Innocent Spouse Relief

Posted on by stilllearning2b
innocent spouse relief

I’ve been receiving more questions about this program offered by the IRS, so I figured it was time to dedicate an entire post to the subject. Please note that I am not a tax expert (nor do I want to be!!!). I am simply sharing my experience, summarizing the information from the IRS and pointing you in the right direction for further resources.

From my book:

I received a notice that I had a certified letter ready for pick-up. My stomach dropped, as I had been conditioned to certified letters signaling more money owed or another bomb ready to drop. When the postmistress placed the stocky envelope in my hands, she uttered an apology.

“Sorry. It’s from the IRS. Nobody likes to get those.”

I thanked her and moved to the side of the room bracing myself against the green tiled wall as I slid my finger under to the flap to break the seal.

“We have determined that you are eligible for Innocent Spouse Relief.”

I let out a sharp cry as I slid to the floor, grasping the stapled pages in both hands. The tears began, falling from my eyes that tracked that single line again and again. The postmistress looked up, concerned. Leaving her current customer, she lifted the hinged counter section, kneeled next me, and inquired about my well-being.

“I’m great,” I said through the sobs. “I got Innocent Spouse Relief. The IRS gave me the justice the courts never did.”

“That’s great, honey,” she replied, looking equal parts relieved and confused.

Hours went by before I was able to read more than that single sentence. There was a 90-day waiting period where Timothy would have a chance to contest before they would issue a check. I did not care. I was fixated on that single word, “Innocent.” After enduring the months of attacks by Timothy and his attorney, and internalizing some his lies, I felt such relief at the conclusion reached by a third party.

I had long since given up my faith in labels, but that simple declaration from the IRS freed me from bonds I was not aware ensnared me, releasing me in the way that I expected from the court ruling.

My tax problem was one of several bombs in those first few days. My first indication of a problem came in a thick envelope just days after I received the text. The letter was very threatening in tone and it was clear it was not the first notice. It was simply the first notice that he couldn’t intercept. This one stated that we owed almost $3,000 for taxes from 2007. $3,000 that I didn’t have. And, to make matters worse, he had taken all of the financial files with him as well as the computer that was used to prepare the taxes. I had to order my own tax returns from the IRS to try to figure out what happened.

I had neither the constitution nor resources to go to battle with the IRS at that point. I was simply struggling to survive. So, using money gifted from family, I sent them a check. Over the next few months, two more letters came in about two different years. I cut two more checks.

I was furious. At this point, I had received the returns and discovered that he made false deductions. $10,000 to charity??? I probably dropped some stuff off at Goodwill but I don’t think my old jeans and some video tapes were worth quite that much. He had always been the one to prepare our taxes (yes, I trusted him completely) and, with electronic filing, I didn’t even have to sign in the later years.

I looked at the thousands I sent to IRS up as simply more money he stole from me. I lived in fear of another audit and more money owed. I tried to find comfort in the fact that the legal divorce at lease promised me that there would be no new tax problems cropping up.

Months after the divorce was final, my dad called me with some news.

“I just heard about a program with the IRS, innocent spouse relief, that I think may help you. I’ll send you the link.”

I remember clicking that link, skimming the fact page it led me to and starting to shake. It felt too good to be true. At that point, I had lost all faith in the system. My ex never followed the divorce decree, leaving me with a house entering foreclosure. He was already showing signs of failing to meet the requirements of his felony charge for bigamy (there’s currently a warrant for him). And, finally, it looked like the IRS could possibly, maybe provide some justice. It was a long shot; the majority of applicants for relief are turned down. But I was going to give it my best shot.

I printed out Form 8857, Request for Innocent Spouse Relief.  I had to chuckle when they asked me for his current location and contact information; he could have been anywhere from Georgia to hell – I had no idea and didn’t want to know. I completed the form as best I could. But I didn’t stop there. The form only provided a laughable three lines to explain the circumstances. I attached around forty additional pages of background story. Essentially, I was trying to get them to see the whole picture.

I assembled anything I could to help them understand what happened. I included the papers about his felony charge, emails from him that ensnared him in lies, reports from the police, the divorce decree (which indicated his liability to assume the tax debt) and evidence of his lack of participation in its demands. I even threw in his mug shot for a little flavor. I felt like an attorney assembling a case. Which I pretty much was. By the end, I complied a 4″ stack which I sent to the IRS in a box.

And then I waited. Periodically, I would receive letters that they were considering the case. Then, about six months later, I received the letter that stated relief would be granted. He had 90 days to contest it and he never did. I don’t even know if they ever found him. Over the next few months, I received checks refunding the extra tax that I had paid and now the debt is firmly on his shoulders.

A side note: Georgia also has a state income tax. The process with them – from the initial letter demanding payment to the final granting of relief – has run about two years behind the federal case. Luckily, I did not have to mail a box to the state; they simply required the letters of relief from the IRS. I’m not sure how the other states handle this, but I would expect it is much the same.

From the IRS website, you are eligible for innocent spouse relief if you meet all of the following conditions:

  • You must have filed a joint return which has an understatement of tax;
  • The understatement of tax must be due to erroneous items of your spouse;
  • You must establish that at the time you signed the joint return, you did not know, and had no reason to know, that there was an understatement of tax;
  • Taking into account all of the facts and circumstances, it would be unfair to hold you liable for the understatement of tax

Here’s the IRS list (with all of the if-thens that make you feel like you’re reading code!) that helps you determine your eligibility. Just reading it makes my head hurt.

You must also file within certain time limits (this used to be two years but has since been lengthened and made more variable depending upon type of relief requested. The IRS considers many factors in deciding whether to award relief. From what I call tell, they are looking for evidence that the petitioning spouse had no knowledge of the erroneous information, has made changes to remove themselves from the situation and was a victim in some way or incapacitated during the marriage.

Here are the factors that I believe helped my case:

  • The divorce decree stated that he held the tax liability.
  • He was charged with a felony (unrelated to taxes, but still indicative of fraud and deception).
  • He demonstrated a history of deception, financial and otherwise.
  • He removed the financial files from the house.
  • I immediately paid the monies owed as soon as I found out about them.
  • He prepared the taxes.
  • I documented the emotional and financial impact that the divorce and associated problems had on me.
  • I provided the IRS with multiple pieces of evidence for each claim as well as a thorough description of the situation.
  • He failed to uphold the conditions of the divorce decree or the diversion granted in the criminal bigamy case.

Innocent spouse relief is not easy to obtain. Like anything with the IRS, there are confusing forms and rules that seem to be an endless shifting target. There are tax attorneys that feed on this and offer their services – at a steep price of course – to help you with your case. I never had that option nor do I expect most people requesting relief have those kinds of resources idly sitting around.

My suggestion? If you think you qualify, set aside a weekend to print the form and assemble your case. It may be time well spent. And, if you’re like me, receiving an official document that names you an “innocent spouse” can be worth more than the checks that follow.

To contact the Innocent Spouse Relief department:

1-855-851-2009

IRS

Innocent Spouse

Stop 840-F

PO Box 120053

Covington, KY 41012

Related:

The First Tears of the New Year

An Open Letter to the IRS

Marital Fraud: Questions Answered

No One Said it Was Easy

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I read a post this morning that reminded me of a particular experience in my life.

For just over a year in my mid teens, I volunteered on the oncology floor of a children’s hospital.

Upon arrival each Sunday, my job was to open the playroom to the kids on the floor that were able to make the walk down the hall. Usually three or four of them would make it, pulling IV stands behind them and adjusting the masks strapped across their pudgy faces, swollen from steroids. All of the toys in the room were made of hard plastic to withstand the constant washing in bleach solutions in order to prevent the spread of infection. I had to watch carefully to make sure that after any toy was handled, it was carefully sanitized and dried before being returned to the bins or into another child’s waiting hands. You realize how much toddlers change their mind when each decision requires a two-stage sanitization process!

After the playroom was closed for the afternoon, I would pack up a cart with toys, games and puzzles and make my way down the hall to visit with the kids who were too ill to make the trek to the playroom. I would sit beside them on the beds and assist with puzzles or challenge them to a Nintendo game on their TV. With the kids undergoing bone marrow transplants, our visits had to occur through glass panes, the toys left outside for the nurses to carry in.

Although some faces were familiar from week to week, the oncology floor was a revolving door. Some kids were only there periodically for treatment. Others traveled to San Antonio for special care and then went back to their home hospitals. On the good days, the kids would be released with the hope of remission.

And, of course, many never made it out at all.

Those kids, with their scarf-wrapped heads, bloated or emaciated bodies and blistered lips, were powerful. Their bodies may have been broken and frail, but their spirits were stronger than any I’ve ever seen. I would watch them walk down the hall with only the slightest sharp intake of breath to indicate their pain before breaking out in a huge grin at the sign of the playroom.

Many of these kids had never known life without cancer. All they knew was days of pain, some more and some less. They grew skilled at navigating the endless cycle of hope and bad news.

And through it all, they accepted.

The first one shocked me.

“Miss Lisa. I’m not gonna see you next week.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“I’m gonna get to fly with the angels!” exclaimed the three-year-old girl, her face lighting up and her hands clasped beneath her chin.

I was taken aback. My initial reaction was to deny. Or to become sad. Or to distract her with something else.

But then I looked at her. And decided that I would let her tell me what to do.

“Flying with the angels sounds lovely. What do you think it will be like?”

We chatted for a few more minutes, the girl telling me all about her angels, until her mom came back towards the room. The girl leaned in and whispered, “I can’t talk about the angels when my mom is here. It makes her sad.”

I gave her a hug and left the room. I wasn’t surprised to see her picture on the memory wall the following week.

She was the first, but by no means the last.

“I need to give you an extra-big goodbye today cause this one’s for real.”

“Do you want me to tell the angels ‘hi’ for you?”

“Take care of the other kids for me.”

They were always right.

Each one came from a child between the ages of 2 and about 8. After that, and they reacted more like adults.

I watched those adults too. Often when I entered a room, the parents used that time to take a little break. I would see their posture fall as soon as they passed the threshold of the room’s door as though the strings on their puppet had been suddenly cut. They would sob, letting it out after holding it in for their kid. They would talk with each other and with the doctors, desperately looking for a way to make their kid okay.

But the kid usually was okay. Not physically, but in spirit. They knew when to fight and when it was time to let go. Much like my first experience, many of them would volunteer that they felt they needed to protect their parents and siblings.

“Tell my mommy I’m going to be okay.”

“I’ll have the angels. My mommy won’t have them.”

“Will you give my brother my teddy bear when I’m gone?”

What the kids sensed but had no words for was that they had acceptance. They were not fighting against what could be. What should be. All they knew was what was.

What the kids sensed but had no words for was that their parents were trying to find acceptance. To try to understand why their baby was being taken away so soon. They were fighting against the unfairness of it all. They were mourning the loss of their child and of the person he or she would become.

It was tragic to witness the adults.

So I focused on the kids.

And, in so many ways, their lives were terrible. All too brief and filled with so much hurt.

But they didn’t dwell on that. Didn’t waste energy on saying that it was unfair. They didn’t hold back their giggles or their grins.

Instead, they shared their spirit with each and every person they met. They became the angels here on earth.

During periods of loss and struggle in my own life, I have thought back to those little angels and tried to remember their lessons of peace and acceptance.

To all the families who have lost children due to cancer, my heart goes out to you. I saw your pain but I cannot imagine its depths. I hope you have received the gift of an angel from your child, watching over you to make sure that you’re okay too.

The Vow

Posted on by stilllearning2b

vow

Life Flipper

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My best friend not only gave me a place to stay after my divorce (Wanted: The Ronald McDonald House for the Recently Separated), she also provided me with the best line ever when people needed to know something about my situation but I didn’t want to get into the whole messy tale:

I’m in the middle of a major life renovation.

It was perfect. It implied major change but also had a way of discouraging further questions.

It felt like the life renovation from hell. It was like I purchased a home that passed inspection only to find out years later that the foundation had fatal flaws and dry rot was eating the home from the inside out.

I traded in my well-manicured life for one that required hard hats and knee pads. I had to tear my beautiful life down to the studs and slowly rebuild as I was able.

For a time, I stood in the remains of my life and stared in disbelief at the carnage. I remembered it as it was. I wanted it as it was but it was impossible to recreate what had been destroyed. Eventually, I began to have a vision of what it could become. It didn’t need to be the same. I could rebuild my life better than before.

I kept some things the same in my new life. Other areas no longer served me and I chose to eliminate them altogether or repurpose the space for something else.

It was a slow process. I had to fight the urge to decorate my life before I secured the structure and patched the holes in the roof.  I had help on more days than not, my family, friends, coworkers and professionals stopping by to raise a wall or sand a rough edge.

Slowly, my new life began to take shape. The new only vaguely resembling the old.

I may not have anticipated this major life renovation, but I knew that with the right tools and the right help I could succeed.

And I have. The foundation is solid. The dry rot is gone. The walls are sturdy and the windows clean. Now I get to do the fun part and add the details that make the house a home and the life MY life.

Forget Flip My House. I could be the star of Flip My Life.

And, yes, if you can’t tell, I still have paint chips on the brain:) Should be moving in less than two weeks!  My challenge now is to pace myself so that I don’t get sick(er)…I wish I could meet all my new students for the year without also meeting their germs!

 

The Spark

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I remember well the first time I felt that spark. My husband had left only months before and I was still reeling from the loss. I knew that I wanted to love again, to be in love again,  but, at the time, that desire felt like an impossible dream. I was beginning to question whether I still contained the capacity to feel passion. To bond. To trust. My world was filled with pain and pain was the only language I was fluent in.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.