About the Founder

Paul Grant Truesdell, J.D., AIF, CLU, ChFC, RFC

I am Paul Grant Truesdell, founder and CEO of The Truesdell Companies, a conglomerate of independently held professional service firms focused on wealth management, risk mitigation, business consulting, insurance, and estate planning. I am an investment advisor, a non-practicing attorney, an experienced law enforcement officer, a public speaker, an autodidact, and—by any reasonable standard—a lifelong truth-teller.

I was born in Dallas, Texas, and raised in a C-suite household where I learned early that real success isn’t about glitz, titles, or family pedigree. It’s about what you can do, how consistently you can do it, and how effectively you can protect it. I earned multiple undergraduate degrees at the University of Wisconsin, delayed law school, and instead dove into what I call my “Master’s Degree in Street”—earned on the front lines of law enforcement. I experienced multiple deadly force events and was seriously injured in the line of duty. I wrapped up that chapter of my life in 1986, the same year I transitioned fully into wealth management. I remained as a fully certified reserve officer and worked old and a few new cases as a volunteer until 1992.

I have always worked at the intersection of law, finance, forecasting, and in the real-world of investigative analysis. In other words, as Jack Webb from Dragnet might say: “facts, not fiction.” My approach is rooted in practicality: If I can control it, I do it well. If I cannot, I walk away. I founded Truesdell Wealth, Inc. to offer Fixed Cost Investing℠—a fee-transparent model that eliminates percentage-based conflicts. I run Truesdell Insurance, Inc. to structure death, disability, and income risk solutions. I oversee Truesdell Consulting, Inc. to develop, invest in, and support forward-thinking ventures. I helped build Truesdell Law to focus exclusively on estate, asset protection, and elder planning. All of this takes place inside the Truesdell Professional Building, which I personally designed and constructed in Ocala, Florida.

I’ve spoken at over 1,000 public events and before more than 50,000 attendees. I’ve served as an expert witness in securities fraud and suitability cases. I’ve written software, studied pattern recognition, consulted with public policy boards, and I’ve testified with the same blunt tone I use in business—direct, intelligent, no filler.

Some ask why I’m sarcastic. The truth? Because sarcasm is efficient. It filters out the weak, the politically correct, the indecisive, and the easily offended. It lets me focus on those who are worthy of my time—those with authority, maturity, resources, and the long-term vision to make wealth last. I do not suffer fools, crybabies, or whiners. And I certainly do not waste my time on anyone lacking what I call A TIME: Authority, Time, Interest, Money, and Energy.

I work exclusively with clients who have—or aspire to—a long-term time horizon, much like Edward C. Banfield described in The Unheavenly City Revisited. Wealth isn’t built in bursts. It’s cultivated across decades. And those who lack the discipline or foresight to think beyond next week are not welcome here.

I write often and my works are designed for serious thinkers—retirees, pre-retirees, professionals, and business owners who understand that the world is volatile, the systems are rigged, and the traditional rules no longer apply. This is not theory. This is about positioning yourself to survive and thrive in what I call the Gray Zone—where war, peace, economy, intelligence, and reality blur.

If you like sarcasm with substance, discipline with direction, and a life lived on principle rather than permission, we’ll get along just fine.

The Real Me

Now that we’ve covered the professional bio—the kind that fits on business cards, government forms, or your mother’s fridge—let’s get into the actual story. The one you tell over a cigar, a 20-ounce Tomahawk steak, and a heavy pour of peated scotch.

Yes, I’m a professional. Yes, I have a building with my name on it. Yes, I’ve survived deadly force encounters, built businesses, testified in court, and watched entire economic cycles collapse. But I’m also sarcastic as hell, allergic to mediocrity, and I’ve got zero tolerance for time-wasters, TikTok theorists, or anyone who thinks “manifesting” is a strategy.

If you’re looking for a warm, fuzzy, hand-holding “financial friend,” keep walking. But if you want someone who’s blunt, fast, focused, and funnier than your brother-in-law who still thinks The Office is edgy TV, we might get along just fine.

You see, sarcasm isn’t just my language—it’s my filter. It slices through the fluff. It tells me, instantly, whether we’re going to get anything done together. Laugh at my sarcasm? You’re in. Get offended? You were never invited in the first place.

I don’t think outside the box because the box never existed to begin with. The “rules” most people follow—especially in finance, politics, and education—are made up by people who couldn’t sell a peanut at a ballpark without three compliance officers, a consultant, and a PowerPoint deck. No thanks.

I built my life and my companies around three truths: Do what you like. Be good and profitable at it. And only do what you can control. If you cannot stomach that level of clarity, you’re not my audience. Go back to sipping oat milk lattes and journaling about feelings. We’re doing grown-up work over here.

I don’t cater to the broke, the aimless, or the perpetually offended. I work with what I call 5/55/Retirees—those within five years of retirement, aged fifty-five and up, or already retired. Why? Because they’ve been kicked around enough to finally see the value in logic, structure, and results.

Younger folks who do not meet that standard? You are welcome to prove me wrong, but let me be clear—I’m not babysitting anyone’s feelings. If you need safe spaces and emotional service squirrels, this ain’t it. I’m not a guru, a coach, or a therapist. I’m an advisor, an operator, and occasionally—when the stars align—a miracle worker.

I serve clients who understand that real wealth isn’t about the Rolex or the zip code. It’s about the Seven COWs (The Seven Components of Wealth and Status): Mindset, Physical, Emotional, Intellectual, Relationships, Income, and Risk Management. If one cow’s limping, the whole herd suffers. You want milk? You better feed all seven.

I also coined “A TIME”—Authority, Time, Interest, Money, Energy. If you don’t bring all five to the table, don’t pull up a chair. I value my time like gold, and I don’t barter with amateurs.

Look, I’m not interested in mass appeal. I built Truesdell Wealth and the Truesdell Professional Building with a steel backbone and concrete convictions. I’m the guy who’d rather lose a deal than lie. I’m the guy who has a Ph.D. in Sniffing Dirt from the University of Truesdell—Castletown, Isle of Man. My dissertation? “People Who Talk Without Thinking and the Muppets Who Follow Them.”

And don’t even get me started on YouTubers, crypto evangelists, motivational charlatans, or thirty-year-olds calling themselves “serial entrepreneurs.” If you haven’t made payroll, survived an IRS audit, or buried a family member while keeping your company afloat, your opinions mean very little to me.

I’m also an unapologetic student of history. My grandfather was born in 1865. My parents in 1915. I was in Dallas when Kennedy was shot. I’ve watched the media lie, the government spin, and Wall Street fleece the public with a straight face. That’s why I connect the dots the way I do—because I’ve seen the game from every angle. And because I’ve played it—and won—without cheating or selling out.

I write and speak not to impress, but to prepare. This world is volatile, and most people are asleep at the wheel with their portfolios in the trunk. I wake them up, slap some perspective into their plan, and give them tools to survive the storm—without drama, without fluff, and without losing their sense of humor.

So yes, I’m sarcastic. Yes, I’m blunt. Yes, I’m damn good at what I do. And yes, I believe in legacy—not the kind you post about, but the kind that takes care of your family when you’re no longer around.

The work I do is for people who still believe in thinking, planning, and leading. If you’re one of them, you’ve found your tribe.

If not?

Well, as I often say…

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

Jack, Coffee, and the Ghost of Texas Past

Now, if you’ve made it this far, you probably have a decent attention span, a solid constitution, and at least one foot in the world of good taste. That’s rare these days. So, allow me to reward you with something a little different—something a little closer to the bone.

I like to joke that I joined the Texas Rangers during the Monroe Administration. It was 1836, I was sixteen, and my mentor was Jack Coffee—until, of course, his cup ran dry. That’s right. Back when we patrolled the wilds of Texas, you needed a good horse, a steady hand, and a willingness to be uncomfortable for long periods of time without complaint. Sound familiar? It should. That is still my hiring policy today.

Armed with a rifle, a sidearm, a Bowie knife, and a wool blanket that doubled as both bed and bargaining chip, we kicked ass, took names, forgot the names, and kicked again. In those days, we had no time for indecision, dawdlers, or men who could not sharpen their own blade while brewing coffee over open flame. Some of that has changed—mainly the fire restrictions—but the rest? Not so much.

These days, I drink my coffee hot, black, and strong—like truth should be. And if you catch me offering you a cup in a meeting, know this: it’s a test. If you say “Do you have any oat milk?”—you’ve failed. If you sip, nod, and ask for another, you’ve probably already made it through my sarcasm filter. If you actually know who Jack Coffee was—well, that earns you a lifelong pass and a permanent place in the tribe.

Truth is, my sense of humor is a survival mechanism. If you spend enough time on the front lines—law enforcement, litigation, investment banking and management, real-life business building—you learn quickly that laughter is armor. The good kind. The kind forged in real stories, not fantasy. The kind that protects you from the idiocy, the injustice, and the outright absurdity of modern life.

So yes, I make jokes. I drop references that go over most heads. I compare modern "experts" to old-school Texas Rangers and find most of them lacking in grit, grace, and gear. And yes, if you get the joke, you're probably my kind of person.

And if you are still reading? Well, you deserve a hot cup of something strong and a plate of bacon. You’ve survived the ride-along. Congratulations. Now it is time to saddle up, cinch the girth, and make a Monty Hall.

Let’s ride. Jack would be proud.

As I often say, I do what I like, what I’m good and profitable at, and what I can control. If that offends you, well, you probably weren’t going to make it past the first chapter anyway.

Now flip the page, pour the bourbon, and let’s get to work.

Let’s get started.