SOULS SEARCHING
stockpatrol.com
April 13, 2004
Wall Street's fallen stars have a wealth of imagination, which is why they never cease to surprise and amuse us. In the months preceding her trial, Martha Stewart spent more time on the talk show circuit than William Hung. Each appearance seemed carefully calculated to shape public perception, although in the end her enhanced image was not enough to sway a single juror.
How can defendants create a connection with potential jurors? That thought came to mind this past weekend when we read about the nocturnal meanderings of Enron's erstwhile CEO Jeffrey Skilling who seemed to be doing his best Nick Nolte-Robert Downey, Jr. impression. Skilling, was hospitalized after reportedly accosting strangers at two trendy New York City bars, Vudu Lounge and American Trash, pulling off their clothes, and accusing them of being FBI agents. Police claim that Skilling repeated this conduct when he hit Park Avenue and 73rd Street at 4 am. Police sources said he was acting like an "emotionally disturbed person."
Skilling's lawyer has denied that he was in the bars, and claimed instead that the former Enron bigwig - and current federal defendant - was assaulted by two men who persisted in asking him about Enron. That scenario calls to mind the infamous mugging of Dan Rather - also on Park Avenue - in 1996, by an assailant who demanded to know "What's the frequency, Kenneth? This time, however, no one is claiming that Skilling's adversaries asked, "Where are the assets, Jeffrey?"
A host of Enron shareholders would love to hear the answer to that question.
Skilling's adventure is unlikely to have an impact on jurors in Texas who will hear the government's case. But what if a defendant wanted to influence jurors by feigning an emotional breakdown? There is no reason to believe Skilling had that strategy in mind, but it has been tried before. For years, reputed mob boss Vincent "The Chin" Gigante wandered the streets of Greenwich Village in a tattered bathrobe and slippers, muttering to himself. How could this lunatic run an organized crime family, his lawyers and associates argued? Well enough, as it turned out. Gigante, who, like Martha Stewart, was convicted of obstructing justice, admitted in 2003 that his insanity was a ruse.
Nothing about Skilling's incident seemed contrived. In all likelihood, he was either an innocent victim as his lawyers suggest, or a defendant folding under the weight of pending prosecution and public ignominy.
We read the Skilling story and began to muse. What if corporate defendants and targets began to crumble in the face of pressure? How might they respond? Our imagination began to wander as we fell asleep late Saturday night and before we knew it they all had gathered before us in a dream.
There was Dennis Kozlowski, wandering the street (Park Avenue, of course) naked, except for a $6,000 shower curtain wrapped around his torso, asking passersby where he could find the nearest art gallery.
We thought we could see John J. Rigas, standing at a ticket window outside the HSBC Arena in Buffalo, insisting that he is entitled to free passes as owner of the Buffalo Sabres hockey team.
We imagined ex-Solomon Smith Barney star analyst, Jack Grubman, at the 92nd Street YMHA in Manhattan (just one block from Park Avenue), insisting that he was entitled to a spot in a pilates class, waving his CitiCard as proof of his provenance, and insisting on a $1 million refund when he was denied admission.
Mingling among the crowd we thought we saw Credit Suisse First Boston's fallen star, Frank Quattrone, rummaging through the trash, retrieving everything from documents to candy wrappers.
And in our mind's eye we saw former WorldCom Chairman, Bernie Ebbers, trying to call his lawyer from a cell phone, but unable to get a signal.
Imclone founder, Samuel Waksal was there too, calling brokers he didn't even know, and placing sell orders for shares he didn't own.
And we thought we spied Health South's Richard Scrushy, wandering from one doctor's office to another, repeatedly denied coverage after being told that his insurance plan had been cancelled for non-payment.
Finally, as dawn approached, one more image came into view. A man stood outside the New York Stock Exchange. Short and bald, he railed at the guards, "I'm here to pick up my check. Let me in." When they turned their backs he shouted, "Don't you know who I am?"
"Sure we know you, Mr. Grasso," one of the security guards replied. "Why do you think we're not letting you inside?"
He seemed to understand. Shrugging his shoulders he smiled and asked, "Well, if you won't let me into the Exchange, could you please tell me how I can get to Park Avenue?"
Of course, it was all just a dream.
Funny, isn't it, the stuff that dreams are made of?
©2004 Stock Patrol.com. All rights reserved.
WE'RE BACK ON PATROL |
