Rashia Wilson has no trouble referring to herself as the Queen.
Not from Tampa. Not on social media. However, there is evidence of tax fraud. For a while, she proudly donned the crown.
Wilson flaunted her fortune in the early 2010s with luxury clothes, mountains of cash, and an extravagant $30,000 birthday party for her kid. "I'm Rashia, the Queen of IRS Tax Fraud," she wrote on Facebook. "I am a millionaire for the record. So, if you think indicting me is easy, think again!"
It wasn't merely a bold statement. It was a self-written condemnation, which would come back to haunt her.
A Crime That Paid—Until It Didn’t
Wilson orchestrated a high-stakes tax fraud scam from 2009 to 2012, resulting in millions of dollars in bogus refunds. Using stolen identities, she and her partner Maurice Larry filed thousands of fraudulent returns from her Tampa home and even area motels. The Treasury paid out more than $3 million in actual losses, and it could have paid up to $11 million if the scheme had gone undetected.
The money supported a lavish and very public lifestyle. One of the scheme's most infamous purchases. Wilson bought a $90,000 Audi with cash at a period when he had no legal income.
At the time, Tampa was regarded as one of the leading cities in the United States for identity theft-related tax fraud. The ease of getting Social Security numbers, along with the lack of IRS verification requirements, created an ideal climate for schemes like Wilson's to prosper. Investigators later stated that the scheme functioned nearly like a "factory of fake returns."
The Social Media Smoking Gun
The majority of fraudsters seek to remain anonymous. Not Rashia Wilson.
She boasted online with impunity, defying law enforcement to apprehend her. Her Facebook posts became so obvious that they were eventually used as evidence in her prosecution. One statement read: "I'm not going to jail for no tax fraud..." I'm not designed for jail. I'm attractive, but I talk a lot."
She was mistaken on both counts.
Prosecutors later stated that her social media activity was a "goldmine" for the investigation. While surveillance, wiretaps, and financial records laid the groundwork for the case, Wilson's own words provided a blueprint. Authorities had already been keeping an eye on her when they discovered the now-infamous post that led to the charge.
Courtroom Reckoning
Wilson pleaded guilty in 2013 to wire fraud, aggravated identity theft, and handgun possession. She was sentenced to 21 years in federal prison, one of the most severe tax fraud sentences in recent history.
The sentencing judge, James Moody Jr., was blunt: "She knew what she was doing was improper. She took pleasure in the crime and even wanted the IRS to arrest her."
Wilson filed an appeal and was allowed a brief resentencing hearing owing to a procedural error. However, in 2015, Judge Moody imposed the same punishment, claiming that Wilson's actions were unlawful and harmful to public trust.
Her attorneys contended that the previous sentence was harsh, particularly in comparison to white-collar prisoners convicted of identical crimes. However, the court determined that Wilson's flamboyance, recurrent identity theft, and use of guns contributed to the decision to give a longer sentence.
Fallout and Legacy
Rashia Wilson's case became a national spectacle. Media publications ranging from Forbes to the Tampa Bay Times examined how a combination of arrogance, greed, and social media oversharing elevated a local scam to national prominence.
Fraud prompted concerns about identity theft risks, particularly those involving refundable tax credits and prepaid debit cards.
In the years following Wilson's conviction, the IRS implemented further precautions. These included IP PINs for identity verification, delayed payments for returns seeking specific credits, and a crackdown on high-risk tax preparers. Wilson's case—and others like it—had a direct impact on those policy reforms.
The IRS has now added more stringent measures, but Wilson's case continues to be used as a cautionary tale in financial crime seminars and CPA training courses around the country.
What Now?
Wilson is serving her sentence at a federal penitentiary prison. She is set to be released in January 2031, assuming no additional appeals.
By then, the Facebook post that began it all will be nearly 20 years old. However, the warning it sends—to anyone who believes they are too smart or flamboyant to be caught—is eternal. And, for those who believe tax fraud is a faceless crime, Wilson's case demonstrates the real-world consequences: broken trust, devastated victims of identity theft, and a digital footprint that resulted in a prison sentence.
