A time comes in a man's life when the potential of prison time and whopping fines loom large and he starts to think about one thing: Protecting his assets.

So it made sense to discover former Clark County Commissioner Lance Malone and his wife of 11 years, Rosemary Palacios-Malone, quietly divorced in April, just days before the May 3 start of his corruption trial in San Diego.

The divorce appears to be a sham, since they are still living together in their northwest Las Vegas home with their two sons.

The records are sealed, but the divorce was filed April 6 and finalized April 26.

It was such an amicable divorce that Palacios-Malone showed up at the start of the trial in May and was there toward the end in July during closing arguments.

In photos, the divorced couple hold hands entering and leaving the courthouse.

One of Lance Malone's most lucrative assets, after his pay from topless club owner Michael Galardi ceased, is the Subway sandwich shop in The Orleans Hotel he's owned since 2002.

The process is now under way to transfer the ownership of B.L.T. LLC (Bacon, lettuce, tomato. Get it?) to his ex-wife.

Then the hotel doesn't have to take any grief for having a felon owning a sandwich shop on the premises, because gaming regulators aren't about to make a fuss about a contract with a felon's wife er ex-wife.

Efforts to reach them by phone were unsuccessful.

Divorcing to protect assets is not uncommon.

Another Las Vegas high-profile citizen, Crazy Horse Too strip club owner Rick Rizzolo, also divorced in May.

Unlike the Malones, however, Rizzolo didn't have the smarts to seal his records, which showed his wife of 27 years was treated generously, receiving three of their homes, three of their cars and remains his insurance beneficiary.

Rizzolo's exposure to a potential criminal indictment and a pending civil lawsuit could have prompted the divorce as a way to put Rizzolo's assets in his ex-wife's name.

Malone's situation is more imminent. He's facing a Nov. 9 sentencing in San Diego for his conviction on 37 counts including conspiracy, wire fraud and extortion.

The case involved Malone's role as a lobbyist for his friend Galardi, who wanted San Diego officials to reverse a local prohibition blocking topless dancers from touching customers.

Customers who feel the earth move when strippers grind against them tend to be more generous, earning more money for the dancers and Galardi.

A separate corruption trial has been set in Las Vegas for March, also based on wiretaps and claims by Galardi that Malone bribed local officials to help Galardi's businesses thrive.

Former Clark County Commissioner Erin Kenny has pleaded guilty and will testify in the case.

Defendants going to trial are Malone and former Commissioners Dario Herrera and Mary Kincaid-Chauncey.

Unless a San Diego judge grants a motion and reverses the jury's conviction or grants him a new trial, Malone is facing a likely sentence of between 33 and 41 months in prison and fines as high as $9 million.

It may be to his advantage to tell federal probation and parole officers he doesn't have a lot of assets. So, when the feds submit their report to the sentencing judge, Malone won't look as fine-worthy.

With the popular sandwich shop in his ex-wife's name and with them divorced, those assets are hers, not his.

By the way, finding out that the couple divorced wasn't easy, since Lance Malone, who has used that name as a police officer, a county commissioner, a lobbyist, a consultant and a private detective, used the name "L. Mathew Malone" for his divorce papers.

Could it be a deliberate attempt to hide their divorce from prying eyes? You'd better believe it.

As for Malone, the pressure increases as potential prison time draws closer; and the days between now and the Nov. 9 sentencing in San Diego will pass far too quickly. Protecting his assets may not be the only thing the former police officer is thinking about protecting.

Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail her at jane@review-journal.com or call 383-0275