Selling a Presidential Pardon for $30 Million
Over dinner with crypto figure Brock Pierce, Florida dealmaker Matt Argall laid out a startling proposition to Bitcoin evangelist Roger Ver: wire $10 million to a trustee to “set the process in motion,” then pay a $20 million success fee if a presidential pardon from Donald Trump came through. The bid fizzled, but the blueprint illuminates Argall’s method: big numbers, borrowed credibility, and a promise of access that’s hard to verify.
Argall cast himself as the fixer who could mobilize MAGA influencers, recast Ver as a target of prosecutorial excess, and get the case in front of senior decision-makers if Trump returned to the White House. He invoked Washington names, particularly Robert Wasinger, a 2016 Trump campaign veteran linked to a prior pardon, yet kept any formal commitments vague. Wasinger was not retained by Ver and declined comment through a spokesperson. Meanwhile, the White House emphasized that clemency moves through formal channels staffed by the pardon office and White House counsel, a process meant to be insulated from outside intermediaries.
The performance was quintessential Argall. As Bloomberg news found out, before touting eight-figure fees, he ran Tampa-area call centers selling weight-loss supplements like African mango and açaí. Acquaintances describe an indefatigable closer with a flair for theater: a bleached Mohawk, a LinkedIn sign-off reading “from the desk of Lord Argall,” and photos with boldface names to signal proximity to power. He cultivated the image of a connector who knew everyone and, crucially, could put them on the phone.
Pierce supplied crypto-world gloss. The ex-child actor turned Bitcoin Foundation chair moves in Puerto Rico’s money-and-politics circles and, at minimum, was willing to make introductions. In messages, he praised Ver’s contributions to the industry. On social media, Argall showcased their camaraderie—sunsets, cocktails, and talk of big plans. Argall later said he and Pierce estimated Ver’s wealth in the tens of billions, a number used to justify the breathtaking success fee.
Seeking legal heft, Argall introduced Ver to attorney Jesse Binnall, known for representing Trump in election-related matters. Binnall’s role was limited to a single call outlining general pardon mechanics; he did not endorse Argall’s financial terms. The White House reiterated that petitions are vetted by the pardon office and counsel before reaching the president, underscoring how little room there is for freelance brokers.
Matt Argall with girlfriend Valerie Haney
Argall’s own framing toggled between altruism and opportunism. He presented himself as a facilitator who might accept a payoff if his “guys came through,” or simply bank goodwill to seed future crypto ventures. Yet the facts undercut the sales pitch: no signed retainer, no confirmed senior-level advocates, and a would-be client who walked away.
Strip away the celebrity cameos and Trump-era spectacle and what remains is a crisp profile of Matt Argall’s playbook: find a high-dollar pressure point, hint at influential friends, and chase a life-changing commission on audacity and atmospherics. This time, the shortcut didn’t materialize, leaving Argall ambitious, noisy, and empty-handed.
