Georgia conservatives are reeling after a longtime Republican leader admits to running a $140 million Ponzi scheme that has left hundreds of their own high and dry—so much for “trusting your own.”
At a Glance
- SEC accuses Edwin Brant Frost IV, a prominent Georgia Republican, of orchestrating a Ponzi scheme through First Liberty Building & Loan
- Roughly 300 investors—many from conservative Christian and Republican circles—face staggering financial losses
- Frost publicly claims “full responsibility” and vows cooperation, but the money is gone and so is the trust
- The SEC has frozen assets and appointed a receiver; criminal charges may still be on the table
Ponzi Promises in the Heart of Red Georgia
Edwin Brant Frost IV, a name synonymous with Georgia GOP activism, now stands at the center of a $140 million scandal that reads like a bad script out of the Bernie Madoff playbook. Frost’s firm, First Liberty Building & Loan, had been peddling “loan participation agreements” and promissory notes to a loyal crowd since 2014, promising annual returns between 8% and 18%. The pitch was straight out of the conservative playbook: invest in your community, support fellow business owners, and watch your nest egg grow—except the only thing growing was the hole in the ground where investor money vanished.
The SEC’s complaint, filed July 11, 2025, lays it all bare: by 2021, the so-called “loans” were failing, and the company was using new investors’ cash to pay off old ones. By late June, the jig was up. First Liberty shut its doors, suspending all payments—right as investors started asking uncomfortable questions about their supposedly “guaranteed” returns. It’s the same tired story: the only guarantee was that the people at the top would live large until the bottom finally fell out.
Conservative Values Used as Bait
Here’s the kicker: Frost and his operation didn’t target your average Wall Street types. They went after their own—Republican activists, churchgoers, and conservative stalwarts—pitching their investment scheme on right-wing radio shows and at GOP events. Erick Erickson, Hugh Hewitt, Charlie Kirk—if you listened to them, you probably heard the First Liberty pitch. This wasn’t just a financial scam; it was an exploitation of trust built on shared values, a betrayal that cuts deeper than any balance sheet loss.
Frost’s family is deeply woven into the Georgia Republican fabric, with his children holding local party positions. While neither are accused of wrongdoing, the optics are disastrous. The community that prides itself on self-reliance and traditional values now faces the uncomfortable reality that affinity fraud can wear a red tie and quote scripture with the best of them.
Regulators Step In—But Where Was the Oversight?
The SEC has moved fast, freezing assets and seeking to appoint a receiver to sort out the financial rubble. For now, First Liberty is defunct, its website a digital ghost town, its investors left holding the bag. The SEC’s Justin Jeffries bluntly warned that “the promise of a high rate of return on an investment is a red flag”—a line that would be funny if it weren’t so infuriating. Where was this scrutiny when Frost’s firm was advertising on every conservative airwave in Georgia?
Despite the SEC’s quick action, no criminal charges have been filed as of mid-July. Federal prosecutors are circling, but victims—many of whom put their life savings and retirement funds into what they thought was a safe, community-minded investment—are just hoping for some restitution. Frost’s attorney says he’s “resolved to spend the rest of [his] life trying to repay as much as I can”—the kind of empty promise only a lawyer could love.
Aftershocks: Erosion of Trust and Calls for Accountability
The fallout extends far beyond lost money. This debacle has shattered trust within Georgia’s conservative circles, raising hard questions about how easily affinity fraudsters can exploit shared ideology and faith. It’s a bitter pill, especially for those who believed they were helping fellow conservatives build a stronger community. Now, they’re left facing financial ruin—and the knowledge that, once again, government oversight arrived a day late and a dollar short.
Regulators are promising more scrutiny on private lending and promissory note schemes, especially those targeting political or religious communities. But for the roughly 300 families caught in this mess, that’s cold comfort. As for Frost, his public confession and pledge of cooperation may earn him sympathy in some quarters, but don’t hold your breath for a Hollywood ending. The only thing guaranteed in this story is that when it comes to your hard-earned money, trust—but verify, and never forget that crooks come in all colors, creeds, and party affiliations.
