Following a 22-year sentence in absentia, a massive international manhunt is underway for the fugitive who laundered millions through a fake charity bingo ring that promised to help sick children reach medical care.
VANCOUVER, BC, Michael Lizaso Marasigan has become one of the FBI’s most visible white-collar fugitives after a Guam federal court sentenced him in absentia to 262 months in prison for his role in a $34 million charitable bingo fraud scheme.
The case has drawn international attention because prosecutors say the operation used the Guam Shrine Club’s public reputation, the emotional appeal of children’s medical travel, and the familiar community setting of bingo fundraising to divert millions from charitable purposes.
Federal authorities say Marasigan failed to return from a court-approved trip to the Philippines after his conviction, turning a local Guam fraud case into a cross-border fugitive hunt involving the FBI, federal courts, and public appeals for information.
A charity promise became a criminal enterprise.
At the center of the case was Hafa Adai Bingo, a bingo parlor in Tamuning connected to the Guam Shrine Club, a nonprofit organization that was represented as raising funds to help transport sick children and one guardian to Shriners Children’s medical care in Hawaii.
According to the U.S. Department of Justice’s official announcement on the Guam bingo operators’ federal prison sentences, trial evidence showed that Marasigan, Jose Arthur “Art” Chan Jr., Christine Chan, and other defendants participated in a conspiracy, fraud scheme, and illegal gambling operation between March 2015 and December 31, 2021.
The deception was simple enough for the public to understand, yet damaging enough to produce severe federal penalties, because bingo patrons were told their money would support a charitable children’s transportation fund while prosecutors said proceeds were diverted and laundered for personal gain.
During the conspiracy period, authorities said Hafa Adai Bingo generated approximately $34 million in gross bingo proceeds, while defendants diverted and laundered $10,750,804 in net proceeds that should have gone to the Aloha Shriners, which holds Shrine jurisdiction over Guam.
The sentence landed while the fugitive was gone.
Marasigan’s sentencing did not take place with the defendant standing before the judge, because prosecutors identified him as a fugitive who had already failed to comply with the court’s conditions after being permitted to travel abroad.
The court sentenced Marasigan in absentia on May 18, 2026, imposing 262 months in federal prison, joint-and-several restitution of $10,750,804 to the Aloha Shriners, a $5,871,493 money judgment forfeiture, and a $6,500 mandatory assessment fee.
The sentence is nearly 22 years, a severe punishment that reflects both the scale of the fraud and the court’s view of the harm caused by exploiting a charitable purpose connected to children needing medical care.
His co-defendants also received prison terms, with Jose Arthur Chan Jr. sentenced to 60 months and Christine Chan sentenced to 70 months, while several cooperating defendants who entered guilty pleas received lesser penalties after testifying for the government.
The FBI wanted poster turned the case global.
Marasigan’s case moved beyond Guam when the FBI listed him among its Most Wanted Fraudsters, identifying him as wanted for violation of conditions of pretrial release connected to conspiracy to operate an illegal gambling business, money laundering conspiracy, money laundering, and conspiracy to commit wire fraud.
The FBI says Marasigan has ties to Guam and the Philippines, is a dual citizen of the United States and the Philippines, holds passports for both countries, speaks English and Tagalog, and should be considered an escape risk.
The agency is offering a reward of up to $150,000 for information leading to his arrest and conviction, which transforms the search from a court-enforcement matter into a public fugitive campaign.
The listing matters because white-collar fugitives often depend on distance, obscurity, family ties, local familiarity, and time to reduce attention, while a national wanted profile makes ordinary life abroad harder to maintain.
A court-approved trip became the escape point.
After his conviction, Marasigan was permitted by the court to travel to the Philippines for medical reasons, but federal authorities say he did not return by the required date and ceased contact with the court in June 2025.
That alleged failure to return changed the character of the case because Marasigan was no longer merely a convicted defendant awaiting sentencing, but a fugitive whose absence directly challenged the authority of the federal court in Guam.
On June 25, 2025, a federal arrest warrant was issued for Marasigan in the United States District Court for the District of Guam after he was charged with violating conditions of pretrial release.
A recent Inquirer report on Marasigan’s wanted status noted that he traveled to the Philippines for medical reasons before failing to return, a fact that has made the Philippines connection central to public reporting.
The fraud exploited community trust.
The emotional force of the case comes from the charitable promise because the operation was represented as supporting travel for children who needed medical treatment, a purpose that could easily move patrons to spend money, believing they were helping families in distress.
Federal prosecutors said the defendants traded on the reputation of the Shriners Children’s healthcare system, using that goodwill to support a fraud scheme that diverted proceeds away from the charitable purpose presented to patrons.
This makes the case different from an ordinary illegal gambling prosecution because the fraud allegedly weaponized generosity, inviting people to participate in what appeared to be community fundraising while money was routed elsewhere.
The Department of Justice said only about $140,378 of bingo proceeds were used between 2015 and 2020 to pay the Aloha Shriners and for air transportation, while no proceeds were used for the charitable purpose in 2021.
The money trail became the case.
The government’s evidence focused heavily on proceeds, bank records, laundering activity, and the gap between what patrons were told and where the money allegedly went.
In charity fraud cases, the central question is often not whether money was collected, because the public may plainly see the fundraising event, but whether the collected money actually moved toward the promised charitable purpose.
Here, prosecutors said the operation generated tens of millions in bingo proceeds while defendants laundered and diverted more than $10.7 million for themselves and others.
That financial trail allowed the government to frame the case not merely as improper gambling, but as wire fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy built around false representations to the public.
The bingo hall provided a familiar cover.
Bingo has a long history as a community fundraising activity, especially in nonprofit, religious, veterans, and fraternal settings where patrons often trust that the proceeds will support a stated mission.
That familiarity can become dangerous when fraudsters use a recognizable charitable format to lower suspicion, because patrons may not scrutinize internal finances, licenses, bank accounts, vendor arrangements, or management relationships.
The Guam case shows how an ordinary local entertainment venue can become a sophisticated financial channel when gambling proceeds, nonprofit branding, cash flow, and laundering methods intersect.
The fraud was effective because it did not look like a remote cybercrime or a complex securities offering, because it looked like local bingo conducted under a charitable banner.
The victims included more than patrons.
The immediate victims were bingo patrons and the charitable beneficiaries who were told the money would support children’s medical travel, but the wider damage extended into public confidence in charitable giving.
When a community sees a charity-linked operation collapse into criminal convictions, donors may become more suspicious of legitimate fundraising, and nonprofit organizations may face greater difficulty persuading people that their money will be used honestly.
That broader harm was reflected in the Justice Department’s statements, which emphasized that the defendants’ conduct undermined trust in charitable giving and took money meant for sick children.
Fraud involving children’s medical care is particularly corrosive because it injures not only financial systems but also the moral confidence that communities need when they support vulnerable families.
The fugitive status raises international pressure.
Marasigan’s dual citizenship and ties to the Philippines create an international dimension that makes the case especially important for fugitive recovery, immigration scrutiny, and cross-border enforcement cooperation.
White-collar fugitives often believe foreign residence can soften the consequences of conviction, but public wanted notices, passport records, banking requirements, family networks, communications data, and local law-enforcement cooperation can narrow the space available for long-term concealment.
The FBI’s decision to place Marasigan on a public fraudster list increases pressure because it alerts not only law enforcement but also communities, financial institutions, landlords, employers, service providers, and potential acquaintances who may recognize the fugitive.
A fugitive can leave the courtroom, but cannot easily leave behind the documents, records, relationships, and financial traces that modern enforcement agencies use to reconstruct movement.
The Most Wanted Fraudsters list changes the message.
The FBI’s Most Wanted Fraudsters list signals that major financial fugitives are no longer being treated as obscure paperwork defendants, especially when their cases involve community harm, public money, charitable trust, or large-scale laundering.
For decades, the public image of a wanted fugitive often centered on violent crime, terrorism, or organized crime, while white-collar fugitives could seem less urgent because their cases were technical and document-heavy.
Marasigan’s inclusion on the list challenges that perception because fraud at this scale can devastate communities, damage charitable institutions, and drain funds that ordinary people believed would help sick children.
By publishing names, photographs, rewards, aliases, ties, languages, and case summaries, the FBI turns financial fugitives into public targets rather than private docket entries.
The legal boundary is impossible to ignore.
Marasigan’s case also draws a sharp line between lawful privacy planning and unlawful flight, a distinction that matters in an era when many people seek second citizenship, overseas residence, banking mobility, and low-profile international lifestyles.
There is nothing unlawful about legitimate relocation, lawful dual citizenship, privacy-conscious living, or cross-border asset planning when records are accurate, funds are explainable, taxes are handled properly, and courts are obeyed.
The boundary is crossed when travel becomes a way to avoid sentencing, when international movement becomes noncompliance with release conditions, or when offshore distance is used to frustrate lawful court authority.
For lawful clients seeking protection from exposure, stalking, public harassment, or security threats, anonymous living strategies must remain rooted in compliance, accurate records, and respect for legal obligations rather than evasion.
Identity tools cannot erase court obligations.
The Marasigan case is also a warning against the mythology that multiple passports, foreign ties, dual nationality, or overseas residence can neutralize a federal conviction.
The FBI poster specifically notes that Marasigan is a dual citizen and holds passports from both the United States and the Philippines, but that fact did not reduce his wanted status or erase the arrest warrant issued after he failed to return.
Legal identity tools can help lawful people maintain continuity across jurisdictions, but they cannot be used to escape restitution orders, prison sentences, money judgments, forfeiture obligations, or federal warrants.
For clients seeking legitimate documentation continuity, new legal identity planning must be truthful, government-recognized, and reviewable, because courts and enforcement agencies do not treat identity variation as a substitute for legal accountability.
The charity angle made the case especially damaging.
Fraud cases involving charities often provoke public anger because they violate a special kind of trust, the belief that money given for vulnerable people will be protected with extra care.
In the Guam case, the promised purpose was unusually sympathetic because it involved helping children and a parent or guardian travel to Hawaii for medical care, a mission that would naturally attract public goodwill.
The government’s position was that defendants used this charitable appeal as cover while diverting and laundering proceeds for personal benefit.
That allegation explains why prosecutors and investigators used strong language about greed, community betrayal, and harm to those who needed support most.
The trial converted suspicion into conviction.
The case was not resolved through rumor or accusation alone because Marasigan and the Chan defendants were convicted by a federal jury in May 2025 after trial in the District Court of Guam.
The jury found Marasigan guilty of conspiracy to operate an illegal gambling business, money laundering conspiracy, money laundering, and conspiracy to commit wire fraud, giving the government a verdict that later supported the sentencing phase.
That conviction matters because the public wanted the listing to rest on a post-verdict release violation, not merely an unresolved indictment or investigative suspicion.
The legal process had moved through trial, verdict, permitted travel, failure to return, warrant, fugitive status, and sentencing in absentia before the case became a public international manhunt.
Guam remains at the center of the story.
Although the fugitive angle now points toward the Philippines, the heart of the case remains Guam, where patrons played bingo, the Guam Shrine Club’s name was used, local charitable expectations were exploited, and the federal court delivered the verdict.
Guam’s size makes the betrayal feel more concentrated because community institutions are closely connected, and a fraud tied to charitable fundraising can reverberate through personal relationships, civic organizations, and local trust networks.
The case also shows that major financial crime does not require Wall Street, Silicon Valley, or a giant mainland institution, because a local charitable venue can generate tens of millions when operated over several years.
The scale of the proceeds turned a territorial case into a national fraud story with international fugitive consequences.
The final lesson is that charity fraud leaves a long trail.
Michael Lizaso Marasigan’s rise from Guam bingo operator to FBI Most Wanted Fraudster shows how a local charitable operation can become a federal fraud case when public trust, gambling proceeds, nonprofit branding, laundering activity, and false representations converge.
The $34 million gross proceeds, the $10.7 million restitution figure, the 262-month sentence, the Philippines travel issue, and the FBI reward have made Marasigan a central figure in the government’s expanding campaign against major white-collar fugitives.
The case warns that charitable language can become a weapon when donors and patrons are told their money will help children while proceeds are diverted into private hands.
It also warns fugitives that leaving the jurisdiction after conviction does not erase the verdict, because it may instead convert a financial crime case into an international manhunt.
In 2026, the Marasigan case stands as a blunt reminder that fraud built on charity is not only theft, because it is an attack on public generosity, community trust, and the belief that money raised for sick children will actually reach the children it was meant to help.