I first met Frithjof around twenty years ago. He and his family used to camp on three beachfront lots they owned in Tankah, Mexico—just north of Tulum Beach—where I was in the process of building what would later become known as Turtle Heart Villa. Many years after construction was completed, I happened to reconnect with Frithjof, his wife Karolin, and their son Felix. As neighbors along the same beach, we quickly rekindled a friendly relationship.

Frithjof shared how much his family had always loved the area and how they had admired Turtle Heart Villa throughout its construction. (Visit: TurtleHeartVilla.com) He emphasized the environmental importance of the property, noting that it served as a vital nesting site for hundreds of sea turtles each year. Of course, I already knew this—it's precisely why I chose to purchase the lot in the first place. Frithjof told me they had once tried to buy the land but had missed the opportunity because it was already under contract.

After several in-depth conversations, I came to appreciate Frithjof’s passionate concern for environmental preservation and turtle protection along the beach. One evening, after sharing a few drinks, we climbed to the roof of the villa to watch the sunset and the waves crashing along the shore. It was during that moment that Frithjof mentioned Plant-for-the-Planet, the global nonprofit founded by his son, Felix. He spoke of the organization as his life’s mission and even referred to himself as “the Steve Jobs of the environment.” His description of its international accomplishments was undeniably impressive.

As we continued meeting for dinners and drinks at the villa, I learned more about Frithjof’s ambitions in real estate development throughout Mexico. He was very open about the extent of his real estate holdings. Given my own extensive background in real estate, our conversations naturally turned to his development projects on the Yucatán Peninsula. However, the more I learned, the more questions I began to have. While Frithjof portrayed himself as a global environmental advocate, he was also deeply involved in large-scale development projects that would inevitably require clearing significant portions of jungle habitat.

During one of our conversations, I casually mentioned that I was considering selling Turtle Heart Villa. My partner had recently passed away, and it felt like the right time to move on. I had become immersed in my own initiative—the Patriot Soil Project, which, somewhat ironically, focuses on planting trees across America. (Visit: PatriotSoil.org) Frithjof was immediately intrigued by my intention to sell and expressed a strong desire to purchase the villa for his family, emphasizing once again how much they had always loved the property.

I was genuinely excited about the prospect of Frithjof purchasing Turtle Heart Villa. I knew how much he loved the property and believed he would honor its natural beauty—especially the vital role it played as a nesting ground for sea turtles. After several conceptual conversations, we began negotiating the terms of the agreement in earnest.

Frithjof proved to be a tough, strategic negotiator. At times, he came across as slightly naïve, but beneath that exterior was a sharp, calculated mind. He was clearly no novice. The negotiations stretched over three months—a reflection of the complexity involved. As anyone experienced with real estate in Mexico will tell you, the devil is always in the details. Transactions there can be fraught with legal complications, hidden costs, and potential corruption if you're not careful.

Having spent nearly two decades living in and navigating Mexico’s real estate landscape, I knew the risks well. I'd heard countless horror stories—from friends, expats, agents, and developers—about corruption, extortion, unexpected tax burdens, and legal nightmares that could drag on for years. I was determined to protect myself and ensure every aspect of our agreement was airtight.

Eventually, we reached a formal agreement: the sale price for Turtle Heart Villa would be $1,650,000 USD. At Frithjof’s request, I generously granted a full year to close the deal. In return for this flexibility, I insisted on a $350,000 non-refundable deposit—a condition I emphasized repeatedly. This key term was clearly stated in every draft of the agreement exchanged between us. Frithjof even said, verbatim, “If I can’t close the deal, you deserve to keep my deposit.” It sounded fair and straightforward.

Mindful of the many hidden costs in Mexican real estate transactions, I also required that Frithjof cover 100% of the closing expenses, including legal fees, capital gains taxes, and all other associated costs—bringing the total amount he would need to close to approximately $2.1 million USD. That’s a significant sum to bring to the table in cash. However, given his experience in Mexican real estate and the fact that he had his own legal team, I knew he would be in a strong position to minimize costs and avoid falling prey to unscrupulous legal operators—a known risk for foreign sellers.

Initially, I wasn’t sure he could raise that kind of capital, especially with a one-year timeline. In Mexico, it's difficult to verify someone’s true financial position—so at some point, a degree of trust is required. But Frithjof assured me that funds were coming in from Germany, and he even suggested he might be able to close much sooner than planned. I reasoned that anyone willing to place $350,000 at risk must have substantial financial backing and confidence.

With a year ahead of us, I expected we’d become much better acquainted. The ninety days it took to finalize our agreement already gave me a glimpse of the sharp intellect behind his polite demeanor. Still, I had no real evidence of his character, integrity, or his actual ability to perform—other than his word. And at the time, I had no reason to doubt him.

Once the purchase agreement was signed and sealed, Frithjof became more candid about his development ventures. Apparently, he was as impressed with my negotiating acumen as I was with his. He suggested I could be a valuable asset in marketing his projects in the U.S., and invited me to tour his developments.

That gesture went a long way in reassuring me. At our first stop, he showed me a sprawling project in Tulum, already deep into construction. Many millions had been poured into infrastructure alone. He claimed to control extensive land holdings throughout Mexico and spoke enthusiastically about future developments. It was nothing short of impressive.

Later, we visited another site in Playa del Carmen that had just broken ground. As we walked the property, heavy machinery was already clearing large swaths of jungle. I asked if he was leasing the equipment. “I own it all,” he replied without hesitation. Again, I was struck by the scale of his operations. He explained his vision to build hundreds of luxury homes at affordable prices.

It was around that time I began to suspect he might actually have the financial means to close our deal. After all, it’s rare to meet someone who claims to self-fund multiple large-scale developments—no pre-sales, no investors, no bank loans. When I asked where the money came from, he responded with calm assurance: it was all his own capital. If that were true, it suggested considerable personal wealth.

Still, I couldn’t shake a lingering unease—especially after witnessing firsthand the destruction of vast stretches of jungle. Despite serious reservations about the environmental impact, I reluctantly agreed to help when Frithjof asked for support with branding and marketing strategies for his massive development projects. I did it more out of loyalty than genuine enthusiasm—and, frankly, because I didn’t want to create tension while our own deal was still hanging in the balance.

We met at his Playa del Carmen office to brainstorm project names. He had a few ideas, but none felt quite right. Eventually, I suggested Tulum Gardens (Tulumgardens.com) and Playa Gardens (Playagardens.com), inspired by the developments we had visited. I checked and confirmed both domain names were available and encouraged him to secure them. He loved the names and adopted them immediately.

By then, I had almost convinced myself he really did have the means to see our deal through. Not many people can run two major development projects simultaneously without external funding. When I pressed again about where the money was coming from, he reiterated—confidently—that he had no bank loans and was relying solely on his own funds. Given the scale of the projects, I could only conclude he must be extraordinarily wealthy.

During one of our conversations, Frithjof mentioned his intention to develop the three beachfront lots he owned directly adjacent to Turtle Heart Villa—the very location where we first met. Given how environmentally sensitive the area is—home to hundreds of nesting sea turtles each year—I naturally assumed he would approach any development plans with great care and respect for the habitat.

At Turtle Heart Villa, we’ve always taken our role as stewards of the environment seriously. Guests are educated about the importance of protecting the turtles. We use only special red lights at night to avoid disrupting nesting behavior, and we actively protect nests from poachers—locals who still, unfortunately, harvest turtle eggs for consumption.

So when I asked Frithjof to elaborate on his development plans, I was stunned—truly taken aback by what he described. He told me he intended to build a $25 million luxury development consisting of nearly 30 high-end condominiums—just on those three beachfront lots and the three additional lots he owned across the dirt road.

What the hell? I thought

That kind of density would utterly destroy the fragile ecosystem and decimate the turtle nesting habitat. Who would do something like that? Certainly not someone with a conscience, let alone an environmentalist. When I built the pool at Turtle Heart Villa, I placed it at the front of the house—away from the beach—to avoid disturbing the turtles. Now here was someone planning to throw up dense condo construction right along the shoreline. It seemed not just irresponsible, but reckless—and deeply disturbing.

Once again, I asked him where the funding would come from. And again, he insisted he had all the money himself—no bank loans, no outside investors. That meant three major development projects simultaneously underway, all self-financed: each one clearing jungle, displacing wildlife, and now, this latest project, threatening a sensitive and protected turtle nesting ground.

My admiration for Frithjof began to fade. I started to question his values, his credibility, and his true motivations. I wasn’t the only one—friends and neighbors began expressing their own quiet concerns. A sort of silent rumbling of distrust was building. The red flags were becoming harder to ignore, and my confidence in him began to erode quickly.

Still, I held on to hope that he would at least honor our agreement—if for no other reason than to allow me and my wife to move forward with our plans back in the U.S.

Mary and I are both U.S. military veterans. Together, we founded the Patriot Soil Project, a nonprofit organization dedicated to honoring fallen service members. We collect soil from their gravesites and use it to grow Patriot Trees in their memory. There’s a touch of irony in our mission to plant trees, especially when compared to Plant-for-the-Planet, an organization that also promotes tree planting—but as you’ll soon discover, not all tree-planting initiatives are created equal.

The Patriot Soil Project is currently cultivating over 6,000 trees in the state of Florida, with plans to expand into small tree farms across the U.S. You can learn more about our work at PatriotSoil.org. The proceeds from the sale of Turtle Heart Villa were intended to help fund this deeply personal and meaningful mission—a mission that, to this day, has been 100% self-funded. We have never taken a single penny from donors or public sources. There has been no mismanagement, no impropriety—just quiet, steady commitment.

Unfortunately, as you’ll come to learn later in this account, the same may not be said for Plant-for-the-Planet or its founder, Frithjof Finkbeiner. It is my hope to peel back what I believe are many layers of deception—cleverly hidden beneath the surface and orchestrated by a master manipulator who has built a facade of noble intent.

Getting Back on Track

I continued to emphasize to Frithjof—again and again—the importance of closing our deal on time, exactly as he had promised. Mary and I were actively searching for a permanent home for our nonprofit project and were counting heavily on the proceeds from the sale of Turtle Heart Villa to fund that next chapter.

On multiple occasions, Frithjof looked both Mary and me directly in the eyes and swore, emphatically, that he would honor our agreement and close as promised. I followed up repeatedly by email to document both my concerns and his consistent reassurances. Each time, his response was the same: there was “no reason for concern,” and the funds were “already allocated.”

Despite his confidence, my doubts were beginning to grow. I started asking more questions—but hadn’t yet begun any deeper investigation into who Frithjof really was or what his full background might reveal. He continued presenting himself as a loyal friend, making promise after promise with unwavering charm and confidence.

Then, during one of my visits to Turtle Heart Villa, I had a conversation that raised a red flag I couldn’t ignore. A neighbor, also visiting from the States, mentioned something that caught me off guard. I casually told him that Frithjof had purchased Turtle Heart, and he seemed surprised—then concerned. He told me that Frithjof had also gone under contract to purchase another very expensive beachfront villa just a few doors down, only a few months earlier. The sellers were close friends of his.

I didn’t know how to respond. Wait—what? I thought. This guy is buying up the neighborhood?

Later, when I told Frithjof that I’d mentioned the purchase of Turtle Heart Villa to our mutual friend, his reaction was immediate—and unsettling. He grew visibly concerned and said he needed to speak with the other sellers right away. It felt as if I had accidentally exposed something he had been trying to keep under wraps, and now he needed to get ahead of it. It was as if I had just let a secret slip, and he was scrambling for damage control.

That reaction prompted me to reach out to the other sellers myself. I wanted to understand what their experience had been like with Frithjof. The dialogue was, to say the least, enlightening. They confirmed that Frithjof had indeed been given a one-year window to close their deal as well. That meant he was now obligated to come up with over $4 million in cash—to close two separate beachfront villa purchases in roughly the same timeframe.

They also noted some frustrating aspects of negotiating with him, including inconsistencies in what he said and what he later did. Hearing this made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I had the sinking feeling that I wasn’t the only one questioning whether Frithjof was truly capable—or genuinely honest.

I was no longer just concerned. I was deeply alarmed.

Mary, affectionately nicknamed “Snoop Dog” for her investigative prowess, could no longer suppress her growing unease about Frithjof and his ambitious real estate ventures. Driven by a desire to understand the financial underpinnings of his projects, she embarked on a thorough investigation into Frithjof's background, his organization Plant-for-the-Planet, and his wife, Karolin Finkbeiner.

Her research uncovered a series of concerning reports about Plant-for-the-Planet's operations. Notably, a 2021 article from REDD-Monitor highlighted that over €2.6 million from the German foundation had been used to purchase land in Mexico, primarily through loans and some donations. The article questioned whether Plant-for-the-Planet had the necessary approvals from Mexican authorities for their tree-planting activities, noting that relevant documents were inaccessible due to the pandemic.

Further scrutiny came from German publications Die Zeit and Stern, which in 2019 and 2020 raised doubts about the organization's reported tree-planting figures and survival rates. They criticized the lack of transparency and the organizational structure of Plant-for-the-Planet's Mexican subsidiary, which was reportedly managed solely by Frithjof, his son Felix, and a Mexican entrepreneur, lacking independent oversight.

These revelations painted a troubling picture of potential financial mismanagement and questionable practices within Plant-for-the-Planet. Mary's findings intensified our concerns about Frithjof's credibility and the feasibility of his commitments, especially regarding the substantial funds required to close on two beachfront villas totaling over $4 million dollars.

The Real Frithjof Finkbeiner: Green Promises, Red Flags

What began as a hopeful real estate transaction quickly unraveled into a troubling investigation—one that pierced through the carefully curated image of Frithjof Finkbeiner, climate activist, nonprofit founder, and self-proclaimed “Steve Jobs of the climate movement.” Behind the glossy façade lay a tangled web of financial inconsistencies, environmental contradictions, and ethical ambiguities.

The first serious crack appeared thanks to the relentless efforts of Mary, who unearthed a critical piece of Finkbeiner’s past: in 1994, he filed for personal bankruptcy in Germany, walking away from approximately €3.5 million in debts owed to friends, creditors, and investors. Under German bankruptcy law, he remained legally obligated to report any income—a restriction that, at the time of this investigation, was still in effect.

And yet, Finkbeiner today controls more than 250 million in assets.

How did a man once financially insolvent and legally constrained from earning unreported income come to possess such wealth—especially while presenting himself as a champion of the planet?

The answer appears to lie with Plant-for-the-Planet, the nonprofit organization Finkbeiner founded in the name of his then-nine-year-old son, Felix. Marketed as a youth-led global reforestation movement, the organization has raised over €27 million in donations and claims to have planted millions of trees worldwide.

But behind this heartwarming narrative, unsettling realities began to emerge.

Investigations by respected German media outlets—Stern, Die Zeit, and watchdogs such as REDD Monitor—have raised red flags around the organization’s transparency, governance, and environmental impact. One particularly troubling incident involved a reforestation site in Mexico where floods wiped out large numbers of newly planted trees, calling into question the organization’s project oversight and credibility of its environmental claims.

Scrutiny revealed an even deeper concern: the Mexican entity, Plant-for-the-Planet Asociación Civil, though marketed as part of the same initiative, is legally and structurally independent from the German nonprofit. It was founded by Finkbeiner and two close associates and operates without external audits or third-party financial oversight—despite continuing to receive international donations.

This raised the central question of Mary’s investigation: Where is all the money really going?

A broader, more troubling picture began to take shape. It appeared that Finkbeiner had leveraged his son’s fame and the moral authority of a climate nonprofit to build a sprawling, donor-funded platform—one that may have also served as a conduit for private land acquisition and luxury development.

While publicly preaching environmental stewardship, Finkbeiner has been actively financing large-scale, high-density real estate developments on Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula—projects that have required the extensive cutting of pristine jungle and the massive destruction of critical wildlife habitats, including nesting grounds for endangered sea turtles.

The hypocrisy was staggering.

Could donations meant to save the planet have been diverted to exploit it? Were philanthropic donors, corporations, and governments unknowingly fueling a greenwashed real estate empire?

Evidence increasingly suggests this is more than speculation. Former insiders have described the Finkbeiner family’s grip on the foundation as “absolute,” with little room for transparency or internal accountability. Investigative journalism and watchdog groups have questioned inflated tree-planting figures, dubious climate metrics, and a disturbing lack of independent governance.

In Mexico, the legal separation between the nonprofit entities obscures how international funds are routed and used—making it nearly impossible to trace the flow of donations or assess their true impact.

What began as a simple property negotiation evolved into a cautionary tale of eco-deception. Mary’s investigation didn’t just expose the contradictions of one man—it revealed a systemic failure of accountability within a movement meant to protect the very environment it may be helping to destroy.

The red flags are undeniable. And the questions they raise demand urgent answers—not just from Frithjof Finkbeiner, but from every institution, corporation, and donor that entrusted him with their money, their hope, and their belief in a greener future.

A Deal in Doubt: Realizing the Truth Behind the Buyer

Needless to say, after uncovering the findings detailed above, we came to a sobering realization: we may have sold Turtle Heart Villa to a con man. From the very beginning, it became clear that Frithjof had been grooming me—methodically building trust while carefully concealing his true intentions. With mounting evidence and unanswered questions, we were left wondering whether he ever intended to close the deal as promised.

Meanwhile, our U.S.-based project was placed in a holding pattern. The closing proceeds from Turtle Heart Villa were essential to our timeline, and without them, we couldn’t move forward. At that stage, Frithjof had no idea we were conducting an extensive investigation into his background. We deliberately kept our findings quiet, not wanting to tip him off or jeopardize what little leverage we still had. Instead, we closely monitored every step of the process, with growing skepticism.

Though Frithjof continued to claim he intended to close, his communications began to drift. His responses became vague, delayed, and non-committal. Our attorney experienced increasing difficulty obtaining cooperation from Frithjof or his legal counsel regarding the documents required to convey title from Bancomer in Mexico. I stayed actively engaged and had my attorney’s assistant repeatedly follow up to keep things on track.

As the scheduled closing date approached, it became apparent that stalling tactics were in play. Delays were constant, and the blame was always shifted elsewhere—never Frithjof’s fault. His responses grew more ambiguous, but I kept pressing alongside my legal team. As the seller, we were fully prepared and able to close well in advance of the agreed timeline. When Frithjof failed to cover municipal document fees required for closing, I even stepped in to pay them myself—removing any excuse for delay.

Then, word started circulating among other property owners in our neighborhood: Frithjof had failed to close on another beachfront villa just a few doors down, despite having had an entire year to secure financing and complete the transaction. That seller, incidentally, was a U.S.-based attorney—highly credible and certainly not the party at fault. Yet, when I questioned Frithjof about the failed closing, he placed the blame squarely on them, claiming they were desperate and difficult to work with.

But I knew the truth: the delays and defaults were squarely on him.

The pattern was undeniable. Frithjof was requesting repeated extensions, dragging his feet, and playing the same games with multiple sellers. It became clear that we were next in line for the same treatment. The promises, the reassurances, the delays—they all pointed toward one conclusion: we had every reason to be concerned that the deal would never close.

The Final Act: Deadlines, Deception, and the Plant-for-the-Planet Pivot

Ultimately, my attorney was forced to send a formal “time is of the essence” notice to Frithjof and his company, Tankah Enterprises, as well as their attorney. The notice clearly stated that if they failed to close within the timeline outlined in our agreement, they would be in default and would forfeit their non-refundable deposit. Every representation made throughout the transaction is fully documented in emails—an airtight paper trail that confirms our consistent, good-faith efforts to close.

By this point, I had fully realized that Frithjof was not the person he had presented himself to be. The only remaining question was just how ugly the situation would get. Despite everything, I still wanted to close the deal. The only redeeming factor on my side was that Frithjof had already given me a non-refundable deposit—which, based on his blatant dishonesty, I had no intention of returning.

He had lied directly to both Mary and me, repeatedly and without hesitation. He pleaded with me for an extension, but given his track record, I knew it was just another stalling tactic. His emails became increasingly vague and ambiguous, often filled with new terms or confusing clauses designed to buy more time. Every proposal had to be examined with suspicion because they were consistently worded in ways that reeked of bad faith.

I came to a firm conclusion: Frithjof is a master of ambiguity, using vague language as a deliberate tool to manufacture plausible deniability. It was a pattern I observed again and again. I was onto his game now, and I was determined not to put myself in a position of further legal exposure or manipulation.

It was during the enforcement of the “time is of the essence” notice that the real games began—and that’s when Plant-for-the-Planet entered the story.

Frithjof claimed he could still close the deal, but only if I agreed to assign the purchase agreement to Plant-for-the-Planet. This was nearly identical to what he had attempted with the other villa sellers. In yet another vague and misleading email, he asserted that Plant-for-the-Planet could “immediately close”—a claim that was categorically false. Given the legal and banking processes in Mexico, it takes months to prepare the necessary documentation to close under a different entity.

It was clear to me that this was yet another bluff—another stalling tactic disguised as a solution. Frithjof was trying to maneuver me into yet another agreement that would allow him to drag the process out indefinitely, possibly for years.

But this time, I refused to play along.

The Assignment Trap: A Masterclass in Deception

Frithjof came dangerously close to outmaneuvering me in what I now recognize as a carefully orchestrated ploy. Seemingly out of desperation, he proposed a solution to break the impasse: if I agreed to assign the contract to Plant-for-the-Planet, he assured me that on the very day of signing, “the $1,300,000 funds will flow.” The implication was clear—I would receive full payment immediately upon assignment.

At first, I didn’t object. I was open to the idea so long as the funds were transferred simultaneously with the assignment. That seemed like a reasonable and practical way to resolve the deadlock. I responded enthusiastically to the proposal, thinking we had finally reached a mutually beneficial path forward.

That’s when the trap was sprung.

Instead of confirming the payment timeline or addressing my clear condition—payment upon assignment—Frithjof and his associate, Raúl Negrete, pivoted. They fixated solely on my expression of interest and enthusiasm and attempted to weaponize it as proof that I had agreed to assign the contract, regardless of payment. Their emails completely ignored my requirement for simultaneous payment and focused only on extracting an assignment of the agreement.

Then it escalated.

I received a message from Negrete claiming that I had already assigned the contract and was now obligated to sell the property to Plant-for-the-Planet—without having received a single cent. They didn’t just pressure me—they resorted to outright threats.

This exact tactic had already been used against another seller in the neighborhood—a U.S. attorney—who experienced the same pattern of pressure, misrepresentation, and contractual manipulation. In both cases, Plant-for-the-Planet didn’t merely attempt to purchase two multimillion-dollar beachfront villas—they demanded them, using coercive legal and psychological tactics to force assignments.

Let me be absolutely clear: Plant-for-the-Planet not only attempted to purchase Turtle Heart Villa, as reported by Die Zeit journalist Hanna Knuth, they also attempted to purchase Casa Dos Bahias using similar pressure tactics. Yet Frithjof and Negrete blatantly misrepresented the facts. In communication with Hanna, Negrete flatly denied that any attempt had been made to acquire Turtle Heart Villa—a bold-faced lie. I have the evidence and the proof.

But it came as no surprise. Misleading the media had become second nature to Frithjof and Negrete as evidenced in numerous published investigative articles regarding Plant-for-the-Planet.

At the time of reporting, Hanna was unaware that Plant-for-the-Planet was attempting to acquire a second beachfront property just a few doors down from Turtle Heart Villa.  Frithjof again lied when claiming he planned to resell Turtle Heart Villa for profit in order to plant more trees. I know firsthand that both Frithjof and Karolin intended to live in the villa.  Additionally, transaction costs in Mexico are so prohibitive that under no realistic scenario could a profitable resale have been achieved. Their willingness to spin and deceive is astonishing—and increasingly obvious, even to casual observers.

One can only imagine the financial maneuvering happening behind the scenes—powered by public donations and hidden behind a veil of zero oversight, sustained by false claims and proven liars.

To this day, Frithjof and Negrete continue to falsely claim that I agreed to assign the contract—using nothing more than my initial optimism as their so-called “evidence.” Negrete even sent me a new purchase agreement in an attempt to force the assignment under false pretenses.

Every claim I’ve made here is backed by clear, written evidence. I have all the emails and will make them available upon request. The pattern is unmistakable. This is textbook bad-faith negotiation: lies, manipulation, and distortion of the truth at every step.

And unfortunately, there’s still more to this story.

Casa Dos Bahias: Another Victim of Coercion

Needless to say, the sellers of Casa Dos Bahías made no meaningful progress in resolving their dispute with Frithjof, Negrete, or Plant-for-the-Planet. As it was conveyed to me, Frithjof effectively threatened the sellers—demanding they transfer ownership of their villa to Plant-for-the-Planet or face a prolonged and grueling legal battle in the Mexican court system, one that could drag on for seven to fifteen years. With increasing media attention, Frithjof may have concluded it was in his best interest to resolve the matter quickly—before further negative press surfaced or before the media uncovered that Plant-for-the-Planet had in fact attempted to acquire not just one, but two beachfront properties, totaling over $4 million in publicly donated funds.

They were, in effect, being held hostage.

Much like in the Turtle Heart Villa case, the sellers of Casa Dos Bahías had received a non-refundable deposit from Frithjof. But operating on his home turf in Mexico, Frithjof knew precisely how to manipulate the legal system—how to stall proceedings, exploit loopholes, and create endless delays to keep sellers effectively trapped. He used that knowledge as strategic leverage. The sellers understood that even if Frithjof was in default, attempting to withdraw from the agreement could result in their property being tied up in litigation for years—unsellable and in limbo. That pressure left them with a stark choice: capitulate, or face indefinite legal paralysis.

The following email, sent to Karolin and Frithjof by the sellers, reflects just how desperate they had become to resolve the situation. It’s a clear, firsthand account of what happens when integrity is replaced by manipulation and legal threats.

July 3, 2024

Frithjof and Karoline,

Dan sent you a message on June 26th with our offer to refund you the $150,000 that was nonrefundable according to our contract. We have not received your reply.

It is clear that you want us to sell the house to Plant for the Planet and credit the $150,000 payment to that sale.  We never had an agreement to sell to Plant for the Planet and this will never happen. We cannot sell to Plant for the Plant because I am now convinced, based on my research, that to do so would require us to participate in serious illegal activities.   I believe your scheme to switch buyers from Tankah Properties and use approximately $1.6 million of nonprofit environmental funds to purchase a beach house for you and your family, under the guise of it being a residence for visiting scientists, would be a serious federal felony under U.S. law.  I also believe that since international wire transfers were used for the payment and refund, the United States government has jurisdiction in the prosecution.  While you may be willing to subject Raul, your son Felix and the two of you to such legal jeopardy, we will never participate in this type of criminal conspiracy. 

I expect you will disagree with my analysis, but I have over thirty years’ experience as a criminal defense attorney and I am convinced it is correct.

With the sale to Plant for the Planet being off the table, we are making a final offer to settle this matter.  We are willing to refund your remaining down payment of $150,000 which is not owed to you.  We will place $150,000 U.S. in trust with our attorney, instruct him to immediately prepare all necessary settlement documents to release all possible claims concerning the sale of our house.  We will engage in the settlement without delay. Tankah Properties and its members will immediately dismiss any pending legal actions and remove this from the public registry.

You have had adequate time to consider our offer and we have been more than patient.  If we have not received a response by Friday July 5, 2024, this offer will be rescinded.  We have already suffered substantial financial harm as a result of your actions.  Without an immediate resolution, we will need to take such steps necessary to protect our interests.

Dean K…..

Default Notice – Agreement Null and Void

It became clear I could no longer tolerate any further communication or dealings with Frithjof or Negrete. I had absolutely no intention of selling Turtle Heart Villa to Plant-for-the-Planet, despite Frithjof’s claim that the organization’s board had approved the purchase so scientists could conduct research. This was just another lie. I knew firsthand how much both Karolin and Frithjof longed to live in the villa for their own personal use.

My attorney issued a formal notice of default to Tankah Enterprises, Frithjof, and Negrete, officially rendering the transaction null and void. From that point forward, I ceased all communication with Frithjof and his group. My attorney confirmed I was fully within my legal rights to retain the non-refundable deposit and relist the property—which I did.

Eventually, a realtor introduced me to a new buyer. I had the opportunity to meet and communicate with them directly before signing the agreement, and the experience couldn’t have been more different. They were financially sound, straightforward, candid, honest, and full of integrity. There were no games or manipulation—it was an absolute pleasure. We quickly built a strong mutual trust. I even allowed them early possession of the villa so they could begin making extensive and costly improvements while we finalized the closing.

The new buyers provided a $200,000 non-refundable deposit and invested approximately $250,000 in renovations before the closing. Clearly, the trust between us was mutual. They were a lovely family who adored the villa and its turtles. It brought me real peace of mind knowing Turtle Heart Villa would be in good hands.

Throughout this time, I didn’t hear a single word from Frithjof. He made no demand for the return of his deposit. I assumed, at the very least, he had the integrity to accept his failure to perform and was willing to forfeit the deposit. But I was wrong.

Frithjof’s next move was cunning and strategically timed. As the closing date with the new buyer approached and they began visiting the villa regularly to oversee renovations, things took a turn. After most of the work was complete, the buyer stayed for an extended visit—an ideal moment for Frithjof to strike.

He approached the buyer, falsely claiming he had a valid legal contract to purchase the villa and accusing me of fraud—of attempting to steal money from them. He positioned himself as an innocent intermediary: “Don’t shoot the messenger.” Naturally, this deeply disturbed the buyer. It felt entirely out of character for me, so they brought the matter to my attention.

Panic set in. What was Frithjof up to? What leverage did he think he had? Our deal was over—he had defaulted.

The Discovery – Unjustified Lien

A new title search revealed that a lien had been strategically placed on Turtle Heart Villa. It hadn’t appeared in the original title report, which had allowed the sale with the new buyer to move forward—until now. That’s when it became clear: Frithjof had deliberately waited until the renovations were nearly complete to use his influence and file an unjustified lien. It was a calculated attempt to sabotage the sale and cast doubt on my integrity in the eyes of the buyer.

Panic set in. What was Frithjof up to? What leverage could he possibly have? Our deal was over—he had defaulted. And yet here he was, reentering the picture with a legal weapon in hand. The timing and execution were brilliant on his part—and a complete disaster for me and the new buyer, who was understandably shocked and disturbed.

Suddenly, I had to face a harsh reality: Frithjof could tie me up in litigation for years, effectively blocking me from delivering clear title. He had me trapped.

I believed I was protected by the non-refundable deposit clause. Surely, the matter would be quickly dismissed. But when another attorney reviewed the agreement with Tankah Enterprises, I was stunned to discover I had no legal position. The contract contained no remedy clause for buyer default. I was floored. I had worked on that clause specifically.

I pulled up the final draft—and there it was, plain as day. But in the signed version, the clause had been materially removed. I had assumed—wrongly—that the signed agreement matched the draft. That’s when I realized: Frithjof never intended to close. His true colors were now in full view. I was livid.

I hadn’t removed the clause. It had to have been him. I had no benefit—no motivation whatsoever—to eliminate a clause that protected me. The only one who stood to gain from its removal was Frithjof. I certainly wouldn’t have done that. That was the moment I fully understood the depth of his deceit. I was trapped and completely at his mercy.

And given the cunning nature of his move, I knew what was coming next: he was going to hold me hostage. And there was nothing I could do if I wanted to protect the new buyer. I had made them a promise—to do whatever it took to ensure they didn’t suffer a loss.

So, negotiations with Frithjof began again. At first, he demanded that I sell him the villa. I absolutely refused. I told him I would fight for years if I had to. I even said I would lease the villa to the new buyer indefinitely just to ensure he would never take possession of Turtle Heart Villa.

Thankfully, the new buyer stepped in with calm, level-headed thinking and managed to move the conversation forward diplomatically. I think Frithjof realized it would take an act of God for me to ever sell him that villa. That’s when he made his demand: I had to return the $350,000 non-refundable deposit—plus an additional $70,000 in interest. In essence, I was being extorted for $420,000—and I had no real choice but to pay.

I paid Frithjof the $420,000 he demanded—but I wasn’t going to stay silent. I was determined to take this story public. Frithjof even sent me a cease-and-desist letter, threatening legal consequences if I spoke out. That only strengthened my resolve. I contacted Hanna, Tin, and Ziget News to report what had happened and shed light on Frithjof’s development activities in Mexico.

The response caused a stir—especially with Jens Waltermann, the CEO of Plant-for-the-Planet. He personally reached out to me, urging caution and warning that my claims could seriously damage the organization’s fundraising efforts. We had a long and serious conversation about the consequences of Frithjof’s conduct and the real reasons he had been removed from the board of Plant-for-the-Planet Germany. That conversation only confirmed what I already believed: Frithjof is not a person of integrity. In fact, several published articles support that conclusion.

I also learned that Karolin had borrowed a large sum from Plant-for-the-Planet—money I strongly suspect was funneled to Mexico and used to help fund their massive real estate development project.  Let’s be honest—Frithjof and Negrete were trying to use over $4 million in donated funds to acquire two beachfront villas for their personal benefit. Who knows how much more donation money was funneled into their real estate ventures under the pretense of philanthropy?

It’s no surprise to me that several major corporate sponsors have since pulled their support from Plant-for-the-Planet. Nor is it unjustified. It should raise serious alarms that the president of Plant-for-the-Planet Mexico is also the local officer for Tankah Enterprises. If that’s not a glaring conflict of interest, I don’t know what is.

To my knowledge, Plant-for-the-Planet Mexico doesn’t even have an oversight board. It’s like the Wild West—a setting where someone like Frithjof can get away with just about anything. I firmly believe an independent investigation is long overdue. After all, Karolin was required to repay the funds she borrowed from the German Plant-for-the-Planet branch. That alone suggests

she was using the organization’s resources like a private slush fund to bankroll real estate deals in Mexico.

The world deserves to know the truth.

Final Conclusion

In my view, Frithjof and Karolin Finkbeiner, along with Plant-for-the-Planet Mexico, have demonstrated a pattern of deception, manipulation, and financial misconduct. I believe they have misrepresented their intentions and used the Plant-for-the-Planet brand and donor funds to finance large-scale real estate developments in Mexico for personal gain.

These conclusions are not based solely on my own experience; they are reinforced by direct correspondence with members of Frithjof’s own family, who share this perspective. His brother Yorck Finkbeiner—a professional in Germany—has personally confirmed that Frithjof has millions in tax debts in Germany, is not permitted to earn income under his own name, and conducts financial operations through his wife Karolin’s accounts to avoid detection. In Yorck’s words:
“Please inform me and my siblings about all the important details – maybe we’ll be able to strike a blow that will put a stop to this pig.”
He also described Frithjof as having a “diabolical soul.”

Yorck, along with other siblings, has experienced firsthand Frithjof’s deceptive practices. According to them, Frithjof cleverly manipulated legal and family trust mechanisms to steal their rightful inheritance, tying them up in German courts for years. As a result of this betrayal, Frithjof and Karolin now have no relationship whatsoever with any of the other family members. This estrangement is not incidental—it is the direct outcome of repeated manipulation, abuse of trust, and financial harm caused by Frithjof.

It is telling that Frithjof’s own family, who know him best, describe him in the strongest terms and actively wish to see him held accountable. Their testimony aligns precisely with the experiences of other individuals who’ve had business dealings with him, including the sellers of Casa Bahía, who faced drawn-out legal battles and financial damage due to his tactics.

Frithjof’s removal from the board of Plant-for-the-Planet in Germany, combined with the organization’s low ratings and lack of transparency, further reinforce the urgent need for scrutiny. Despite this, he continues to operate as the president of Plant-for-the-Planet U.S.—a registered 501(c)(3) nonprofit—and oversees the flow of millions in donor dollars into Mexico with seemingly no independent oversight or accountability.

This also includes Frithjof’s willingness to spend more than $4 million of donor money on beachfront villas—all under the guise of offering research accommodations for scientists. And remember: they actually expect the public to believe this. That alone shows how blatant they are willing to be with the misuse of charitable funds. I suppose they believe the world is just that stupid.

This point is further supported by others who have raised serious questions about the integrity of Plant-for-the-Planet’s leadership and operations. Chris Lang of REDD-Monitor, as well as Hanna and Tim from ZIGET, have all publicly questioned the truthfulness of the organization’s representations and the ethical foundation upon which it claims to operate.

Based on all available evidence and my direct experience, I believe Frithjof Finkbeiner exhibits clear signs of narcissistic and sociopathic behavior. He appears to lack empathy, operates with manipulative intent, and consistently prioritizes self-interest at the expense of others—whether family, partners, or the public.

Given the breadth of documented misrepresentation, financial opacity, and personal harm caused to both family and business counterparts, I believe Frithjof Finkbeiner to be a cunning conman and a blatant fraud. It is my strong conviction that donor funds have either been stolen or misused under the guise of environmental activism.

Make certain to read all the articles listed on this website, which cover everything in great detail and provide essential context to the conclusions stated here.

I am sharing this as a whistleblower—with the hope that exposing these facts may lead to accountability, independent investigation, and protection of the public interest.

From Greenwashing to Grounded Impact: Why It’s Time to Redirect Your Support

For years, supporters of Plant-for-the-Planet Mexico believed they were helping build a greener, more hopeful world—planting trees, empowering youth, and combating climate change. But recent investigations by respected watchdogs such as Let Justice Speak, REDD-Monitor, and Zeit have revealed troubling patterns of financial and organizational misconduct.

Allegations include:

• Misuse of nonprofit funds for personal real estate ventures

• Potential self-dealing and conflicts of interest

• Lack of financial transparency and reliable reporting

• A growing disconnect between donor intentions and actual outcomes

These aren't just minor issues—they represent serious concerns about integrity, accountability, and the ethical use of charitable donations. If you're currently supporting Plant-for-the-Planet, it's time to ask: Is your donation truly making the difference you intended?

The Patriot Soil Project: A Transparent, Purpose-Driven Alternative

In stark contrast, the Patriot Soil Project offers a transparent, mission-aligned alternative. This grassroots initiative plants "Patriot Trees" using soil gathered from the gravesites of fallen U.S. service members—a solemn and deeply symbolic act of remembrance, sacrifice, and national unity.

But the project’s impact goes even further. It also supports respected veteran-focused nonprofits, including:

• Tunnel to Towers Foundation – Providing mortgage-free homes to Gold Star families and catastrophically injured veterans

• Gary Sinise Foundation – Supporting housing, education, and mental wellness initiatives for veterans and first responders

• AMVETS – Advocating for and serving veterans across the nation

When you support the Patriot Soil Project, your donation becomes part of a broader ecosystem of honor, service, and transparency—not self-enrichment or image management.

Why It’s Time to Redirect Your Donation

Redirecting your support from Plant-for-the-Planet to a values-driven initiative like the Patriot Soil Project means:

• Choosing transparency over obfuscation

• Backing measurable outcomes instead of vague promises

• Empowering veterans and communities, not personal real estate empires

• Participating in a movement rooted in remembrance, regeneration, and respect

Thanks to the investigations by Let Justice Speak, Chris Lang of REDD-Monitor, and Hanna Knuth & Tin Fischer of Zeit, the truth is now out in the open. If you give from the heart, don’t let your generosity be misused.

Make a Choice That Reflects Your Values

Your donation is powerful. Where you give is a reflection of what you stand for.

By choosing the Patriot Soil Project, you:

• Plant trees that carry meaning

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• Contribute to real, lasting, and visible change

Take Action Now

Redirect your donation to an organization built on transparency, service, and respect.

www.patriotsoil.org (or find them through your trusted donation platform)

Every dollar matters. Every tree planted tells a story.
Make yours one of honor, impact, and accountability.