Mike Smith wanted nothing more than to be heard.
A suburban dad in his forties who owned urgent-care facilities, he poured his wealth into chasing musical stardom with an almost childlike desperation.
But when legitimate success proved elusive, federal prosecutors say Smith turned to an elaborate scheme involving bot accounts and AI-generated music that allegedly earned him more than $10 million in fraudulent streaming royalties.
In September 2024, Smith became the first person in the United States to face criminal charges tied to streaming fraud—finally achieving the name recognition he’d spent over a decade pursuing, just not the way he imagined.
The Legitimate Success That Wasn’t Enough
Smith actually tasted real success in early 2017. Working with Nashville producer Tony Mantor, his disco-pop tune “You’re My Kind of Beautiful” climbed to Number 35 on Billboard’s adult-contemporary chart and Number 33 on Mediabase.
These were monitored charts—among the most precise in the industry, resistant to manipulation. Mantor celebrated the achievement on Instagram, calling it a “great way to start a career.”
That’s the beauty of monitored. They can’t manipulate it.
But Smith wanted more attention, much faster. According to federal prosecutors, he began creating fake email addresses and bot accounts that could stream his music on repeat.
By October 2017, Smith allegedly emailed himself a breakdown showing 1,040 bot accounts streaming approximately 636 songs daily. With 661,440 streams per day at half a cent each, he estimated earnings of $3,307.20 daily—over $1.2 million annually.
The AI Music Factory
Between 2017 and 2024, prosecutors allege Smith operated as many as 10,000 active bot accounts. While streaming his own catalog initially, he eventually purchased and uploaded hundreds of thousands of songs generated with artificial intelligence.
Smith had identified a critical flaw: a billion fake streams for one song would raise red flags, but spreading those streams across tens of thousands of tracks would be far harder to detect.
When distribution companies flagged his music for potential fraud in 2018 and 2019, Smith vehemently denied wrongdoing.
There is absolutely no fraud going on whatsoever!
Yet that same month, prosecutors say, Smith reached out to unnamed associates with a revealing message about needing “a TON of content with small amounts of Streams” to avoid anti-fraud detection systems.
A Pattern of Questionable Behavior
Smith’s alleged streaming fraud wasn’t his first brush with financial controversy. In 2015 and 2016, he and his company Carolina Comprehensive Health Network faced Medicare and Medicaid fraud accusations.
Whistleblowers at his clinics claimed they were instructed to perform medically unnecessary tests and submit false reimbursement claims. One complaint alleged that Smith’s record label, SMH Records, received $150,000 from the health network during this period.
Smith settled one fraud case for $900,000 in September 2020, while the other was dismissed.
Katherine Reilly, a former prosecutor who worked on the streaming fraud case, sees familiar patterns.
The allegations suggest this is an individual who identified a pot of money and developed a way to give himself access to it. Along the way, he was alleged to have made a variety of misrepresentations to people who asked questions to allow his scheme to continue.
The Man Behind The Music
Those who worked with Smith describe him with a mixture of bemusement and frustration. Jonathan Hay, a music publicist who became Smith’s creative partner, remembers his former colleague’s outsized self-belief.
He thought he was the best guitarist in the world, the best singer in the world.
Sabrina Kelly, who worked with Smith as creative director, compared him to Michael Scott from The Office—likable but generic, with an insatiable need for approval.
His songwriting was generic. His voice. Nothing stood out. He was savvy as a businessman, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted to do music. He wanted to be in the limelight.
Former collaborator Othr Bestlasson was even blunter about his relief at Smith’s arrest.
I feel no shame saying this—maybe I should feel a little guilty, but I don’t. I am so happy. Mike Smith was such an asshole.
The Billion-Dollar Problem
Smith’s case highlights a massive industry vulnerability. Streaming fraud detection company Beatdapp estimates that at least 10 percent of all streams are fraudulent, representing potential annual losses between $2 billion and $3 billion.
The problem stems from how artists get paid. In the “streamshare” model, subscription and advertising dollars are pooled, then allocated based on each artist’s share of total streams.
Bot streams don’t just generate money for fraudsters—they reduce the royalty pool for legitimate artists.
Michael Lewan, executive director of the Music Fights Fraud Alliance, emphasizes the scope of the issue.
If you view it as one or five or 10 percent—that is a percentage of royalties not going to artists, creators, and songwriters. It’s being extracted from the royalty pool in relatively large sums.
Building an Empire on Fake Streams
Smith used his healthcare wealth to forge surprisingly deep music-industry connections. He collaborated with Juicy J, Nappy Roots, Cyhi the Prynce, and Royce da 5’9″.
The Avila Brothers recorded one of his songs with Billy Ray Cyrus and Snoop Dogg. He nearly convinced RZA to let his label release a Wu-Tang Clan album.
Smith even funded a BET reality show called One Shot in 2016, earning himself a judge’s seat alongside RZA, T.I., and DJ Khaled. For contestants and viewers, the production appeared legitimate and professional.
But behind the scenes, Kelly noticed something troubling.
The closer people get to fame, the weirder they get.
Where Did the Money Come From?
The indictment names Amazon Music, Apple Music, Spotify, and YouTube Music as platforms where Smith inflated his streams. Reports suggest his music also appeared on SoundCloud, Pandora, Tidal, and Boomplay.
Spotify says its preventive measures caught Smith early, limiting payouts to just $60,000. Pandora paid only $1,500. But the full $10 million had to come from somewhere.
Hay, Smith’s former partner, has his theory.
Mike’s thing was Tidal. And Tidal paid the most, but they would only pay you like once or twice a year.
Tidal declined to address the speculation.
The System’s Weak Points
Smith’s case exposes how vulnerable streaming platforms remain to fraud. Access to sophisticated bots is readily available on Discord channels, subreddits, and the dark web.
Worse, some players in the ecosystem may lack incentive to prevent fraud. Distributors get a cut every time someone uploads tracks. Performance-rights organizations take their percentage regardless of how royalties are generated.
One music-industry source put it bluntly: “Almost every player in the market has their own incentives, and those incentives don’t always align with preventing this type of activity.”
Reilly believes Smith’s prosecution could change industry behavior.
I think it will make those who play a role in the system, and maybe stand to benefit if there’s fraud, pay attention in a different way. They might before have said, ‘Is this against the terms of service? Maybe. But that’s not really our problem.’ But if you’re assisting in criminal conduct, that is your problem.
The Fake Career Made Real
Even today, much of Smith’s music remains available online. A 2024 upload of “You’re My Kind of Beautiful” has over 7 million Spotify streams. His song “Hardworking Man” has a million YouTube views.
“Take Me to the Edge,” a collaboration with Snoop Dogg, currently shows more than 16 million YouTube views—with fewer than 700 comments, a telltale sign of artificial inflation.
Smith allegedly tried to sell his scheme as a service to other musicians, guaranteeing $2,000 monthly from their catalogs. One musician who was approached found it suspicious from the start and never signed.
A Cautionary Tale
Jacorey Barkley, who interned at SMH Records before working at Def Jam and starting his own marketing agency, sees Smith as a warning.
I see so many young artists that are in danger of becoming what Mike became…of building this fake career and believing it.
Smith has pleaded not guilty and denies all accusations. His trial is expected to begin October 6, 2025. If convicted, he faces a maximum of 60 years in prison.
When reached for comment about claims he exaggerated his musical abilities, Smith sent 18 videos showcasing his skills on piano, drums, bass, guitar, banjo, dobro, and mandolin. In one clip, he plays dulcimer with genuine enthusiasm.
The performance is passable, even charming—a glimpse of someone who genuinely loves making music, playing for hours with no audience but himself.
But Smith wanted more than just to play. He wanted to be heard, so desperately that he allegedly made it look like millions were listening.
Now the whole world knows his name—just not the way he dreamed.