Even in the world of slick, smooth-talking con artists, Lucas Orlin Ebert stands out.

After all, he was wearing a vest with the hospital's name on it and a badge that looked like hospital ID. He even got one ailing woman -- whom he met with in public areas of OHSU or the Veterans Affairs Medical Center -- to stop taking 10 medications as he prepared her for surgery he supposedly was going to perform. Her condition worsened, and she ended up in a wheelchair.

He also fooled people into thinking that he owned a Porche Boxster and other fancy sport cars (he rented them with credit information he'd scammed); that he owned a ritzy house in Forest Heights (he parked one of those fancy sports cars out front and proclaimed that he'd bought the house); and that he was a multi-millionaire and Renaissance man who juggled various jobs.

He said was on sabbatical from Microsoft's research and development department and that he also was a porn producer and credit counselor. That last identity helped him garner the credit information of victims, then fritter away their money on expenses such as posh hotels, but also on Match.com and Domino's Pizza, authorities say.

He piqued the attention of strippers at Portland area strip clubs, not only because he showered them with generous tips, but because he told them he'd performed 400 breast-enhancement surgeries and that he could do "mommy makeover" packages, too.

"These were outlandish stories," said Kevin Demer, the deputy district attorney who prosecuted Ebert's Multnomah County case. "But you want to trust people. And he's friendly. And he's young. And he comes across as kind. People generally want to trust people, even in our time and in our city."

Today, in Multnomah County Circuit Court, Ebert came to terms with his trail of lies when Judge Adrienne Nelson sentenced him to just more than three years in prison. Ebert pleaded guilty last month to criminal mistreatment, practicing medicine without a license, negotiating a bad check and identity theft.

Moments before the hearing began, Ebert shook his leg and appeared nervous as he pondered whether the judge would approve the proposed plea deal. When a television cameraman walked into the courtroom, Ebert turned toward the lens and looking startled. But by the end of the hearing he was his old self, the confident young man that so many knew. He told the cameraman to make sure to record the good side of his face. He rocked back in forth in his chair, joked with his attorney and even shook the hand of the prosecutor before heartily wishing him a Merry Christmas.

Ebert has made prosecutor Kevin Demer a mentor. Demer has spoken with Ebert for hours about stopping the scams, becoming a productive member of society and surviving jail and prison without causing trouble. Ebert had landed himself under special disciplinary supervision in jail, where he tried to get other inmates to put up thousands of dollars in bail in his name, tore apart a mattress to make a rope and didn't follow jail deputies' orders. He also threw what may have been urine at a deputy.

But after a few talks with Demer, Ebert started behaving better.

Ebert wrote Demer a thank you letter. In it, he said he plans to live a "normal, boring life."

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"I know you're doing your job, and I know things could have been a lot worse," Ebert wrote. "...I plan to take this experience and learn. ...I thought I'd let you know that I have my head in the right direction."

Demer hopes Ebert's words are sincere.

Ebert's cons were so widespread that they even spawned a Facebook group called "I was scammed by Lucas Ebert!" Authorities believe he was able to fool so many into believing he was a doctor, in part, because he played close attention to his favorite TV show, "Nip/Tuck." It tells the story of two gloriously wealthy yet troubled plastic surgeons.

Although authorities in three counties suspect Ebert is responsible for scamming more than $100,000 from victims, including his grandma, he was ordered to pay only a little over $18,000 in Multnomah County. That's the amount of money stolen that could be documented. Of that, $13,000 will go to the woman he scammed into thinking he'd perform pro bono surgery. He got her to hand over her credit information after telling her he was a credit counselor, and he could help her leverage herself to better pay other medical bills.

Of the remaining restitution due, $1,800 will go to the Benson Hotel, $2,200 to the Hilton Hotel and $1,000 to the Crown Plaza Hotel -- all luxury accomodations where Ebert stayed when he wasn't sleeping in his car. His public defender, Bryan Francesconi, said it's unlikely Ebert will be able to pay back the money, at least anytime soon.

"He was not working," Francesconi said. "He did not have a job when all of this happened. He was actually living in his car."

With time off for good behavior, Ebert's 38-month sentence could be shortened to about 2.5 years.

and Pacific County in Washington state. Among those crimes -- accepting money from people for computers or other technology from his so-called company, Elite Computers, but never delivering the products.

Under his plea deal, he's not supposed to get any more prison time from the Pacific County case, but he could face more time from the Washington County case.

Ebert offered no explanations at his sentencing hearing in Multnomah County. His attorney advised him not to speak because of the pending criminal counts.

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