Finally somebody in the mainstream press gets it –The Economist, on the Enron appeal, sounding a lot like Tom Kirkendall and me (e.g., here and here). Regarding the Fastow notes:
Mr Skilling’s defence team allege serious prosecutorial misconduct of the sort that ought to result in Mr Skilling’s conviction being overturned, with no possibility of a retrial. Brady v Maryland held that the government had to provide the defence all favourable evidence. That is because the government has “substantial resources and considerable other advantages” over defendants and the “system reposes great trust in the prosecutor to place the ends of justice above the goal of merely securing a conviction.” * * *
And regarding putting Enron in the perspective of recent events:
For many people, the mere fact of Enron’s collapse is evidence that Mr Skilling and his old mentor and boss, Ken Lay. . . presided over a fraudulent house of cards. Yet Mr Skilling has always argued that Enron’s collapse largely resulted from a loss of trust in the firm by its financial-market counterparties, who engaged in the equivalent of a bank run. Certainly, the amounts of money involved in the specific frauds identified at Enron were small compared to the amount of shareholder value that was ultimately destroyed when it plunged into bankruptcy. Yet recent events in the financial markets add some weight to Mr Skilling’s story—though nobody is (yet) alleging the sort of fraudulent behaviour on Wall Street that apparently took place at Enron.
* * * Although it can do nothing for Mr Lay, the fate of Bear Stearns illustrates how fast quickly a firm’s prospects can go from promising to non-existent when counterparties lose confidence in it.
The Economist discusses eery similarities between Enron and Bear Stearns arising in the Fastow notes controversy:
As Enron entered its death spiral, Mr Lay held a meeting to reassure employees that the firm was still in good shape, and that its “liquidity was strong”. The composite [notes] suggested that Mr Fastow “felt [Mr Lay’s comment] was an overstatement” stemming from Mr Lay’s need to “increase public confidence” in the firm. The original FBI notes say that Mr Fastow thought the comment “fair”. The jury found Mr Lay guilty of fraud at least partly because it believed the government’s allegations that Mr Lay knew such bullish statements were false . . .
The article compares Lay's statements with those of Bear Stearns CEO Alan Schwartz (“we don’t see any pressure on our liquidity, let alone a liquidity crisis”).
As for the quote from Brady that the prosecutor should "place the ends of justice above the goal of merely securing a conviction," Enron prosecutor John Hueston's article, Behind the Scenes of the Enron Trial: Creating the Decisive Moments, 44 American Criminal Law Review 197 (2007), which plays a starring role in the Skilling brief, suggests strongly that that is precisely what Hueston and his colleagues were not doing. The article discusses in detail what Hueston calls the "shortcomings" in his case. But the prosecutors apparently didn't feel they had the luxury of not going full steam ahead anyway. Everybody had condemned Lay and Skilling, so they had to make the case, hell or high water.
The article offers interesting insights into how the case was constructed. Hueston discusses how he searched for "a means of creating a sense of excitement in the jury; a way to entice them to join us on a journey through the evidence, into a world normally foreclosed to them." Then he found the answer – in Tom Waits, of all people [though I'm not sure Hueston knows this]:
Thanks to a two-week postponement of the trial following the guilty plea of Richard Causey, Enron's former Chief Accounting Officer and the third defendant in the original prosecution, I was able to see the documentary film “The Smartest Guys in the Room.” It was here that I found the sense of mystery and drama I wanted to convey to the jury: in the film's opening sequence, set to a soundtrack of tolling chimes, a camera swung around and over the now-darkened Enron towers in downtown Houston. As the cameras moved, a voice muttered, “What's he building in there ... what the hell is he building in there?”
Meanwhile, I'm constructing a "narrative" for the prosecutorial misconduct case: Prosecutors desperate for a conviction, their careers turning on the outcome, have a key witness, Andy Fastow. The problem is, the guy has, in Hueston's words, a "heartstopping history of self-dealing." Obviously the government couldn't afford any additional shadow on Fastow's credibility. Yet in the government interviews it seems his story got more negative on the defendants over time. Could be a big problem for Fastow on the witness stand, as the defense sought on cross to show he was changing his story to suit his jailers. Could the prosecutors afford to give these notes to the defense? Why not just turn over a summary? By the time the truth came out (if it ever did) they could do a dance about how the differences were inconsequential.
The government is saying the differences are inconsequential. So why, then, didn't they produce the notes as repeatedly requested, rather than summarizing them? I think those prosecutors have some explaining to do.
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