Theft & Fraud Charges: Answered

$750 — lower than almost everyone guesses. Under the current § 812.014: under $100 is second-degree petit theft, $100–$750 is first-degree petit theft (still a misdemeanor), $750 to $20,000 is third-degree grand theft (a felony, up to five years), $20,000–$100,000 is second-degree, and $100,000+ is first-degree. Some items are felonies regardless of value — firearms, motor vehicles, controlled substances among them. One shopping cart of electronics clears the felony line easily, which is how ordinary shoplifting cases quietly become five-year-exposure felonies.

Aggregation. When takings are part of one scheme or course of conduct, Florida adds them together and charges the total — which is how an employee accused of $300 a month for two years faces a single $7,200 third-degree grand theft, and how amounts crossing $20,000 jump to a second-degree felony worth up to fifteen years. Aggregation is also a defense surface: the State must actually prove the scheme, transaction by transaction, and totals assembled from an angry employer's spreadsheet often shrink dramatically under a forensic review the defense commissions.

No — it's worse, and people miss this constantly. Dealing in stolen property is a second-degree felony (up to fifteen years), a full grade above the third-degree theft that usually accompanies it, and pawn-shop transactions generate these charges almost automatically because every pawn is fingerprinted and databased. There's also a statutory wrinkle: you generally can't be convicted of both stealing and dealing for the same property — the State must eventually choose. These cases carry real defenses (ownership beliefs, valuation, the pawn paperwork itself) and real stakes; treat them accordingly.

Valuation IS the charge. The State must prove market value at the time of the theft — not retail sticker, not sentimental value, not replacement cost — and the difference between a $2,000 claim and an $800 proof is the difference between a felony and a misdemeanor. Accusers inflate; receipts, depreciation, and comparable-sales evidence deflate. In borderline cases, valuation is often the cleanest path to reducing a charge, because it attacks an element the State frequently supports with nothing more than the alleged victim's say-so.

No — this is the million-dollar moment of an employee-theft case, and most people spend it wrong. That interview is the investigation: a confession-shaped conversation, often with a prepared repayment agreement that doubles as a signed admission, all of it headed to the sheriff's economic-crimes unit. Decline politely, sign nothing, and get counsel between you and them the same day. Handled early, many of these cases resolve as employment disputes or civil repayment matters; handled after a recorded interview, they resolve as felonies.

Yes — separate dates mean separate charges, and retail chains keep footage precisely to package prior incidents once someone is caught. But identification on grainy retrospective video is a genuinely contestable element, and prosecutors know it. Practical guidance: expect the additional count, don't confirm anything (identification is their burden, not your confession), and let counsel evaluate each incident on its own evidence. Multiple counts also change the resolution math — which makes early, global negotiation more valuable, not less.

Not by itself — repayment is not a legal defense, and an unexplained early payment can even read as an admission. But restitution, deployed correctly, is the most powerful mitigation tool these cases have: it anchors diversion negotiations, shapes charging decisions, and is a statutory ground for sentencing below the scoresheet floor. The sequencing is everything — negotiated through counsel, tied to an outcome (diversion, reduction, withheld adjudication), paper in exchange for paper. Pay smart, not fast.

That letter is Florida's civil-recovery statute at work — retailers may demand a statutory payment separate from any criminal case, and the letters arrive even when merchandise was recovered on the spot. Key points: paying does not make the criminal case disappear, ignoring it rarely produces an actual lawsuit (though it can), and nothing you write back should discuss the incident. Have counsel review it alongside the criminal matter so the response helps the whole picture — sometimes paying quietly is right, sometimes it's money handed over for nothing.

A lot, if it's handled before bad habits set in. First-offense theft cases in Orange and Osceola County are strong candidates for pretrial diversion (completion = dismissal = expungeable) or, failing that, a withheld adjudication that avoids a conviction. The order of operations matters: statements hurt eligibility, missed court dates destroy it, and the "cheap" path of pleading fast at arraignment trades a permanent crime of dishonesty for an afternoon's convenience. The realistic goal for most first offenses is simple to state: finish this with a record that can be sealed or expunged, then do exactly that.

Because the label follows you further than the sentence. Crimes of dishonesty carry unique collateral weight: they're the convictions employers screen hardest for, they can impeach your testimony in any future court case, they complicate professional licensing and immigration, and landlords treat them as disqualifying. That's why theft defense is really record defense — the outcome that matters most isn't measured in probation months but in what a background check shows in five years. It's also why the sealing and expungement step after resolution isn't optional; it's the point.