In a story stranger than fiction, a Los Angeles dentist named Aamir Wahab has traded in porcelain veneers for prison bars after orchestrating a million-dollar dental fraud scheme targeting the NBA’s healthcare plan. Wahab, sentenced to three years behind bars, is a stark reminder that greed can have a nasty bite, even for those peddling pearly whites.
The tale revolves around a web of ambition, fabricated procedures, and juicy kickbacks that’d make even Shaquille O’Neal blush. Wahab, fueled by a text message urging him to “get me the whole NBA,” embarked on a mission to fleece the league’s healthcare plan through a mountain of bogus invoices. His targets? Former players lured into the scheme with promises of easy money and, ironically, healthy smiles.
Terrence Williams, a former Boston Celtics swingman, played the role of the ringmaster. He orchestrated the scam, ensnaring over two dozen individuals, including ex-NBA players like Keyon Dooling and Glen “Big Baby” Davis. Dooling, seduced by the prospect of financial gain, even acted as a recruiter, bringing more retired players into the fold.
Wahab’s dental practice, ironically named “Unforgettable Smiles,” became ground zero for this elaborate hoax. Fake invoices showcasing extensive (and fictional) dental work on players’ teeth were churned out like clockwork. One of the few to reject plea deals, Davis stood his ground in court but ultimately found himself convicted by a jury.
But the saga doesn’t end there. Enter Will Bynum, a former Detroit Pistons point guard. While cleared of healthcare fraud and wire fraud, Bynum still faced the music for conspiring to make false statements. His accomplice? Patrick Khaziran, alias “Dr. Pat,” a chiropractor whose Los Angeles sports rehabilitation facility became another cog in the fraudulent machine.
The scheme unraveled with the tenacity of a full-court press. Text messages unearthed by prosecutors exposed the ugly underbelly of the operation, revealing heated exchanges between Williams and Wahab over unpaid kickbacks. Greed can turn even the most sparkling smiles into grimaces.
Wahab’s sentence reflects the severity of his actions. His “sheer greed,” as prosecutors aptly put it, had far-reaching consequences. Not only did he defraud the NBA’s healthcare plan of a hefty sum, but he also tarnished the reputations of those involved, both players and medical professionals.
This case is a chilling reminder that even seemingly unassuming professions can harbor nefarious ambitions. It’s a cautionary tale for athletes, dentists, and anyone tempted by the siren song of easy money. In the end, shortcuts built on deceit inevitably lead to a slam dunk of a different kind: one served up by a judge, not a cheering crowd.
