Chuck Darwin<p>Leo’s status as the world’s third most powerful figure soon made him a rich man. </p><p>During his time at the Federalist Society, <br>he had hardly been a pauper, <br>bringing in around $400,000 a year. </p><p>But with six children attending The Heights and Oakcrest, the two Opus Dei schools that charged up to $30,000 tuition annually per student, <br>and a burgeoning taste for good food and expensive wines, <br>it didn’t take long to burn through his salary. </p><p>But his life had taken a lavish turn after Trump’s victory <br>and his appointment as an unpaid advisor to the president on judicial appointments. </p><p>The dramatic uptick in his personal fortune dovetailed with his joining a for-profit entity called "CRC Advisors", alongside another CIC board member <a href="https://c.im/tags/Greg" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Greg</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/Mueller" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Mueller</span></a>. </p><p>Mueller had spearheaded the "National Organization for Marriage" vitriolic public relations strategy, <br>and <a href="https://c.im/tags/CRC" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>CRC</span></a> quickly established itself as the go-to advisory firm for the dark-money network of nonprofit entities that Leo had helped set up over the years. </p><p>Once again, the Corkery name was all over the money flow. </p><p>The majority of CRC’s income came from "The 85 Fund", <br>a dark money non-profit that Leo repurposed to fund conservative causes nationwide, <br>and that fund paid $34 million in fees to his new advisory firm over a single two-year period. </p><p>As the money rolled in, Leo began to enjoy some of the same luxuries as the billionaires he had spent years courting. </p><p>For most of his three decades in Washington, Leo had led a modest home life, <br>living for years in a small apartment in the Randolph Towers complex in downtown Arlington, <br>before moving to a single-story five-bedroom family home in suburban McLean in 2010. </p><p>But in the years since 2016, he had spent millions of dollars on two new mansions in Maine, <br>bought four new cars, <br>and hired a wine buyer and locker at Morton’s, an upscale steakhouse three blocks from the Catholic Information Center. </p><p>It was only a foretaste of what was to come. </p><p>In 2020, Leo stepped back from his duties at the Federalist Society to focus on the <br>dark-money network he had fostered as a side hustle during his time there. </p><p>With him, he took one of the Federalist Society’s biggest donors: <br>a manufacturing billionaire from Chicago called <br><a href="https://c.im/tags/Barre" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Barre</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/Seid" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Seid</span></a>, who was Jewish by heritage but who shared many of Leo’s conservative views. </p><p>Over two decades, Seid had pumped at least $775 million into campaigns for libertarian and conservative causes, <br>quietly transforming himself into one of the most important donors on the political right. </p><p>Almost ninety, Seid had decided to leave his money continuing that work <br>— and concluded that Leo was the man to oversee that largesse. </p><p>Leo had betrayed his bosses, who had tasked him with wooing the billionaire as a potential donor for the Federalist Society. </p><p>Instead, Leo had cultivated him for his own network. </p><p>Seid signed his business over to Leo, giving him control over a 🔥$1.6 billion war chest <br>and transforming him from a proxy for<br> dark-money donors into a donor himself.</p>