Big Jim’s testimony at the Black trial

Jim%20Thompson.jpgBig Jim Thompson, the former governor of Illinois, followed fellow Hollinger International director and audit committee member Marie-JosÈ Kravis to the witness stand in the criminal trial of Conrad Black this week. Thompson testified that he was just as clueless as Mrs. Kravis about approving the non-compete payments to Black that are the basis of the criminal charges against the Canadian businessman and author.
As you might expect, things did not go smoothly for Thompson on cross-examination in attempting to explain how he “skimmed over” $60 million in non-compete payments to Black and several of his associates that were liberally disclosed in a dozen corporate documents that Thompson approved and signed. Mark Steyn — who has been doing an extraordinary job of blogging the Black trial — sums up the scene this way:

Governor Thompson’s daily stipend for attending a couple of short audit and board meetings at Hollinger on Feb 25 2002 and remembering nothing about them five years later: $18,000.00
Chicago juror’s daily stipend for sitting through eight hours of testimony and being expected to pay attention rather than “skim” it: $45.00
Entertainment value of watching a four-term governor and star witness melt down on the stand: Priceless.

Regulating incompetence? Or incompetent regulation?

Marie%20Josee%20Kravis.jpgLet’s see if I’ve got this straight.
As a member of the Hollinger International board of directors and audit committee, Marie-JosÈ Kravis, wife of Henry R. Kravis of Kohlberg Kravis Roberts fame, approves $60 million in non-compete payments that go to former Hollinger CEO Conrad Black and several of his associates. Given the context in which they were paid, the non-compete payments to Black were not particularly unusual or wrong.
The federal government then decides to prosecute Black and his associates on the theory that they misappropriated the $60 million from Hollinger. Probably in fear that she might also be indicted, Mrs. Kravis tells the feds that she didn’t realize what she was doing in approving the non-compete fees in favor of Black, et. al. The two other members of the audit committee said the same thing.
Subsequently, Mrs. Kravis and other Hollinger directors receive Wells Notices from the SEC for being negligent in approving the non-compete payments for Black. The typical SEC sanction in such manners is a ban from serving as an officer or director of a publicly-owned company, usually for life and at least for five years.
As a result, Mrs. Kravis agrees to testify for the government against Black and admits that she didn’t realize what she was doing in approving the $60 million in non-compete fees in favor of Black and the others.
The SEC then withdraws its Wells Notice to Mrs. Kravis.
So, the SEC threatens to ban Mrs. Kravis from being an officer or director of a publicly-owned corporation because she is an incompetent director, and then withdraws the threat when Mrs. Kravis confirms that she is an incompetent director.
And Conrad Black’s freedom and storied career hangs in the balance.
A truly civil society would not tolerate such a travesty.

Baker Hughes settles Kazakhstan bribery case

bakerhughes.gifHouston-based oil field services provider Baker Hughes Inc. on Thursday announced that it has agreed to pay $44.1 million to settle the Department of Justice and the SEC’s long-standing allegations that a unit of the company had violated the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act.
Under the terms of deal, a subsidiary of the company pleaded guilty to violations of the FCPA regarding payments made to a commercial agent in Kazakhstan between 2001 and 2003, the company entered into a deferred prosecution agreement with the Department of Justice that provides that federal government will not prosecute the company if it meets the conditions of the agreement for two years (including a government-approved monitor to oversee its compliance efforts), and the company agreed to a consent judgment with the SEC, which charged violations of the anti-bribery provisions of the FCPA related to the Kazakhstan deal.
The company announced the govenment probes publicly almost five years ago and the probe was well-known within the Houston legal community even before that. Sometimes delay really is the best strategy.

What was Dr. Hurwitz’s motive?

Hurwitz042707.jpgThe NY Times’ John Tierney, who has done an outstanding job of covering the sad case of Dr. William Hurwitz, provides this insightful post on the utter lack of a motive for Dr. Hurwitz to commit the crime for which he is being prosecuted — i.e., violating America’s drug prohibition policy:

Prosecutors charged that Dr. William Hurwitz was in a conspiracy with some of his patients to illegally distribute drugs, but there was no evidence that the patients had shared the profits when they resold the painkillers he prescribed. The only money he got was from the medical fees he charged. The prosecutors tried to portray his practice as a lucrative operation, and him as a doctor motivated by greed. This is a bit hard to square with what the jury heard about his background. which included stints in the Peace Corps and the Veterans Administration. And itís really hard to square with his bank account.
In 2003, before the charges in this case had even been brought against him, authorities seized Dr. Hurwitzís assets. (Thatís standard procedure in drug cases like this, and one more reason why doctors have such a hard time mounting a defense.) There wasnít much to seize. They took all his retirement savings ó which amounted to less than $250,000. He was at that point 58 years old and had been practicing medicine for decades. . . .
ìItís so ridiculous to hear the prosecutor talk about this rich doctor,î Mrs. [Nilse] Quercia [Dr. Hurwitz’s former wife] told me. ìExcept for that Keough account they seized, he had nothing but debts and a 1990 Subaru.î His subsequent legal expenses, she said, were paid by friends and relatives and by the law firms now representing him pro bono.

In my experience, when a prosecutor must fabricate a motive for the white collar criminal act that is being prosecuted, it’s a pretty darn good indication that a lack of prosecutorial discretion is behind the decision to pursue the charges in the first place.

Go Barney Go!

barney_frank042507.jpgBarney Frank, that conflicted anti-business Congressional crusader (see here and here) who is nevertheless challenging the federal government’s ludicrous prohibition of internet gambling, has decided to introduce legislation to overturn the prohibition, and he thinks it has a chance of passing.
Good for Barney. But how sad is it that Rep. Frank — who is essentially a socialist with regard to economics, business and big government issues — is one of the only national politicians who is willing to advocate reasonable and common sense restraints on the federal government’s prosecutorial power against business interests?

Criminalizing business in Kazahkstan

man%20in%20PrisonBars.jpgThis New York Times article reports on the troubles of American businessman Mark Seidenfeld, the telecommunications entreprenuer who made a fortune during the dizzying days of Kazahkstan’s conversion from a communist to a market economy. The case against Seidenfeld is controversial and is being watched closely, largely because Kazakhstan is perceived to be one of the least repressive countries in the region for foreigners to do business. However, what is most chilling about the account is how many similarities exist between the way in which the Kazahkstan criminal justice system is handling this case and the way in which many recent criminal prosecutions against U.S. businesspersons have been handled in the American criminal justice system (a point made earlier here). Interestingly, several human rights organizations are weighing in with the Kazahkstan government about the handling of the Seidenfeld case, something that is unheard of in regard to similar prosecutorial tactics that are taking place in the U.S.

The Glisan Interview

Tongues were wagging all over Houston this weekend as a result of Wall Street Journal reporter John Emshwiller’s exclusive interview ($) with former Enron treasurer and Andy Fastow confidant, Ben Glisan (excerpts of the interview are here).

The theme of the interview is that Glisan initially deluded himself into thinking that he hadn’t done anything wrong while at Enron, but that he discovered his true self during his 4+ year prison term and came to terms with his criminality.

Emshwiller — whose coverage of the Enron case has been subject to serious conflict of interest issues before — laps up the morality play. Next thing you know, Glisan will be joining Sherron Watkins as a speaker on the “corporate governance reform” rubber chicken circuit.

However, as with almost everything pertaining to Enron, the true story about Glisan is more nuanced than meets the eye.

Glisan was a golden boy at Enron, a rising star in the management circles who Fastow plucked as his hand-picked replacement after running off Enron treasurer Jeff McMahon in early 2000. Contrary to the unsupported statements contained in the interview with Emshwiller, there are real questions as to whether Glisan did much of anything wrong in his duties as Enron’s treasurer.

However, it does appear that he used poor judgment in getting drawn into one of Fastow’s partnership deals in which he made a quick $1 million in mid-2001 on a nominal investment, although it remains unclear as to whether Glisan actually knew that he was engaged in any criminal wrongdoing in taking that return on his investment.

Nonetheless, later in 2001, a month or so before Enron filed its chapter 11 case, Glisan was ultimately canned as Enron’s treasurer because of his failure to disclose that investment in connection Enron’s failed merger negotiations with Dynegy, and so he quickly came under the scrutiny of federal investigators who were suspicious that Glisan’s $1 million return violated the “too good to be true rule” that prosecutors often rely upon to prosecute wealthy businesspeople.

For over a year and a half after being fired by Enron, Glisan continued to maintain to investigators that he had not engaged in any criminal conduct while at Enron. But soon after being indicted in 2003, Glisan — who had not made big money at Enron and was not financially capable of mounting a formidable defense to the criminal charges — copped his deal with the Enron Task Force and began serving his prison sentence.

The rest of the story is not particularly surprising. Glisan was treated roughly during his early days in prison and he quickly began negotiating with the Task Force prosecutors for better accommodations in return for testimony in other Enron-related criminal cases.

He ended up being one of the key witnesses in the Nigerian Barge trial, even though he was not directly involved in the transaction. Most of his testimony in that trial was hearsay of alleged statements made by other “co-conspirators” that was admitted as evidence under an exception to the hearsay rule that would have otherwise excluded such testimony. That testimony helped lead to the improper convictions of four former Merrill Lynch executives that were later overturned on appeal.

Glisan then parleyed his Nigerian Barge work into a transfer to a better prison, where he offered his testimony against former Enron executives Jeff Skilling and Ken Lay in return for liberal furloughs from prison to Houston, where he lived at home while working with prosecutors.

Although the Lay-Skilling jurors viewed him as an effective prosecution witness, there remain substantial questions whether Glisan was truthful during much of his testimony.

So, what to make of all this?

Simple morality plays are easier to write and understand, and certainly easier (and legally safer) to spin on the rubber chicken circuit. The truth in such matters is often far less certain and more difficult to understand, but it’s far more likely to prevent the injustices that have been heaped upon the four former Merrill Lynch executives, Jeff Skilling, Ken Lay, Kevin Howard and Chris Calger, just to name a few. As Ellen Podgor comments:

Although not the focus of [the Glisan interview], it is interesting to note that the risk and cost of trial weigh heavily in the decision to plea. Glisan, like Martha Stewart realized the value of “getting it over with,” and “moving on.” But is that the way the justice system is supposed to work?

But what about the Apple Rule?

the_wall_street_journal_logo.gifSo, one of the two Wall Street Journal Pulitzer Prizes this year is for the WSJ’s reporting on the backdating of options scandal that has snared hundreds of companies and executives over the past year. Frankly, I’ve been more impressed with the WSJ’s Holman Jenkins’ writing ($) exposing how the media largely made a mountain out of a molehill in regard to the backdating mess (John Carney over at DealBreaker comments along the same line).
So, my question is this — if the WSJ backdating series merits a Pulitzer, then what award does the even more insightful series of blog posts that developed the Apple Rule deserve?

Stockman’s story

david_stockman_nr.jpgFormer Reagan Administration budget chief David Stockman is fighting to stay out of prison for the rest of his life as a result of a federal indictment over his stewardship of the defunct auto parts supplier Collins & Aikman. Stockman is essentially taking the same defense approach as former Enron executives Jeff Skilling and Ken Lay, which cannot be particularly comforting for Stockman. Although the entire Landon Thomas-authored profile of Stockman is interesting, the rendition of how Stockman’s professional life cratered has to be daunting for any businessperson engaged in taking big risks:

Rumors had begun to spread that Collins & Aikman was experiencing a liquidity crisis. On March 17 [2005], Mr. Stockman presented preliminary year-end results to investors. Badgered on the call by analysts about the firmís cash position, Mr. Stockman did his best to stay upbeat, while also laying out the challenges ahead.
On May 9, Mr. Stockman made a last bid to save his company, securing, he says, a promise from Chrysler, Collins & Aikmanís largest customer, to give the company better pricing. Mr. Stockman was ecstatic.
However, on that very afternoon, Mr. Stockman got a call from Dennis E. Glazer, a partner at Davis Polk. The law firm was now questioning whether Mr. Stockman gave overly optimistic forecasts during the March conference call.
Mr. Stockman defended himself, saying that he had provided sufficient caveats. But Mr. Glazer was not convinced. In its indictment, the government would charge that Mr. Stockman drafted the materials and made ìat least three material misstatements or omissions.î
Late the next night, Mr. Stockman received a call in his Troy, Mich., hotel room from Daniel P. Tredwell, his partner at Heartland. The board would ask for his resignation the next day. Mr. Stockman could not believe it. ìThe audit committee had taken over the company and delegated authority to a lawyer from New York wearing suspenders,î he says now. That night, he would add a third Klonopin anti-anxiety pill to the two he was taking each night to bring on sleep quickly.
Mr. Glazer declined to comment on the case, citing confidentiality.
The next day the board demanded his resignation.
ìLeave your office now and donít take anything with you,î Mr. Stockman recalled Mr. Glazer as saying.
It had happened so quickly that he could not even call a lawyer.
ìI was in shock,î he said. ìI had been with the company for 14 years ó I mean I had put this whole thing together. I had put these guys on the board, invested the money, owned the shares and they stabbed me in the back. It was like a Stalinist show trial.î
A week later, on May 17, Collins & Aikman filed for bankruptcy.

Have we now come to the point where a chief executive officer of a financially-troubled publicly-owned company cannot speak optimistically of the company’s prospects for pulling out of a tailspin because of the risk of a criminal indictment if the company cannot pull it off?

The real presumption in the Conrad Black trial

mark_steyn.jpgAs I noted many times in regard to the criminal trial against former Enron executives Jeff Skilling and Ken Lay, the real presumption in the case was not the usual presumption that the defendants were innocent until proven guilty. Rather, the real presumption in the trial was that Skilling and Lay were rich, Enron went bust and investors had big losses, so Skilling and Lay must be guilty of some crime.
Well, Mark Steyn is noticing the same dynamic in his most recent blog post on the criminal trial of Conrad Black:

A lot of my chums on the media benches remain convinced Conrad Black is guilty of something. Itís just that, with every day the prosecution presents its case, itís getting harder and harder to say of what. Mr Sussman, the boyish charmer on the government side, dutifully refers to the defendants as ìco-conspiratorsî, but for a good conspiracy you have to have someone to conspire against. And, with each prosecution witness, it seems clearer that just about everybody was in on this conspiracy. . . .
As is crushingly obvious, almost everyone connected with these non-competes in any way approved them, disclosed them, filed the paperwork in triplicate. Either everyone is guilty or no one is, but arguing that only these four should swing for it is becoming increasingly absurd.

Which is one of the key reasons why such a case should be in the civil justice system, which is better equipped than the criminal justice system to allocate liability among multiple defendants. Steyn also notes the perverse effect that the adoption of widespread plea bargaining in the criminal justice system generally has on white collar criminal cases in particular, a point that was noted earlier here. Finally, that conspiracy in the Black trial sure sounds a lot like the ephemeral one involved in the Lay-Skilling case.