ESSAY: I Could’ve Been One of Jeff Thurn’s Marks
A former colleague reflects on talent wasted, trust broken, and a prison sentence years in the making.
Jeff Thurn during his time with ESPN Sioux Falls. Photo courtesy ESPN Sioux Falls via Townsquare Media.
By Todd Epp, Northern Plains News.
I worked with Jeff Thurn at KSOO-AM back in the 2010s.
He was quick on the mic, fast with a quip, and maybe the most naturally gifted sports talk host Sioux Falls had ever produced. A Rolodex full of national names—he got them to call into a mid-market station like it was ESPN New York. Because for Jeff, that’s where he was headed. And for a while, he got there.
This past week, Thurn was sentenced to 46 months in federal prison for wire fraud. The charge stems from a multimillion-dollar ticket-flipping scam. The FBI said it was a classic Ponzi—money from new investors paying off the old, with the rest allegedly vanishing into gambling and crypto black holes. Restitution? More than $5 million owed. Victims? Dozens.
I wasn’t one of them. But I could have been.
Back in the day, Jeff pitched me on investing in what sounded like a ticket reselling business. I didn’t have the cash, so I politely declined. When recently I told my wife—who, as a sociologist, tends to see through razzle-dazzle—she cut straight to the heart of it: “Apparently, he treated everyone as a mark.”
That comment has haunted me this week.
Because Jeff was more than a pitchman.
He was also, at one point, a real friend. Funny, kind, engaged. He had young kids. He worked hard. He was generous. That’s what makes this all so disorienting—the two versions of the same man. The broadcaster who inspired loyalty and admiration. The schemer who burned through other people’s life savings.
I feel bad for his family. I feel sad for what could’ve been. And I feel sick about what he actually did.
I’ve been in media long enough to see talented people flame out. But this isn’t burnout. This was betrayal. Calculated. Sustained. And utterly avoidable.
I don’t know what’s left of Jeff’s Rolodex now. I doubt many names still take his calls. But I hope, for his kids’ sake, he finds a way to rebuild—not a career, but a conscience.