Business
Bitten by a billionaire's dog? Or a case of extortion? A legal saga from an L.A. dog park
A dog-bites-woman story usually isn’t much of a story at all. But an incident in one of L.A.’s wealthiest enclaves has become something else entirely.
What began in a Brentwood park on a summer day in 2022, when a dog owned by billionaire surgical-device inventor Gary Michelson allegedly bit another pet owner, has turned into dueling lawsuits and an allegation of blackmail.
Michelson claims it’s a simple case of extortion. He says interior designer Sandra Evling tried to force him to pay her $85,000 by threatening to publicly humiliate him and report his dog to authorities, which she claimed would lead to the pet being put down. He filed suit first, seeking damages in excess of $250,000.
From Evling’s perspective, he should have known better. She alleged Michelson, a philanthropist prominent in animal welfare circles, let his dog run free despite knowing it had bitten other animals and one other person — traumatizing her and causing severe injuries, according to a personal injury lawsuit she filed in response seeking unspecified damages.
In a town where the rich have legitimate fears of extortion, is this a case of a person seeking a payday? Or a billionaire using his wealth and legal savvy to protect himself from responsibility for an aggressive animal?
Dr. Gary Michelson at a 2019 gala for his Michelson Found Animals Foundation in Beverly Hills.
(Albert L. Ortega/Getty Images)
Michelson, 75, seems an unlikely antagonist in a dog-bite case. After reaching a $1.35-billion patent dispute settlement with medical device maker Medtronic two decades ago, he has made a name for himself as a philanthropist in animal welfare and other fields.
After Hurricane Katrina in 2005 orphaned more than 100,000 pets, he established the nation’s first free microchip pet registry. He has a standing prize offer of $25 million for the development of a single-dose medication that can permanently and safely sterilize both cats and dogs.
Michelson’s devotion to animal welfare extended to his own pet Blue, a beige-and-white dog with droopy eyes he celebrated on Instagram with the tongue-in-cheek handle @scarypitbully. The page, since taken down, documented the maturation of the American bully XL, the largest of a muscular breed derived from the American pit bull terrier that the United Kennel Club describes as more gentle and playful, making it an excellent family dog.
Michelson and Evling, 37, an immigrant from Sweden, were regulars at Veterans’ Barrington Park. They lived nearby: Evling in an apartment and Michelson in a $24-million mansion.
The incident took place Aug. 9, 2022, just outside a fenced-in dog park on ball fields where owners let their dogs run free.
Dogs tend to play off-leash on a sports field adjacent to the dog park at Veterans’ Barrington Park.
(Robert Gauthier/Los Angeles Times)
Evling, in her lawsuit, said that she was walking with her dog Neo, a tamaskan, when Blue charged her pet, and that she was bitten trying to protect it. She sought treatment that evening at an urgent care clinic complaining of pain in her left hand from a crush injury and an abrasion to her right elbow, according to medical records reviewed by The Times.
An X-ray found no fractures or vascular injuries in her hand, which was put in a finger splint. She was given a tetanus shot and prescribed antibiotics, the records show.
In messages sent to The Times, Michelson said the records are not evidence of dog bites, claiming instead she might have twisted her finger on her dog’s collar and scraped her elbow while falling. He said that afterward he checked on Evling “for days” and offered to pay her medical bills. He said that the calls were cordial and that she “seemed ok.”
Michelson said he also set up a session at his house with celebrity dog trainer Cesar Millan, a longtime friend, to work with Neo and Blue together so that “Sandra could feel comfortable at the dog park with Blue around.”
Gary Michelson’s dog Blue.
(Courtesy of Gary Michelson)
After the session, Michelson said, he and Evling would see each other at Gold’s Gym Venice, where they both brought their service-dog pets. He said that “things were always quite friendly” and that Evling never complained of being bitten until she learned of his wealth.
Attorney Benjamin Taylor, who represents Evling in the extortion lawsuit, said Evling knew Michelson’s background “well before this incident.”
On April 20, 2023, eight months after the alleged attack, Evling texted Michelson asking to meet the next day at the gym, according to a copy of the pair’s text string provided by former Los Angeles County Dist. Atty. Steve Cooley, a friend of Michelson’s who is listed as one of his attorneys in the extortion lawsuit.
Their conversation continued via texts. Evling complained she was suffering from “severe PTSD” and a lifelong scar from the attack, and chastised Michelson about another alleged incident at the park involving Blue.
“When I was told that you had taken Blue off leash at the park this week and that he had attacked another dog all my trauma came back (like it happened all over again) and a severe anger that you’re not taking this problem seriously. Is it going to take someone getting killed before you realize how serious this is?” she texted. (Michelson denied Blue ever attacked another dog or person in answers to a list of questions sent to Cooley in February.)
Evling, who had stated she didn’t want to involve attorneys, laid out two options.
If Michelson chose Option A, she would have him and his dog expelled from the gym, file a report with police and animal control that would result in the dog being put down, and file a class-action lawsuit with other parkgoers that “will cost you a loooot of money.”
If Michelson chose Option B, Evling texted, he could keep Blue as long as he paid her $85,000, kept his dog on a leash and didn’t bring it to the park. She promised not to file a complaint with the gym so long as Michelson kept Blue away from her while she was training. She added she would sign a nondisclosure agreement that would be voided only if Blue attacked her or her dog again, not if Blue was aggressive with others.
“It is time for you take responsibility and suffer the consequences of your actions,” she texted.
Several days later, Michelson asked Evling how she arrived at the compensation figure and how he and his wife, recording artist Alya Michelson, could trust that she wouldn’t carry out her threats anyway.
Evling said she had consulted with several law firms and claimed the $85,000 would be less than a court judgment. She assured him she wouldn’t talk to anyone or file legal action. “I AM a person of my word and just want to move on as much as you do and leave this in the past,” she texted on April 27.
The negotiations then turned sour. Michelson told Evling he had just learned from several dog park friends that she was recruiting plaintiffs for a lawsuit, accusing her of “already breaking your promise.” However, he said he was immediately sending a “good faith” payment of $10,000 if she would not take the steps she had outlined. “Hopefully, this small measure of restraint will be acceptable to you,” he texted.
Evling disputed that she was preparing a lawsuit, contending she had only learned of the new alleged attack through a dog park chat group.
After being assured the $10,000 was a partial payment, Evling said she would not take further action as long as she received a contract by May 15 for the remainder of the $85,000. Michelson filed his extortion lawsuit days later on May 3.
Taylor said Evling had sought payment to resolve the matter informally without attorneys in the hopes of avoiding a “spectacle.” “Now that Dr. Michelson decided to sue her first, she looks forward to her day in court,” he said.
Attorney Ryan Baker, a founding partner of L.A. law firm Waymaker, reviewed the exchange to offer an opinion on whether it amounted to civil extortion, which under California law includes receiving a benefit such as money through the threatened exposure of any “disgrace or crime” even if falsely alleged.
Baker said that Evling had the right to pursue a private settlement under the threat of her own lawsuit, but if she threatened to report Michelson unless he met her demands she crossed a “bright line.” “She can’t become her own private judge, jury and executioner,” he said.
Michelson was “extremely shrewd,” he said, to seek the demands in writing and send the $10,000, since receiving it would be a key element of civil extortion.
Baker said a “critical question” a jury would have to decide was whether Evling had extorted the money or had simply received and kept it.
After Evling was sued, she filed a personal injury lawsuit that claimed Blue had bitten four dogs and one person in 2022 before the attack on her, and one poodle afterward.
Her lawsuit provided few details about the other alleged attacks. Blue, though, was a topic of a dog park group chat on April 17, 2023 — the day of the alleged poodle attack. Multiple members of the chat alleged that Michelson brought his dog to the park and that his dog had repeated altercations with other animals.
Michelson denied Blue has a history of aggression, contending “chat rooms are not acceptable or reliable sources of factual information,” in response to the questions sent Cooley. He said that Evling’s characterization of his pet, which is referred to as a “vicious animal” in her lawsuit, “reeks of outdated stereotypes.”
Michelson pointed to a lack of complaints with Los Angeles Animal Services as evidence, which the department confirmed in February in response to a California Public Records Act request.
Judie Mancuso, the founder of Social Compassion in Legislation, a public policy group that advocates for animals in Sacramento, said Blue was “super well behaved” at a fundraiser Michelson and his wife hosted for the nonprofit in July at the couple’s Brentwood home.
“The dog didn’t even bark at anyone,” Mancuso said.
At the time of the dog park incident, neither of their dogs were neutered. Michelson said in a text this was to allow Blue to compete as a purebred show dog. He said he opted to have Blue neutered last month because of the difficulty of participating in competition with a dog whose breed is not recognized by the American Kennel Club. “As I am a champion for S&N [spay and neuter], I gave up and had him neutered,” he texted.
Evling’s dog was 8 months old at the time. He has since been neutered, according to Taylor.
In support of her allegations that Blue was aggressive, Evling collected the names and numbers of some two dozen people she alleged had witnessed attacks, including 12 chat group members, whose identities were disclosed in court filings. The Times attempted to contact all of them; most did not respond or would not comment publicly.
Syed Ahmed, a Brentwood data analyst, was an exception. He said that his dog Turbo, a male 70-pound Doberman pinscher, and Blue got into a fight in March 2022 and that Michelson’s dog “ended up grabbing my dog by the throat.” Evling’s lawsuit alleged a dog of that name was bitten that month.
Turbo was treated for puncture wounds, according to a veterinary bill provided to The Times, along with photos of the bite wound.
Ahmed said he didn’t ask Michelson to reimburse him for his $908.10 bill. Michelson “was very apologetic, and that’s why I didn’t pursue anything. I was like, OK, you know, s— happens,” he said.
After Michelson learned from The Times last month that the dog had been injured, he reimbursed Ahmed for his veterinary bill.
Michelson said that he believed Turbo just wanted to play, but that Blue bit the dog because he had been attacked several times by other male dogs. “Blue misread the dog’s intent and reacted to protect himself. I was very upset that it happened,” he emailed. “I will testify under oath that I have never seen Blue attack anyone, ever.”
Michelson’s and Evling’s lawsuits are wending their way through Superior Court. Trial dates for each have been set for next year.
In early December, Evling saw Westside plastic and reconstructive surgeon Michael Zarrabi to examine the scar allegedly left by the dog bite on her right elbow. Zarrabi called the injury “disfiguring” and recommended surgery, multiple laser treatments and topical ointments that he anticipated would improve the appearance 80%, according to medical records reviewed by The Times. The estimated cost: $41,900.
Michelson, in a text, called the estimate “beyond absurd.” He said in an email that he consulted a “well-regarded” Beverly Hills plastic surgeon who, after seeing pictures of the abrasion, said the scar tissue could be removed for $5,000 — half the $10,000 he had already sent her.
As the two parties await trial, Evling has started a business selling Swedish cookies, while Michelson has remained active in civic and philanthropic circles. He rubbed elbows with Gov. Gavin Newsom at an event announcing UCLA’s acquisition of the former Westside Pavilion mall, which the university is converting into a research park. It will house the California Institute for Immunology and Immunotherapy, which Michelson chairs and has pledged $120 million toward.
One place he apparently has not been in a long while is the Barrington dog park.
After the alleged poodle attack, Michelson texted Evling that he was never going to the dog park again and “it is my intention to stay as far away from you as possible.”
Taylor said she had stopped going there too.
Business
The rise and fall of the Sprinkles empire that made cupcakes cool
After the dot-com bubble burst in the early 2000s, Candace Nelson reevaluated her career. She had just been laid off from a boutique investment banking firm in San Francisco’s tech startup scene, and realized she wanted a change.
From her home, she launched a custom cake service that soon morphed into an idea for a cupcake-focused bakery. Nelson and her husband — whom she met at the Bay Area firm where she had worked — then pooled their savings, moved to Southern California and together opened Sprinkles Cupcakes from a 600-square-foot Beverly Hills storefront.
The store quickly sold out on opening day in 2005, and over the next two decades, the Sprinkles brand exploded across the country, opening dozens of locations of its specialty bakeries as well as mall kiosks and its signature around-the-clock cupcake ATMs in several states.
“It was an unproven concept and a big risk,” Nelson told the Times in 2013, at which point the business had 400 employees at 14 locations and dispensed upward of a thousand cupcakes a day from its Beverly Hills ATM alone.
But now, the iconic cupcake brand is no longer.
Sprinkles abruptly shut down all of its locations on Dec. 31, leaving hundreds of retail employees across Arizona; California; Washington, D.C.; Florida; Nevada; Texas; and Utah in a lurch with little notice, no severance and scrambling to fulfill a surge of orders from customers clamoring to get their last tastes.
Candace Nelson, the founder of Sprinkles cupcakes, in Beverly Hills in 2018.
(Mel Melcon / Los Angeles Times)
Although Nelson long ago exited the company, having sold it to private equity firm KarpReilly LLC in 2012, she shared her disappointment with its fate on social media.
“As many of you know, I started Sprinkles in 2005 with a KitchenAid mixer and a big idea,” Nelson said in the post. “It’s surreal to see this chapter come to a close — and it’s not how I imagined the story would unfold.”
The company, now headquartered in Austin, Texas, made no formal announcement regarding the closures and Nelson has not said more than what she posted online. The company did share a comment with KTLA, saying “After thoughtful consideration, we’ve made the very difficult decision to transition away from operating company-owned Sprinkles bakeries.” Neither Nelson nor representatives of Sprinkles and KarpReilly responded to The Times’ requests for comment.
Sprinkles’ demise comes at a tough time for the food and beverage industry. At brick-and-mortar food retail locations, the non-negotiable ingredient and labor costs can be high. And shifting consumer sentiments away from sugar-filled sweets and toward more healthy and functional options, strained pocketbooks, as well as pushes by federal and state governments to nix artificial colors and flavoring, are creating uncertainties for businesses, those in the food industry said.
A 24-hour cupcake ATM at Sprinkles Cupcakes in Beverly Hills in 2012.
(Damian Dovarganes / Associated Press)
“Over the last 10 years the consumer has wizened up tremendously and is looking at the back of the label and choosing where to spend their sweets,” said David Jacobowitz, founder of Austin-based Nebula Snacks, an online food retailer.
At the same time, it’s also not uncommon for businesses owned by private-equity firms to close on a whim, where relentlessly profit-driven decisions might be made simply to pursue more lucrative projects. In recent years, private-equity deals have been seen to milk businesses for profit by slashing costs and quality, and have appeared to play a role in the breakup of some legacy retail brands, including Toys ‘R’ Us, Red Lobster, TGI Fridays and fabrics chain JoAnn Inc. On the flip side, private equity can help infuse much-needed cash into a business and extend its life.
Stevie León and her co-workers received a text the night before New Year’s Eve informing them the franchise Sprinkles location in Sarasota, Fla., where they worked would close permanently after their shifts the next day.
León, 33, said her position as a scratch baker mixing batter and frosting cupcakes overnight had been a dream job, since she had been searching for ways to develop baking skills without paying for expensive schooling.
“I really thought it was my forever job and it was taken away literally in a day,” she said. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”
Ivy Hernandez, 27, the general manager at the Sarasota store, said that after the news was delivered to her boss, the franchise owner, they rushed to learn their options to keep the store afloat but quickly learned it could be legally precarious to continue operating. The store had been open less than a year.
A nearby corporate store, Hernandez said, had been in disarray for months, with employees contending with broken fridges and lapsed ingredient shipments, as managers implored higher-ups to pay the bills so the business could operate properly.
“It really felt like they were trying to do everything they could to screw everyone over as hard as possible until the end,” Hernandez said.
Sprinkles did not respond to questions about the franchise program or allegations of mismanagement in the lead-up to the closure.
A person walks by Sprinkles on the Upper East Side in New York City in 2020.
(Cindy Ord / Getty Images)
The obsession with tiny cakes in paper cups traces back to an episode of “Sex and the City” aired in 2000 showing Miranda and Carrie savoring cupcakes on a bench outside a West Village bakery called Magnolia’s Cupcakes.
“Big wasn’t a crush, he was a crash,” Carrie says to Miranda as she peels down the wrapper on a cupcake topped with bright pink buttercream frosting. She punctuates the quip by taking a big bite, leaving a glob of frosting on her face.
The scene sparked a tourism phenomenon for the bakery — which went on to create a “Carrie” line of cupcakes — and helped propel the burgeoning cupcake industry and companies like Sprinkles Cupcakes, Crumbs Bake Shop and Baked by Melissa to new heights.
Within a decade there was already talk of a “Cupcake Bubble,” coined by writer Daniel Gross in a 2009 Slate article where he argued that the 2008 economic recession laid the groundwork for a proliferation of cupcake stores across America, because a lot of people could figure out how to make tasty cupcakes cheaply and scale up without a huge capital investment.
Amid the decimation of many other local retail businesses, one could take over storefronts in heavily trafficked areas for cheap. As a result, “casual baking turned into an urban industry,” Gross said.
The cupcake fervor hit its peak when Crumbs, which had started as a single bakery on Manhattan’s Upper West Side in 2003, went public in a reverse merger worth $66 million in 2011. The wildly popular mini-cakes were selling at $4.50 a pop. But it became clear very quickly that it had grown too large, too fast. It closed in 2014 after it lost its stock listing on Nasdaq and defaulted on about $14.3 million in financing.
Analysts at the time said consumers were cooling on opulent desserts and suggested tougher times were ahead for bakeries that focused solely on cupcakes.
But Baked by Melissa has thus far proved those analysts wrong. The company has remained privately owned, and according to its founder, is focused on nationwide e-commerce operations — and on expanding the brand beyond sweets. Founder Melissa Ben-Ishay has gained a following on social media by sharing recipes for nutritious, easy-to-make meals.
“Businesses that prioritize quick value increases to get acquired often crash,” Ben-Ishay told Forbes last year. “We’re committed to maintaining product quality and steady, long-term growth.”
Before its unceremonious and sudden closure, Spinkles company leadership had pushed to diversify its business as part of a strategy to recover from a pandemic-era lull.
Chief Executive Dan Mesches told trade publication Nation’s Restaurant News in 2021 that comparable sales had grown since pre-pandemic years. He said the company had ramped up its direct-to-consumer and off-premises offerings and created a line of chocolates made to look like the tops of their cupcakes. The company also introduced a new franchise program with the goal of opening some 200 locations in the U.S. and abroad over three years.
“Innovation is everything for us,” Mesches said.
Sprinkles was known for, among other things, inventive and somewhat corny methods of customer delivery. Besides the trademark ATMs, the company’s vending machines found at many airports made loud, attention-drawing jingles, drawing dramatic complaints and jokes from TikTok travelers. In the 2010s, the company debuted a custom-built truck — “the Sprinklesmobile” — to deliver cupcakes to cities without physical locations.
Frances Hughes, co-founder of online wholesale marketplace Starch, said there’s no question that gourmet sweet treats are still in vogue. But brick-and-mortar locations are much more risky, with more unpredictability. Having large fixed costs makes a business “extremely sensitive to small changes in traffic or frequency,” while online or e-commerce models can be more flexible.
“I think cupcakes as a product still have demand. But the novelty paths that support that rapid retail expansion have passed,” Hughes said.
When Nelson, the Sprinkles founder, posted her somber message about the closure, she asked people to share memories of the company. Many offered heartfelt responses, her comments flooded with stories, for example, of poor college students making the trek to the Beverly Hills location for a limited number of first-come, first-served free cupcakes.
But many of the comments also criticized Nelson’s sale to private equity.
“You sold it to PE and expected it to not close?? What planet are you living on? I don’t begrudge you for selling as that’s entirely your choice but to think any PE firm cares about a company in the slightest is insanity,” one Instagram user said.
Nicole Rucker, an L.A.-based pastry chef and owner of Fat+Flour Pie Shop, said she didn’t observe a decline in the quality of the product after the private-equity takeover. She has been a longtime admirer of the company, driving up from San Diego to sample the cupcakes when its store opened. The simple attractiveness of the box and the logo, and the consistency in the way cupcakes were decorated, “was inspiring,” she said.
“It had a strong hold on people for years,” Rucker said.
Rucker said however that when a private-equity-owned business shutters, she doesn’t feel sadness: “I would rather give my money to a fellow small-business owner, because I would rather know that every dollar and every sale matters.”
Michelle Wainwright, the owner and founder of Indiana-based bakery Cute as a Cupcake! said that although the niche cupcake industry may no longer be in its heyday — with “Sex and the City” no longer airing and competitive baking show “Cupcake Wars” (which Candace Nelson served as a judge on) now canceled — they are still versatile treats, with great potential for creativity.
And they are sentimental to her, because she uses her grandmother’s recipe.
“Cupcakes are still a winner,” Wainwright said. “It’s my belief that a life with out cupcakes is a life without love.”
Business
Bay Area semiconductor testing company to lay off more than 200 workers
Semiconductor testing equipment company FormFactor is laying off more than 200 workers and closing manufacturing facilities as it seeks to cut costs after being hit by higher import taxes.
The Livermore, Calif.,-based company plans to shutter its Baldwin Park facility and cut 113 jobs there on Jan. 30, according to a layoff notice sent to the California Employment Development Department this week. Its facility in Carlsbad is scheduled to close in mid-December later this year, which will result in 107 job losses, according to an earlier notice.
Technicians, engineers, managers, assemblers and other workers are among those expected to lose their jobs, according to the notices.
The company offers semiconductor testing equipment, including probe cards, and other products. The industry has been benefiting from increased AI chip adoption and infrastructure spending.
FormFactor is among the employers that have been shedding workers amid more economic uncertainty.
Companies have cited various reasons for workforce reductions, including restructuring, closures, tariffs, market conditions and artificial intelligence, which can help automate repetitive tasks or generate text, images and code.
The tech industry — a key part of California’s economy — has been hit hard by job losses after the pandemic, which spurred more hiring, and amid the rise of AI tools that are reshaping its workforce.
As tech companies and startups compete fiercely to dominate the AI race, they’ve also cut middle management and other workers as they move faster to release more AI-powered products. They’re also investing billions of dollars into data centers that house computing equipment used to process the massive troves of information needed to train and maintain AI systems.
Companies such as chipmaker Nvidia and ChatGPT maker OpenAI have benefited from the AI boom, while legacy tech companies such as Intel are fighting to keep up.
FormFactor’s cuts are part of restructuring plans that “are intended to better align cost structure and support gross margin improvement to the Company’s target financial model,” the company said in a filing to the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission this week.
The company plans to consolidate its facilities in Baldwin Park and Carlsbad, the filing said.
FormFactor didn’t respond to a request for comment.
FormFactor has been impacted by tariffs and seen its growth slow. The company employs more than 2,000 people and has been aiming to improve its profit margins.
In October, the company reported $202.7 million in third-quarter revenue, down 2.5% from the third quarter of fiscal 2024. The company’s net income was $15.7 million in the third quarter of 2025, down from $18.7 million in the same quarter of the previous year.
FormFactor’s stock has been up 16% since January, surpassing more than $67 per share on Friday.
Business
In-N-Out Burger outlets in Southern California hit by counterfeit bill scam
Two people allegedly used $100 counterfeit bills at dozens of In-N-Out Burger restaurants in Southern California in a wide-reaching scam.
Glendale Police officials said in a statement Friday that 26-year-old Tatiyanna Foster of Long Beach was taken into custody last month. Another suspect, 24-year-old Auriona Lewis, also of Long Beach, was arrested in October.
Police released images of $100 bills used to purchase a $2.53 order of fries and a $5.93 order of a Flying Dutchman.
The Los Angeles County District Attorney’s Office charged Lewis with felony counterfeiting and grand theft in November.
Elizabeth Megan Lashley-Haynes, Lewis’s public defender, didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.
Glendale police said that Lewis was arrested in Palmdale in an operation involving the U.S. Marshals Task Force. Foster is expected in court later this month, officials said.
”Lewis was found to be in possession of counterfeit bills matching those used in the Glendale incident, along with numerous gift cards and transaction receipts believed to be connected to similar fraudulent activity,” according to a police statement.
A representative for In-N-Out Burger told KTLA-TV that restaurants in Riverside, San Bernardino and San Diego counties were also targeted by the alleged scam.
“Their dedication and expertise resulted in the identification and apprehension of the suspects, helping to protect our business and our communities,” In-N-Out’s Chief Operations Officer Denny Warnick said. “We greatly value the support of law enforcement and appreciate the vital role they play in making our communities stronger and safer places to live.”
The company, opened in 1948 in Baldwin Park, has restaurants in nine states.
An Oakland location closed in 2024, with the owner blaming crime and slow police response times.
Company chief executive Lynsi Snyder announced last year that she planned to relocate her family to Tennessee, although the burger chain’s headquarters will remain in California.
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