Forbes Forbes Korean Internet Giant Kakao Teams With OpenAI To Jumpstart Growth By John Kang Forbes How This Chicago Private Equity Firm Scored The Biggest Exit Of 2025 By Hank Tucker Forbes Red States–And AI–Are Big Losers From Trump's Clean Energy Massacre By Christopher Helman Forbes An Arms Dealer Joins Silicon Valley's Military Boom By David Jeans Forbes This Startup Built A Hospital In India To Test Its AI Software By Amy Feldman
Business Insider
2 hours ago
- Business Insider
I moved from the US to Argentina for the lower cost of living. It helped me pay down student debt, but living abroad had its dark side.
I'm from America, but I couldn't achieve the American dream if I stayed in the States. I graduated from college on the heels of 2008's Great Recession. It seemed like nobody was hiring. I built a career writing for travel magazines and news outlets to keep up with student loan payments that started at around $900 a month. When COVID hit, I lost clients, and my financial situation became dire. Loans and rent gobbled up nearly $2,000 a month before car payments. I moved in with my sister and then tried living in a dirt-cheap trailer, but I couldn't make up for the income I lost. In 2021, I decided to leave my life in the US and move to Argentina with my two dogs. I hoped the lower cost of living abroad would help me slash expenses and reduce my debt. For a time, everything clicked. I saved money and began paying down debts, but with the financial success came a darker side to living abroad. I struggled to connect with locals, and my isolation led to full-blown depression. As Argentina's economic situation and my mental health floundered, I decided to move to Albania. I'm hopeful it's the solution I've been searching for. Living in Argentina helped me pay down my loans When I searched for a new home outside America, I knew I needed a country that allowed longer-term stays, was affordable, and would let me bring a pitbull. In March 2022, I moved to Buenos Aires, Argentina, which met all my criteria. As a freelance writer with US clients, I didn't need any work approval, and I could keep extending my stay as a tourist by crossing the border every three months. I did fumble a bit with the local Spanish dialect — it took me far too long to discover "ll" sounds like "sha," so tortilla was pronounced tor-ti-sha. But I got by. At the time, one US dollar traded for around 110 Argentine pesos. However, the unofficial exchange rate, which was used widely by locals although it's considered illegal, increased the dollar value to 200 pesos. When I moved to Argentina in 2022, inflation rates were astronomically high, but as someone who didn't earn in pesos, the move still slashed my costs significantly. Aside from no longer having a car payment, my pre-paid mobile number cost around $4 a month, while my gym membership ran close to $15. Locating a place to stay using local real estate agents took time, but I eventually landed a fully furnished apartment, decorated in what I'd call a dumpster-dive chic aesthetic. It cost me $400 a month, including utilities. In Arizona, my rent, car payment, and utility bills cost $1,635. With the reduced cost of living and clients slowly returning post-COVID, I made good progress on paying down my debt. The financial benefits didn't last long After Argentina's 2023 presidential election, things started to change. The newly elected Javier Milei immediately slashed utilities and transportation subsidies and devalued the peso. Poverty rates reached their highest level in two decades. The impact was felt across the country, and my own rent and utility costs living in Buenos Aires increased significantly. I'd also been struggling with a growing sense of loneliness since moving to Argentina. Despite my best efforts, I hadn't made close friends, and I began experiencing bouts of depression. I stuck with it because of the progress I'd made with paying down my debt, but the economic changes were making loan repayments more difficult. Then, one of my two dogs died. I knew I needed to make a change before my emotional state declined even further. With the same parameters as before, I set out looking for an affordable country to move to As someone who enjoys staying on top of travel trends, Albania piqued my interest. The coastal photographs looked so nice that I thought they were AI-generated. I noticed US passport holders could enter for a full 12 months as tourists without applying for a residency permit. In April 2025, I moved into a furnished two-bedroom apartment in Tirana, Albania's capital city, for roughly $600. With utilities, the first month cost $650. Albania still remains somewhat of a new expat destination. It doesn't have the brand appeal of Spain or Italy, but locals I've asked have noticed a big increase in outsiders in recent years. Albania's economy seems stable, which should provide me with predictable monthly expenses. I'd say most things are cheaper here than in Argentina. A cup of coffee costs me just $0.59 per cup. It will take some time to figure out how much spare cash I'll have to pay off debt at the end of the month, since there are resettling costs involved in a move, like buying new dishes and a vacuum cleaner for the ever-shedding dog. I'll be happy if my expenses start to look remotely close to what my early Argentina days were like. I've learned you can't be prepared for everything when you move abroad When I moved to Argentina, I thought I was prepared. I'd researched the country and its occasionally volatile economy, which was financially beneficial to non-peso earners. But moving abroad involves handing over power. Hopping on a plane and settling somewhere new is invigorating, but also terrifying. You can't account for the unknowns. I chose Argentina for financial gain, but had no idea I'd struggle making friends, or that the extended isolation would lead to depression. I still wouldn't change anything about this difficult patch — it's part of my journey. The digital nomad experience is fluid, and your experiences aren't always positive. This fluidity has washed me into Albania. The country's friendly nature makes me hopeful my life will improve not only financially but mentally as well.
