How a Facebook Flex Landed the ‘Queen of Tax Fraud’ Behind Bars for 21 Years

Rashia Wilson had no problem calling herself the Queen. 

Not of Tampa. Not of social media. But of tax fraud. And, for a while, she wore the crown with pride. 

In the early 2010s, Wilson flaunted her wealth with designer clothes, stacks of cash, and an over-the-top birthday party for her daughter featuring a $30,000 price tag. “I'm Rashia, the queen of IRS tax fraud,” she posted on Facebook. “I'm a millionaire for the record. So if you think indicting me will be easy, think again!” 

It wasn’t just a bold claim. It was a self-written indictment, and it would come back to haunt her

From 2009 to 2012, Wilson ran a high-stakes tax fraud scheme that netted millions in fraudulent refunds. Using stolen identities, she and her partner Maurice Larry submitted thousands of fake returns from her Tampa home and even local hotels. The Treasury paid out over $3 million in actual losses and could have paid up to $11 million had the operation gone unchecked. 

The money fueled a lifestyle that was both extravagant and deeply public. One of the scheme’s most notorious purchases? A $90,000 Audi, bought with cash, at a time when Wilson reported no legitimate income. 

At the time, Tampa was considered one of the top cities in the U.S. for identity theft-related tax fraud. The ease of obtaining Social Security numbers, combined with a lack of IRS verification processes, made it the perfect environment for schemes like Wilson's to thrive. Investigators later said the operation was running almost like a "factory of fake returns."

Most fraudsters try to stay in the shadows. Not Rashia Wilson. 

She boasted online with impunity, even daring law enforcement to catch her. Her Facebook posts became so blatant that they were later entered as evidence in her trial. One read: “I’m not going to jail for no tax fraud… I’m not built for jail. I’m pretty, and I talk too much.” 

She was wrong on both counts.

Prosecutors later said her social media presence was a “goldmine” for the investigation. While surveillance, wiretaps, and financial records built the foundation of the case, Wilson’s own words handed them a roadmap. Authorities had already been monitoring her when they stumbled upon the now-infamous post that helped secure the indictment.

In 2013, Wilson pled guilty to wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, and firearm possession. She was sentenced to 21 years in federal prison, one of the harshest tax fraud penalties in recent memory. 

The sentencing judge, James Moody Jr., didn’t mince words, saying, “She knew what she was doing was wrong. She reveled in the crime and even invited the IRS to catch her.” 

Wilson appealed and was briefly granted a resentencing hearing due to a procedural issue. But in 2015, Judge Moody handed down the same sentence, asserting that Wilson’s behavior was criminal and corrosive to public trust. 

Her lawyers argued that the original sentence was excessive, especially when compared to white-collar defendants convicted of similar fraud. But the court found that Wilson’s flamboyance, repeated identity theft, and use of firearms contributed to the decision to impose a lengthier sentence.

Rashia Wilson's case became a national spectacle. Media outlets from Forbes to the Tampa Bay Times dissected how a combination of arrogance, greed, and social media oversharing turned a local con into a federal headline.

But it also exposed deep cracks in IRS systems at the time. The scale of Wilson’s fraud raised alarms about identity theft vulnerabilities, especially around refundable tax credits and prepaid debit cards.

In the years following Wilson’s conviction, the IRS rolled out new safeguards. These included IP PINs for identity verification, delayed refunds on returns claiming certain credits, and a crackdown on high-risk tax preparers. Wilson’s case—and others like it—played a direct role in shaping those policy changes.

Since then, the IRS has implemented more rigorous safeguards, but Wilson’s story still circulates as a cautionary tale in financial crime seminars and CPA training courses from sea to shining sea.

Wilson is serving her sentence at a federal correctional facility. Barring further appeals, she is scheduled for release in January 2031. 

By then, the Facebook post that started it all will be nearly two decades old. But the warning it sends—to anyone who thinks they’re too smart or too flashy to get caught—is timeless. And, for those who think tax fraud is a faceless crime, Wilson’s case shows the real-world consequences: broken trust, devastated victims of identity theft, and a digital footprint that turned her boasts into a prison sentence.