Plagiarism Inc.

Jordan Kavoosi built an empire of fake term papers. Now the writers want their cut.

When talking about disgruntled former writers, Kavoosi downplays the accusations. He says there have been a few unhappy ex-employees who still hold a grudge, but that's not unusual for a burgeoning business.

"I think it's really common with any new company," Kavoosi explains. "With Menard's you have it. With Home Depot you have it."

IN MID-MARCH, a Dakota County County sheriff's deputy approached Morse-Kahn outside her apartment in Linden Hills with papers documenting a restraining order Kavoosi had filed against her.

Hannah Delon
Hannah Delon

"I have tried to resolve this matter by phone and email, however she showed no intrest in that and told me several times that all she wants is to destroy me and my business," Kavoosi complained in a report filed with police. "She has posted on internet and my website very negative things about me and my business and caused some of my customers to stop working with me ($5000 loss). Eventualy, I will sue her for slander and defamation of character."

At a court hearing for the restraining order, Kavoosi accused Morse-Kahn of being responsible for his business losing thousands of dollars in sales from writers and customers she scared off.

"We have lost potential writers because they say that we are a scam, which we are not," Kavoosi testified to Dakota County Judge Tim Wermager. "In fact, we are one of the few American writing, essay writing companies and we try, I try, my absolute hardest to make sure that we are as legit as it gets. That is what makes us so unique."

Kavoosi's dad, who works for the company, took the stand to testify as a character witness. His son didn't have the best people skills, his father told the court, but he was an honest businessman.

"So wait," asked Judge Wermager, clearly perplexed. "I want to make sure that I understand this business: So, if I am a student and I have to do an essay, I can contact your company and somebody will, if I pay whatever—?"

"Yep," interjected Kavoosi's father.

"Somebody will write an essay for me?"


"And then the student takes it and turns it into the teacher, the professor, and says, 'Here is what I wrote'?"


"So, the students are basically lying?"

In the end, Wermager threw out the restraining order. There simply wasn't enough evidence against Morse-Kahn to support Kavoosi's claims.

"It seems to me, based on what you just told me, that in terms of libel, slander, defamation, and all of that, both sides are bordering on it, depending on where you are posting and who you're telling," Wermager pronounced.

In rendering his verdict, the judge couldn't help but remark on the absurdity of the situation.

"It strikes me as almost comical," Wermager opined. "If nothing else, this hearing has been enlightening to hear that we now have Harvard grad students submitting papers written by others. It's unbelievable."

UPON REQUEST, KAVOOSI pulls up a spreadsheet of the company's profits. In May, the enterprise made more than $21,000, the records show. In April, the plagiarism business hauled in $43,000.

"Wow, what?" Kavoosi says, leaning in toward the computer screen and squinting to read the numbers, surprised by the magnitude of his own success. "We did $43,000 in a month? What the heck? Where did all that money go?"

For Kavoosi, the future always looks bright. Next he's looking at renting space in the Burnsville Mall, where he hopes to attract more foot traffic. From there, he hopes to continue to grow the company, possibly franchising to other mall locations. He envisions a day when he has hundreds of writers on the payroll, churning out reams of plagiarized papers for the nation's callow youth.

"I only went to college for a year," he says, flashing a satisfied grin. "And everyone working for me has a four-year degree."

There is only one last matter: What do the tattoos on his forearms mean?

Kavoosi explains that the one on his right forearm is the Chinese character for "peace." Then he points to the one on his left arm. "This one's a cover-up," he confirms.

A few years ago, Kavoosi walked into a tattoo parlor and asked to get the Chinese character for "self-discipline" on his left forearm, which he thought was an accurate description of his life, he explains.

He went back to his job at Dairy Queen. It was there that a customer took notice of the tattooed symbol. She asked Kavoosi if he knew what it meant.

"Yeah," he replied, "self-discipline."

"No," the customer corrected. "It means 'deceptive.'"

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