Donald J. Trump has 2.43 million followers on Twitter, making him the 670th most followed person in the global Twitterverse. Last fall he was sandwiched there between Lonny Rashid Lynn Jr., better known as the Chicago-born hip-hop artist Common, and Alejandro Fernández, or El Potrillo, the Mexican singer.

The Donald likes to tweet about his many triumphs and to re-tweet exhortations for him to run for president and save the country. On October 29, he re-tweeted a boast from his daughter Ivanka—who has more than 1.5 million followers—that the yet to be completed Trump International Golf Club, in Dubai, was voted by the International Property Awards “the Best Golf Development in the Middle East.” That same day, he revealed that his Virginia winery had been awarded the “coveted” Virginia Double Gold Medal.

One project The Donald isn’t crowing about on Twitter—or anywhere else, for that matter—is the public-relations problem known first as Trump University and then as the Trump Entrepreneur Initiative, his effort to teach the great unwashed (for as much as $35,000 a head) his vaunted investing techniques. If Eric Schneiderman, the New York attorney general, is to be believed, this particular (now defunct) Trump enterprise was nothing short of out-and-out fraud. Touré, a host of The Cycle on MSNBC, appears to agree. He tweeted to The Donald, “Why did you rob all those Trump University students out of their money?”

Schneiderman thinks that’s a good question, and he wants a good answer. Last August the attorney general’s office filed suit against Trump and his associates for more than $40 million in New York State Supreme Court, claiming that between 2005 and 2011 they “intentionally” misled “over 5,000 individuals nationwide,” including some 600 New York State residents, who paid to “participate in live seminars and mentorship programs with the promise of learning Trump’s real estate investing techniques.” Schneiderman asserted that Trump personally made about $5 million from the endeavor—although Trump said he intended to donate any profits to charity. (Now he says that between legal fees and refunds no money is left to do so.)

At a press conference announcing the suit, Schneiderman claimed that “Mr. Trump used his celebrity status and personally appeared in commercials making false promises to convince people to spend tens of thousands of dollars they couldn’t afford for lessons they never got.”

Trump wasted little time in responding, hitting the airwaves to call into question Schneiderman’s character—he’s a “political hack,” Trump told Fox & Friends—and his motivation for filing the suit. Trump claims that Schneiderman cooked up the lawsuit after visiting with President Obama—the target of much of Trump’s political ire (recall Trump’s birther non-bombshell)—in upstate New York. They met on a Thursday and Schneiderman filed the lawsuit that Saturday, leaving Trump incredulous. “It’s a helluva coincidence,” he tells me. “You meet and then you immediately file a lawsuit and the lawsuit is filed not on a Monday or Tuesday but on a Saturday?… I’ve had a lot of litigation. I have never heard of a lawsuit being filed on a Saturday.”

Schneiderman responds, “I assure you I have many more important things to talk to the president about than the fact that we busted this penny-ante fraud… [Trump] seems to be the kind of person who goes to the Super Bowl and thinks the people in the huddle are talking about him.” As to why the suit was filed on a Saturday, Schneiderman says that Trump and his attorneys asked him to hold off until the weekend, allowing Trump to leak in advance his side of the story to the Saturday editions of the New York Post and The Wall Street Journal and “to whip up this strange Web site attacking me.”